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florencemtrash · 1 month

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eighteen

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

Warnings: Nothing super specific, but things get pretty dark (at least in my opinion). Mentions of torture.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel grabbed Rhys by the front of his jacket, hands shaking horribly despite all his efforts to stop. It had started this morning, when another disastrous attempt to talk to Andrian had left Azriel with his mind in shambles, knife pressed against his own throat. It had been going on for weeks now. Someway, somehow, Andrian would find a way to break through Azriel’s defenses and force him to relieve his worst memories. Sometimes he dreamt of his burning hands. Mostly he thought of you, and the day he’d nearly killed you.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Azriel growled desperately. “Tell me!”

It was too easy for him to pick out when his brother was speaking with Feyre, and something about the way Rhysand had been looking at him— like he was a fraction of a second away from splintering into a million pieces — told Azriel enough about who had been sent for. You were the only one who could calm him. The only one who could do what he and Rhys had failed to do.

Violet eyes shone from a perfectly handsome face. A face he knew too well. A face that he wanted to punch right now.

“I’m afraid I can’t, brother,” Rhysand responded gravely.

Azriel slammed his fist against the wall instead, taking out a chunk of granite that spit grey dust into the air. He swore beneath his breath, pacing the hallway and trying to steady his racing heart. He’d never wanted you to see this place. He’d never even wanted you to step foot on the island above, its rolling peaks a stark contrast to the tunnels below where Azriel conducted his business. Business that stained his hands a thousand shades of red.

“You’ve been working yourself ragged, Az, and Andrian still hasn’t said anything. Not to you. Not to me. We need to know all we can about Koschei. Vassa’s on the brink of madness. Henna’s dead. I can’t even get past Andrian’s mental wards. What the fuck are we meant to do?”

“So you thought to go behind my back and bring Y/n into this?! She’s not something for you to use, Rhys.”

“She’s already in this mess.” Rhys reminded him, as he often did. His eyes softened as he looked to the locked door at the end of the hall with its small, rectangular window. Bars breaking up the lamplight glowing from within. “And you know she’d agree this is the best course of action. She’ll be able to do it.”

Azriel’s hands shook. “Give me another week and I’ll get us the information we need. Tell Feyre to turn around. Don’t bring Y/n here.” Don’t let her see this part of me.

“The boy doesn’t have another week. He doesn’t even have a day.”

The shaking traveled throughout Azriel’s entire body. His eyes darkened and he began the process of hiding his heart away within the void that curled inside of him. That wicked beast that was always on the verge of swallowing him whole.

Feyre winnowed you both to the outskirts of the northern territories and you went from sweating in your fur-lined leathers to shivering in the knee deep snow. The Illyrian Mountains rose behind you like predatorial rows of shark teeth and the endless sea stretched in front, slate grey and empty except for lonely ripples of sea foam. Through the frosty haze you could make out a smattering of islands, each with their own tooth-like tips capped with snow and ice. Feyre looked at you, her eyes leaning more towards blue now that she’d tapped into the Winter Court’s power to stave off the cold.

The Warren was protected by wards that made winnowing impossible, so you let Feyre scoop you up in her powerful arms, wings growing from her back like unfurling shadows before the ground dropped away from her feet and she took off into the sky.

You clung to her shoulders, eyes slamming shut so you wouldn’t have to look down at the churning black waters and the rocks they crashed against. If you were to fall now, you could only hope you drown before the waves ripped your body to pieces against the rocks like meat torn between a pair of canines.

You stayed frozen and tight as a coil until the rush of wind stopped and you no longer felt your stomach creeping up into your throat. You could have dropped to your knees and kissed the ground if you weren’t sure your lips would freeze there. You did shove your hands into the gritty sand though, breathing slowly through your nose until you finally had the strength to stand.

Feyre led you down the long stretch of beach, waves whistling in the wind — a haunting, beautiful melody, like a woman crying.

Azriel had discovered The Warren centuries ago. After a particularly brutal brawl that had left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs, he’d taken to the skies, desperate to escape the hard packed floors and burning scent of sex mixed with alcohol that seemed to invade every corner of the Windhaven barracks. He’d been fighting over a woman, a woman that had been dragged into the rowdy common room trembling with the telltale sign of a whisky haze over her burnt umber eyes, dress ripped and muddy.

Did it even matter that he’d brought her back untouched to that leaning house with its wooden slabs frosted over and the chimney coughing up black smoke like a diseased lung? Azriel had wondered as he flew without a destination in mind. And when he’d finally collapsed on the island, frozen ground beneath his hands and knees and spitting out blood from his cut up gums, his shadows had tugged him towards the gaping mouth of The Warren, urging him to explore a darkness that was his and his alone. It had been his escape. A safe place in the world that had so few. But when Rhysand became High Lord and he the Spymaster, Azriel hadn’t hesitated to give up The Warren in the service of the Night Court, adding it to the long list of sacrifices he made so that he might actually start to feel like he deserved his place with his family.

You stilled in front of The Warren’s entrance, black walls glittering and damp from sea spray. Jagged, cracked bone rocks hovered overhead like axes ready to fall, jutting out of a cliffside and curling over the beach in the shape of a hunched back or an unhinged jaw. Wind whistled from within like asthma — high-pitched and keening.

“This is where you keep all your prisoners.” You weren’t asking a question, merely stating a fact.

Feyre had had little time for explanations back at the House. She’d focused on defending your body against the frigid cold to come, her mind split between you and Rhysand as he worried over Azriel from miles away.

“Not all of them. Only the ones Azriel finds useful.”

“The ones he plans to torture for information.”

From somewhere deep within the earth you swore you heard the clanging of chains, a growl, and a desperate groan that had the hair on your neck rising.

Feyre’s usual warmth was gone, replaced by something with more tact and less care. “This isn’t a place for the faint of heart, Y/n. And neither is Azriel. He’s tried to hide this from you, but it’s as much a part of him as anything else and if you care for him as much as I believe you do, you’re going to need to get used to this.”

There was the faintest flicker of doubt in your heart. “Andrian… he’s just a boy… you haven’t—Az hasn’t—��

“No,” Feyre said quickly. Horrified. “Azriel found him weeks ago trying to slip back into Day Court. We brought him here because it’s the most heavily warded place in Prythian and because the world needs to be protected from him as much as he needs to be protected from the world.” She grabbed your hands. They felt cold as ice. “Y/n. I swear to you, we haven’t hurt that boy. We won’t hurt him.”

“I know. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Already you felt sick to your stomach just for asking. Azriel was many things — dangerous, cruel to those he felt were deserving of it, maybe even murderous at times — but he was still Az… and you weren’t afraid. Not even as you let Feyre lead you into The Warren, and you were swallowed whole.

The mouth of the cave quickly narrowed into a tunnel before turning at a severe angle and twisting like a corkscrew downward. If it weren’t for you and Feyre’s glowing bodies, you might have missed one of The Warren’s slick steps and tumbled down forever.

You passed by two offshoots, each branching out into their own secret tunnels that whispered and echoed and smelled faintly of blood. Coppery and sour.

One of the rooms you walked through smelled like metal and limestone. The rust-colored ground and drain in the center of the floor told you all you needed to know about its purpose and before you could stop yourself, before you could even think about whether this was truly a good idea, you found yourself pressing a hand against one of the chains hanging from the ceiling.

If Feyre was right and this was truly a part of Azriel — something horrible that needed to come with all of the good that he was — then you wanted to know. You felt that you had some right to know, and if it was the power the Mother had granted you, then you would use it when you saw fit.

Feyre froze when your power flooded the room without warning, feeling the energy and fury radiating off your skin without even turning to look at you. You kept the memories a safe distance away, but drank in the knowledge of every horrible hand that had hung from that ceiling like you were reading a list of names from a book. You read their crimes. You read every drop of blood that Azriel had spilled on the ground.

“Y/n?” Feyre asked tentatively, fearfully, when you blinked and released the chain.

She had every hope the bond would snap in place for you soon and that you’d help end Azriel’s centuries of loneliness. That you might be the one to finally show him he was deserving of kindness. But to love Azriel as he was, with all his rough edges and the pain he could inflict as much as he carried… it was not for the faint of heart.

“I understand why Azriel wanted to hide this place from me. This part of him,” you said quietly and to no one in particular. Not even to Feyre. “But he shouldn’t have.” Your eyes turned harder than stone. “They deserved it. Each and every one of them.”

Feyre stood, shocked into silence, and it wasn’t until you gripped her arm and nudged her into the next room that she found she was able to walk again.

You passed by more hallways and more rooms, some disturbingly clean and empty, others with chains hanging from the ceiling or littered on the floor. But the strangest part was, you could smell Azriel within these cramped walls, and that alone made you quicken your steps.

You chased that familiar scent, walking confidently through the dark and passing Feyre until you were spit out in a long, neat tunnel with one metal door at the end. Tendrils of shadow flickered from around the corner.

“Azriel?”

Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw him leaning against the wall, hands folded behind his back. Rhys’s eyes flickered to you, then to his mate as she followed closely behind. Azriel stiffened, his eyes locked and heavy. Shadows tugged at his eyes and accentuated the sharpness of his cheeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the day he left you… which wasn’t so far from the truth. Because the whole time he’d been here, he’d been thinking of you, and the ways you might hate him for what he did and the sick corners of his soul. For—

You sailed into his arms, wrapping yourself around his torso and pressing your face into the hollow of his neck. Part of your mind chastised you, calling you silly and desperate as it reminded you it had only been ten days since you’d last seen him. But you didn’t care. It felt far longer than that. Too long.

You needed this almost as much as he did.

You disappeared behind his wings, cocooned safely in membranous folds and shadows that kissed your skin. Azriel himself buried his face in your hair, feeling some of his worst worries dissipate. You hadn’t run away. You hadn’t been so disgusted as to leave just yet.

“Y/n,” he murmured your name before kissing your temple. “Gods, I missed you.”

“I would hope so.” You murmured into the curve of his jaw, “I might be a boring bookworm but I’m better company than this place.”

Azriel winced. “You have no idea.”

You missed the pointed look that Rhys and Feyre threw your way, but Azriel didn’t. He was tall enough to see over your head as Feyre pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, eyes glistening. They had come here for a purpose, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner they could all go home.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “I didn’t want you to come here. I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to see the things I do.”

“I know.” You traced the curve of his jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “But I’m not afraid, Azriel.”

His eyes flickered from fear to relief to love, like one of those picture books you had to flip through to see the scene play out.

“You’re not?”

You shook your head no. Then you kissed him on the lips and whispered the words for him and him alone. “I trust you. You’re the most terrifying thing here anyway, and you’re mine.”

Yours.

Azriel quitel liked the sound of that.

Even here in the dungeons burrowed beneath empty frozen lands, Azriel found it within him to hope. Horrid creatures might be hidden elsewhere, creeping like slugs under the earth that he’d have to crush beneath his boot or tear treasured secrets from, but for now you were still by his side. For now you were still his and he would always be yours.

You looped your arm through his and moved towards that door at the end of the hallway, steeling yourself for what you already knew was behind it.

The light from the barred window flashed warm and cool then warm again. Light warped and pranced. The scent of rot hung in the air, humid and choking. You touched the door handle, feeling the magic fall away like it recognized you and opened up into a makeshift, but quaint bedroom. There were no windows here for there was nothing to see below ground, but some of Feyre’s landscape paintings hung on the wall. Faelights bloomed overhead, throwing light and heat on a child’s bed with green sheets, a table, and a bookcase overflowing with an assortment of puzzles and novels and toys. You felt your blood turn cold. They’d once belonged to Nyx before being repurposed for the little boy trembling on the floor.

You stared at him in horror.

The little boy who’d been so violently bright that morning in the marketplace was dull. Although he was wearing fresh clothes, his skin had turned a stone gray, black marks dotting his once silken, silver skin like a disease. He was aware of his condition, weeping on the plush rug cut in the shape of a flower as he batted at his arms, willing them to turn healthy again.

“No no no no no no,” he sobbed. He grabbed at his pillowy hair in frustration and tugged. A cloud of fragile strands came away and he cried harder, trying to stick them back to his scalp.

Rhysand’s face was broken and pale. He tried not to look at Andrian. He was too young. Reminded him too much of his own son.

“You were right.” Rhysand’s voice was hollow, laced with a pain that grabbed your throat and squeezed. “Koschei did kill him. He’s been dead this whole time.”

“NO!” Andrian screamed. “HE DIDN’T! HE PROTECTED ME!”

Fat tears rolled out of filmy eyes, dusty and brown as pond water. Rage filled him with new energy and he tried to attack your mind as he’d already done with Azriel. But there was something altogether different about your magic, something flexible that morphed and rearranged your mental walls until it felt like he was trying to attack himself.

He gave up when your walls didn’t fall, and chose the physical route instead. You recoiled as he took a swipe, bony arms reaching out in an awkward lunge. But his legs were too weak and crumpled beneath him. He looked like a fish laid out to rot on a summer day — bloated and slick.

“Koschei brought him back to life for his powers—”

“HE LOVES ME! PAPA LOVES ME!”

“To use as he saw fit when the time was right.”

“But he can’t survive being separated for so long from Koschei’s power, can he?”

Just like Vassa. Left on their own without their maker they couldn’t handle the curses that had been placed on them. They’d bend until they broke… unless they found another way…

“The killings,” You murmured as the pieces slowly fell into place, “He killed those Librarians and the tailor and the florist…” You didn’t want to be right about this. You prayed to the Mother that you were wrong.

But Azriel read the thoughts in your eyes and nodded. Feyre could only stand still and Rhysand couldn’t do more than speak out in that dead voice of his.

Andrian had killed those fae, not just to send a message, but because that was the price for going against nature, for being brought back from the dead. Power demanded balance. To stay alive, Andrian had needed others to take his place. Those Librarians and the Velarians hadn’t been murdered. They’d been sacrificed.

What Koschei had done to this boy — what he’d turned him into — made you want to crawl into a dark corner and stay there forever.

Andrian’s sobs died out. A crack of lightning followed by unnerving silence that had Azriel’s blood freezing in his veins. Andrian wasn’t much older than he’d been when he’d first been tossed into that dark cellar. When his brothers had set his hands aflame.

“He loves me,” he declared, as if saying it would make it true. He stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. “He stayed when Henna left me. He wasn’t afraid of me like the others. He took care of me.”

But Koschei hadn’t taken care of him. He’d taught Andrian to love him. To worship him, because that’s what he craved above all else. He’d helped the boy control his powers and had allowed him to live so he could send him off to die when it was most convenient. You’d thought Henna was Koschei’s perfect soldier, but you were wrong. Andrian was. He’d been broken and molded into something that should never have existed. He’d been sent to Prythian after his sister’s death to take her place. A boy who would have no choice but to return to the lake or die trying.

And he was dying. You could see it clear as day. Two teeth clinked onto the floor and Andrian’s hands flew up to his mouth. He whimpered, eyes locking on you like you might be able to fix this.

You wanted to beg Rhys and Feyre to do something, to fix him, but it was a useless endeavor. They wouldn’t have brought you here if they could just reach into Andrian’s mind and end it all peacefully. Andrian was too powerful for that. But you could use another way.

You approached him like a wild, injured animal, grimacing when he tried to run at you only for his ankle to twist and then snap. He fell to the floor in a pathetic sprawl.

“Hey there, little feather.”

Andrian paused at that familiar nickname, watery eyes looking up. You said it just like Henna had once upon a time. The same inflection in a differently pitched voice. His lips trembled.

“She left me.”

You shook your head before kneeling on the ground in front of him. He smelled of death. It clung to his linen shirt and trousers. It clung to the few strands of hair still woven into his scalp, skin so thin you could make out his skull.

“She didn’t leave you, Andrian.” You poured your voice out over him, as soothing as you could make it, forcing the tears down. “She thought you’d died and that you’d stayed dead. She had a little ceremony for you out near the willow tree and buried your favorite toy beneath it with a handful of water lilies. Do you remember it? The little wooden doll you dressed up like a soldier with the red cap and the silver shoes?”

He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head while his weak neck teetered dangerously atop his shoulders.

“Andrian—” You pulled his hands away and in a bold, dangerous move brought them to your temple and slowly lowered your mental wards. You didn’t give him free reign, but rather guided him through snippets of memories you’d taken from Henna before her death. They all revolved around him. Before, and even after Koschei had poisoned their minds, Andrian had remained her true priority.

The boy’s eyes flashed from anger to confusion then, finally, to despair.

“She didn’t leave you.”

Andrian waited a few moments that had your heart seizing, then rushed into your arms, tightening them like a vice around your shoulders and burying his face in your hair. You held your breath, but tightened your grip. You weren’t his sister, but you were the closest thing he had.

Slowly, like sand falling through an hourglass, you felt his arms weaken and fall from your shoulders. He stared at you, wide and terrified as his hand snapped off at the wrist and fell to your side in a grey heap.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.”

You smoothed back his hair, shoving down the tears that threatened to fall. His eyes were white now and unseeing. “It’s ok, little feather. It’s ok.”

“I don’t—” Even his voice was crumbling apart. Raspy and broken like cracked glass. He had little time left. The fight in him gone. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to that dark place. Please don’t make me go.”

Azriel had been watching the entire time, trying not to picture the little boy with dark hair, weak wings, and bandaged hands. He went so, so still.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” You promised. You forced your trembling lips into a smile.

He took in a rasping breath. “Will you go with me this time, Henna? Please.”

You gritted your teeth, brows furrowed in an effort to stay here instead of turning and sprinting back to the surface.

“I will. That’s why I came” You brushed his hair away from his forehead, saying nothing when the wispy white strands were torn away from his scalp like silk… just like the memories of Koschei’s lake you plucked from his mind without him knowing. You swallowed the pain of what you knew was coming. “I won’t let you be alone.”

He went quiet after that. Maybe his voice had deteriorated beyond saving, maybe he finally felt at peace. All you knew is that you needed to keep brushing his hair and holding onto his hand when he laid down and placed his head in your lap. He was like a little windup doll that had run out of string. He kept breathing until he finally stopped.

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Author's Note:

So... this was a rather sad one, bit of a tonal shift if you ask me, but I wanted to wrap up the stuff with Henna and Andrian before we continue on to other things.

BUT, you have to appreciate when Y/n walks into what's effectively a torture chamber and goes "yeah, nope, still in love with Azriel." It's just one of those things that gets brushed under the rug but like... this guy's WHOLE JOB is inflicting pain upon people.... and you know what, it's a fantasy book, so who the hell cares. We stan Y/n being supportive of Azriel's career lol

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger

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illyrianbitch · 27 days

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A Helping Hand

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: Even most powerful males in Prythian need relationship advice from their best friend.

Warnings: males bein males about females (but theyre well meaning), brief mentions of sexual encounters, crack & friendship fluff!!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was one thing about Cassian that you’d come to know over the centuries you’d been friends: the male could talk.

He was on a new tangent now, describing the details of a strange dream he’d had a few days prior, casually laying across the couch with his feet propped up on the arm rests. How his wings weren’t uncomfortable being smushed underneath him and the couch cushions, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to ask and risk another hour long explanation of how nothing phases him because he's “just that male.”

“And the princess next to him looked exactly like Az-”

You let out a groan, pushing yourself to sit upright from your current slouched position, staring at Cassian with a confused expression. “Cass,” you said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He stopped mid sentence, turning to look at you with an open mouth and a blank stare. “My dream. Were you not listening?”

You gave him a look. “No.”

He frowned. “Well, that's rude. I listen to all of your dreams.”

“No, you don’t.”

He stilled for a moment, holding your stare, and then a giant grin broke out on his face. “Ah, you got me. I don’t.”

You let out a small snort before shaking your head and taking another deep breath. “Can we get back to why you needed to talk to me in the first place?”

Cassian’s face lit up in acknowledgement, and then he was readjusting himself to a proper sitting position, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Right, okay. I need your expertise on matters of the heart."

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “Okay…”

"Alright, so you know that female I’ve been with?"

You raised your eyebrows. “You have to be more specific than that.”

He stilled for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. Then he grinned, “The one who I said tasted like honey?”

You grimaced at his description. But Cass didn’t notice as he continued, “She’s super pretty. Real nice too, she gave you those little treats, remember?”

You thought back to the previous weeks, faintly remembering running into a female in the kitchen. You were still hungover from the night prior, so you didn’t remember much about the small conversation you’d held with her, but you did remember those treats— and the way she stared at Cassian longingly.

“I remember,” you finally said. “What about her?”

“I like her. I think she’s really cool. So, I want to do something to impress her, maybe ask her out for real.”

You smiled at him, a small, gentle, upside down smile that formed a small pout as you said, “Aw, Cass, you softie.”

The male in front of you grinned again, offering you a small shrug. “What can I say, I’m pussy-whipped.”

Your smile fell and you rolled your eyes. Well, that moment was nice while it lasted. You took a deep breath before leaning forward more, matching Cassian’s posture.

"She really liked you, so I don’t think you can go wrong. Just do what feels right.”

Cassian’s grin grew as he nodded his head in contemplation. "Alright,” he said, “Hear me out. I'm thinking of making a grand gesture outside her apartment, something to really show her how I feel."

You nodded, intrigued. "Okay, go on."

"And get this," He leaned in closer, a childlike glee in his voice as he continued, "I'll do it butt-ass naked, with a ribbon tied around my—"

Your hand shot up in front of you, a single finger pointed to cut him off mid-sentence. A deep sigh escaped you as you brought the hand to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"So, I stand corrected,” you said with a disappointed nod. “You can go wrong."

Cassian's expression faltered, confusion evident in his features as he frowned. "What? You just told me—"

"Yeah, that was before you said that terrible idea," you interrupted, shaking your head in disbelief. "Don't do that. Do anything but that."

He sat up straighter, his lips slightly upturned now, a glint in his eyes. "Anything?"

You paused, remembering your earlier encouragement. Then you let out a deep sound of frustration. "Dude, just get her some flowers."

"But that's so boring,” he whined, “Like, Rhys boring. I gotta go big or go home, you know?"

You let out a groan at the ceiling, letting yourself fall back into the couch with an exasperated flare of your hands. "At this rate, please go home. I'm begging you."

But then, just as Cassian was about to let himself fall back into the couch, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I've got an idea,” he said, quickly jumping off the couch.

He stopped midway, turning around to walk over to you in a few quick strides. He leaned down, managing to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before running away again.

“Thanks, Y/n. Love you!”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was a quiet morning in the townhouse, gentle rays of sun shining through the opened kitchen window. You rubbed your tired eyes as you looked outside, waiting for the remnants of your sleep to disappear with the new day. Your hands held onto the small apple in your grasp, running your fingers along the fruit as you stared outside. With a small hum of contentment, you turned around to head back to your room.

You bumped into a large mass as you turned around, a dark figure shrouded in shadows as it stood still before you.

“Holy fuck!”

The apple fell from your hands as you jumped back, eyes blinking rapidly as Azriel’s presence registered before you, a small amused smile on his face. You let out a deep breath, hands flying to your heavily beating heart. You glared at him, your gaze quickly flickering down to your waist, where a small black mass floated around your apple— suspended in mid air as it was caught during its fall.

You quickly snatched the apple back, watching as the shadows happily trailed back to Azriel, their black forms settling behind his back and above his shoulders. You brought your glare back to Azriel’s face.

He did this to you often, quieting the sound of hit footsteps with his shadows to make his entrances stealthy and unnoticed. It never got old to him, how often you’d get caught off guard and send a glare his way, usually accompanied by a string of curses he’d never heard put together.

“Footsteps make noise for a reason, Az,” you grumbled, “So you don’t make your loved ones shit their pants.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, and you didn’t miss the movement of a lone tendril moving towards you— you lightly swatted it away, redirecting it like a small, curious puppy.

“I didn’t mean literally, you ass.”

Azriel only grinned in response, a small laugh leaving his lips. “It just never gets old.”

His hair was slightly tousled, messy across his forehead. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, a casual, lazy look that he often adorned on quiet, slow, mornings like these— this version of Az, laid-back and comfortable, was one solely reserved for the townhouse, and only for you and your family.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes at him. “What do you want?”

Az frowned slightly. “Good Morning to you, too, I guess.”

“It was a good morning, until you disrupted my peace. What do you want?”

Azriel’s face held a mischievous smile as he shrugged. “Why do you think I want something?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Because I know you. And you’re wearing your I need a favor face.”

He scowled at this, letting out a small sound of offense. “That's not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” he protested again, “I don’t have faces. This is just my face.”

“Az,” you groaned. “Get to the point please. What do you want?”

He let out a sigh of defeat before he shifted on his feet. “Fine, I need your he-”

You pointed an excited finger in his face. “Aha,” you said loudly, “I knew you needed something!”

Yet again, he scowled at this, lightly knocking your finger out of his face with his palm. He gave you a flat look.

“Ow.”

“Can I speak now?”

You held your hands up in resignation, finally bringing the apple to your mouth as you took a small bite.

“Pierla won’t leave me alone.”

You frowned at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Who?”

Somehow, Azriel’s face fell even flatter, and he stared at you with an unammused look. “Y/n,” he said, almost scolding you with an exasperated tone.

“What?” you said. “I’m sorry I don’t keep track of every female you guys bed. My fault.”

He rolled his eyes, and you resisted the urge to either scoff in disbelief or mimic his movements. Sure, laid-back and comfortable Azriel was reserved for the townhouse and morning like this, but so was sassy Azriel and his impatience as well. You preferred the first— and only the second when it was directed at anyone but you.

“I slept with her like five days ago.”

“Okay,” you drawled, “And now she won’t leave you alone.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh.

You stared at him, brows still furrowed, a frown now on your face that crinkled your nose. “Well that sucks.”

He stared at you again, the same flat and unamused look on his face. A flicker of irritation ran through his hazel eyes. “Y/n.”

You lifted your hands up in exasperation, the apple still held in one hand, adorned by the lone bite you’d been granted to take. “What?” you responded, “The hell am I supposed to do about that? That’s a pp.”

“A pp?”

You pursed your lips, preparing yourself to hold back a laugh. “A personal problem.”

He let out a sound of frustration. “Really?”

You let your mouth fall open in response. “Again, I reiterate, what am I supposed to do in this situation?”

“I don’t know!” His hands flew out in desperation as he shrugged, his shadows bouncing to the edges of his fingertips. “Help me, or something. Please.”

“Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Vocally? No. Physically? Yes.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Azriel brought a finger to the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes, not waiting for him to respond as you added, “Why are you acting frustrated right now? You put yourself in this position, Az.”

For what felt like the millionth time in the conversation, Az scowled. “I’m well aware of the position I’m currently placed in, Y/n.”

You brought the apple to your mouth, taking advantage of the moment of silence to actually indulge in the sole reason you’d been in the kitchen in the first place. Taking a few seconds to chew, you mulled over the options at hand.

“Next time you’re with her, just stare.”

Azriel blinked. “What.”

“You have this stare you do when you zone out, it's creepy. And unnerving. It makes me want to apologize for things I’ve never done.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, a slight smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes before letting your face fall, as you frowned at him, arms falling lax at your sides. “You do it on purpose, don’t you?”

His smirk grew. “Never,” he replied, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “But good idea, I’ll do that. Thanks, Y/n.”

As he turned his back and began walking out, you quickly sent a vulgar gesture to his back, angrily sticking up your middle finger in mockery.

“Saw that,” he sang over his shoulders. You casted your gaze down to a lone shadow that danced before you.

“Snitch,” you whispered down to it, watching as it began sliding to Azriel’s retreating form.

His voice rang out from the hallway, “Heard that, too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Velaris was extra lively this morning, and it made your day even better.

You always found it so special that despite his duties as High Lord, Rhys never missed the tradition of getting breakfast with you every other Wednesday. You couldn’t quite remember when the tradition started, surely centuries ago when you both were younger, deciding that Wednesday’s needed a specific pick-me-up to get through the rest of the week. But the tradition formed, and it stayed for centuries. And, truly, you loved it. It always gave you a sense of comfort— a reminder that things may always change around you, but never when it came to the bond you shared with your boys, and with Rhysand especially.

But Rhys was quiet this morning, absentmindedly picking at the flakes of the croissant on his table.

You let out a small laugh. “Okay, spill. What the hell happened to you?”

Rhys slowly angled his head to look up at you, face distorted in defeat. “Females,” he muttered. “That’s what happened.”

You frowned, placing the croissant back down on the plate before you. You dusted your hands of crumbs. “Usually you say that word with a lot more excitement.”

He raised his eyebrows in response, and you watched as he rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

You lifted an eyebrow of your own. “What did you do?”

He brought his gaze back to you. “I’ve been fucking around with the twins.”

You frowned in confusion.

“...Nuala and Cerridwen?” You whispered, leaning closer to him, face scrunched.

You let your mind wander for a moment, thinking about the two twins that Rhysand had welcomed into your home. You loved the sisters dearly, and even you can admit they were beautiful— a type of beauty you didn’t really know how to describe, but beautiful nonetheless. But they were more shadows than they were form, not tangible enough to….have sex with, you assumed. You blinked.

“W-What?” Rhysand said, eyes widening slightly. “No. The twins from Rita’s last weekend.”

“Oh,” you breathed out with a relieved smile. And then you thought back to the two females Rhys had left with, a grin forming on your face.” Oh,” you said, amused. You leaned forward bumped his shoulders with a gentle fist. “Nice.”

“Not nice,” he grumbled, letting his back fall against the metal back of the chair. He let out an exasperated sigh. Your gaze trailed to the streets next to you, catching the sight of a few passerbys taking in the scene of their defeated High Lord. You cleared your throat, leaning forward in your chair to place your elbows on the table.

“Okay, I’m confused,” you said, “Why is this not a good thing? Seventeen year old Rhysand would be pissing in excitement right now.”

Rhys let out a small snicker at this, a small smirk on his face at the image. But then it quickly fell when he let out another grumble.

“Rhys, people are looking at you and making fun of you.”

He sprung up at this, eyes quickly searching his surroundings. He made eye contact with a few citizens, sprouting a large, charming grin on his face as he lifted a hand in greeting. The groups hesitantly gave a wave back, opting for small smiles before they went on their way.

Rhysand then looked at you once more, leaning forward to grab your hands in his.

“I’m an honest male. I’m allowed to make mistakes, right?”

It was becoming suspicious now, and you narrowed your eyes at him with pursed lips.

“What did you do?”

He gave you a small, guilty smile, perfect teeth on display.

“I bought them flowers, right? Just a sweet, classic, gesture to show them I was interested.”

You resisted the urge to laugh. It was, indeed, a sweet gesture, but Cassian’s words from earlier in the week rang in your mind, his joke about flowers being a boring move-- a boring Rhys move. You didn’t hide your amusement well enough, though, and Rhysand narrowed his eyes at you, tapping your hands lightly to draw your attention back.

“What?” he said.

You shook your head, giving him a small, inconspicuous smile. Then you offered him a shrug. “Nothing. Keep talking.”

He kept his eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he gave up, letting out another dramatic-Rhysand sigh. “But apparently, I gave each of the flowers to the wrong twin. And now they’re mad that I can’t tell them apart. I mean, they’re identical, Y/n. As amazing as I am, I’m no god.”

You let out a small snort, staring at him with an amused smile. “You can literally read minds.”

He opened his mouth. And then closed it.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

You laughed, readjusting your hands so now it was yours that lay otop of his. You gave a gentle pat. “But that’s wrong. So you need to find a way to differentiate them, at least if you want to keep whatever it is you have going.”

“It’s fun,” he said, as a grin began to grow on his face. “One female is great, but sisters?” He let out a small whistle, “Whole other experience.”

You grimaced. “Rhysand,” you scolded, “Don’t be such a male. I was going to offer to help you. I take it back.”

“No, no,” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. He then gave you a pout, “Please.”

You held his stare for a moment, watched as he titled his head and gave you an innocent, charming, boyish smile.

“Fine,” you finally said, “But you owe me.”

Rhysand grinned, large and broad, as he sat back into his chair and picked up the small desert on his plate. “I always do,” he said with a gleam in his eye, bringing the croissant to his mouth.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It took you a few days, four to be exact, before you were able to fulfill the promise you’d made to Rhysand. It was nighttime now as you finally returned to the townhouse for the day. From down the hall, you could see the dim faelight pouring out from Rhysand’s office, his door wide open.

Once you reached the doorway, you perched yourself in it, leaning against it as you cleared your throat.

“Leyra is slightly shorter and has two dimples. Kerala has shorter hair, one dimple, and a freckle on her chin.”

Rhysand looked up from his papers, sitting up right in his chair with a smile on his face. “Have I told you how amazing you are?”

You gave him a grin. “Add it to the list.”

Rhys laughed, tilting his head as he took in a relaxed breath. “Thank you.”

You gave him a small nod of your head as you began walking out. But before you took a step to leave, you popped your head back into the view of the doorway, wrapping your hand around the edge of the frame.

“Kerala also has a freckle on the inside of her right thigh. Kinda looks like a little heart.”

Rhysand’s face furrowed, and then his mouth fell open slightly. He narrowed his eyes.

“How do you know that?”

You grinned at him for the second time that night, giving the frame of the doorway a pat with your hands. Then you shrugged. “You never told me how you wanted me to help.”

Before Rhys could register your words, you were walking away, your figure disappearing from his open door.

When it finally hit, Rhys let out a small chuckle. Then, he shrugged to himself, returning to his work with an amused smile.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

bat boys tag list 🫶🏻: @willowpains @maevecrom @vansaddy

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imagineaworld · 1 month

Text

stray shadow 🗡️ azriel

summary: azriel loses a shadow, only for it to lead him straight to you

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, public place (kinda), dirty talk, swearing, mentions of alcohol

word count: 1.5k

Azriel seemed to have lost one of his shadows.

He had been too busy observing the crowd for potential threats to notice the shadow sneak off somewhere. After deciding there were no current threats amongst the crowd gathered in the Court of Nightmares, he slipped off in search of the stray.

Following the gentle tug that was beckoning him to the other side of the cavernous hall, he kept to the outskirts to avoid the mass of bodies talking, dancing and drinking.

As the tug grew stronger, he wondered curiously where his shadow was leading him. Had it sensed a threat that even he hadn't spotted? It seemed unlikely, but not impossible.

Eventually, he approached a small crowd loitering by the table littered with glasses and flutes of wine and champagne. His shadow was close, he could sense it. He scanned the small group, seeking the familiar darkness of his shadows.

There. He spotted it; slinked around a high-heeled ankle. His eyes trailed upwards, following the exposed bare leg, continuing up a gossamer-clad torso, a plunging neckline, a long slender neck, before settling on the face of the most beautiful female he had ever seen.

You hadn't noticed it at first. The soft brush had just felt like the fabric of your dress sweeping against your ankle. But when you looked down, you noticed a black shadow slowly wrapping itself around your ankle. It tickled, pulling a smile from you as you watched it wend its way up your leg, exposed through the slit in your dress.

Curiously, you reached down to touch it as it skated your thigh. In answer, it wrapped itself around your fingers. Bringing your hand closer to your face, you watched in wonder as it danced in between your fingers.

You were so distracted by the shadow that you didn't notice the owner of the shadow approach until he spoke.

"They seem to like you."

It was the only thing Azriel could think to say as he watched you smile at the shadow flitting around in your hand. All thoughts had left his mind, the sight rendering him speechless for a few seconds.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up. Your eyes locked onto his, amusement dancing in them. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Lose something?" You spoke, your voice like caramel.

Struck dumb, Azriel could only watch as you gently flicked his shadow in his direction, returning it to him. Reluctantly, the shadow rejoined the mass swirling around his feet. Az realised he should say something.

"I apologise for disturbing you," he managed. "I usually have them under control, but they're feeling rebellious today."

You laughed, and it was the single greatest sound he has ever heard. Azriel couldn't contain his own smile, self-consciously rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

"Should I be concerned about drawing their attention?" You inquired playfully.

Az chuckled. "No, not unless you plan on causing trouble."

Something like mischief sparked in your eyes. "Oh, I always plan on causing trouble."

Gods, save him.

You extended a hand and introduced yourself.

"Azriel." He said, his scarred hand clasping yours as he suppressed his disgust at marring you with his touch.

You repeated his name, just a murmur, but loud enough for him to hear. Perhaps he had been wrong, it was not your laugh that was the greatest sound he had ever heard, but the sound of his name of your lips.

You weren't quite sure how you were playing it so cool. The male standing before you was quite simply the most handsome male you had ever seen. Talking to males never normally intimidated you, but you felt the need to leave a lasting impression on this one.

Just the touch of his hand on yours had sent tingles down your spine. The feeling was unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome. It was safe to say, for the first time in your life, you were out of your depth.

The musicians began playing a tune that had hoards of people flocking to the dance floor.

"Well, Azriel," you began, holding out your hand. "Do you or your shadows dance?"

Wordlessly, with a glint in his eyes, Azriel took your hand and led you out into the crowd of couples on the dance floor.

Az took the lead in the dance with a newfound confidence. You placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the hard muscles beneath his jacket. His large hand on your waist felt equally as strong, but he held you at a respectable distance.

As if unhappy with the distance between you, his shadows reached for you. They pulled you in closer, wrapping round the two of you as you moved gracefully on the dance floor.

You huffed a laugh, your breasts now flush against Azriel's broad chest. "They're definitely rebellious."

Az only grunted in response, as though words were beyond him.

Looking up at him as he towered over you, you bit your lip, anxious that your closeness had made him uncomfortable.

He was already looking down at you when your eyes met his, dark with lust. "Don't look at me like that." He ground out.

"Why not?" You challenged, your own newfound confidence coming through at the realisation he was growing hard beneath you as your bodies pressed together.

He growled lowly. "Drives me crazy."

His gravelly voice went straight to your core, and as his eyes darkened further, you knew he could scent your arousal. Refusing to blush, you held his gaze and he inhaled, a restrained groan building in his throat.

"You smell divine."

You bit your lip again. "Why don't you find out how I taste?"

You refused to break Azriel's gaze, which had turned feral at your words. In that gaze, you could see an internal battle between desire and logic.

"Offer's on the table," you told him. "No strings."

Azriel whirled around, leading you by your joint hands to the nearest exit. Once outside the hall, your heels clicked on the stone as he led you down a handful of dim corridors. He stopped beside an alcove, pushing you in with his body. The alcove was just big enough for the two of you, his shadows blocking you from sight of any stray passers-by.

Not wasting any time, Az connected his mouth to yours in the most sensous kiss you had ever experienced. You leaned into the kiss and tangled your fingers into Azriel's hair, drawing a low groan from the back of his throat.

He trailed kisses from your mouth down your neck, sucking and nipping with his teeth. You let out a breathy moan as his teeth grazed over your nipple, the fabric of your dress pushed aside.

Through the slit in your dress, Azriel stroked your thigh, higher and higher until he reached where your underwear should have been.

"No panties?" He growled. "You really are looking for trouble."

His fingers toyed with your pussy, gathering up the slick before sliding one finger inside.

"Azriel." You breathed, the sensation overwhelming you.

He moved his finger in and out of you, curling it just right as he added another.

"Feel so good round my fingers, baby," he praised, watching as you started to unravel. "Let's find out how you taste."

He dropped to his knees before you, gathering the fabric of your dress and bunching it round your hips. The scent of your arousal and the feeling of your slick had hardened his cock beneath his trousers. He licked a long, slow line along your pussy, teasing you.

"Please," you begged.

"So needy," he taunted. You could hear the smugness in his voice. Putting you out of your misery, he pressed his mouth to your pussy. Like a man starved, he licked, sucked, nipped at you, all the while sliding his fingers in and out.

You moaned his name, fingers tugging at strands of his hair. He growled at the sensation, which reverberated against your clit. You felt your release building.

"Fuck, you taste so good," his voice full of lust. "You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Fuck, don't stop."

Obliging, he picked up the pace of his fingers, and focused his mouth on your clit. Your moans were obcene as you came, his name spilling out of you for all to hear. Azriel only slowed his pace once your pussy had stopped clenching round his fingers.

He looked up at you with a devilish grin, lips wet with your slick. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out of you, raising them to his lips taste you again.

He raised up to his full height, towering over you. His hair a tussled mess, his eyes still dark with lust. "Until next time," he said, and vanished off, taking his shadows with him.

The sound of you moaning his name, the taste of you on his tongue, they lingered for hours. He thought about it - about you for the rest of the evening. Later that night, he fucked his fist and came at the thought of you.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar smut #azriel smut #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #sjm universe

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marvelsmylife · 2 months

Text

Her touch

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: he only craves her touch

a/n I'm in a cheerful mood. please send in your fluffiest (or even smuttiest) requests my way

Warning: implied smut. Az becoming the biggest simp.

ACOTAR Masterlist

Prompt List

Request

Azriel has been alive for over 500 years and has had multiple lovers throughout those years. Yet, it’s your touch that has him weak in the knees; and you weren’t even aware of it.

The first time it happened was a complete accident. You were helping Elain with bringing the dinner out for everyone when you accidentally placed your hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Oh, sorry sugar. I thought I was holding your chair,” you apologized, removing your hand from his shoulder and disappearing into the kitchen.

Azriel didn’t know why, but he found himself becoming flustered with not only the nickname you gave him but also feeling your hand on his shoulder. Even if it only lasted a few seconds.

Everyone around the table noticed as well, but opted not to say anything; they knew better than to tease the spymaster. But they made a mental note to keep an eye on you for future interactions between you two.

The second time it happened was at the court of nightmares. Rhysand had business to take care of there and decided to bring all of you along.

Unfortunately, you got separated from the rest of the group and ultimately started getting pestered by one of Keir’s men.

You were praying to the mother that you find one of your friends to help you when you spotted Azriel leaning against a pillar. You ran towards him and whispered: “Please pretend I’m your mate. He won’t leave me alone.”

Azriel didn’t hesitate to get in front of you and shield you from the male making you uncomfortable. It took everything in Azriel not to kill the male that was in front of him because Rhysand clearly stated he didn’t want any deaths while they were there. “The female is my mate,” Azriel warned: “If I see you anywhere near her, I will gut you like a fish in front of everyone.”

The male huffed at Azriel’s threat but ultimately left.

As soon as he was gone, he turned to look at you. He was about to ask if you were ok when you wrapped your arms around him and repeatedly thanked him for what he did. “It’s ok. You’re ok. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” Azriel tried to soothe you, his hand resting around your waist.

When you finally pulled away, you pulled Azriel down and kissed him on his cheek: “My hero.”

Azriel swore his heart stopped beating when your lips made contact with his cheek. Before he could respond, Rhysand announced that they were leaving. You immediately went to Mors' side and quickly left the court of nightmares.

After that night, Azriel tried to get you to touch him any chance he got. His body craved your touch and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

The others noticed Azriel’s efforts and started placing bets on how long it would take before he got the balls to tell you how he felt about you.

You, on the other hand, were obviously to the entire thing. Mor would tease you for your cluelessness and beg you to open your eyes to what Azriel was doing. She wanted you to be happy and knew Azriel would treat you right.

It wasn’t until one night when you and Azriel were alone at the house of wind that Azriel finally got what his body desperately craved. What was supposed to be light rain turned into a thunderstorm. Seeing as you hated thunderstorms so much, you quickly ran and lightly knocked on Azriel’s door and asked if you could stay with him. He agreed and brought you inside. He couldn’t help but smile as you curled up against him on his bed, and it took everything in him not to kiss you.

“I love this,” you started, taking his hands into yours: “I always feel safe with you around. Like I know you’ll kill anything and anyone who dares to threaten me.”

“Because I would,” Azriel whispered, bringing your hands up to his lips: “I would go as far as burning all of Prythian if you asked me to. Just to make you happy.”

You stared in shock at Azriel’s comment. None of the males you’ve been with in the past has ever expressed themselves the way Azriel has. Before you allowed yourself to second guess what you were about to do, you leaned in and kissed Azriel.

The moment your lips landed on Azriel’s, an overwhelming amount of lust rushed through Azriel’s body, and before he knew it, he found himself on top of you. His callous hands roamed your body, squeezing every inch of you as if he were making sure you were actually real.

As if you read his mind, you whimper: “Real, I’m real Az.”

That drove Azriel to groan before he began attacking your neck with kisses and slipping his hands under your nightgown. “Yes, you are,” Azriel lightly bit your collarbone before he finally removed your nightgown, and you lay naked beneath him: “So fucking gorgeous.”

Soft whimpers and moans escaped your lips as Azriel fucked you in every position he knew. Not stopping until you begged him to; too overwhelmed from the multiple orgasms you had thanks to Azriel.

There was silence for several minutes while you both basked in the post-orgasm bliss. Both of you wanted to speak but were too worried about breaking the silence until Azriel was brave enough to do it: “Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Regret what we just did,” Azriel replied, gently stroking your cheek.

“No, I don’t,” you stared at Azriel with nothing but love in your eyes: “If I have any regrets, it’s that I didn’t listen to Mor when she told me you had feelings towards me a few months ago. I know about the crush you harbored on her for centuries, and she’s absolutely gorgeous. I just thought you would never go for someone like me. Someone so bland and boring.”

There was a pain in Azriel’s eyes as he listened to the way you spoke about yourself. “Never speak about yourself in that manner. You are everything to me. You are the female that has my heart completely, and you are the female I choose to love.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Azriel’s scarred hands brushing away the tears running down your cheeks. “I choose to love you too,” you murmured as you rested your head on his chest and drifted off to sleep.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 month

Text

Punishment for flirting with someone else — Headcanons

a/n: thank you for the request, anon <3

Warnings: smut, overstim w/ Rhys, spanking w/ Cass, edging w/ Az, humiliation w/ Eris, oral w/ Lucien (f receiving)

Rhysand: flirting to get something from a shopkeeper

You flinch as he again seals his punishing mouth over your cunt, and you squirm on the bed, gasping as you try to pull away.

“Rhys…Rhysie, please,” you pant tearfully, begging as his violet eyes flick up from between your thighs, just as he drags the hardened tip of his tongue over your clit, swirling around the puffy and sensitive part.

You squeal, tears spilling as his teeth nip at that intimate part. “Rhys, I’m sorry,” you beg, but he doesn’t seem to be listening, dipping lower, his tongue prodding at your entrance, feeling as you tighten, cunt fluttering with sensitivity.

“Rhys, please,” you cry softly, tears welling as you feel him already dragging you toward the edge again—an edge you know you won’t survive should he push you over it.

You seemed so happy to forget me earlier, Rhys muses, making you flinch from how he appears in your mind. I can’t have my High Lady forgetting who her mate is.

“I didn’t!” You pant, squirming again as he returns to your clit, suctioning lightly, his forearm pinning your hips to the bed as you try to buck away.

“I just…it was an unfair deal,” you whimper, “I was just—”

Batting your eyelashes and flirting like you don’t have someone who can make you shake from pleasure at your fingertips, he muses, humming onto your heat, and you can feel the smug grin on his soft, cruel mouth.

The orgasm breaks across your skin, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks as your back bows in ecstasy, fingers threading through his thick, blue-black hair as your thighs part, hips winding against his tongue as it rolls over your clit.

Just as quickly as it has hit you, the pleasure crashes into overstimulation, and you cry out as he keeps his mouth sealed over you torturously, suckling, licking, nipping relentlessly, using his strength to force you through it, even as you buck and writhe.

Your legs shake, panting deeply as your eyes squeeze shut, his laugh echoing through your mind as he watches your reactions, drinking them down as eagerly as he does your release, lapping at the wetness that floods his tongue.

That’s better, he chuckles, the sound dripping down your spine, toes curling as your muscles lose their strength, flopping down into the mattress, unable to protest against his merciless ministrations. Are you sorry for forgetting who your pleasure belongs to?

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” you sniffle softly, panting heavily as you tremble on his bed, thighs shaking from where he’s kept them over his broad shoulders. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” he muses lowly, standing, allowing your legs to flop off the edge of the mattress, glancing over your naked form—the wet gleam of your heat, how overstimulated you look. Arousal so palpable in the air he’s unable able to continue as he’d intended.

Violet eyes gleam punishingly, and you whimper, knowing that look all too well.

“Rhys…” you breathe, brows curving as you try to push yourself up his bed, but it only has his lips curving as his deft fingers drop to the ties of his trousers.

“I thought you liked the pleasure I can give you,” he remarks, chuckling lowly.

“It’s too much,” you whimper, shaking your head, body trembling from his attention, legs pressing together, then parting a little when you feel too sensitive to bear any kind of stimulation.

“You know what to do if it really is too much,” he drawls, eyes licking hungrily over your heat, lips gleaming faintly as his tongue laps up the flavour you coated him with. “But you and I both know you enjoy this. Being forced to take more, and more, and more.”

Your skin flushes as he pulls himself free, his thumb swiping over his tip, precum gleaming against his skin, and you tighten around nothing.

“I know you love having the breath fucked from your body,” he growls lowly, settling over you, pinning you to the bed, pressing hotly between your thighs, making you gasp at the sensitivity.

“Just be good and lay still,” he murmurs, relishing in the way your spine arches as he presses his tip to the soft indentation between your thighs. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

Cassian: weren’t flirting—he’s just possessive

“What was that, sweetheart?” The General drawls, keeping you pinned down in his lap, his elbow pushing into the top of your spine, his palm splaying out across your lower back. “Want to repeat it?”

“I didn’t do anything!” You snap in frustration. “If you’d get a grip and stop being so possessive, you’d see that.”

You gasp as his palm connects with your hind, shoving you forward in his lap with the force of the impact. Your thighs squeeze together, traitorous heat liquefying as you tighten around nothing. Fucking mating bond, messing you up.

“Wrong answer, sweetheart,” Cassian drawls, withdrawing his arm from your spine in favour of tangling his fist in your hair, pulling you roughly from his lap, forcing you onto hands and knees.

“You know you’ve gotten significantly worse at sharing since that bond clicked, Cass,” you hiss, spine curving, thighs parting a little wider, heat unspooling in your lower belly at the low drag of his laugh, rough and gravelly against your sensitive skin.

“At sharing?” He drawls, tugging lightly on your hair in reprimand. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Utterly and completely. I’m not sharing an inch of you with someone else.”

“I’m allowed to fucking smile at other people, you possessive piece of—” You gasp, his palm smacking down onto the slightly raw skin of your hind, aches of pleasure blossoming in response.

“You did more than smile, sweetheart. Don’t try and deny it,” he growls, landing another stinging spank to your flesh, your eyes heating as you try to press your thighs together.

“So domineering,” you mutter under your breath, “no one likes a jealous partner, Cass.”

He laughs lowly at that, hand releasing your hair to grip your jaw, thick fingers biting into the softness of your cheeks. “I’ll take that to mean you want it harder?” He drawls roughly, digits running up your centre, able to feel as you tighten around nothing, watching how your pupils dilate.

“Do you give your soldiers a smack on the wrist when they disobey you?” You breathe, arousal permeating through the air as you drip onto his fingers, his thumb pressing to your clit.

“I’m not sure you’d like that sort of discipline, sweetheart,” the General drawls, “but I suppose that attitude of yours could use some fixing.”

Your teeth drag over your lip, back curving as you part your thighs, shifting your hips to draw his attention back to you. “I don’t think you could fix it even if you wanted to.”

His lips curve, then he pulls away, and you gasp as he pushes you down into the bed, your ass in the air as his palm draws back, smacking down with enough impact to have you trying to bite at the sheets.

“Shall we put that to the test?” He drawls, thick fingers sliding into your heat, pumping and scissoring, and you flush with how easy it was for him.

“Let’s see how long you can last before that attitude of yours realises where she stands.”

Azriel: flirting to provoke

Your eyes roll, thighs trying to press together as your lips part, hips bucking in attempts to have his fingers inside of you for just a little longer…a little longer, and you’ll…

You cry out when he pulls away, arousal dripping down your thighs, slicking the boards beneath you, arms bound to the table so he can focus on pulling you apart.

“Az…” you whimper, “please…”

He groans lowly from the back of his throat. “Gods, I fucking love it when you beg like that,” he admits, a little breathlessly, cock straining hard against his tightly done-up leathers, and you watch lustfully as he readjusts their tension.

Your lower lip wobbles, thighs beginning to press together, hypersensitive to the cool air now washing against your cunt, how aware you are of your own nakedness.

Azriel growls in warning, palms settling down as he firmly guides them apart again, your hips bucking lightly from how near his fingers are to where you need them.

“Should I chain you up again?” He drawls, and you stop struggling, trying to keep your body still, but it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like that. With those darkened eyes that look like they’d be more than happy to hunt you down beneath a full moon.

“No,” you manage softly, spine curving a little from the rough tone, how it drags over your skin, promising the kind of stimulation you’re craving. Stimulation he knows you’re craving, and denying anyway. “I’ll stay still.”

He quirks a brow, a cocky curve to his lips as he glances down at you, hand raising to your hip bone, tracing down wordlessly, fully aware of how your attention is keyed to his touch, tracking its decline.

You suck in a low breath when his knuckles brush just shy of where you want him.

“Az,” you breathe, “Azzie…”

Tears well behind your eyes, teeth dragging over your lip, muscles tight with the effort to keep still as he teases you further, thumb brushing over your clit, puffy and sore from too much stimulation and not enough relief.

He hums in response, a gleam in his eyes you don’t like one bit, skin prickling as his gaze licks over you.

“Please…” you beg, “it’s been hours.”

He huffs a low laugh, chuckling as he settles between your thighs, war-roughened hands still keeping you spread apart on his table. “You knew what you were getting into. Don’t try and deny it.”

You whine, tensing as he lowers his mouth to your cunt, staring you down as he run his tongue up your centre, lightly circling your clit, shadows creeping up either side your chest to gently brush over your nipples.

Your back bows, wrists remaining fastened to the table no matter how desperately you want to run your fingers through his hair—to grip and guide until you’re releasing on his mouth the way you both enjoy.

“Azriel…” you moan, long and drawn out, low and breathless as he licks over your heat, his deft fingers already poised to push against your entrance, to slide back in with embarrassing ease.

Your eyelids flutter, bowing off the table as they slide in, pumping and curling against spots he knows can make you sob, suckling over your clit to bring you closer to the edge he might not even deliver you to tonight.

Shadows pinch at your nipples, then they’re vacating your chest, making you whine. Until they push up over your jaw, tendrils like fingers gently plying your lips apart, dipping down to push against your tongue.

Your legs start shaking, surprised by how arousing it is, swirling against them, following their movements, as if getting to please them, too.

Azriel’s teeth nip at you, enjoying how you flinch, able to feel how close you are all over again. Even he’s lost count of how many he’s withheld, but both of you know you’re enjoying it.

The orgasm builds to high, gradually crescendoing, and your stomach muscles tighten in preparation to have that pleasure flooding your veins, so, so so sososo close…toes curling, eyes squeezing shut, head tipping back, and…

Hot tears spill over as he pulls away, leaving you wet and needful, hot and messy, dumbly winding your hips as you try to rock yourself over the edge on your own.

“Not yet,” he drawls, stood back to take you in. “You’ve got a long way yet.”

Eris: being a bit too friendly—for the sake of politics

“Want to tell me what that was about, fawn?” He drawls, features neutral but unable to conceal the ire lighting his piercing gaze.

You blink, pausing in the middle of the room, gazing over to where he’s settled, draping himself over one of the plush, large chairs you have by the fireplace. “What what was about?” You ask, tilting your head curiously, glancing to him. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and your brow furrows at his dour mood.

“The Lord.” He mutters lowly, an expression of disgust marring his features. “He practically had his hands all over you.”

You blink, caught off guard by the accusation—you hadn’t thought it would bother him so severely. “Oh, Eris,” you sigh, relieved it’s a solvable issue. “That was nothing, I just thought it would be handy to have him on our side. That’s all it was.”

“You couldn’t have found another way of securing him?” Eris remarks lowly, displeasure dripping from his tone. “It’s unseemly to have my wife throwing herself at every other male she lays eyes on.”

“Eris, I was not throwing myself at him, nor was I flirting with every other male I laid eyes on. You can see the advantages of my actions, can’t you?” You ask, making to walk toward him.

“Stay there,” he orders lowly, causing you to falter. Is he really upset by it? A guilty feeling settles in your gut.

“Since you’re so willing to commit demeaning acts in public, it should be no skin off your back to do so in private,” he drawls, and heat gathers in your lower abdomen as deft fingers drop to the ties in his finely tailored trousers, able to make out the evidence of his gathering arousal.

Your throat rolls, heat flushing your skin. “Well…what do you have in mind?” You ask hesitantly.

“Crawl,” he breathes, flame burning in his amber eyes, having nothing to do with the lit fire. “Crawl over here. On your hands and knees.”

Your lips part, taken aback by the request, averting your gaze. “Are you— I mean…”

“Struggling with something?” He drawls lowly, dangerously. “After that obscene display, I would have thought this would be child’s play.”

Your toes curl in your shoes, already beginning to ache for him all over again. So you meet his gaze, doing nothing to conceal your interest, cautious as it is. “And what will I get in return?” You ask.

It’s Eris’ turn to falter, having not expected the resistance, but then the edges of his lips are quirking faintly, heat intensifying in his already burning gaze. “What could be greater than being in your High Lord’s favour?” He remarks, a note of idleness making its way into his already lazy drawl.

You hum faintly, glancing away with feigned disinterest. “It isn’t very ladylike to crawl across floorboards, High Lord.”

“Then it’s perfect you’ve been anything but tonight,” he muses, and your breath catches as magic pushes roughly behind your legs, forcing you to your knees.

You’re certain arousal will be soaking your underwear by now, already so deep within his thrall as your pulse spikes. Your tongue darts out to swipe over your lower lip, then you’re moving onto your hands and knees, lethargically crawling across the wooden boards to him.

“I only wanted to please you, High Lord,” you murmur, a sultry shift to your honeyed voice, skin prickling beneath your clothes as you make it between his long legs, coming to a stop as you kneel before him, able to make out the prominent evidence of his arousal now.

“Then please me,” he drawls, slightly breathless as he leans back in the chair, attention entirely upon you as you raise up, pulling him free from his trousers, holding his gaze all the while.

“Will this satisfy you, my Lord?” You inquire, hand wrapping around his base as you lean forward, tongue cushioning against the sharpness of your teeth as you take his tip into your mouth.

“It had better,” he drawls, flame burning in his gaze, content to keep his hands to himself for now. Let you make your own moves.

“I don’t think you’d like the consequences of leaving me dissatisfied.”

Lucien: trying to be polite while someone was coming onto you

You tremble beneath his mouth, how he takes his time with you, lazily licking up your centre, only occasionally suckling on your clit—when he feels like doing so.

“Lu…” you whimper, cheek pressing into the sheets as you try to glance back at him, wrists bound together with the tie he’d been wearing earlier that night. “Lu, please, tell me what’s happening…?”

He pulls back from your heat, meeting your gaze at last, and you flush at seeing the gleam on his lips, slick wetting his mouth from the attention he’s been giving you.

“Just reminding you who treats you the best,” he muses, palms wrapping around the tops of your thighs, spreading them a little wider so he can have more access.

“I don’t need reminding,” you breathe, squirming at the exposure, how he’s got you on your hands and knees on his bed. Well, had you on your hands and knees. Then he’d decided you didn’t need your hands to enjoy his pleasure, and didn’t want you trying to stop him.

His eyes flare with male satisfaction, and your toes curl, hips shifting slightly, unable to keep away that desire you have.

He returns without replying, and a note of worry roots in your chest. Have you done something?

“Lu…” you call, breath catching as he nips at your clit. “Lu, this is about that male, isn’t it?”

His tongue pauses, then he’s pushing your thighs wider, burying himself deeper, tongue circling your entrance and you struggle to keep your head. You moan with soft pleasure, enjoying the slight roughness of his grip around your thigh, keeping you open.

Swallowing, you make an effort to push beyond it, focusing on him. “You know I…I wasn’t reciprocating that,” you mumble into the sheets. He hums onto your heat, and your breathing quickens, being pulled closer and closer to your edge.

“Lu,” you moan, brow furrowing in attempts to remain concentrated, his middle and forth finger joining the mess he’s created between your thighs, letting him pull away to watch how you take him. “You know I only want you. Always. It’s only you.”

“I know,” he sighs at last after a pause of quiet, and relief sweeps in from his response. “I just didn’t like what he was doing. What he was trying to do with you,” he admits.

“I didn’t either,” you murmur softly, “but it felt weird to address it in a group setting.”

Lucien sighs, pulling away from you entirely, and the mattress dips as he crawls over you, caging you in. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, “I knew I should have gone over to you.” He kisses the shell of your ear. “I thought you’d find it annoying, having me being so easily riled by someone being near you.”

Heat spreads across your chest, shifting as much as you can to meet his gaze. “It’s okay,” you murmur, a faint smile warming your lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t smack him for you.”

Lucien chuckles lowly at that, one arm wrapping beneath your waist, palm splaying across your stomach, his front pressing to your back lightly, careful of your arms.

The chuckle catches in his throat when he feels your fingers graze his lower stomach, hesitantly brushing against him in silent request—a little nervous.

“I want…” you pause, flushing warm. “Can we continue?”

Arousal once again rises to his skin, and he’s pressing himself into your palm, setting soft kisses to the length of your throat. “Anything you want,” he breathes, allowing himself brief reprieve against your familiar touch before he’s pulling away again, kissing his way down your back, tracing your spine until he’s again between your legs.

“Now,” he drawls, pushing his hair out of the way, eyes burning with heat. “Where were we?”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #eris x reader #lucien x reader #headcanons

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

Note

Heyyyy I feel like we’re besties at this point😭 could I request, yet again, an Azriel story. Maybe one where they’re best friends and they get into a serious argument and maybe it ends with a confession and the bond snaps into place but one of them panics and leaves. And ends up having a panic attack while the other one is super worried and is searching for them. When they find them they calm them down and have some cute fluff with like “look at me” or “breathe with Me” something cute idk and then it ends with smut of them finally being mated and it’s all sweet and stuff. (Maybe with some wing play because holy- that’s hot) THANK YOUUUU

hey bestie! love this request, it's been a hectic week to say the least so I'm catching up on requests but I've been so excited about this one. Love your prompts, hope you love this story as much as I do💜

Laid Bare

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: this is angst, fluff, and eventually smut below the cut, wing play, shadow play, p in v sex, minors dni

You followed Azriel through the door to the House of Wind, slamming it behind you as you yelled at him. The two of you never raised your voices at each other, but your emotions got the better of you as you held back tears, shaking with anger and fear for your mate.

You had known that Azriel was your mate for a long time now, but you knew that he had so much he needed to work through, and you’d decided it would be better to be there for him as a friend while he worked through his trauma, without the added complication of the mating bond.

Tonight, however, you had hit your limit with Azriel’s refusal to accept help and love from others. It wasn’t only you - Azriel had always kept even his brothers at an arm’s length, only opening up to Cass and Rhys when he deemed it necessary. While others were willing to accept his distance, the bond pulled you closer to him, and day-by-day your love and desire to be there for him grew.

Azriel stopped in the kitchen, sipping on tea in his faux-stoic manner that drove you crazy as you stormed over to him. “What the Hel, Az? You put yourself in so much danger, so much unnecessary hurt, and for what? You think you’re a burden to people by letting them be there for you, but it’s a burden.... it really hurts me, Azriel, when you won’t let me be there for you. I love you, all I want to do for the rest of my life is love you, and I just wish you would let me.”

The words poured out before you even realized what you were saying, tears streaming down your face as you dared to make eye contact with Azriel. The moment those hazel eyes locked with yours, Azriel dropped the cup from which he’d been drinking, his steely expression shattering into one of shock, and you knew what had happened. The mating bond snapped for him - at the worst time, when you were yelling at him over something that now felt so trivial.

You began sobbing so hard you were shaking, hyperventilating as you began to panic. Before Azriel could say anything else, you winnowed away. You appeared on the outskirts of Velaris - a quiet place where the mountains met the sea - and vomited everything from your system. You heaved for breath, trying to ground yourself in your surroundings. You went to a nearby brook, splashing water on your face and cleansing your mouth with the fresh water.

The sun had nearly set at this point, and you leaned against a tree as you took in the various shades of the sky, the bright Night Court stars already visible at dusk. Mind reeling with how to address the situation with Azriel, you didn’t hear him approach.

You startled at first, watching him carefully as he sat down to lean against the tree beside you. It was no surprise that he would know where to find you. Azriel let out a long sigh, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “How long have you known about the bond?” he asked quietly. Chewing your lip, you murmured back, “Some time now, almost a year.” He nodded, taking a moment before he said anything.

He at last turned to you, taking one of your hands in his as he gave it a squeeze, as though he was finding his own strength through that touch. “You were right. Everything you said back there... I’ve always felt like a burden if I were to show weakness or ask for help. But you are always there for me, even when I don’t know what I need, you do.”

Azriel pulled you into his lap at this point, you straddling his hips as he wiped his thumb across your cheek, observing you as he confessed, “I love you, too, by the way. I have for a long time. If there’s anyone I trust, that I feel I can open up to, it’s you. I am damaged, and it will take time, but I want to love you, and be loved by you, if you’ll have me.”

You smiled, turning your face to kiss Azriel’s palm, holding it against your face. “Azriel, I have waited my entire life for you, and I would wait one hundred more lifetimes for you. We will grow and learn how to love and be loved together. That’s what this is.” At that, Azriel pulled you in, your lips barely brushing each other as he looked to you for consent. You smiled, throwing yourself into him as you kissed him how you’d been longing to for so long.

Azriel squeezed your backside, causing you to gasp so he could slip his tongue in your mouth. You ground against him, drawing a groan while you ran your hands through his inky black hair, tugging at the strands. When he thrust his tongue into your mouth next, you sucked on it, earning a surprised gasp and a groan from him as he gripped your hips, grinding his own against you.

You mewled at the contact, desperate for more from him. You pulled back, gasping as you opened your mouth to tell Azriel you needed more, only for him to say so first. A thought occurred to you as you noticed his desperation, and you leaned back, studying Azriel as you ran a finger down his chest. With as much confidence as you could muster, you tilted your head, giving Azriel a mischievous smile as you proposed your deal. “I’ll give you more tonight, Azriel, if you let me take care of you. I want to make love to you, how I’ve been waiting to for so long now.”

At your words, Azriel’s cheeks blushed in that way that you loved as he nodded. You leaned forward, giving him a chaste kiss as you promised in a whisper, “we’ll take this slow - nothing you are uncomfortable with.” With that, you began removing his shirt, guiding him to lay down in the grass as you admired his body in what was now bright moonlight. You removed your own dress, now bare above him, feeling no shyness or shame in your body as your mate gazed at you in awe, running his hands along your sides, palming your breasts as he toyed with your nipples.

You let out a high-pitched moan at the contact, writhing against his touch as you struggled to maintain dominance in the situation. You forced yourself to look down at Azriel, feeling how your own appearance must mirror his own, pupils blown out, cheeks flushed, hair wild as you ravished each other under the stars. You leaned down, rolling your naked body against Azriel’s bare chest as you kissed down his neck to his collarbone, moving one hand to the side for support.

Your finger accidentally touched the edge of his wing, causing Azriel to let out a hiss as he bucked wildly up into you. Immediately pulling back, you frantically searching Azriel’s face for discomfort. “I’m so sorry, Az. I didn’t mean to touch your wing without permission. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

To your surprise, Azriel laughed. It was a loud, joyous laugh like bells, louder than you’d ever heard from him. He looked up at you with a beautiful, full smile as he shook his head and grabbed your hand, guiding it back to his wing. You looked at him questioningly, “are you sure you are okay with this? You want me to touch your wings?” Azriel nodded, kissing your palm before guiding it back to his wing. “Yes, I want you. Only you. All of you.”

Your heart melted at his words, eyes never leaving his as you experimentally traced your fingers lightly across the veins of his wing, watching as he groaned and panted beneath you at your touch. “Fuck,” Az finally huffed out, “if you keep doing that, I’m going to finish in my pants.” You smirked, taking that as your cue to pull away, kissing down his chest and stomach, giving extra attention to each scar as you worshipped Azriel.

You were working your way down to the waistband of his pants when Azriel gracefully flipped you over, laid on your back against the grass with your hair splayed out. The two of you simply admired each other for a moment, memorizing the feeling of an intimacy you’d never felt before. You helped Azriel remove his pants, eager to have him inside of you, fully one with your mate.

He leaned down, kissing you sweetly as he pushed into you, your eyes rolling and back arching as he entered you, his large size a stretch for you. Azriel kissed all over your face and neck as he settled inside of you, only moving once you had given him permission. Every thrust hit a perfect spot within you, the sex like nothing you had felt before - it was apparent, Azriel was made for you, and you for him.

You could sense that you were nearing your high, stomach tightening as you attempted to mumble to Az that you were close. He understood, licking his thumb before bringing it down to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with shadows that appeared around your nipples. The sudden stimulation sent you barreling over the edge with a scream, Azriel following closely behind.

He hung his head, resting his nose in your neck as the two of you caught your breath. After several moments, Azriel collapsed into the grass beside you, pulling you into his side as the two of you watched the night sky, laid bare to each other in every sense.

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grandwretch · 3 months

Text

seeing Chitose and Adachi next to each other unlocked something in me

#shut up az #my brain: do not ship the 20 yo w/ that old man #my heart: but............... he's so Big..........................

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imaginesmai · 7 months

Text

I love you - Azriel

Maybe I got carried away, maybe this is not my best work. But I needed to write this and here it is! Let me know if you like it, and if you have any idea for requests!

Plot: after the worst possible outcome after one of your missions, Azriel comes back to you, trying to fix what was broken.

Azriel hesitated to even go home for the night. Part of him wondered if it would be a better idea to sleep it off at Mor’s, maybe crash with Cassian and Nesta. Even risk getting an infection and go to the soldiers’ barricade to wait until sunrise.

Then, he would be sure that you’re off to work again. He was beaten, bruised and bloody, and through normally the blood wasn’t mostly his, that time it was coming from gashes everywhere around his torso.

He looked once more at the faint light in your shared room, at your form reading in the divan with your feet tucked under your legs. The sight was enough to ease the pain of the week, to make up his mind about finally going home.

After a week in the Illyrian camps, he thought he deserved it.

“Damn it”

As soon as he put a foot inside your apartment, he heard you curse, throw the book to the ground and rush to the entrance. Azriel didn’t have time to do anything but close the door behind him before you appeared.

In your nightgown, with no socks on and messy hair, you looked like a heavenly sight. Azriel gave you a small smile, the first he had muttered in a week. But not as full or confident as the ones he gave you a months ago.

“Az” you whined. “Please, tell me that’s not your blood”

“Sorry. Would have crashed at the Wind House, but –“

“Damn it, Az!”

You weren’t angry at him, he knew. Anger was your way of showing concern, frustration, and the rest of pent-up emotions you had felt during the last two months. Usually, when he came home battered and hurt, you were besides him, leaning against his side and sharing stories about the battle. Usually, you would return to a cold house and warm it together, after long missions together.

But that was not your reality anymore.

Azriel watched you walk from the bedroom’s door to him, still not steady on your feet. It made him want to go back to the camp kill them all again slower, crueler. He waited until you were besides him. It only took him a few days to understand you needed your space, that you needed to learn how to move once more.

How to live without the extra weight of your wings behind you, now only horrible, scarred skin on your back.

“How bad is it?” you asked your hands on his shoulders. Maybe it was for his comfort, or for your support. You just started undoing the straps on his shoulders, that held together the protection vest.

“They got a few good hits, but I’m fine. Just need a bath to clean them before they heal” he whispered, his voice rough. “Wanna join me?”

“Where are they?”

You ignored his invitation, just as you had ignored the last twenty times he had proposed anything to do with you naked. As you unfastened his vest, belt and jacket, Azriel stared at you.

It felt weirdly nice to see you so focused and worried, trying to find the hidden wounds on his body. Even though he felt the pain and soreness in every inch of his body, it was a nice change from your usual demeanor.

Azriel looked away from you to the fire that was still burning, to the half-eaten dinner on the table. It was his home, had been for the last century. And still, he felt himself looking at it through stranger’s eyes.

“This one is pretty deep” you muttered, brushing your fingers against a gash on his collarbone that finished close to his armpit. “And it’s caked in mud”

“They didn’t sweep the floor before I arrived, can you believe it?”

Without your brain’s permission, you snorted a laugh. Azriel’s body went tense under your arms, and for a moment, you feared having hurt him. Only, when you looked at him, there was only surprise and shock on his tired eyes.

You pressed your lips together, almost regretting the sudden outburst. It had been strange for you too, as if there was someone else laughing from inside your body. Someone that you had been before, but now was lost.

“I guess you need a bath”

Going back to your previous task, Azriel couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The pain and tiredness had evaporated, and now he could only repeat in his head that snort. It hadn’t been feminine, hadn’t been lovely. Still, if you were really a heavenly sight, then that was the sound of heaven’s bells.

He fell into a trance and only woke up when you patted his naked chest. You had left his underwear on, but the rest of his clothes were on the ground, now stained with blood and dirt. After a century of being a mated couple, you were more than comfortable around each other’s bodies.

You should have been around yours, but Azriel had yet to see the scars on your back.

The week of the events were blurry on his mind, foggy in a haze of panic, terror and rage. Azriel remembered feeling a shattering pain through the bond while you were visiting Illyrian camps, then Rhys winnowing him and Cassian through multiple locations until they found you. Almost five hours later, when nothing could be done.

The picture of you lying in a pool of blood, naked from the waist up and tied to a pole was printed into his memory. Azriel remembered himself crying, sobbing, screaming and begging as they took you back to the house, your attackers nowhere in sight. Remembered Madja with tears in her eyes telling them that it hadn’t been a normal clipping, that it would take you long to recover.

He could only remember the open wounds on your back, muscle and bone sticking out, only your Fae inheritance keeping you alive. Azriel had yet to see how it looked now.

“You should take that bath now, before they start healing” you said, taking a step away from him. “See if we should call Madja”

“There’s no need. I’ll be fine in the morning”

The fire crackling was the only sound in the apartment as you two stared at each other. He had been the one gone for a week, yet the bags under your eyes rivaled his. Azriel was lost without you, and navigated blind the new situation you had been forced to adapt to.

In the past was now the anger, the rage and protectiveness. He had tried to find your attackers everywhere, but they had vanished. He had found their friends, people who had witnessed the carnage and cheered on them. They all lay dead, forgotten, in the mountains, where their bodies and souls would find no rest.

And while he was sure he would find those responsible of the attack and make them pay, now you two had to adapt.

During the past month, you had often refused his presence more than what it was necessary. He kind of expected for you to go back to bed, and find you in the farthest side of it when he came back.

However, you didn’t move.

“They should have swept the floors” you started. “You’ve got dirt all over your hair”

“You already know us Illyrian males are brutes” Azriel smiled again, this time wider. He extended his arms slowly, not fully believing you were there and not about to bolt away. “Come with me to the bath”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“Darling, please.”

Silver lines appeared under your eyes, and your breath started to speed up. In the last months, Azriel had watched you cry and scream, sob in his shoulder until you had fallen asleep, and his own tears had mixed with your own.

“Let’s have a bath together. I’ll let you scorch me with hot water and I won’t complain about the shampoo. And then I’ll cook something and eat together.”

“Az…”

“Please, Y/N”

Before it happened, before you were so brutalized by them, you used to bath together. A tube big enough to fit both of your wings, where you could lay against his back and kiss him until you were all wrinkled.

More than anything else, Azriel missed that. Part of it was his fault for spending so much time outside your house, haunting down the animals that hurt you. He wouldn’t rest until they met their death by his hand, and if the information he had gathered during the week was correct, it would happen sooner than later.

Ready for your rejection, he wasn’t expecting the small nod nor the silent steps you took until your head was resting on the crook of his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time you had hug, yet it was the first time you had hugged him. Azriel didn’t hesitate for long, and wrapped his bandaged arms around your middle, bringing you closer to him.

Without your wings, you were easier to hug than before. There would be no more wings’ brushing or tangling, but he held you as tight as he used to.

“I love you” you whispered, sucking a breath to keep you from breaking down once more. “I love you”

“I love you too, more than anything” he answered back.

The blood and grime were staining your nightgown, but you didn’t complain as he quietly picked you up and led you to the bathroom.

Between the wings and the grief, you had lost much weight. It made it easier to climb up his torso and nestle on his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist. Although any other time it would lead to other type of activities, Azriel only held you tight and got the water running.

Through the nightgown, where he was holding your waist, he could feel the end of your scars. Where your wings had ended, where they had ripped them. Azriel felt the rough edges of the scar, still swollen and probably sore, so he tried to be gentle.

The male ignored his own pains and aches as he prepared the bath like he used to. Even if he had shared more tears lately than during his whole life, he couldn’t help the knot on his throat as he held you close with one arm.

Your warmth, your smell, felt familiar. Like home. The bond had been nothing but pain and sorrow, but as he carried you around the bathroom, he soaked in the comfort you emanated through it.

“It’s ready” he said eventually, when the tub was full. Slowly, he let you touch the ground, though his hand found your cheek. “Do you want me to turn around?”

“No” you didn’t break eye contact. “It’s okay”

His left hand managed to touch any part of your skin while you took the nightgown off, letting it fall to the ground. Azriel kept his hand steady, but his eyes traveled quickly across every inch of your skin. From your shoulders to your ribs, from the scars he already knew to the new ones in your knees and wrists.

You turned around to get in the bathtub, and Azriel felt his power roaring inside him, screaming at him to let go. Destroy something, anything. Destroy the world for being such a cruel place and letting it happen to you, destroy everyone until you were the only one standing, safe and sound.

It took him all his willpower to stay still as he watched where your wings were. The place he had teased so often, with the pads of his fingers as you squirmed under him. Now, there were two long, wide and irregular scars. The new skin had tried to regenerate the space between the wounds, and it was all pink and wrong.

Azriel would never say it out loud, but the scared boy inside him begged for running away. For ignoring the problems, the pain, and pretend for a little longer it was all just like before.

But he forces himself to watch them, to watch you as you winced when the hot water covered the scars. As soon as you were inside, he dropped his underwear and got besides you.

“Why are you standing so far away?” he opened his arms for you to get closer, but you only stared at him. “Y/N. Come here”

“They’re really ugly, Az” you almost cut him off. It was the first time you ever talked about the scars. “And – I try not to, notice them. But they’re rough and maybe it feels wrong against your chest”

“They won’t feel wrong”

“Maybe they do. Maybe you can’t stand the feeling and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“Without you here, I am uncomfortable”

Azriel didn’t let you argue further, taking your arm and dragging you where you belonged – between his open legs, your back against his chest, his head on your neck. The skin there was soft and warm, nothing like the feeling of your back against his chest. Your scarred, rough back, that had him swallow a breath.

His arms circle your body close to him, lips on your shoulder. Your wings had been much smaller than his, so in the past you had used that position many times. He already missed the accidental bumps against your wings when you moved them, the additional warmth.

“I love you” he repeated for what it felt like the thousand time.

“And I – “

“No, let me finish. I love you, darling. With or without wings, and what those monsters did doesn’t change the fact that this, right here, is my home. With you. Always” his arm, that was wrapped around your middle, brought you closer to him. “I love your toes, and how you scrunch them when you excited. And your knees and legs, when you wrap them around me and I feel”

Being so close to you made him feel complete again. As if he had lost a part of himself with your wings and had finally found it again. There were no sounds beside your breathing, no lights but the moon and the candles. Nothing else but you in his arms.

Testing the waters, he pressed his lips higher, where you neck and shoulder met. They were chapped, rough, but you leaned back and let him free access. If you let him, he knew, he would kiss every inch of your body before the sun came up.

“I love your thighs so much, and your hips. If I could, I would physically attach my arm around them and never let you go” he continued. “I love your belly so, so much. How sensitive it is and how ticklish”

You scoffed and shifted when Azriel ran his fingers through your lower belly, but didn’t move away. If anything, you ended up closer to him. He closed his eyes, breathed your scent, and left another kiss higher in your neck.

“And I could spend hours talking about how much I love your breasts. But behind them, I love your heart more than anything, Y/N. How compassionate, and brave, and caring you are. Y/N, nothing, and I mean nothing, will make me love you less”

“I feel so, so embarrassed” you confessed suddenly. One of your hands was holding his, and you squeezed. “I had gotten so far with them. They… I survived adolescence, I thought I was safe. And I was trained! I was supposed to –“

“You were supposed to nothing. What happened wasn’t your fault more than mine for not being there sooner” Azriel cut you off.

It was silent for a moment, where Azriel didn’t move from your neck. Once he felt like he wouldn’t snap the world in two if he moved, he turned your head with his free hand so he could look at you.

Once more, there were tears on your eyes. Tired, frustrated tears. But also so much love and trust in him that made him dizzy.

“What happened, doesn’t change your value as a warrior, as a person. As my mate” he looked between your lips and eyes, willing to repeat it as many times as you wanted. “It doesn’t change how much I love you, darling. How much I’m ready to give up for you only to make you see yourself the way I do”

Azriel held his breath for a second, waiting for you to say something. Either to keep the conversation, to step out of the tub or to turn your head away. It was the longest talk you two had had until now.

What he didn’t expect was for you to move forward until your lips met his. They were just as he remembered – as watching Starfall or witnessing a wish come true. They fit perfectly with his own, noses brushing each other while he trapped your upper lip between his own.

The first tear rolled down his cheek before he could control it, and he moved you two around so you were more comfortable. Your scent changed, gone the bitter taste of fear and replaced by sweetness of your love that he had grown used to.

“I love you” you repeated against hips lips, not moving away. “I love you”

“More than anything, darling” he answered back before linking your lips together one more time.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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purple-writer8 · 16 days

Text

Heather - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“But I watch your eyes as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky… she’s got you mesmerized. While I die.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, oblivious az

1.2k words

Masterlist :)

Crushing on the shadowsinger was a bad idea, you knew that since the moment you joined the Inner Circle centuries ago. It was a family, and familiar dynamics could very well be affected by your stupid little crush, but that didn’t stop your heart from beating for him.

You were a master of lies, Azriel’s second in command as Spymaster— you were good at being a chameleon— at lying. So you’ve spent your entire life in the Inner Circle, lying to everyone, hiding your feelings for Azriel because surely you were not worthy enough for the shadowsinger.

He was one of the strongest warriors in Prythian, the only current shadowsinger, an Ilyrian. You… you were just a sneaky thief turned spy. A lesser fae from the Winter Court, with eyes so white, you were terrifying to your enemies. Fingertips so cold, that with enough conviction, whatever you touched turned into frost.

You weren’t enough for Azriel, or anyone really. The High Lord had found you three hundred centuries ago, you had somehow snuck into Hewn City, and then you had stolen heaps of artifacts and sold them in the Winter Court for profit. You were stealthy and quick, something he had appreciated when Cassian and Azriel finally brought you to him.

Rhysand gave you two choices: to be handed over to Kallias as a criminal, or stay in his court and serve him— because he was sure you would excel as a spy. In exchange, you got a family, gold, clothes, and a warm bed. It was a no-brainer for you.

Azriel and you were a dream team and with time, your feelings for the shadowsinger went from admiration to adoration. Who wouldn’t adore him? He was perfection, he was everything, and he was the love of your life— you weren’t his, though.

You had never expressed your feelings because, frankly, you were not sure that you could handle rejection. So you pined and loved him in silence, hoping that one day a miracle dawned on him, and he would somehow fall for you— a frosty lesser fae. You knew you two were not mates, but cauldron, you could wish and yearn.

It was more than wishful dreaming, though sometimes you thought that just maybe— maybe he reciprocated your feelings. He was so kind to you, so doting, so careful.

Though, that all stopped when Elain Archeron dropped into all of your lives. You liked Feyre, and loved Nesta— but Elain, you hated her. The middle Archeron was perfection, everything you were not. She was soft, kind, beautiful, High Fae, and… Azriel liked her.

You knew it was bad that you hated her for being of his interest, but you had never once claimed to be a good person. Two years into her arrival and you could not stand the likes of her.

You were sitting in the River House, playing board games with the Inner Circle, Nesta, and Lucien. Much to your delight, Elain hadn’t joined. It was the beginning of winter in the Night Court, and though you were made of ice— you weren’t immune to the cold. You shivered as you laid down one of your cards, and it caused Cassian to laugh at you.

“You turned my room into ice last winter solstice, and now you shiver?” He teased you, making you roll your white eyes at him. “Should’ve brought a coat,” Feyre taunted you, and you nodded. “Guys, I really thought it wasn’t as cold,” you chuckled, rubbing your cold as ice hands together to get some warmth, which was to no avail because there was no warmth inside you. Frost appeared in your hands at this action, causing you to groan.

Your heart stopped, though, when you felt a warm sweater wrapping around your shoulders. Your eyes flickered to Azriel, who gave you a small smile, “thank you,” you said softly.

“It looks better on you than it does me,” the shadowsinger shrugged, his shadows coiling around your frozen hands, trying to warm you up. You smiled, about to answer, but his eyes snapped away from you, as did his shadows. Your eyes followed his gaze, meeting with Elain as she walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Your heart dropped, she was a sight for sore eyes, a sight for Azriel’s eyes.

She had him mesmerized, and you felt like you wanted to die. Inching away from Azriel, you continued your game, dropping his sweater unto the couch behind you. You were an ice fae, you could manage.

When dinner came around, you were quiet all through the affair. You seethed in silence as you watched him drape the very same sweater he had given you, over Elain’s shoulders. The cold pulsed through your veins, and soon your utensils were turning into ice as you watched the scene unfold.

Elain told some story about her up-and-coming garden, and you got the urge to go and freeze her flowers to death. Obviously you did not. She was an angel, a good person.

You kind of wished she were dead. You reprimanded your mind for being so evil. How could anyone ever love you? You were terrible… and not even half as pretty as Elain. Your thoughts were dark, and your heart made of stone-cold ice. Love was not something you would ever get.

After dinner, you seethed outside. The snow that fell over you felt like fire on your skin, and you could feel your fingertips freezing as they created small snowflakes. “Come inside, it’s so cold outside,” that husky voice you worshiped spoke from the from door, causing you to turn to him.

His shadows rushed to you, swirling around your body to shield you from the snow. You turned away from Azriel, not wanting him to see you in your essence. Your veins shone black underneath your pale skin, your eyes glowing white, while ice slipped from your fingers and wrapped itself around you.

You heard his footsteps crunching in the snow, then large wings wrapped around you in a protective manner as he towered over you. “Don’t look at me,” you mumbled, your eyes casting downward, not wanting him to see your eyes.

“Why?” He asked softly, scarred thumb wiping away frost that had gathered on your cheek. Then it clasped around your chin, tilting it upward so you looked up at him.

His hazel eyes skimmed over your face slowly, “what’s wrong?” He asked softly, making you tilt your face away from his grasp. “Don’t.” You stated. You wished he knew, wish that you had been obvious enough, because you were so tired of pining for someone who did not love you back.

“What?” He asked, a puzzled look happening upon his chiseled and devastatingly beautiful face. “You gave her your sweater,” you did not care how preposterous you were being, you couldn’t hold back. You had enough of this.

"What? It’s just a sweater, does it matter?” Azriel asked, his shadows coiling around his ear to whisper in his ear. Jealous girl, jealous fae.

“You like her better.” The jealousy was pouring out of you, manifesting in ice that crawled all over your body.

“I can’t keep wishing I was Elain.”

Author’s Note:

IK the elain/azriel x pining reader is done a lot butttttt i love this song and i wanted to write my take on the triangle with heather as inspiration!

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

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