#azriel a big softie in this one...

[utterlyazriel]

an eternity, my love

eep! this is a bit longer than the last at just over 6k forgive me... but thank so much for all love on the first piece 🥹 and thank u for all your lovely ideas! i hope this does sum justice to the nonnie who asked for further miscommuncation... <3 part one here but u don’t need to read it to read this :)

How does one even begin to decide what to wear to dinner with a person, the person, who matched your soul perfectly?

When your friend had hunted her way through clothing stores of Velaris and stashed away a custom dress — far fancier than anything you owned — for the first date with her mate, you had laughed at her.

Now, staring at your closet in only your undergarments, you were beginning to envy her preparation.

Seriously, how are you supposed to choose?

You pick up your latest addition to your closet, a glossy dress the colour of red wine that reveals the length of your legs and planes of your collarbones— perfect for a night out dancing.

With a grimace, you place it back on the hanger. It was far more scandalous than you would want to be on a first date, even though — well, you’re sure that, being mates, Azriel would like anything you wore.

You heave a sigh. An uneasy prickle beneath your skin has you crossing your arms; it was almost alarming how badly you wanted to impress him. But… mating bonds were rare and powerful.

Almost as if you had summoned it — in fact, maybe you had — there’s a soft shimmer in your chest. Your beautiful glow, the bridge between you and Azriel humming to life. In a way you can’t explain, it’s as though you can feel him soothe across your mind, his soft touch full of assurances.

He’s comforting you. All your emotions must be shooting down the bond without your permission. Gods, that would take some getting used to. You wonder if he can feel your resounding pang of embarrassment as well.

You do your best to push back something less nervous, more of your excitement for the night to come — and you know, without even seeing him, he’s smiling.

After another moment of fussing, you decide on something simpler than your glossy night dress.

Comfortable black slacks with plenty of flow to them and a shirt you thought was one of your nicer ones. With the slightest touch ups to your makeup, you rush yourself out the door before you convince yourself to change all over again.

The Sidra keeps you company, a rush of water beside you as you wind through the streets of Velaris, eyes flicking up to take in the darkening sky. The sun was sinking below the mountain tops, rays tickling across the ridges.

And while you could admit that Velaris was very beautiful in the daytime, you were a true Night court citizen— and believed its true beauty came out at night.

Somehow, despite the lack of concrete plans made as you had ushered the male out of your office, you knew resolutely that you would be able to find him. You weren’t even worried about the timing of it all. It was… what was the word? Absurd. Insane. Utterly, breathtakingly incredible.

Sure enough, as you exit the alley and round the corner, your eyes falling on the sage green building you reside in for work, there he is; waiting for you.

You inhale a sharp breath. A thousand cells in your body fizz, hum, and glow, at the mere sight of him.

It's easy to understand just how he had garnered his dark reputation, the image of him every bit of the Spymaster of the Night Court — a title like Shadowsinger has never been so fitting for him.

He’s blurred at the edges, a thousand tiny wisps that blend him into the shadows of the nighttime. His wings stretch up behind, towering over his already tall frame, black as ink, and beneath his darkened attire, you can spot his tan skin. Your eyes drag up his neck, tracing his adam's apple, along the scruff of his sharp jaw until you reach his hazel eyes.

Your heart burns.

In the depth of it, you know, if he doesn't love you, he will undo you completely.

It's wholly terrifying to come face to face with — the intensity of the mating bond scorching through your mind like a fierce wind, burning embers left in its wake.

It's enough to make you pause, the definitive thought that doing this, offering him your heart and trusting him, could very well lead to your ruin.

Your chest squeezes tightly. You let your eyes drink in the Illyrian, the Male who waited so patiently for all those years and was prepared to wait years more, if you had asked.

Focusing, you pluck up that golden thread in your chest and hold it tightly. It heats and melts, hotter and hotter, and you know that any fear you have, you can conquer to be with him.

Ruination be damned.

—

Azriel notices you the moment your frame exits the alley, notices the moment you pause — has been able to feel you drawing nearer to him this whole time. Your every emotion is transparent to him through the bond between you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

You must not have the tightened mental shields he had come to be so familiar with over all his years. It makes sense; you are no warrior. Mental walls over your mind are not something you have ever had to concern yourself with.

Azriel vows it to be one of the things he teaches you. You deserved the privacy of your emotions, at the very least.

But... for now, Azriel can feel them all. It's why, as you round the corner, Azriel can feel your eyes on him and then, then he feels it.

The wash of fear that spills over your bond like icy water.

An old enemy rises within him. He grits his teeth, even as he feels the fear from you slide away and he tries to ignore the sting from an unhealed wound. But self-deprecation never seems to drown, no matter how much he tries to suffocate it within him.

He shifts his hands, relieved suddenly to have them covered up beneath gloves. His wings tuck in tighter, if possible, and he wills his shadows sternly to contain themselves. Something in the slightest baring of his teeth has them obeying. They shoot to his sides and make themselves scarce.

All this in time to greet you pleasantly as you bounce into view, sidling up before him with a shy grin. It's only been a few hours since he got his proper look at you and yet, you're every bit as breathtaking as you were earlier. More so, in fact.

It feels as though Azriel has never seen the sky before and you before him, are the first sunset of his life. You look so pretty that Azriel could probably gaze at you all evening if you so allowed him to.

And then, he remembers the pang of fear.

He doesn't waste time mulling over which detail of him had made you afraid — only that he would dim or change or hide any part of himself to stop it from happening again.

"Hello, again," You say, your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You have to tilt your head back to look up at his handsome face. His shadows swirl around him and despite his strict instructions, one still slips away to touch you.

You don't notice it circling your ankle, tentative and shy.

"Hello, again." Azriel echoes your words, unable to help his own glimmer of joy.

He wants to offer you his arm, his hand. Can feel it within him, down to the very marrow of his bones, the craving to be closer to you, to touch you, however he can.

Azriel swallows heavily and does what he has done over decades, over centuries; he takes the wanting and pushes it down, down, down.

The two of you begin to walk, side by side, with no destination in mind. Aimless and content at the same time.

Azriel doesn't need the bond to see the flittering of nerves hidden in your expression. The shadow still circulating around your ankle climbs higher, like it wants to comfort you too.

Azriel wills it to still, desperate to not scare you again. He drops his shoulders from his usual warrior posture in hopes of making himself a little smaller.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” He says reassuringly.

You steal a glimpse at him, your smile breaking into a grin. Your nerves are still potent but less so.

“Who says I’m nervous?”

Azriel smiles gently, his eyes dancing across your face as he reads your lie easily. “I do."

There's a scrunch between your eyebrows then, like he had seen during his time in your office earlier. Azriel places a hand on his chest, over the place where the glowing tug is strongest.

"I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at his gloved hand, the cogs in your brain spinning and turning at a rapid rate. Still strolling, your hand rises slowly and touches to the same spot on your own chest. Azriel can feel his heart stutter at the sight, you holding the spot that connected you to him undeniably.

"You can?" Your gaze lifts to his face, puzzlement adorning your features. You frown and focus for a moment, staring hard into the distance — and Azriel feels a sudden twinge of disgust through the thread.

"Did you feel that?" You ask, eyes wide and curious.

Azriel nods wordlessly and he can't help but ask. "What is it you were thinking of?"

You look embarrassed for a moment, eyes averting to the ground. You chuckle awkwardly and tuck your hair behind your ears, glancing back up at the Male with a sheepish smile.

"Brussels sprouts."

Azriel blinks once, twice, and then has to turn to hide his smile. He tries to cover his laugh with a cough. It doesn't work, given how you make a small noise of indignation. He turns back, his politest expression on.

"Don't laugh at me!" You whine, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder. Your touch radiates through his body like a drop of golden sun, blazing warm.

"You're right," Azriel hums, his lips twitching as he presses back his smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is important knowledge I should be filing away. I swear on my life I will feed you no brussels sprouts this evening, or any in the future."

He wants to nudge your shoulder with his own, just to touch you, wants to reach out as easily as you had. But his shadows slip before his self-control does, skittering out along onto your shoulder and giving you a small shock and Azriel remembers himself. His fists clench tightly at his sides.

You walk side by side all evening, like two planets in orbit — close, oh so close, but never quite touching.

—

The first date you share is nothing short of… wonderful.

Resolutely and overwhelming good, the entire date you can't help but feel as though your very soul is singing, a thousand particles blithesome at the nearness you get to share with Azriel. He's surprising in a manner of ways.

Firstly, he's terribly quiet.

Next to him, you look quite the blabber-mouth, no matter how much he insists he enjoys it. His dark eyes are intense as they watch you closely, soaking in every word that passes your lips, and yet, beneath it, his dry sense of humour comes out to play. There's the occasional tease, almost as if just to see if he could make you flustered. (He could, easily).

With a Male as beautiful as him, suited to your very being in every way, it's nearly unbearable how much you ache for him. How much his very attention creeps down your neck and makes every nerve along your spine tingle.

You know it will take some time to get used to his unwavering and devoted attention.

There’s… just one small, itty-bitty, tiny problem.

He doesn’t touch you.

Throughout that whole first evening, you had noticed it somewhat— a flex in his gloved hands, a moment where his wing strayed too close only to be pulled back in a flash, even his shadows, darting out to be near you but never quite touching you as they had on that first meeting.

His hands reach out but they do not find you.

At first, you believed it was a first date thing. Azriel was, first and foremost, a gentleman, and you thought perhaps, his skirting touch, like his hand lingering over the small of your back but not touching it, was to be polite. Courteous and gracious.

Then, you had seen him just two days after that date, all bundled up in your giddiness that it had managed to slip your mind.

The two of you had spent the day together, traversing through the market — before you quickly found a quieter space for your mate as it became clear that large bustling areas, such as the Palace of Threads and Jewels, were not so suited to his tastes.

As you had tugged him out of the crowd, laughing over your shoulder at how he fought to keep his broad wings from knocking into anyone else, the thought suddenly snapped back into you.

Though you yearned to link his arm with your own, to interlace your fingers with his, you remembered his hesitance. Remembered the hover of his gloved hand.

And so, you dropped his arm the moment you cleared the crowd.

A hurt warbled deep within you to so do and knowing you were not the deftest at schooling your expressions, you hid your face so you could contain your childish reactions. You huffed at your own upset. What matter is it if your mate has no affinity to touch?

Truly, it was a miracle to have found a mate at all, you tried to scold yourself. You would not take him for granted for a moment, not even if it was not quite the picture of perfection you had envisioned.

Rooted deep in you was a truth; you could abide by this, abstain to his level of comfort for years, for millennia, if it made him happier.

The fabric of the mating bond, connecting the two of you intrinsically, made it so you would not want it any other way.

It's a decidedly Azriel thing.

He always wears the gloves, he never touches you more than he has to, and he's got... this really specific look when you're doing a terrible job of hiding your emotions.

As he had vowed, Azriel had set about teaching you how to build the mental walls up within your mind, brick by brick by brick. While it would help you hold against daemati if that loathsome situation should ever arise, it would also shield you from your mate.

It would protect you from having your emotions ripped out for him to see, no matter how much you held back — if it was in your mind, it would travel down the bond.

So, the wall had to be built. It had been tedious, tricky, and tiring work. Yet every time you would feel yourself ready to throw in the towel, Azriel would lean in closer, his hazel eyes softened, and his hand resting upon your arm, thumb swatching up and down, to encourage you.

"I know it is tiresome," He had mused, that faint smile twitching at his lips as you scowled at the ground. His thumb was still moving, still drawing light circles on your bicep. The skin beneath it blazed with warmth. "But it is worth it, that I can promise. You deserve this privacy, my dear. I would never wish to take it from you."

My dear, my dear, my dear— the words had sunk into your sternum and bloomed, bright and golden.

It's enough to hold onto, his kind affections. The sweet shape of his mouth when it says your name. The way his lashes kiss in the corner when he can't hold back his smile.

It's enough to soothe yourself over. To take the lack of touch on the chin and swallow down your desire for more.

It's why— why you can't help yourself— why you couldn't tear your eyes away from Azriel's hand where it touches Cassian's arm.

You're meeting his family today, which you've quickly realised doesn't mean his mother or father but instead means... the literal Highlord of the Night Court.

There are several warriors crowded around the cramped entrance room to the River House. Each of them is taller than you, and two of them with the very same huge wingspans that you've come to revere on your own mate.

Your usual talkativeness has been dimmed in your shock, though, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Azriel is a force to be reckoned with, honed over decades, and the Spymaster of the Night Court. You know these things. The company he keeps makes sense.

Somehow... still, seeing them all together leaves you strikingly speechless. The legion that protects your home — a family.

Rhysand greets you first, dapper in his dark attire, his violet eyes equal parts calculating and welcoming as he steps forward and offers his hand.

Despite the fact you have never bowed to him before, you still have to repress the urge. His power is overwhelming, the very night lapping at his edges and you're suddenly very grateful to be meeting him as a friend and not as a foe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rhysand's voice purrs out, soft as silk. When you place your hand in his, he brings it to his lips and presses a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

"Any friend of Azriel's is a friend of mine."

You can feel your own heart thundering in your chest. Azriel hovers behind you, his presence soothing in itself. You can't see it but his wings are outstretched towards you, cocooning around you ever so slightly. A shadow hovers behind your shoulder, just out of sight.

"I— the pleasure is mine, my Highlord." You manage to make yourself speak.

You almost wish you hadn't when your words inspire a burst of laughter from one of the others behind Rhysand, the other Illyrian. He's tall, his hair dark but longer than your mate's own.

As your hand is dropped, Rhysand turns to scowl at the Male laughing, and you only grow further perplexed when he gives a whack against the other's shoulder. They begin to squabble for a moment — and you don't even hear Azriel move until he's speaking, his lips right by your ear.

"You'll have to forgive Cassian." His voice is low, raspy in a way that sends a zing down your spine. You shiver lightly. "He can be well-mannered at the best of times. But I promise he isn't laughing at you."

The two Males seem to tune back into Azriel's words, even though they had been whispered for you specifically.

"It's true!" The Illyrian, Cassian you now know, pipes up. He brandishes a devilishly handsome grin at you, with his hands held up in defense. "I apologise. It just still makes me laugh to see someone address this one so formally."

You blink. "But... he is the Highlord."

Azriel speaks again, bent over still to talk in your ear, but much less of a whisper this time. "Rhys is our Highlord but he does not bother with such formalities."

"And," Cassian interjects, lugging a punch into Rhy's shoulder, much like the other had done to him not a moment before. "Before he was the o'mighty Highlord, he was our friend."

Cassian says the word o'mighty with such an air of sarcasm that you can't help but glance at Rhys, sure he wouldn't take such disrespect. But around you, there are only easy grins.

"Might we move to somewhere more comfortable than the doorway," Azriel speaks up from behind you, his voice dry. "Unless that is, you're all hoping to do one-on-one greetings with her?"

There it is, the dry sense of humour you've come to adore. The group before you seems to grumble, as if they were quite keen on the one-on-one meetings but begin to move through the house.

One of the group dips back to walk beside you and you do your best not to repeat your past mistakes, even as your eyes widen almost comically. Azriel chuckles silently to himself, feeling your polite astonishment down the bond.

"It's so great to finally meet you.” Feyre, your Highlady greets you, her pretty face rife with glee. She seems genuinely very happy to make your acquaintance. "Azriel has told me all about you."

You stumble in surprise, your eyes casting back to Azriel behind the pair of you. His eyes are fixed on Feyre, narrowed at her blatant betrayal, his shadows swirling around him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and you smother a laugh.

When his eyes shift over to you, you're positively delighted at how his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of ruby.

"Feyre is very persuasive when she wants to be." He murmurs, almost grumbling. You turn back to the Highlady and she grins at you, devious and captivating all at once.

It’s a whirlwind once you reach one of the many living rooms, each member of Azriel’s family all very eager to shake your hand.

Cassian grips it firm, his grin still on the side of wicked as he tells you he’s been waiting years to find the woman who could contain Azriel. Nesta, his mate as you find out, is a fierce kind of pretty with a grip as strong as Cassian’s. She tells you welcome to the family with the smile of a shark.

Morrigon is next, breathtakingly gorgeous, and every bit as charismatic as Azriel had described. You don't catch the glimpse between Mor and Cassian, not the beat of relief they both feel at your arrival in their lives— in Azriel's life.

It's swallowed up in her words, going a mile a minute. She jumps about, like popcorn in a pan, overly keen to finally speak to the one whom the Mother deemed worthy of Azriel’s heart. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet?

“Mor,” Azriel warns, after her twelfth consecutive question about your life. He hasn’t moved from his protective position behind you, close enough you can feel the heat of his body. His wings had brushed your shoulder just once.

“Yeah, Mor,” Rhys jeers. He nudges his cousin in the side playfully and Cassian snickers behind the group. “Give the girl some time to breathe.”

Even with all of Azriel's masterclass on who you would be meeting, it's still terribly overwhelming just trying to keep track of them all. They're each such strong spirits, each with seemingly a thousand battles in their past and far more years with Azriel.

On top of this is the fact you met both your Highlord and Highlady so casually in one single afternoon. It's difficult to not be daunted by the group that is so clearly intertwined with each other on a deeper level altogether— bonded by devastation and choosing each other through love.

Try as you might, you can feel the seed of doubt, of insecurity, make a home between your ribs.

You clamp down the shields you've spent the last few weeks learning, building the wall up and holding it tight. It's silly to feel dismayed because these Fae, these friends, know your mate better than you do.

Azriel had told you he had been waiting for you for five hundred years. For the first time since you've met him, you wonder if he was ever disappointed.

And then— then, you see it.

Azriel's hand on Cassian's arm. Then the half embrace they share, a hand on each other's neck as Cassian grins, wild and fierce, and presses his forehead against Azriel's own; brothers, sharing a moment of euphoria at the other finding his long-deserved happiness.

You should be soaking in the smile Azriel hides from you too often, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes. But instead, you can't see past it, can't stop the loop in your own mind as it prints a fact over and over and over.

It isn't an Azriel thing; it's a you thing.

He doesn't touch you.

The mental walls in your mind feel paper-thin as a fresh kind of agony ripples through your chest. The soft rejection of a mate stings, a papercut on your very heart. You can feel it warble through you and know, terribly, the exact moment that Azriel feels it too.

His head whips around, his dark shadows that surround him suddenly spinning and flitting faster than before— a couple dive across the room to you.

You stand up and the chair scrapes noisily beneath you.

"I—" You say before you realise you haven't planned an exit or an excuse in the slightest. Azriel's gaze burns into you. You turn to Feyre instead, who had been talking across from you when you rudely stood up.

"I'm so sorry, I just—" Some excuse, any excuse! "I think I— left the stove on."

It's a lie. A complete utter lie that fools no one in the room as you retreat from it hastily. None of them try to stop you though, which you're thankful for. Each of them watches, every expression slightly concerned as you hurry out of the room, your feet walking backward rapidly until you bump into the door frame.

You pass through it with your eyes on the floor, knowing that all of the eyes are on you. You know the ones you can feel searing into your soul are Azriel's.

You leave the River House. You walk along the Sidra, your steps hurried and your chin tucked low. It hurts. It hurts the feeling inside you. A tear streaks down your cheek, unbidden, and collects on your jaw. You wipe it away meanly.

The sight of your apartment door is an overwhelming comfort, one that has you sighing aloud as you rush up to it, your fingers already digging around in your pockets for your key.

And like always, you never hear him coming.

"What happened?" Azriel asks, his voice almost pained.

You give a little yelp of surprise and whip around, remembering half a second later that there's still evidence on your face of your tears. Azriel grows characteristically still, his hazel eyes fixed on yours as you sniffle for a moment, aggravation beginning to creep in.

He could feel everything from you and you got... what? Whatever he deemed fit to offer? How is that fair?

His usually wispy shadows are inkier than usual, almost tornado-ing around his shoulders. They keep leaping out towards you before being caught in an invisible net, a barrier between you and them.

Even as Azriel remains motionless, his eyes are the opposite—they jump around, searching, hunting, begging to find the cause of your pain. Had it been one of his friends?

"Please," He tries his words again.

His heart throbs painfully when you finally find your key and turn your back on him without a word, unlocking your door and pressing your way inside. He follows quickly, wings tucked in tight, unable to keep his shadows at his side this time. They whiz to you, circling your ankles protectively.

"Please," Azriel says, an anguished growl to his words. "What hurt you? I will— my friends, if they said something— if it was someone, I hunt them down and make it right for you."

You inhale sharply and when you speak, your tone is cold in a way you have never used before with Azriel. You say the words without thinking.

"It would be impossible to hunt yourself, Azriel."

Regret howls through you like a hurricane the moment you say the words. You don't mean to be mean, jealous, or whatever unseemly emotion you can't stop from sprouting in your chest, growing in size, tangling into your heartstrings like twisted gnarled vines. It hurts.

You turn back to him, mouth open. No words come out.

Hurt is slashed across his face, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, his shadows tucked in tight. It's as though he's blended into the very air, the wispy edge of him threatening to retreat into his own shadows.

All his emotions on display just for a moment, before they're schooled away. Tucked away, hidden, not for you to see.

Inside, your hurricane howls again, this time in pain.

You can tell he feels it, even as you mentally gather your bricks. It isn't fair. How can he have every bit of you and you get what he pleases to return?

You want to know him completely, want to see every part of his rugged, weathered soul, and love him anyway. It's an untold type of agony to have him deny you.

"My love," His feet finally move, his wings almost dragging on the floor as he steps forward, slowly, as though he was afraid he might spook you.

"Tell me how to fix this pain." He pleads. His gloved hands are held out, palms up and suddenly, he looks nothing like a warrior. Just a Male, afraid of losing what is most dear to him. You shake your head, like a child, and keep building your brick wall.

"Please don’t keep this from me," He takes another step forward, his shadows sent awry as they dart across to you. You can feel them on your calves, on your arms, feel the tiny kisses they leave. Azriel speaks again, voice low. "My love, I can feel your pain.”

You can't help how you screw your eyes closed, the ache in your chest unbearable— made worse when you know he can feel it too.

"That is my problem." You utter the words quietly, eyes still clenched shut, knowing he can hear you. He takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat of his enormous frame, his wings bracketing around you. "I cannot hide anything from you."

Azriel makes a noise, a punched-out wounded sound that reverberates down the bond.

"My love," He murmurs for the third time. Down the bond, you can feel his sweet love, his golden gentle feelings travelling along to assure you. "I would not wish for you to hide anything from me."

“But you hide everything from me." You whine, eyes finally crinkling open. Azriel stares down at you, his eyes softer than they've ever been. You can see the hurt swimming in them, the hurt you've caused. Still, you speak.

"You hide your emotions. You hide your touch, yet you give it willingly to your friends." You share each ugly thought with him, whispered as you gaze into his face to search for your answers.

Lifting your hands, you curl your fingers around his wrists tentatively. Azriel swallows heavily, his eyes dancing down to where you're touching him. You slide your hands forward, dragging the pads of your fingers over his pulse, along his palm, til your hands are holding his gloved ones.

"Is there some test I don't know about?" You ask, your focus on your intertwined hands. "Is there— do I have to earn this?"

"No," Azriel chokes out the word suddenly. You look up at him. He clears his throat and you feel his hands grip yours back, surer and stronger than you had. "No, I'm sorry. There is no test, nothing to prove you deserving of this. I just..."

His words trail off and you watch as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if gathering his courage. His hands slide from yours, pulled backward and you nearly feel the urge to cry once more— before you realise he's removing his gloves.

The skin of them is warped, you realise acutely with horror. The skin of his hands is swirled and mottled, an injury long healed but scarred for eternity. Azriel is watching your face closely, holding his hands close to his chest as though he was prepared to hide them away at the first flicker of fear.

You're grateful for the link between and all your shoddy attempts at blocking him out. Your love and your unwavering devotion drifts along the bond.

Azriel shudders, his wings giving the tiniest shiver. Slowly, gently, he reaches out towards you. You feel his hands, the unruly scarred feel of his skin sliding along your jaw to hold it tenderly. He has never held you like this before.

He cradles your face gently — like his hands have never held weapons of war, like they aren't twisted and marred with a memory he can't forget, like they're worthy of holding something so precious.

Azriel holds you as if you're holy — and he's come to kneel at your altar.

"I was afraid of what you would think." He admits. His voice is hoarse, gravelly as he fights off the lump in his throat. "I— on the first day we met, I felt your fear along the bond and—"

"It was not of you." You interrupt him, your hands jumping up to cover his own where they hold you. Azriel inhales sharply, eyes darting to watch.

But you pay him no heed, the palm of your hand covering his like a lover would. You let your thumb soothe up at down the ridges of his skin. You let your love ripple along the bond.

"It was not fear of you, Azriel." You repeat, your voice soft. His eyes are still fixed on your joined hands. His wings have begun to pick up, no longer drooping behind his back— you're not sure if he even notices.

"It was fear for how strongly I already felt for you." You lean into his hand and Azriel lets you, lets the length of your nose nuzzle into the touch of his hands — something no one in all his years of living had ever done before.

"It was fear that you already could ruin me," The words are murmured. "And that I would let you."

You whisper his name to pull his wide-eyed gaze from where his hands touch you and his hazel eyes burn into yours. Every whitened scar on his skin, every eyelash, the adorable pinch between his eyebrows; you drink it all in and smile at him. Azriel, your mate.

"Azriel, I chose this despite that fear. I choose you.”

Azriel quivers at the words, at your unflinching tone and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, time moving around you, untouching, with such a perfect grace.

“I choose you too,” He murmurs, an emotion so strong a fire of possessiveness streaks down the bond. This time, you can feel his wall melt away, allowing you access to all he feels — his mountain of fear and his melting relief.

“Forgive me—” He begins and you laugh without meaning to, cutting him off.

“Stop,” you say, the word light and as pretty as your grin. “We keep doing this to ourselves, tying ourselves in knots over and over.”

Azriel laughs, his lips twitching into a smile as he allows himself to stroke his thumb lovingly over your cheek. The way you melt beneath it, your lashes fluttering and heart burning so brightly he can feel it in his own chest too— Azriel knows this longing will long outlive his body.

“We do,” He agrees. He dips his head a little lower, probably the only apology you’ll let him have, and inhales shakily. His hands shift across your face, down to hold your chin, his fingers pressed together tightly to hide the way they quiver.

“Then let me apologise in another way,” He murmurs, his voice closer to playful. “In a way I’ve been selfishly depriving you of.”

And when he kisses you, it’s with a reverence that softens all your corners.

His lips are plush and sweet, and with the way he dedicates himself to your bottom lip, you can’t help how you sigh into his mouth. He finds home in the curve of your mouth.

It’s delirious the way he kisses once, twice, three times like he’s hungry for something found only in your lips.

Your hands stagger forward, leaving his own to wind over around his neck. Your fingers curl up, raking through the hair on the nape of his neck — feeling the shiver that travels up his spine, his wings giving a little flare out.

He kisses you breathless, one hand abandoning your jaw to wrap snugly around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, something within you glows molten gold at the panting that leaves his lips. He’s gazing at you, his hazel eyes alight in a way you haven’t quite seen before. His wings shift behind his shoulders, curling forward to wrap the two of you together, not quite touching.

Your heart thrills. You grin, your lips still just an inch apart as Azriel nudges forward, his own twitching in that way when he fights his smile. His lips brush yours, his smile barely held back.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He says, sweet and low, allowing the smile to finally pull his pretty mouth up at the corners.

“Or should I make it up to you a little more?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, chaste and gentle.

“Mmm,” your eyes are bright as they peer up at him, full of playful mirth and adoring affection. “You're forgiven but... I think you should make it up to me, just a little more.”

Azriel willingly obliges, his smile as sweet as the moonlight.

—

some people i thought might want to be tagged :)

@strangerstilinski @astoriaviviane @lana08 @florence-end @lportes-22 @torrick17 @florencemtrash @sidthedollface2 @seafrost-fangirl @goldenmagnolias @jeweline16 @meshellexplosionmurder @michellexgriffey @susiekern @toobsessedsstuff @fxckmiup @littlebookbengal @elenapril0502 @glitterypirateduck @hnyclover @technoelfie @itsapunklife @coffeecares

#it got very long... i'm sorry! #we can't talk about bad miscommunication and then me not set up valid reasons for miscommunication tho #i can't DO IT #azriel a big softie in this one... #i mean he always is :) #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel hurt/comfort #miscommunication #idiots in luv <3 #i need a writing tag.....

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

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[marvelsmylife]

Could you write a fic with Az and reader where she just needs his touch? Maybe she’s just having one of those days where everything makes her cry and she just needs him to hold her so she can sleep, except they aren’t anything more yet

His hugs<3

Pairing Azriel x reader

#20 - “The number one cure for sadness is an outrageously tight hug.”

A/n I had so much fun writing this ! ! ! I'm sorry if I deviated from what you originally requested but I hope you still like it

I’m accepting requests

Acotar Masterlist

Request

You were having the worst day of your life, you were sure of it. First, you started with training with Cassian in the morning since Azriel was away. “Sorry to break it to you y/n, but I’m not going to go easy on you like Azriel does” Cassian teased.

Everything was going good until you got distracted for a split second and Cassian fist made contact with your nose. “CASSIAN! ! !” you yelled and immediately brought your hands up to your nose.

“Fuck” Cassian cursed when he saw your nose was bleeding profusely: “I’m sorry y/n, I didn’t mean to do that”. You sent him a death glare before you went to Madja so she could heal you.

After a quick trip to Madja to get your nose fixed, you decided to roam the streets of Velaris. You were having a good time until a child ran past you and accidentally pushed you into a pile of mud.

You wanted to be mad at the child but he started crying and apologizing immediately when they realized who you were. “It’s ok,” you replied as you got up: “Just watch where you’re going next time, ok?” 

The child nodded furiously before running towards their mom who began scolding them for their action.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when you got out of the bath and started to change. In your attempt to quickly throw on a tunic, you swung your arms and accidentally knocked over a vase that you had in your family for centuries. It was the last thing you had from your old life and now it was broken. 

After cleaning up your mess, all you wanted to bury yourself into your covers and never come out.

Around that time, Azriel finally arrived at the house of wind and was confused when you didn’t immediately greet him like you usually do: “She’s in her room.” Azriel heard Cassian's voice: “She had a bad day and wants to be left alone”.

Azriel ignored the last part of what Cassian had said and went straight to your room. He let out a sigh when he spotted you under your covers: “OK, what happened?”

“Everything,” you replied, still under your cover: “I’m never leaving this room again.”

Azriel couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how dramatic you were acting. “Y/n, can you please get out from under your covers? You’re going to suffocate under there.”

“No,” you grumbled: “I don’t want to”.

Growing frustrated by your answer, Azriel undid his boots before responding: “If you’re not going to get out from under there, I’m going to have to go in there with you.”

You didn’t have time to reply when Azriel managed to get under the covers with you: “What happened to your nose?” Azriel asked when he noticed a bruise on your nose.

“Your brother happened,” you huffed out before you explained what happened to you today.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you train today:” Azriel apologized: “but do you want to know one thing?”

You gave Azriel a puzzling look and replied: “What?”

“The number one cure for sadness is an outrageously tight hug,” Azriel responded before engulfing you in a hug.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Azriel’s action: “Who would have thought the big bad shadowsinger was a big old softy.”

“I’m only a softy for you,” Azriel replied and placed a kiss on your forehead: “How are you feeling now?”

“Better” you smiled at Azriel before carefully burying your face in his neck: “Better now that you are with me now”.

Meanwhile, outside your bedroom, the rest of the inner circle were eavesdropping on your and Azriel’s conversation. “When do you think they’re going to confess that they have feelings for each other?” Elain asked.

“Hopefully soon,” Amren replied, “I’m sick of them basically eye fucking each other all the time”.

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

[illyrian-dreamer]

Bat boys drabble!

How each of the bat boys would react to being called ‘bro’ 🦇

Did I not promise to write a least a little something while I’m travelling?? 🥰 Thank you @aroseinvelaris for letting me use your super fun prompt! ❤️

18+ smut under the cut. It’s brat taming time 😏 💥

Rhysand

Wouldn’t like it one bit

You have heaps of loving pet names for one another (darling of course, princess, tiny, kitten and mischievous one for you) (handsome, lover boy, baby and mosthandsomeandcunninghighlord for Rhys). Bro is certainly not on the list.

He blinks those dark lashes once, the most surprise he’d ever show

A sinister grin grows on his face

“A beg your pardon, darling?”

He stalks closer, placing his hands on either side of the wall of whatever surface you’re near, trapping you between him, his purple eyes sparkling, almost daring you

“What was that you called me? Bro?” You can hear the distaste in his voice

His scent evenlopes your senses, and you swallow thickly

Tracing the bob in your throat, Rhys quirks a brow at you, faking an expected answer for a victory he already knows is his

He tuts before leaning in that much closer, his lips against your throat. Seconds later, canines gently graze your soft flesh

“I dare you to call me that again,” he murmurs into your neck

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t find your voice as Rhys licks where his teeth were resting, your core now throbbing

He’d probably sink his teeth in just a little before taking you against the wall

Cassian

Laughs at first, you were on the same team at games night and he chuckled, returning your high-five when you won

But as the night went on, you used the nickname a few more times, and it begin to eat away at him

Which you noticed in your partner, his laugh turning to a smirk, then a frown, and finally an outright scowl

Still, you delighted in irking him

Cassian was unusually quiet on your way home. As soon as you got through the door, he grabbed your wrist

“What was that all about?”

“What?” You answered innocently

Cassian levelled a look at you. “Why did you keep calling me bro? I’m your mate.”

You heart could have broken at those puppy dog eyes. You should have realised that kind of teasing would have hurt him, Cassian being the big softie he is

“Oh, I’m sorry Cas. It was- I was just irking you.”

Cassian raises his brows. “Oh! Oh.”

A wolffish grin spread across his face, before you were flipped over his shoulder as he stalked towards your bedroom

Throwing you on the bed (and not gently either), Cassian had your wrists pinned and body pressed against you in seconds

“So my mate likes to tease me, huh?”

You giggled as he nipped your neck, giving a very weak attempt to throw him off you

“I am your mate, sweetheart. And only your mate can make you feel like this.”

Cassian thrusts his groin into yours and holds it there, your laughter immediately halting as pleasure shoots up through your core

Cassian delights at the shock on your face, before moving against you a few more times, slowly rutting, fully clothed

“You’ve gone all quiet, sweetheart, and gone all pink,” he teases. “What’s wrong, got nothing else to say?”

You can barely speak beyond moaning his name as Cassian flips and fucks you, the whole damn bed on its final hinges

Azriel

Does nothing in the moment, beyond quirking a brow at you

Bahaha boy oh boy will you be paying for it later though

It’s like he has a clicker in his mind, and each time you use that word, he tallys the amount of spanks you’ll be receiving that night

Azriel sees the word bro as a challenge – it’s mocking, questions his dominance, and is a weak attempt to toy with him

That’s why later that night, you’re bent over his lap, panties pulled to the side as he soothes your red cheeks after a fifth spank, Azriel cooing softly

“Who am I?” His voice is deep, commanding

Your face is as red as your ass. “Daddy.”

“That’s right. And what am I not?”

You gulp, willing yourself not to snort as you say it

Azriel pinches your ass – you’re taking too long

You yelp before manage to get it out. “My bro.”

“Good girl.” Azriel continues to rub a soothing palm over your stinging cheeks before squeezing at the flesh.

He fucks you sensually, only because you took your punishment like a good girl

#bat boys drabble #bat boys smut #bat boys pov #acotar drabble #acotar smut #rhysand smut #cassian smut #azriel smut #Rhysand drabble #cassian drabble #azriel drabble #Rhysand fic #Cassian fic #Azriel fic #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #Azriel x reader #acotar pov #acotar fandom #acotar headcanon #bat boys #bat boys x reader

[theseeingfawn]

My Roman Empire is wondering why Azriel was the one shot with the fae bane arrow by Jurian...

If his goal was to take out the strongest, why not Rhysand?

If his goal was to control the bat boys, why not Mor or Feyre?

It never made sense to me why Azriel was the target.

Then there is the fact that Jurian is suspicious AF. He just got reborn in the crockpot after centuries of being just an eye in a ring. But, he is somehow pro Prythian and sane? Then he proceeds to goad Lucien about Illyrians seducing Elain? He willingly lets Feysand in his mind, and they see he is a big softie? It just seems like there is more going on.

#azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elriel

[redheadspark]

Hey !!! Can I pls ask for azriel fic with #15 I think it would be so cute and wholesome ❤️❤️❤️

A/N - CCUUUTTTEEE! Thanks for requesting this, friend! This is great for Azriel!

Softie

Summary - Azriel is taught the simpler joys of bubbles

Warnings - just some fluff ;)

"Come on, Nyx! Like this, see?"

Nyx giggled and clapped as Cassian blew a big bubble from his spot, sending several bubbles up into the air as the winter winds were picking up to send the bubbles out and away. Cassian chuckled as he dipped the wand back into the solution to blow some more bubbles for his nephew that was perched in his lap. You were accompanying them since your mate and Cassian's mate would rather be inside by the roaring fire than enjoy the spring-fallen snow in Velaris.

After the winter winds came through and brought a storm along with it, Spring finally started in Night Court. Although snow was still common in the very early springtime, it wasn't as bad or chilling as it was in the winter. The snow was actually fluffier and gentler to the touch, which was perfect for you and Cassian to take your nephew out into the snow as his mother and father were busy in meetings and were tied up for the afternoon.

You loved watching Nyx, being his favorite babysitter apart from his Aunt Nesta and Aunt Elaine. But Elaine was with her fiance Lucriene in Autumn Court planning their wedding and Nesta was not too fond of the chilling snow. So you ventured out with Cassian, the pair of you not minding the cold as you had Nyx bundled in warm clothes.

"You can do it, Nyx!" You said to your young nephew as you held the wand to his lips, seeing you look determined as he tried to blow. He spate mostly but a few bubbles came out. Both you and Cassian cheered, knowing Nyx would love the praise as he shrieked.

"Awww, what a cute little bunch!" You and Cassian looked as Nesta and your mate, Azriel, poked their heads out from inside the House of Wind. Nyx grinned at his Aunt, grabbing at her with his fingers.

"Nesta! Nesta!" He said in earnest, "Bubbles, Nesta!"

"Yeah, babe! Come join us with a bubble session," Cassian said, "Unless you're too cool to play with your husband, sister in law and nephew,"

"I doubt that is the reason, Cas," Azriel commented, Cassian flipping him off behind Nyx so Nyx could see. Now Nyx was seeing his Uncle, reaching for him now and grinning wide.

"Az! Unc Az!" He cried out for Azriel. Azriel, being the softie that he was for his Nephew, caved in and walked out into the small patch of snow that you were all playing in. He picked up Nyx, hearing him squeal as he was placed on Azriel's shoulders. Azriel moved him to show the entire city of Velaris below them, the rooftops covered in snow and some ice still being seen out on the ocean tops.

"One day you're gonna be in charge of this whole city, Nyx," Azriel said to Nyx as his nephew was grabbing at his dark hair.

"What a scary thought, knowing who his dad is," Cassian said with a snort as Nesta came out to sit next to him in the snow, shoving his shoulder.

"But a great thought, knowing who his mom is," She reminded him, then throwing some snow at his face and Cassian tackling her to get some snow down the back of her shirt. They were laughing and scowling at one another as you were watching your mate interact with your nephew.

Azriel was never a softie when it came to simpler things like this, not until Nyx was born. The little one had a hold on the Spymaster, whether Azriel liked it or not. Perhaps he saw the small boy he used to be in that little one when Nyx was first placed in his arms, or maybe he saw the innocence that was both infectious and endearing. Either way, Azriel loved Nyx.

Even more so when you would hold Nyx or rock him to sleep, Azriel watching with a smile on his lips while you took care of Nyx and showered him with love.

After Nyx was put to sleep one Spring night, Azriel snuck up behind you and wrapped you in his arms.

"I want one," he said against your neck, you chuckled as you patted his arm.

"All in due time, Az." You reassured him, feeling him poke your side and you quietly smacking his arm.

Quietly you blew a few more bubbles, seeing them float up in the air and over in the direction of Nyx and his Uncle. Nyx saw the bubbles, babbling as he was trying to catch the bubbles himself. Azriel merely chuckled, popping a few with his free hand and then looking behind him to see you holding the wand. You both winked at one another, not needing to say a thing.

The perfect snow day with your nephew.

The End.

Spring Prompt Session

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

[mischiefmanagers]

Could you please help me find a fic??

It was a reader x azriel but reader moved in with Cassian because both were friends with mor. Az and Rhys lived in the apartment right next door. I was reading it here on Tumblr

I remember az going out of his way for reader like going with her to return to truck and they invited him to go ax throwing.

Thank you so much!!

Hiii! I knew right away that this was Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor by @daycourtofficial

One of my favs! I love Az in this story. He’s a big softy. 🤭

#fic search #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #pb speaks

[aphroditelovesu]

I read Yandere inner circle and I fell in love with it, but it also got me thinking on how every bat boy 🦇 would be as Yandere romantically for

Cassian I think you will be the most clinging Yandere out of the three Cassian would be the most clingy to me he is like a big softy out of the three and I think he is also the most emotionally intelligent out of the three and I think he would communicate better than the other two specially Azriel and it is unfair to say that Rhys is the most emotional intelligent just because he has mind power abilities we can’t say that he’s the most emotionally intelligent that would be unfair to Cassian so yeah, I think if I had to choose, I would choose Cassian out of the three as a yandere if he could handle Nesta’s mentality with her traumas I think he can handle mine.

Now for Rhysand I would choose him if he didn’t use his mind powers with for his benefit I think he could help me especially with my ADHD anxiety and depression, but I just don’t like anyone poking around in my head other then that I don’t really find a problem with him as a yandere but then agian being a yandere is already a red flag 🚩 but someone poking in my head is a big red flag and I think he is good in communicating, but not as Cass does especially with the high Lord ego I think that might be a problem I can handle his ego and arrogance but I just don’t want too no offense for the people who would choose him but if I had the choice of having all three of them, I would and I know how chaotic that would be, but I still would say yes and I know what I just said but I would still say yes I am just too indecisive AKA ADHD to choose between the three and I know I just said I will choose Cassian but I really had to mentally prepare myself, and have the strength myself to choose

for Azriel communication might be a problem with all of the trauma that he’s been through He’s not really a good communicator and he’s a bit of a sadist in bed. Even the author is herself said this and I “Azriel is a bit of a freak in bed” so if i for example, runaway, the punishments would be very harsh especially that he is literally the torture of the night court and he’s a stocker with his Shadowsinger abilities, so I also think he’s shadows would be all around me dancing and covering me which I have no problems with but I just had a special place for Cassian in my heart and it took a lot to make him a favorite because I’m so indecisive. Who would you choose? Out of the three of them or would you choose all three of them? I hope you could share some insights with me.

Honestly you described them well and I agree with you. Just having the yandere in the middle is a big red flag, but since it's fiction I don't mind🤭🤷🏻‍♀️

In my opinion, Cassian is the coolest of the bat boys. He is a big soft to his sweetheart and would be the easiest to deal with I think. Just give this male a little love and he'll be on his knees for you. But obviously he is a yandere and has the absurd and murderous possessiveness thing, but it is not difficult to calm him down. A big, walking teddy bear, basically.

He is a soft yandere but only for his darling. The others do not apply to this.

Rhysand is another soft one for his darling, but not as much as Cassian. He can be quite difficult to deal with at times, but Rhys will do anything for those he loves and he loves you, he's obsessed. He is willing to sacrifice everything and everyone just for his sweetheart. He's an easygoing yandere when you reciprocate his feelings, but as you said, his daemati skills are tricky. I guess Rhysand won't invade his darling's mind if they loves him back, but if not, well... We're going to have some problems.

He's easy to deal with if you accept him, but be careful with him as Rhysand can act quite strange at times.

And Azriel is, in my opinion, the worst yandere to deal with among the bat boys and one of the worst in ACOTAR. I love him but Az is very difficult to deal with. Whoever he obsesses over is screwed. He loves a lot and is very dangerous, besides being a born stalker. Azriel has many problems and dealing with them will not be easy. One of his shadows will always be watching you and reporting everything to him, what you do, what you eat and who you talk to.

And not counting the punishments, he is the High Lord's personal torturer, you can believe that his punishments will be painful. Yeah, dealing with Azriel is tough and I think he's the one most likely to kidnap your darling.

So if I were to choose, I would say Rhysand or Cassian. I love them all, but Azriel would not be my romantic choice, I have enough problems myself and it would be difficult to deal with mine and his I guess. My only problem with Rhys would be that his daemati abilities would annoy me, I'm very paranoid and I'd think he was invading my mind. I would only choose all three if they were platonic yandere, but still very reluctantly.

So I think my choice would be Cassian as well. The walking teddy bear 🥰🤭

I'm happy to share my houghts with you, anon! I'm always open to chat ❤️❤️

~ Lady L

#ask #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #yandere acotar #yandere a court of thorns and roses #yandere rhysand #dark!rhysand #yandere cassian #dark!cassian #yandere azriel #dark!azriel #concept #yandere concept #rhysand #azriel #cassian

[graycious-tea]

Why does canon Azriel have to be a “pick me boy” “fuckboy” dick head?! Like why!? Why can’t he be the fanon sweetheart with self esteem issues!? Why can’t he be the big scary softie!? Whyyyyyyyyyy!????!!! Like Az I love you but baby get your fucking shit together you douche bag ugh why are men like this?! Even the fictional ones have failed me

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azris #because eris would kick azriels ass for being a dick #the bonus chapter we do not speak of

[azsazz]

Family Dynamic

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Az and your ever-growing family.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3,175

_________________________________________

Azriel was a big softie. He loved you with his entire being and more. He’d never thought he’d find his mate, never thought he’d feel this good, this in love. The two of you truly were two halves of a whole, destined to be together by the Mother.

He couldn’t wait to have a family of his own, one that he could treat better than his own treated him. No, his would be nothing like that. And when you’d asked how many children he wanted, he’d replied seriously, “As many as you’ll give me.”

__________

“Ready, love?” Azriel sticks his head into the bathroom where you were finishing your hair, twisting it in an intricate style. You meet his loving gaze in the mirror, a giddy smile on your face and a flutter in your stomach.

“Yeah, I just have to take this tonic,” you replied, moving into the bedroom to where you’d left the leaves steeping in the hot water, your mate following closely. “How much longer do I have to keep drinking this?” you question, nose scrunched in distaste, “It’s awful.”

“You can stop drinking it whenever you want, Darling,” the Shadowsinger replies, folding you into his arms from behind. He trails soft kisses down across your shoulders. In all honesty, he wanted you to stop days ago. He wanted that budding scent filling his nose, consuming his senses again. He wanted to scream it from the top of the mountain, that you were carrying his child, but you had both deemed it too risky to tell anyone yet, with him in his role as the Spymaster of the Night Court.

You sigh at the warm kisses he’s pressing into your skin. You were both unbelievably happy about the news and you couldn’t wait until you could tell your friends. You know it was eating at Az, not being able to tell his brothers just yet, just as it was hard to contain yourself, wanting so badly to ask Feyre for parenting advice already.

“Let’s go,” you place the half-drank cup on top of the dresser. It wouldn’t wear off for a bit yet, but you didn’t have it in yourself to drink it any longer. You wanted your friends and family to know. From the look on Az’s face, you knew he was done waiting too.

__________

“So that’s…eight, nine shots?” Mor counted to herself, pointing at everyone gathered in the booth at Ritas. Their usual spot is getting smaller and smaller as the family and Inner Circle keeps growing. They’d have to combine this table with the one behind it soon enough. The music was blaring and Rhysand’s cousin had already slipped into the crowd towards the bar before you could protest.

You glance at your mate who shrugs slightly, his hand finding yours in your lap, intertwining your fingers as he sends a comforting feeling down the bond. You were nervous, not sure why, but you felt as if you should’ve stayed home instead, wanting to wrap your hands protectively around your stomach with the loud atmosphere around you. 

You squeeze Az’s hand tight in your own, taking a breath that was supposed to calm you but ended up making you a bit nauseous, the stench of sweat and arousal flitting through the air. Your stomach churns and you’re about to make an excuse to leave but Mor is back with a wicked grin and a tray of shots in one hand, an entire bottle of expensive liquor in the other.

Everyone picks up their glass after some goading from the blonde, everyone except you. You’d thought about it, picking up the glass and making it seem like you were going to drink it with them, but in a burst of courage you felt like they needed to know, deserved to know now.

“Uh, (Y/N), that one’s for you,” Cassian says from next to you, pulling the platter closer.

With a quick glance to your mate – who’s eyes are beaming with pride – you shake your head softly, “I can’t.”

“You can’t? What do you mean you–holy shit! You’re not,” the Warlord’s surprised shout draws everyone’s attention, his eyes frantically flicking between yours and Azriel’s. “Are you?”

“I’m pregnant,” you breathe, unable to bite back your smile. Cassian whoops and claps Az excitedly on the shoulder, then hugs you close. Congratulations are exchanged around the table and yeah, you knew it was all going to be fine. Sheepishly, you look at Mor, whose arm is frozen in the air, preparing to toast.

“Fuck,” her laugh is wet, rich brown eyes shimmering with tears, “Here’s to you, Az, and the newest member of the Inner Circle.”

__________

Feyre had told you it was going to be painful but you didn’t think it would be this painful.

You’d been blessed with the hips for bearing Illyrian babies, somewhere in your muddled lineage someone had taken an Illyrian as a mate, the trait appearing in and out of your ancestry for generations to come, and thankfully, it had been one you received, although you and your mate had still been worried about your ability to bare half-Illyrian babes.

The fact that your son had wings wasn’t the problem, it was that birthing him hurt like a motherfucker.

“Keep pushing,” Madja urged and you bit back your reply, clenching your teeth and grunting loudly as you did as told. Azriel was right by your side the entire time, put up with your cursing and squeezing his hands so hard he’d lost circulation for a moment.

“You can do it,” he murmurs sweetly into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. His hazel eyes wide with wonder and excitement. “He’s almost here.”

“Almost?” you cry out, chest heaving as you pause your pushing to catch your breath. All you want to do is collapse back against the tub and nap but Az is slipping in behind you and brushing your matted hair from your face, kissing your sweaty temple as he helps hold your legs. “Why can’t he be here already?” you whine.

“Just a few more pushes, Lady, and he’ll be here. Come on.”

And the nursemaid is right, collapsing against your mate as cries fill the room. You can feel Az’s breath catch in his throat at the first sight of the babe. As soon as she hands him to you it’s like everyone else in the room disappears except for you, your mate, and the newborn.

“Oh my Gods,” you whisper, looking down at the howling boy in your arms. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and you think your heart is going to burst in your chest with how full it is. You look over your shoulder at your mate who can’t stop staring at the babe.

“He’s…” Azriel trails off, not being able to describe his son's beauty. He’s at a complete loss for words as he stares down at the babe with wide, curious, adoring eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree, shushing the babe softly, “He is.”

“What’s his name?” Rhysand asks once the Inner Circle had been allowed in to meet him. The High Lord remembers the first time he got to hold his own son. It was the most terrifying but thrilling moment in his life and he admires his brother, the one who was usually so stoic, now unable to hide the love from his eyes as he looks at you and the babe that’s being passed around the circle.

“His name is Wren.”

__________

Your second birth was worse than the first, nothing like you’d been expecting. Perhaps it was your fault to think that it would be like exactly the first, but this babe was bigger and earlier, and Azriel nearly missed it because he had been away on an assignment.

He was furious as he stormed into the room, racing to your side. He would tear Rhys apart in the ring for almost making him miss this, with his bullshit request. Never again would he let himself be talked into something so close to your due date. 

Baz came into the world kicking and screaming like he was fighting his way through hell, nearly tearing you up from the inside out. Azriel had never been more scared, watching the amount of  blood that poured from you, but you didn’t care, didn’t care about the intense pain you felt, worse than the contractions in a way, as your son was looking up at you with those big wide eyes, mirror to your own.

You and your mate knew he was going to be your troublemaker from the start.

His connection with Cassian was sure proof of that.

The Warlord would sneak him sweets, tell him to do naughty things, say improper words. It was entertaining for a while, but your mate was not happy in the slightest, growling at his brother to cut it out, and Azriel had made sure to make his threat known in the training ring.

__________

It’s late and you should definitely be asleep, but the excitement of your news keeps you awake. That fluttering feeling in your stomach as you woke, and not from your sexy mate who insisted that you woke up in pure bliss, his tongue devouring you whole.

It had been confirmed by Madja this morning, while Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian took all of the cousins into town for their first Night Scouts meeting. This was a new group for the young children of the city to instruct them on how to make ethical and moral choices throughout their lifetime, teaching them right from wrong by following their Scout rules.

You had yet to tell your mate, it had been a very busy day for all of you and your new scent hadn’t quite made an appearance yet. You had had an inkling after the last time you and Azriel had sex, the both of you so ready and extremely excited to have another child together. With Baz out of his terrible-twos, you and your mate were both missing having a baby around.

Wren is a cuddler, much like your mate. He'll wrap himself up in your arms and he loves it when you hold him close, running a comforting hand up and down his back, his head lying against your chest as his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. He revels in the gentle kisses you press into his forehead, snuggling that much closer as he falls into a peaceful slumber.

Baz is all over the place when he sleeps. You and Azriel often find yourselves woken in the middle of the night to a face full of limbs, a limp hand splayed across your head or a tiny foot jammed into your side. He shifts around throughout the night, restless movements and you worry, wonder what he’s dreaming of until he lets out a sleepy giggle. Under normal circumstances you’d be terrified of that sound in the dark, but knowing that he’s happy in his dreams has you brushing your son's hair out of his face, a fond smile pulling at your lips.

And your devastatingly handsome mate, looking so young while he sleeps, not a trace of stress lingering on his face in his slumber, whoever’s nearest tucked close into his side. Even his shadows seem at peace, lingering lazily around the room, swirling like a mobile above a crib, dancing to a silent song. Azriel secretly loves when the boys sneak into your room, climbing up into your bed with the both of you. He adores having his family close, but he also can’t get enough of you, worshiping you in bed like you deserve while his shadows stay posted by the door, on the lookout for tiny padding feet stumbling towards your room.

You close your eyes, a wide grin on your face. Yeah, this is going to be good.

__________

Zuzu is beautiful. Dark hair and bright eyes, you knew she had Azriel wrapped around her finger from the first cry she let out. He held her close, whispering all of the promises a girl could want from her father, and she had calmed after a while in his arms, his voice so familiar and comforting to her.

You watched with a fond look in your own eyes, tired beyond measure but wanting–needing–to stay awake for this.

Wren and Baz were delighted beyond belief to have a little sister, racing into the room as soon as the door cracked, peering up over the edge of the bed, trying to catch a glimpse of her. The rest of the inner circle were there too, Rhysand scooping baby Baz into his arms as his older brother climbed up into the bed you were still resting in, Zuzu swaddled up and napping, tucked safely into your arms.

Azriel asked Wren if he wanted to hold his sister and the look in his wide eyes is something you’ll never forget as he responds, still in awe of the tiny baby in your arms, “Yes please.”

And it’s when she’s a bit older, nearing her first year, that your mate collapses into the bed after tucking all of your babies into bed, an adoring grin on his face as he rests his chin on your chest, sprawling on top of you, that he asks for another.

“A fourth?” you ask gently, brushing his dark hair from his eyes. They’re shining with pride, a bit scared, maybe because he wants another child, afraid that it might not be something you want. Three were a handful, and three with wings were even worse, but still, he couldn’t help it. He’d waited all his life for this.

A faint blush dusts his cheeks and you stroke your thumb over it, heart swelling with endearment. 

“I just think that it would be fun to have two of each,” he replies bashfully.

__________

But Jax is not a girl, oh no, he’s definitely a boy, and definitely Azriels.

Born too early and without a sound, your heart slammed in your chest as the healers took him from you, your mate torn if he should stay by your side or worry over the babe in Madja’s arms across the room.

He didn’t have to choose, as the newest member of your family let out a wail louder than any of his siblings before him. You released a sigh of relief, dropping your head back against your mate's shoulder who nuzzled his nose into your cheek, his breathing as shaky as you felt. His cry was a song to your ears, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt that he would be following in his father’s footsteps. You and Azriel clutched each other tightly and then the babe when Madja handed him over to the two of you, new parents once more.

Azriel’s shadows took an immediate liking to the babe, with one slithering around him at all times no matter how hard the Shadowsinger tried to control it. Your son loved it, grabbing at the mist, a laugh bubbling from him as it skittered through his fingertips and tickled his skin.

Jax was fussier than your other children had been, as if he was constantly irritated by the day, only finding peace in the night. He babbled into the darkness, as if something was there, speaking back to him. It worried you sometimes, but Azriel was always there to reassure you that he’d be fine, you all would.

__________

Four was a handful, Jax nestled in your arms as you and your mate entered the River House. Azriel carried his little princess in his arms, rambling baby talk while pulling at his dark hair. Baz was wrapped around his father’s ankle, shrieking everytime his father took a step. Wren’s hand was tucked into your free one, behaving like the good little boy he was, and you were so thankful of that fact any time the six of you had to make a trip somewhere.

Cassian halts at the sight of your family, grinning widely and letting out a loud laugh, already a half a glass of wine in. “The legion is here,” he bellows and Azriel rolls his eyes beside you. His brother had taken to calling your family ‘the legion’ when you had gone from a family of five to a family of six. He opens his arms for Wren who twists from your grasp and runs to him, shouting the Warlord’s name.

“Uncle Cass, Uncle Cass, guess what?” Wren asks giddily, trying his best to cover his teeth with his lips.

Cassian brings a finger to his chin, making a show that he’s trying to think. “Hmmm, did Bazzy finally beat you at a tickle fight?” he asks, catching Baz as he finally releases his fathers leg and races over to them.

Wren’s nose wrinkles cutely, “No way! He’ll never beat me at that.”

“Then I’m all out of guesses, Wrenny,” Cassian replies. Your son is just about to tell him when his cousins yell out his name and he takes off, the adults completely ignored now that he’s spotted Nyx and Gideon.

“Hey,” the Illrian general calls after him, a pout on his face, “I wanted to know what happened.”

__________

Looking around at each and every one of your friends and family gathered in the room on the night of Starfall, it was time. Wren, playing with Nyx and Gideon in the corner, the three of them not so subtly looking towards the dessert table every so often. 

Baz, in Cassian’s lap as the Warlord tickles him, his glorious shrieks filling the room with as much warmth as the hearth, his mate perched next to him on the sofa, watching with tender eyes, a hand placed over her own swollen belly.

Zuzu, being fussed over by Mor and Elain while Amren holds her, looking both uncomfortable and amused at the same time. The blonde, trying to straighten the bow in the baby's dark hair while Elain tries to tuck lovely pink flowers behind her ears.

And Jax, silent as ever from where he sits content in Feyre’s grasp, the High Lady pouting to her mate next to her as he tries to ignore her pleas for a third child while he makes faces at the baby, trying to get the little one to make any sort of facial expression other than the stoic one he has at all times.

Everything is insanely perfect.

Azriel takes your hand gently in his, giving it a soft squeeze. You move your attention to him, eyes wet with the amount of love in the room. He nods to you.

“Oh no,” Cassian groans, drawing everyone’s attention. He’s staring between you and Azriel, mouth parted in shock. “You’re having another one, aren’t you?”

And you can’t help the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at his words, the laugh bubbling from your throat.

“Yeah,” your eyes shine, sharing an emotional look with Az, “We’re having another one.”

#azriel #azrielxreader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #acotar #acomaf #acomar #acowar #azs_azz #mating bond #mate #baby part illyrians #illyrians #shadowsinger #spymaster #rhysand #cassian #feyre #inner circle #mor #babies #babybats #batbabies

[moonbeam-b0o]

Azriel x reader fluff head canons

Azriel likes physical touch - to touch you or be touched by you. In fact, he can not walk a day without touching you.It has become addictive to him, and he does it automatically.

There’s always a hand placed on your lower back to support, or a wing that brushes your arm to remind you that he’ll give you support if you need it.

He has favourite parts, the number one is obviously the sensitive part that are not his wings, but we don’t mention it here because this is a fluff headcanon.

The face, there is something special about touching someone's face because it evokes so many emotions. His heart melts when you place your hand on his cheek, running your fingers down along his jaw. The touch always brings him warmth and comfort, closes his vision from the surrounding and his gaze automatically finds its way to you.

He likes to touch you in the same way. Sometimes, he wants your hand to remain there. So when you move it away from your face, he’ll grab it and place it back on his cheek again.

Azriel is always interested in your hobbies, whatever it is he finds it satisfying to watch you doing it. He would also ask you questions related to your hobby, out of curiosity and to learn even more about you. And he’ll remember everything you’re telling him. Even the smallest details and the weirdest things.

When you ask him what he likes to do, he will simply reply that he likes to do things you enjoy doing and finds joy in what you’re doing.

(Yes, he would in fact carry all your books and walk back and forth between the shelves in the library for hours if you drag him down there.)

Speaking of reading “books that are about a book”. This freak secretly reads them too, even if he doesn’t admit it. He’ll tease you by asking what part you liked the most of the book you’re reading. Seeing blush blooming on your face always reveals that you’re lying.

If you’re having a reading night together, he will casually feed you snacks every five minutes. He finds it satisfying to see you nibble the food from his fingers and chew on it.

Except this “Eyes promising death” side of him, he’s a big caring and gentle softie.

If you like to write random notes and letters and place it in random places only he will find, Az’s nightstand drawer is full of letters from you. He reads them often, over and over again when he misses you. They always put a silly smile on his face before he goes to sleep.

There’s no doubt that he’s a good listener. Az would never stay away from you during your hardest times. He would more likely squeeze you into his arms and say “Tell me about it”. But he’ll also accept if you need space.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #night court #acotar fandom #acotar series #acotar #sarah j maas #sarah j maas books #sjm fandom #sjm trash #sjm

[broodybatboy]

House of Wind Friendships

Summary: I’m obsessed with the idea of Gwyn moving into the House of Wind. Can u imagine Gwyn and Cassian shenanigans? The Azriel and Nesta friendship?!?

Azriel + Nesta as BFFs:

Nesta and Azriel enjoy companionable silences and sit reading books/reports together.

Azriel is an EXCELLENT dancer. He’s the only person that Cassian will let dance with Nesta in Court of Nightmares.

After a series of unfortunate events, *cough* ACCIDENTAL STABBING, Azriel and Gwyn are temporarily NOT allowed on the same team during games.

Azriel & Nesta like to team up for game nights. They are SO good.

One time, Nesta threatened to withhold ~doing the dirty~ with Cass and he immediately gave up.

“BETRAYAL. CASSIAN, YOU ARE WEAK.” - gwyn vowing vengeance

Azriel and Nesta just ROASTING Cassian to the point where he’s like "plz stop" 🥺🥺🥺

“Illyrian baby” - both of them

Nesta being a major wingwoman and setting up situations for Azriel and Gwyn to be alone.

Nesta giving Azriel pep talks and supporting him whenever he doubts he is worthy of Gwyn.

Azriel holding space for Nesta and bringing her sweets and chocolate when she’s having a rough time (Az has a secret stash of sweets).

The Valkyries going on missions and Nesta hugging Azriel and promising

“I’ll protect her and bring her back to you.”

Azriel going with Cassian to Windhaven and on dangerous missions. He promises Nesta

“I will have his back. Always.”

Az resuming his chaperone duties and being the worst chaperone ever.

Azriel: “Cass is eating in the dining room let’s go somewhere else.”

Gwyn: “Shall we join him?”

Azriel: “He’s not eating food.”

Gwyn: 😳

Nesta and Azriel being softies and smiling and acting surprised whenever Gwyn and Cass prank them

even tho they totally saw it coming

bc look at them they’re so cute and gosh they tried so hard

Azriel and Nesta helping each other realize they are worthy of love and overcoming their trauma.

Azriel and Nesta going home to the person that makes them laugh, makes them smile, the person who makes them feel like home.

The House: 😢❤️

the Gwyn + Cass friendship:

The gang goes out to Rita's and Nesta, Rhys, and Az are being very protective of Gwyn the first time they go out.

Nesta won’t let her go & Az is shooting death glares at everyone and Rhys is just big brother energy

And Cass is just like “ok chaperones chill out. she’s strong. she learned from the best.” *wink wink* *points to chest*

it’s time for FUN

Cassian exudes chaotic energy

"Do you want a drink??? I’m going to get you a drink!!!"

And it's super fruity but STRONG

Gwyn is like “THIS IS DELICIOUS. I WANT MORE.”

enter Mor with two more drinks

Azriel and Nesta glance nervously at each other

our sweet priestess is a lightweight

Drinking games? HELL YEAH.

competitive queen Gwyn absolutely annihilates

Proud Az

at this point, Cass is hammered

2 happy goofball drunks = KARAOKEEEE

Cass is a horrible singer. He’s basically just shouting. Gwyn is angelic and giggly and nothing but encouraging. She gives Cass the solo.

Nesta and Az are just in the background laughing their asses off

“Look at our idiots”

Nesta and Azriel announce that it's time to go and it’s like wrangling two very strong wobbly toddlers

“buzzkills”

“party poopers”

*sticks out tongues*

*imitates their icy rage eyes*

Cass realizes he can get away with teasing Nesta when he’s with Gwyn and YOU BETTER BELIEVE he uses this to his advantage.

Cass and Gwyn ganging up on Az

Cass and Gwyn teasing Nesta

Gwyn & Cass come up with these elaborate and complex pranks as if they’re plotting battles

BECAUSE THIS IS WAR and WE MEAN VENGEANCE

But like they are not sneaky...AT ALL.. and they’re so loud… and laugh…and cass is just knocking into stuff.

Gwyn: “CASS!! THEY’RE GOING TO HEAR US SHUT UP.”

the house: 🤨🤡

az and nes: ...

Gwyn learns from Nesta that Cass is STRESSED about all the Illyrian drama

She takes her butt to the library and creates this beautifully detailed research paper on Illyrian tribal politics and history

Cass is stunned and learns so much from it. And they just like bond over Illyrian and Valkyrie history

Cass asking Gwyn and Emerie about Nesta’s fave romance novels to ~spice it up~ in the bedroom

Cass will have no filter and just tell Gwyn all these ridiculously embarrassing Az stories. BONUS: Rhys will join in & use his powers to show the memories to Gwyn

Gwyn will casually reference them and Az is SHOCKED. AND FLUSTERED. How do u know that?? Was it Rhys? I’m going to kill Cassian.

“a great spy never reveals her sources” with a smirk

Gwyn will confide in Cass whenever she’s worried about Nesta

Cass and Rhys will feel so thankful to Gwyn for supporting Az

Both are SO SO SO happy and in love

Gwyn will just be singing praises about Az

And Cass is just like Az, my best bro, that brooding hunk, the other love of my life, my brother from another mother, that Illyrian bastard

He gets it.

Cass will be raving about Nesta

Gwyn is just like Nesta, my best friend, my queen, my sister, my angel warrior, my death goddess, the love of my life

She understands.

They are just GUSHING bc they finally found their equal and love them so much

One time, Azriel and Nesta overhear and exchange the most tender look

both of them trying not to cry bc they love these idiots so much

#nessian #gwynriel #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #gwyn berdara #gwyn #House of Wind #acosf #acotar #acotar headcanon #acotar hc #acotar headcanons #a court of silver flames #nessian headcanon #nessian headcannon #gwynriel headcanon #gwynriel headcannon #nesta brotp #azriel brotp

[oraganji]

Hi can I request a Azriel x reader ??? They are mates. It's a rainy day and they are reading together and cuddle. Very fluffy.

Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language

No problem anon! No matter what language you speak, all of the Azriel simps are more than welcome here!

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: What the ask says above

Word count: ~ 400

A/N: Also I'm running on like 3 hours of sleep and a single cup of coffee, so you know this is going to be an absolute ✨shit show✨

Anyways, enjoy bestie!

As much as you adored Azriel, and couldn't imagine a world without your Illyrian mate, you considered books to be your first love.

Thousands of adventures at your fingertips, waiting to immerse you in a different experience each time. With that sort of thinking, how could anyone dislike books? In fact, you might have had a serious problem to discuss with Azriel if he wasn't just as big of a bookworm as you were.

The shadowsinger had such a hard exterior, and a murderous look that could strike fear in the hearts of entire armies with just one stare,. However, the overgrown bat was really a softie after finding his mate, and he refused to apologize for this.

Not that you were complaining.

In fact, during days like this, where most others would gaze at the rain with a certain contempt, frustrated that such a beautiful day couldn't be spent outside, you and Azriel couldn't be bothered. In fact, these were your favorite days.

Both of you sitting in an armchair that had just enough space for you to comfortably curl up in Azriel's lap, the two of you each had a book in hand, engrossed in whatever new reads either of you had found recently. Azriel's wings cocooning both of you, blocking out the world until the soft patter of the rain was white noise around you. But every so often, Azriel's gaze would drift away from his book, and land on you.

He admired your visible reactions when you read anything even mildly shocking. When there was a particularly gripping scene you were in the middle of, Azriel noticed how you would gently nibble of your bottom lip anxiously, eyes wide and entirely glued to the paperback pages. He would not-so-subtly tighten the grip of his arm around your waist.

At a certain point, your eyes would start to droop, being weighed down by the heaviness that was sleep. As your book started slipping from your limp grip, Azriel quickly bookmarked and set it aside for you to finish the next time it rained. After a few minutes, your soft snores accompanied the slow sound of the rain outside. Azriel placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and tucked your head into the crook of his neck, before he was slowly lulled to sleep.

Books were your first love, but you were Azriel's.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #acotar x reader #reader insert #azriel

[rhys-daarling]

Gwynriel- Bandaging his wounds

As Azriel walked into the training room, he was shocked to see Gwyn standing at the window. Her head snapped to him.

Her eyes widened as they took him in, her mouth parting.

He cursed himself. He did not want anyone to see him. Especially like this.

“What- what happened. How-“ she took a step towards him, and his shadows danced out to meet her.

His mission today had been... violent. His wounds still healing, his skin so sensitive he had foregon a shirt.

Gwyn swallowed.

“It’s fine.” A whisper, and he watched her mark every wound on his skin.

“I can help-” she took another step forward.

“I’ll be fine by myself- it’ll be healed by morning” a clear lie, and he winced as he lifted his arm.

“That’s not- you aren’t okay- what, how did this.. ?” Her words were fumbling as she came to stand in front of him.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me” his shadows swirled, and Azriel shifted under the attention of her bright eyes.

“Stop being stubborn. Let me bandage them up” he shook his head, unused to all the fussing.

As if the house was listening, a hamper of bandages and ointment appeared.

“See! Even the house thinks you need help” she grinned in victory. Azriel looked at her, seeing the stubbornness in her eyes.

He nodded his head, resigned. She smiled smugly.

He squinted at her.

“Only because the house will lock me out if I refuse”

“Whatever you say” she rolled her eyes, grinning. She grabbed a cloth and bowl of water, coming to stand right in front of him, nodding her head in the direction of the settee.

He stared blankly back. A silent challenge, to see who would fold first. He was being stubborn on principle, he knew.

She rolled her eyes.

“You have to sit. You’re too tall and I can’t reach” she shook her head slightly, finding his antics amusing.

“Liar”

She scoffed “ excuse me”

“I trained you” he gave her a pointed stare. “You have better balance than almost anyone. You can tiptoe just fine”

“You’re too big for me” he smiled at the blush that formed in her cheeks, he raised his eyebrows.

“You are too TALL for me” she amended. Azriel noted the way she scanned the breadth of his shoulders, her blush deeping. He smiled wider.

“I can’t tiptoe and hold a bowl and treat you. So sit” she grabbed his arms then. Her hand barely wrapping around the front of the bicep.

Azriel tensed his muscles slightly. Liking the way her pale hand contrasted his skin, how warm the point where they touched felt.

He was awarded by her intake of breath.

Gwyn swallowed once and pushed him backwards, he relented, letting himself be moved.

Sitting down, he stared up at her as she stood in front of his widened legs.

She leaned in close, his shadows dancing out to meet her.

“Tell your shadows to stop distracting me” she laughed.

“They’re stubborn and won’t listen. Like someone else I know” a pointed glance at her. She squinted at him, but did not halt her movements.

Azriel closed his eyes as she bought the cloth to him, her other hand coming to rest gently on his shoulder. The movement soothing, and he lamented reluctantly, felt good.

“What happened” her gaze stayed on the cloth, but Azriel looked at her.

“Nothing to worry about. Nothing that requires all this fuss”

“You deserve to be fussed over. And this isn’t nothing”

She sat beside him, and began to clean and wipe the cuts and bruises on his side.

“Just a mission that went a bit wrong” he said bitterly, angry at himself. “It’s my fault”

She scoffed and shook her head

“Is something wrong?” He bristled, hating seeing her mood change from the laughter mere moments ago

She bit her lip, and tensed her jaw, but said nothing. Angry, Az realised. She was angry.

The air had shifted, tense, around them as she continued to wipe his chest.

A shadow danced out to her, dancing and wrapping around her until the corner of Gwyn’s mouth lifted.

“I think it’s ridiculous. I think you’re ridiculous. I think you set these ridiculous standards for yourself, and you almost kill yourself in the process trying to reach them”

Azriel looked at her, shocked at how much of him she had observed.

“You don’t even realise.” She carried on, but stood up “How-how much everything you do means to everyone. How much you mean to everyone”

“That’s not..” Azriel fumbled. Looking down to Gwyn’s hand on his chest, above his heart.

“You seem to think no one would care. That you’re dispensable, and that it’s okay if you die. It’s not”

Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving as she spoke, they were so close, their lips inches apart.

Azriel stood slowly, his wings coming out slightly, wrapping slightly around Gwyn’s shaking form.

“ You saved me.” Her hand still on his chest, she refused to meet his gaze. “That day, you saved me, and if you hadn’t.” She swallowed, slowly raising her chin to meet his gaze.

“You matter, Azriel. And not just then. Here in this room” she gestured around. “You help us all”

They stared at each other, Azriel, unable to to form a sentence, his mind reeling at her words. His wings still wrapped slightly around them, they both seemed content to stand there.

“So” she broke the spell at last, turning slightly to grab a salve from the basket.

“Next time you do something dangerous and reckless and almost kill yourself”

With gentle filters, she applied the salve to the cut on his chest, Azriel followed the movement with his eyes.

“Try to remember that you’re not dispensable. And at the very least, let someone bandage you up” she finshed with the salve, and grabbed a bandage, wrapping it across his chest.

“ It’s a deal” Azriel whispered into the strip of space between them, Gwyn’s head looking up to him

“The next time I almost accidentally almost kill myself” he gave a small smile, to which Gwyn returned

“ I’ll come to you, and let you bandage me up”

“Without being so stubborn” she quipped, raising an eyebrow

Azriel gave a small laugh and nodded

“Without being so stubborn” he agreed.

“Deal” she said, dropping her hand from his chest at last and turning to walk away.

“Gwyn” Azriel called out, she turned to him. “ thank you, for the fussing”

“Get used to it” she said softy, eyes bright and warm, and turned once more to leave.

Azriel watched her go, as one of his shadows trailed after her, assured when it informed him she’d reached her room.

He looked down at his chest, remembering how warm she had felt, how insistent she had been at making sure he was okay.

Odd as it may seem, Azriel kind of hoped he’d injure himself again soon.

#acotar #acosf #ACOMAF #gwynriel #Gwyn #Azriel #feyre #Rhys #feysand #Cassian #Nesta #nessian #injured #hurt/comfort #gwynriel headcanons

[heyovivi]

So I’m going to be completely honest. Before I read Azriel’s bonus chapter in ACOSF I didn’t actually read ACOSF yet—I didn’t even have the book yet. Like a lot of people I read it online or on Tumblr where you find the book pages posted so you could read it. From the start I wasn’t an avid supporter for e//riel only because I just could not see it happening. Like it felt so...perfect? No not perfect. Boring. But perfect. Like it’s one of those things where if they got together the story would kinda just seem bland. Like there would be no flavor, no story—they would just simply exist together as a couple.

In my honest opinion I didn’t think Elain would challenge him and I thought Azriel would coddle her. Which doesn’t make for a good story or plot for either of them.

Like at all.

So when I read the bonus chapter and actually started to skim over the e//riel scene during solstice (trying my best not roll me eyes) I was kinda sitting there thinking, “well I guess this is gonna happen”. I was so unenthusiastic about the ship and scene and literally was over it the moment it began.

You know in leading up to the book with so much excitement about ACOSF and Azriel’s bonus chapter I did a lot of thinking over Az’s character. I never really did before because my favorites were always Rhysand, Cassian, and Lucien—I love Azriel but I felt like I never knew him like I did the other characters because he wasn’t given as much spotlight. But then I thought of who his love interest would be and...Elain? It all felt too easy for it to be Elain. In imagining his love interest I always imagined them to be someone who was badass and kept him on his toes. Elain just didn’t come off as that type of character to me seeing how the most interactions we got from the pair were glances and blushes—literally that’s all. In fact I even contemplated that people who shipped him and Lucien together are on to something.

Then, when I continued skimming the chapter I was convinced that Azriel’s and Elain’s story would merge into a forbidden love trope and honestly it was just so...stupid. It felt so stupid to me. Like they addressed the problems that e//riel was to have during the scene with Rhysand and not only that but I was picking up some major red flags from Azriel during this chapter with the specific wording used during his interaction with Elain and his conversation with Rhysand. And for a second I was thinking that the next book would be like a fifty shades of gray type of book with SJM admitting that Az was a freak and all and that he and Elain would adventure into the world of BSDM or something after caving into their sexual attraction to each other.

But then finally I met Gwyn. Again, I didn’t read the book yet so I didn’t know new characters were going to be introduced. The interaction was brief but come on...HIS SHADOWS DANCED WITH HER BREATH LIKE WHAT? When I read that I was so confused. I didn’t read the book. Didn’t know who Gwyn was or what role she played. But here she is, the curious little weirdo 😚, asking him questions and making him all caught of guard. The way she immediately put his mind at ease with just a brief conversation. How he described her smile at the end of the chapter as a thing of secret lovely beauty. (Though he’s an ass for regifting the necklace)

Then I finally read the book, finally bought a copy at my local Target. Then I read about Nesta’s journey, Cassian’s journey. I got to know who the Valkyries were and what their role was and the potential plot lines for the next books in the series.

And by the way, the way Elain invalidates Nesta’s trauma? Like when I read that, that’s when I knew I didn’t ship her with Azriel. It just seems like he’s so scarred and so traumatized and I feel like that in order to keep things the way they are, Elain would just ignore it like how she did Nesta and she would tell him to cope in a way that isn’t healthy, like ignore it or push it down. In my honest opinion I think Azriel needs someone who would put him straight, and tell him when he’s wrong, and tell him that he needs help and that they were going to help him.

When I met Gwyn, ngl she was super arrogant, but I think that was a reaction she had to Nesta’s attitude when they first met. But then when we see her more in the book and she’s kind of just doing her own thing like she’s skipping around the library and she’s dancing and singing to herself I think it is the most adorable thing in the world. She helps Nesta, she becomes her friend and then joins her in training (LITERALLY I SCREAMED WHEN NESTA FOUND GWYN’S NAME WRITTEN ON THE SIGN UP SHEET) and then when she meets Emerie she just immediately right off the bat shoots questions at her and honestly their whole interaction was just so wholesome because at first I saw Emerie as this prickly hard-shelled person who was being questioned by this curious little softie (then by the end of the book we realize that when Em gets close to people she shows this side where she’s that kind of friend who is reliable, sweet, and open (especially when she opened her doors to Nesta after her fight with Cassian), while with Gwyn we see her ambition, strength, and competitive side).

Finally, Azriel joins training. And I found it extremely odd how SJM was putting specific little moments between Azriel and Gwyn. Like during training she would sometimes peers over at him and gazes at him, or she would stand next to him, or sometimes it was mentioned that he would do extra training with her. like when I read those passages, I felt like they were planting seeds for a potential ship. Which then made the Azriel bonus chapter make much more sense if Sarah was planning to make them a couple in one of her future books.

But the moment I was completely sold on Gwynriel was when the Valkyries were at the base of the mountain and Gwyn was finally opening up about her backstory and her trauma before she was at the library. these two have history, and I think in Gwyn’s story, Azriel will play a large part because he’s already seen her at her lowest point and he can help her rise up into a newer, stronger, and better person. As for the other way around, I think Gwyn will really challenge Azriel in a way that not many people do because a lot of people are just scared of him, and I think he needs someone who’s going to call him on his shit and who’s going to really stand up to him.  Gwyn, from what we know is an outspoken character and I feel like when she gets close to Azriel she isn’t going to give him the space he wants because leaving him alone is what leads to these moments in the shadows or in the dark where he is brooding or where he is training because he’s just so frustrated not only at the world but also at himself. I feel like she would stay in those moments, she wouldn’t give him that space and she would help him through the darkness. We’ve seen in ACOSF that she’s going to be there for her friends in their moment of need, which is why she took a big step by leaving the library and going to Illyria to be there for Nesta.

So by now, I am literally in love with Azriel. My list is topped with Lucien, Azriel is my runner up then it’s Rhys and Cassian . But I’m so invested in Gwyn’s story because we don’t get a lot of characters like her with her little quirks and bright personality. I’m definitely pegging their story as a friends to lover type of deal and am so excited to see what SJM has planned for these characters in the future. 

#azriel #acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #gwyn berdara #gwynriel #acosf spoilers #sarah j maas #anti e/riel #shadowsinger

[twincovesgame]

How did you come up with the different personalities and backgrounds for so many ROs? Were you inspired by anything? So excited for the game!!

I love coming up with characters! Between the books I’ve written sitting on my “One Day... I’ll DO Something With You” shelf and the ones I am currently working on for fun (plus now VN projects), I have hundreds of characters knocking around in my brain lol. Coming up with characters is the best part for me... it’s the rest that’s the struggle. Ya know... giving them something to do. 

I think since I’m also an artist, it helps me to draw them a bunch until they start telling me who they are. Knowing what they look like informs their character, and vice versa too. And there’s always tropes to work from. The childhood friend, but make them rivals (Kai). The cold and aloof pretty boy, but give him something he cares deeply about (Rook). Giving characters conflicting traits helps make them more “human” too. And weaknesses and vices. Perfect is boring.

I think the only RO that was inspired by an existing character is Wren, who’s a little bit of a homage to Alistair from DA. The rest were just... types of characters I liked, like a morally grey reluctant ally (Azriel), or a tall, silent type who seems gruff but is a big softy (Eli). But I also wanted to subvert some expectations, so I think people will be surprised when they actually meet some of the ROs in the game.  

#Anonymous