#azriel extended chapter

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter One

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

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

Warning: Mentions of death and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Layers of gosammer fabric rippled with movement as you smoothed the bodice of your dress. Warm sunlight flooded through the stained glass windows, getting trapped in the sheer material until you glowed shades of yellow and blue. You tugged the sleeves over your hands and took a deep breath. 

It was a great honor to be invited to the Sun Palace, and for the Summer Solstice no less. The other Librarians of the 12th sector athenaeum - lovingly nicknamed The Alcove - had been absolutely astounded when the letter came addressed to you, hand delivered by pegasus. It was an honor. It was a great honor. You knew this. But your heart buzzed uncomfortably within your ribs like a bird desperate to take to the skies.

“Do I really frighten you that much?”

You swiveled your head to the side, finally acknowledging your High Lord after minutes of silence. Helion shot you a smile full of light and warmth. Light and warmth. Everything about Helion screamed it - from the sunburst crown on his head to the glow of his brown skin. He may as well have been carved from burnt amber. Helion’s very presence was enough to melt the hearts and open the legs of any fae - male or female. Even now you saw some of the female courtiers shooting you envious looks full of heat and longing. It made you cringe uncomfortably.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the pearls woven into your hair settle at the base of your neck.

“No.” You said quickly, “I apologize, High Lord. It’s not you. I just… haven’t been around this many people before.” 

“You take after your mother,” Helion said, that bright smile slipping into something fonder, more full of regret, “She was never one for parties either.”

You’d taken after your mother in just about everything - your eyes, your hair, the way you walked, even the way you took your coffee. Maybe if your mother had allowed you to be around Helion earlier on you would have learned his charm, absorbed his charisma like a sponge. As it was, the only thing you’d inherited from Helion was a stubborn power you couldn’t control. 

You clasped your hands together behind your back, as if that would be enough to hide your talent. With the ability to absorb knowledge and memories through touch, Clairvoyants were incredibly rare and highly sought after in the Day Court. Helion had worked hard to conceal your power and your identity, so when you’d been given first pick of athenaeums following your apprenticeship, it was to no one’s surprise you’d chosen the one furthest from the city. 

The Alcove. Your home. How you wished you were there now, nestled away in your attic apartment above the library. Comfortable. Alone.

Helion’s gaze softened as he regarded you. He shouldn’t have been as much of a stranger to you as he was. But he was no stranger to your work - always methodical, always precise, always handled with the same degree of love and attention that fae showed their children. You’d nearly died protecting The Alcove when Amarantha ransacked the Day Court libraries, smuggled books and knowledge across court lines during her reign. 

Perhaps you had inherited some bold streak from Helion after all. 

“How many times have I told you to call me Helion?”

“Six.” You said without hesitation.  

“Of course you would remember such a thing,” He said, clicking his tongue, “Would you take a turn around the room with me?” He asked, extending a poor man’s olive branch, “I have guests I would like to introduce you to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You’d planned to remain glued to this pillar until nightfall, half hidden by the quartet that was beginning to rush the tune in time to the next song. The spirited piece was coming just in time for champagne drunk party goers to make their way to the dance floor. 

You sighed, “Must I?” The performance of it all - the dress, the hair, the party, the pearls  - was more than you were used to, something orchestrated by Helion to finally get you to leave The Alcove. He would have dragged you to more parties if you weren’t so stubborn about ignoring non-business related correspondences. Hence the pegasus. 

“Your High Lord commands it.” Helion said smugly and moved his arm out to the side, gesturing for you to leave your little bubble of safety. “And you may very well come to thank me.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.” You waited a moment before saying, “Helion.” The casual name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

He clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of one of the sons of Autumn. He shook his head of flames and scowled into his whiskey, handsome features twisting into something uglier.

“Finally!” Helion’s voice boomed, “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

You chased after his long strides, hoping to stay within the radius of space fae gave to a High Lord. And it worked. For some time. You bounced between various pockets of fae, dodging servers with platters of cheeses, wine, pastries, and more balanced on shoulders. Helion’s deep voice reverberated off the walls as he laughed and clapped people on their shoulders, whispered in their ears, and threw casual, flirtatious winks. He shielded you from the vipers and introduced you to his friends as a talented researcher instead of his bastard daughter. But despite your best efforts, someone still touched you, and your power reared its ugly head.

It happened when one of the Summer Court delegates, drunk and giggling, crashed into a female in a flurry of teal silk, who - like a domino - fell onto you. You landed on your knees, palms stinging from broken glass as flashes of memory and knowledge raced through your mind.

A diagram of the Day Court cities taken in secret from the 29th sector cartography athenaeum. A page ripped from one of Helion’s private collection tomes. A sketch of a still, black lake, and the being of death and destruction that resided there. 

Koschei.

The name spilled onto your mind like ink in water, followed by horrible memories of slaughter and violence. Enough blood to turn the lake red.

The flood of information dulled and the female became nothing more than a willowy tower of tulle with ivory hair retreating into the crowds.

You gasped for breath, limbs shaking. 

The air. It was too thin here. Too suffocating.

Koschei

Koschei 

Koschei

“Are you alright?” A male asked. His deep, careful voice felt like the calm before a hurricane.

You jerked back from the scarred hands that reached for you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scrambled to your feet. A horrible rip sounded through the now quiet ballroom as you tripped on your dress and tore the bottom layers. And if it couldn’t become more embarrassing, when you stood up you came face to face with none other than the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

Devastatingly beautiful - were the first thoughts that came to mind. So beautiful in fact that he shook you from your visions and the horrible power attached to the lake. The edges of him flickered in and out of existence, clouded by shadows that fluttered about like smoke above a flame. You flinched when they came closer to you before being wrenched back on some invisible leash. He was as gorgeous as the rumors claimed, every inch of him seemingly carved out of black obsidion. 

The flash of shame that crossed his hazel eyes quickly faded into nothing and he clasped his hands behind his back, cursing Cassian for convincing him to go without gloves tonight.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Helion neared closer to you, pointing to your bloody hands. But the pain was nothing. You thought your heart might burst in your chest from the nerves. The more you thought about your splattered remains on the crisp marble tiles, the worse you felt.

The other members of the Night Court looked on with concern. You recognized the other Illyrian warrior - The Lord of Bloodshed he was called. His wings were partially extended, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. And the High Lord and High Lady needed no introduction, decked out in their slim-cut robes and dress. The silvery embroidery reminded you of the stars in the night sky you gazed at when you couldn’t fall asleep and the rest of the Day Court denizens had long since snuffed out their lights. There was a dangerous beauty that wrapped around the group as tightly as the Spymaster’s shadows clung to his body. And you’d just embarrassed the High Lord of the Day Court - your father - in front of them.

Azriel stepped back, reigning in his shadows despite their many desperate protests, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

But you ignored his words, gathered up your skirts, and ran towards the palace gardens, leaving nothing behind but a thin trail of blood and silk, the scent of vanilla, and a brooding, heart-broken Shadowsinger.

Heavy air mingled with copious amounts of perfume, gave way to crisp clarity. The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, like two lovers whispering in each other’s ears as you sprinted down the stairs past two drunk Peregryn soldiers half-hidden behind a rosebush. Their tawny feathers dipped in and out from behind the leaves like ocean waves.

A child’s doll half-buried in ash. The ring of electricity in the air and the metallic, buzzing stench of blood and rot in your nose. Suffocating. Suffocating. 

It was terrible. Worse than any memory you’d slipped into before.

“Y/n!” 

Koschei.

Koschei.

Koschei.

Everyone had experienced horror under Amarantha’s rule and during the war against Hybern. You’d been subjected to it too many times to count. Every brush of skin, every well-meaning touch from someone else had been a cruelty. 

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake? 

So why did this knowledge feel so different?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

“Y/n! Stop!” Hellion’s robes billowed out behind him like sun rays, dazzling brighter than gold. 

What’s buried beneath the lake? 

What’s buried beneath the lake?

What’s buried beneath the lake?

You didn’t realize you were murmuring the words until Helion gripped you by the shoulders and spun you around. You were brought back by more comforting knowledge - Helion’s memories. Memories of you as a babe, chubby legs wobbling beneath you as you took your first steps into your mother’s waiting arms. A flood of pride entering his chest that felt more like sadness than anything else. 

“Y/n!” He shook you again.

He has a room made up for you in the Sun Palace. He hides all the birthday gifts there that he planned to give to you, but never did. You are one of his greatest regrets.

You blinked rapidly, clearing out your thoughts and shoving the High Lord back with all your might. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need two hundred years of fatherly guilt to catch up to you. To the both of you. Not tonight. Not ever.

Without another word you winnowed away. 

__________

“I’m sorry about that,” Helion said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

He was grateful the party had returned to its previous rhythms in his absence, but Rhysand took note of the discomfort ladeled upon his shoulders, the hints of regret in his eyes. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with. 

The sun continued to slip behind the peaks of the mountains, changing the temperature of the room as the ivory and gold-plated walls began to take on a warmer shade. 

“Y/n is not used to such spaces.” He explained, “I should have done more to prepare her for tonight.” 

Rhysand waved off the apology. “There’s no need for apologies, Helion.”

“I do hope she’s ok.” Feyre said. With a snap of Helion’s fingers the blood had been wiped from the floor along with the spilled wine and broken glass. “Her hands-” 

Azriel stiffened, his arms suddenly hidden from view by the shadows that wound up his arms. Feyre quickly changed the topic. “This Y/n, is she the Librarian you’ve told us so much about?”

Helion’s smile was a prideful one, “The one and only.” He lowered his voice, careful to shield his words from any curious ears with a faint blanket of magic, “I would love to claim the credit for helping with your last pregnancy, but in truth it was all Y/n.” 

Feyre blinked in surprise. Her second pregnancy - although much better than the first - had still been a struggle. Rhysand had reached out to Helion in desperation, hoping once again for a safer method of birthing their winged-daughter. After spending months on end combing through the deepest depths of the oldest Day Court libraries, she’d delivered to them a text on cesarean sections. The tradition was a human one, and had been considered too primitive for fae, but with Feyre’s success Madja was reevaluating its usefulness. The High Lord and High Lady had much to thank you for when it came to little Velaria. 

Cassian raised his brows and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that teased his lips. For such a timid bookworm you’d saved them a great deal of trouble. All at once that sense of pride for a female he didn’t even know fell away. You’d looked at him with such… fear. Flinched away from his touch like you knew exactly the kind of monster he was when all he’d wanted to do was help you.

“We’ll have to thank her personally then.” Rhysand said.

He raised Feyre’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm and looking at her like the love-sick male that he was. He still had nightmares about Nyx’s birth - how pale Feyre had become, the stench of blood in the air, and Nyx’s tiny, motionless body. He was ready to offer you a mountain of gold for preventing such a thing from happening again. 

Azriel lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by the look that passed between the two mates. It felt like an intrusion to be standing in front of them. It was hard to see his brother and Feyre so openly affectionate with one another and not feel slivers of envy enter his heart. Cassian would have similarly been glued to Nesta’s side if she’d accepted the invitation, and although Mor was reluctant to venture out into the public world of courtiers with Emerie, she would have made it clear that she was taken. It meant that Azriel was often left to stand alone at events like this, gracefully rejecting the advances of males and females who hoped to lure the mysterious Shadowsinger into their beds. He’d been close to joining you in your solitude when Helion had charmed and whisked you away.

Azriel shifted his attention to the quartet, specifically to the little alcove to the left of the stage where he’d first noticed you. You’d stood there so quiet and observant, politely declining any male who offered you food or drinks or a dance. And there was no confusion as to why. You’d looked breathtaking in a pearly gown that clung to you like wisps of fog over the Illyrian mountaintops. 

“After the party I’ll take you to her apartment. Allow you all to properly introduce yourselves.” Helion said in a burst of brilliance.

Cassian prodded Azriel’s ribs, a knowing look in his eyes as he watched the now visibly uncomfortable Shadowsinger. 

But if Helion noticed, he didn’t care. If there was any collection of fae with the power to break you out of your shell, it was them.

“But until then! We dance! Come now Cassian, dance with me.” 

Cassian snorted as Helion clasped a muscular arm around his shoulders and heaved him over to the dance floor where fae were already congregated in a tangle of limbs and wine. Feyre and Rhysand joined soon after, the High Lady throwing back an apologetic smile as she joined the crowd with her mate and Azriel was left to stand alone once again.

Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

I have too many thoughts and ideas and got sucked into writing this one. Also, I wanted a nice Azriel fic to follow up Flame, Shadow, Beast so... enjoy!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x day court reader #azriel x day court librarian #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #the day court #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

[mycadences]

"Keep reaching out your hand" was used seven times verbatim in ACOSF as a central theme between Nessian. And now, I present to you this juicy little tidbit:

And when Gwyn reached the finish line, bloody and panting and grinning so wildly her teal eyes glowed like a sunlit sea, she only extended her battered hand to Azriel. (ACOSF, Chapter 60)

(Also I'm crying because Azriel finally got to see for himself how "Gwyn's teal eyes might light up [...]" in this scene because he didn't see her reaction to the necklace 😭)

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn x azriel #I love them so much #they have my whole heart #antielriel #anti e/riel

[soulessjourney]

Let The World Burn - Chapter 1

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: You're one in a million, Azriel had never encountered someone so different from himself, someone more powerful, even rivaling Rhysand in ability. When you appeared in the Night Court one evening, covered in dirt and dried blood, something about you seemed distinctly unique. It wasn't just the fire that scorched the ground beneath you or the red hue of your eyes burning into his skin. No, it was the shadows that swarmed around you, harmonizing with his own, drawing them closer to you.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Near character death, Talk of killing, Angst, Hurt and comfort, hurt no comfort, reader is an angry strong female reader, lots of miscommuication, fluff, More to be added

A/N: Buckle up, children. This fic is the epitome of enemies-to-lovers, lovers-to-enemies, and back again. The angst is intense, and the betrayals are oh so real.

All you could smell was your burning flesh and the smoke from the area around you. Above you, the dark sky seemed to smile down in a way that almost felt mocking. Drawing in a deep breath, your chest tightened, drowning out your senses. Uncertain of how you got here or even who you were, the last thing you remembered was falling backward, yet never hitting the ground, instead, you kept falling until eventually landing on the charred grass where you now lay.

A cool sensation ran over your arms, diverting your attention from the sky. Wincing, you lifted your arm, watching as wisps of smoke-like tendrils wrapped around you, gently caressing your burnt skin. They moved around your waist and through your hair, softly singing and speaking in hushed tones that your ringing ears couldn't discern.

Enchanted by their appearance, you marveled at their gentleness as they glided over the burns on your arms and face, seemingly attempting to kiss your wounds better. You noticed how they froze over your skin before shooting out as if to defend you. Turning your head, you let out a groan, catching a flash of red and blue. Rolling onto your knees, another groan escaped as you instinctively reached to hold your injured arm, your hair falling over your face as you glimpsed three figures through the strands, standing a few feet away, their eyes widening in shock at your appearance.

The wisps continued to wrap around you, darting out at them, a protective measure for your injured form. Your eyes darted between them before settling on a male figure without siphons, his violet eyes prominent in the darkness. Unable to discern their words over the ringing in your ears, you studied each figure. You moved towards another, taller and bulkier, his shoulder-length hair tied in a half ponytail. Despite his intimidating appearance, his eyes exuded a gentle kindness you had never witnessed before.

Finally, your gaze locked with hazel eyes, observing the third male figure. He stood before you, arms crossed, his face devoid of emotion, yet his shadows danced in synchronization with your own, almost as if communicating. The wisps whispered to you, though your mind remained blank as you studied him. Something within you stirred in recognition, yet fear caused your body to curl in on itself. Your vision obscured as the male with violet eyes knelt before you, extending his hand. Your gaze shifted upward, finally able to hear his voice.

"I'm not sure what happened to you, and usually, we wouldn't welcome trespassers like this, but your wounds are too serious to take you where we normally would," he said gently, causing your eyes to harden. Holding up his hands, he offered a reassuring smile. "What's your name?" he asked, watching you quietly.

You opened your mouth to respond, only for your mind to draw a blank. "I'm not sure," you replied, wincing at the raspiness of your voice, hating how weak it sounded. Yet, it didn't deter him from extending his hand once more. You stared at it, and he chuckled softly.

"If it eases your nerves, I'm Rhysand, and behind me are Cassian and Azriel. Now that we aren't strangers, why don't you come back with us? We can provide treatment and aid until you regain your memory or at least understand how you got here," he suggested gently. Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, meeting the hazel eyes again before Rhysand spoke up once more. "Please? My wife would kill me if she found out I left an injured female in the middle of the woods." You scrutinized him, attempting to catch him in a lie, but found none. Nodding gently, you placed your hand in his, feeling the cool tendrils wrap around you as the environment blurred and darkened.

---Azriel---

Azriel stood outside the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the floor. As the door opened and Cassian and Rhysand stepped out, he pushed away from the wall, raising a brow. "Mind explaining why you decided to make friends with some random person who tried burning down the forest?" he asked.

Rhysand sighed, glancing back at the closed door. "I tried probing her mind, Az. It's locked tight, and no amount of training could penetrate it, not with all the power it exerted to resist me. You saw those shadows that clung to her. Azriel, she's another shadow singer, and as far as I know, you're the only one alive with that ability," he explained in a hushed tone.

Azriel nodded, images of you flashing in his mind. He remembered the severity of your burns and the intensity of your gaze fixed on him, your eyes seeming to burn with actual fire. He had forgotten about the shadows that reached out to them, mirroring his own. "What do we do with her once she's better?" he inquired, turning his gaze toward the closed door. "We can't just let her go, especially now that she's seen the city."

Rhysand hummed in thought, but before he could respond, Cassian cleared his throat. "We can't release her back into the woods like some stray. She has no memory of who she is. But we're not imprisoning her either. We need to help her remember how she got here, and why there's no record of another shadow singer. I can keep an eye on her and make her feel welcome. If she feels like a prisoner, she won't cooperate," Cassian suggested, turning to Azriel. "You should do the same. Get to know her. Her reaction to seeing you indicates her body remembers you, so that could be crucial."

Azriel groaned before reluctantly agreeing with his brother. "Fine, I'll give it a shot. I have my own questions, especially about those shadows. But if she tries anything, don't expect me to be friendly. Her entrance wasn't exactly subtle, burning down half the forest," he remarked, casting a warning glance at Rhysand.

Rhysand nodded, knowing better than to argue with Azriel in situations like this. He couldn't help but notice Azriel's sudden interest in you, though. Clapping a hand on Cassian's shoulder, he nodded to Azriel before walking away.

Azriel watched them depart down the hall before turning back to the door. Opening it, his eyes widened as a pillow was flung at him, narrowly missing him and hitting the wall. Giving you a glare, he noted how you met his stare with equal intensity.

---Y/N---

You stare back at Azriel as he takes another step towards you, your hand instinctively reaching back to grab the pillow next to you. Your eyes follow every movement he makes, searching for any sign that his intentions aren’t friendly.

"Throwing a pillow at me won’t do much," he says, raising a brow at you.

Scoffing, you turn your head away from him. "No, but it would distract you long enough to give me a head start," you mumble. The shadows that wrap themselves around you slide away, halting just before Azriel. Your eyes watch them as they wait for his own to greet them.

"It’s funny, you would think they know each other. In the forest, it was like they were communicating with each other," you say softly.

Azriel hums in response as he settles into the chair next to your bed. "What do you know about your shadows? You must know something; the way they interact with you is a telling sign that you’ve had them your entire life," he says, leaning back into the chair. He watches your body language, waiting for a telling sign that you're lying, but there is nothing. Instead, he receives a shrug from you.

"I’m not sure. When I woke up, in agonizing pain, might I add, they were there. They were all over me, and it was as if they were trying to cool the burns. Other than that, they’re a complete mystery to me. They don’t even really say much besides that I’m safe," you explain, leaning back against the headboard. "Why are you guys helping me? I know it’s not because I was half dead in the middle of the woods," you mumble, playing with the blanket on your lap.

Azriel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he narrows his eyes at you. "Rhysand says he wants to find out how you’re a shadow singer; from what we knew, I was the only one. Cassian refuses to just release you into the wild again, and he wants to help you, which is typical given that’s just how he is. Meanwhile, me? I don’t trust you. You may not remember what about me you know, but your body does, and every time I’m near you, you have the natural reaction to pull away from me," he says. To prove his point, he shifts to sit on the bed, and your body tenses as you instinctively move away. "I’ll find out what you know about me. Rhysand may not be able to tell, but I know how to get the information I need, and you’re no exception," he grumbles.

You open your mouth to retort, but he stands and walks towards the door before freezing. "If you’re pretending, drop the act; it’ll make killing you in the future that much easier," he says, his eyes piercing into you. With that, he leaves the room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #elain archeron #morrigan #mating bond #acotar fandom #acotar series #fluff #angst #reader insert #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel #Spotify

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 6: Awaken. Remember. Live.

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know. 

Chapter Summary: The mortal queens are bitches. Rhysand requests to speak with Nyra. Azriel befriends the twins. The sisters are Made.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

The meeting with those godforsaken queens made Nesta feel like stomping all over them. She wanted to strangle, stab and slap them at the same time. They were willing to let innocents die in the name of a necessary sacrifice or some horseshit.

Nesta felt too much anger, too much pain, too much grief at what fate awaited the people here. Their servants did not live that far away and could be called back immediately. But she would not call them. If anyone were to be endangered because she had allowed fae to come to their residence and use it as a venue for the meetings?

In total five fae had visited. Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Morrigan and... She did not allow herself to think of the last one. Did not allow herself to think of that one moment of proximity she had shared with him.

Nesta had watched Elain curse the queens to hell. Watched Nyra's gaze turn cold and colder as the queens spout their nonsense. Feyre was drained of hope. And what did she feel? She felt everything and nothing. Nesta knew that Elain would likely ignore those queens if she were to meet them again but Nyra? What would Nyra do? The way she had seen the fury rise was something she had seen only once.

She laid a hand on her twin's shoulder. Nyra looked back, unflinchingly. The twins continued to stare at each other before Nyra closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. The shadows surrounding her skirts gently swam upwards and caressed her hand. Nyra looked at them and opened her palm for them.

"Things have escalated beyond the scope of my family's safety. I expect you to keep your word." Nesta turned to Rhysand. The High Lord of Night simply nodded. He had already arranged for their protection from the moment they first visited.

The shadows were caressing Nyra's hands. Azriel's older shadows were now here and they had immediately joined the newborns but Nyra barely responded. She did not move her fingers in response to their playful touches. That upset the shadows. Azriel continued watching them even as he was engrossed in discussion with Rhysand and Cassian regarding their next course of action.

The twins remained quiet for a few seconds before Elain walked over and sat on the carpet right next to Nesta’s legs and laid her head on her lap. The sisters sat there solemnly, lost in their worlds. Their beauty was painful. One of them, ready to mourn the anticipated losses. One of them, forcing herself to accept everything. And one of them, lost in a world far beyond.

Feyre now felt separated. In appearance and name, she was one of them and yet, she was not. She was now fae and she was once human. For the first time since her rebirth, she despised the immortality that separated her from her sisters. 

Through a bond partially unknown to the youngest Archeron, Rhysand felt her. He watched his mate and her sisters. 

“Feyre.” At the call of her name, she looked and found her sisters watching her curiously. Nesta had been the one to call her. 

“Come. Join us.” Nesta invited. Feyre blinked back a tear. Elain wordlessly extended an arm to her. The fourth sister walked over and took her sister’s arm. She sat down on the floor next to Elain, right in front of Nyra’s legs. She placed her head on her older sister’s lap and felt a hand on her head. 

“Is anyone even ready for what is going to happen?” Elain asked. Worry was all over her. In her voice, her expressions, her entire body. 

“No.” Nesta’s answer was a reminder of reality. 

“They’ll hurt you.” Elain reached a hand out and took Feyre’s hand in her own. Tears pooled in their eyes.

“They’ll kill me.” Feyre answered with the same bluntness she had picked up from Nesta. 

“Which is what we want to prevent.” Rhys spoke, unable to hold back from speaking. The sisters felt too hopeless but they did not accept anything. They did not accept the possibility of Feyre being hunted for her power, for the destruction that loomed over the mortal lands, the death that awaited Nyra if she couldn't recover and her illness consumed her completely. 

Nothing. 

“And if it can’t be prevented?” Nyra finally asked. She looked away from the window and met the High Lord’s gaze. “What of my sisters if this war can’t be prevented?” Nesta sharply turned her head to her twin. 

“Your sisters will be protected. As will you. No harm shall befall any of you.”

“Can you promise that?” Nyra challenged, remembering what promises meant to fae.

“I promise all my power, all my resources, to protecting the four of you. Even at the cost of my life.” A tattoo bloomed in the palm of Nyra’s right hand. A small star right where the thumb and index finger met. The shadows played with her hand as she inspected the tattoo.

"I am asking if you can promise my sisters' safety." Rhys had no answer to that. And hope died a quick death. It left behind nothing. And everything felt like it had never even been there. Nyra resumed looking outside the window. Winter was cruel.

"Nyra." Feyre looked up at her sister who was still staring at the world outside the window."We're leaving now." Nyra hummed. She kept patting her sister's head but did not meet her gaze. "I'll come visit whenever I can."

Feyre's last statement was reserved for a future with no war. But if there wasn't any possibility of war, would she have ever visited? The answer was easily no. So why would she deign to visit after the war ends. Would there be anything left here for her to visit? Maybe. Maybe not. The book they sought was now in their possession.

Rhysand adjusted his jacket and swallowed. He brushed off some non-existent lint and walked forward. "I would like to speak to you, Nyra."

The sisters looked up from where they sat. Rhysand's tall figure stood a couple of feet away from them but it did not hover over them.

"Alone." He added. Nyra nodded and patted Feyre's head thrice. Her youngest sister removed her head from her lap and stood up.

Nyra led Rhysand to her father's office. Nesta, Azriel and Cassian followed. Nyra and Rhysand entered the office and closed the door behind them. Azriel and Cassian flanked the sides of the closed door, guarding it from interruptions. Nesta leaned on the wall opposite to the door with her eyes closed and arms crossed.

****

"You wish to speak to me?” Nyra asked. She motioned a hand to the armchair before her as an offer for him to sit. But Rhysand kneeled before her. Nyra blinked once and then asked. “What is this about?”

“I understand that there’s a tradition of speaking to the female’s relatives in the mortal lands.” Rhysand sounded uncharacteristically nervous. And he was. This was the sister Feyre spoke with endless love and tenderness. The sister who had guarded his dear mate’s heart. 

“Does it really require you to kneel? I’m sure taking a seat won’t be-"

“I ask for your blessings, as Feyre’s older sister, for when I propose marriage.” Rhys’s interruption had silenced Nyra.

“I wish to walk by her side this life. To love her through all of it. Through happiness and misery. Through riches and poverty. With all my power, blood, body, mind and soul that I am, I wish to be hers, if she’ll have me.” 

The High Lord of the Night Court now dipped his head. “I plan to propose to her once she has completely settled in this new life as fae and once I am certain she bears affections for me. If she ever loves me and if we ever have a chance at a union, I hope you can bless it wherever you will be then.” 

Nyra knew what that meant when he said wherever she would be. Even if she were no longer alive, he wanted her blessing. 

“You are a High Lord. You have greater priorities than a marriage with my sister who is still unaware of your feelings.” 

None greater than my mate. She heard his voice but he was not speaking. Nyra was now confused. I can speak to you mind to mind. It is a rare ability among my kind. Those who wield it are called daemati.

“What’s a mate?” And Rhysand explained the entire concept of mates to her. He was honest about real life examples of mates including his parents and the miserable union his mother had endured. And how he hoped that Feyre and he could be happy with each other. 

“What if she does not fall in love with you? Or what if she has a change of heart even if she does fall in love with you?” Both of them knew very well what had happened between Feyre and Tamlin. A repetition was not acceptable.

“I will let her go. She will have everything to lead her life as she pleases regardless of whether she returns my affections or has a change of heart after being with me.” 

“Cassian told me that the fae are bound by their promises.” She looked at the small star in her palm that had appeared mere minutes ago.

“I shall make you as many promises as you require of me.” The stars in his eyes were blinking now.

“To love her. To cherish her. To help her when she needs it. And to let go if she wants it. To never hurt her. Promise it, Rhysand. All of it.” She walked forward and stopped right in front of him.

“I promise.” He took her hand and looked up at her face. Even with his teary gaze, he could see the silent tears trailing down Nyra’s eyes. “I will love Feyre Archeron with all that I am, body, mind, power and soul. I will help her when she needs it. I will let her go peacefully without a fight if she chooses to leave me. I will not hurt her in any manner even if she does accept me and then has a change of heart. If by any chance, she does accept me and chooses to be with me, I will care for her. I promise that she will never want for anything so long as I can do anything about it. I will protect her and value her life above my own at all times. I will never consider her inferior to me, only my equal and above. She will not be sidelined as a wife or a consort. She will rule beside me as my equal in the Night Court. This is my promise to you, Nyra Archeron.” 

And with that, a tattoo bloomed in the palms of their respective hands which were connected. Nyra felt a tingling sensation and turned her hand to see it. She turned his own hand and saw the identical tattoos bloom. It was a crescent moon and a single star formed in the space where the remaining part of the moon should have been to be a full one. She looked at his face with a questioning glance.

“Promises among the fae are evidenced by tattoos.” Rhys’s words still held a glimmer of hope that reflected in the stars in his eyes. “I promise to accept whatever punishment you deem fit for me should I break any of my promises to you.” Another tattoo for another promise but this time, the new tattoo was like a continuation of the old one. The borders of the crescent moon were now lined with small flowers and smaller leaves. 

In Nyra’s absence, the tattoo would burn him like all tattoos did when bargains were broken. During her lifetime, she would choose his punishment. 

“You have my blessing so as long as you keep your word.” Nyra nodded at him. He turned their hands, now hiding their palms. Rhys kissed the back of Nyra’s hand with tears flowing down his cheeks freely. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. He repeated it so many times, completely consumed by Nyra’s acceptance of a union with Feyre, if it ever happened. Nyra stood up, placed her hands on his shoulders. She gently led him to stand up and take a seat next to her in the armchair which she had initially offered for a seat. 

From outside the room, Azriel and Cassian flanked the doors like guards. They heard every single word and tears formed in their eyes. They shared a single glance and looked away. Cassian lifted a hand to press his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. He lifted his chin to avoid the tears from spilling. Azriel simply willed himself to remain stoic. And even then the shadows did not stop telling him about Nyra's tears.

Nesta, who had been standing in front of the door, had heard everything. She gave no reaction and simply turned and walked away. She did not mind that Rhysand had asked Nyra about this and not her. She was not worthy anyway. As someone who did nothing but let her anger consumer her, she was unworthy. She was nothing.

****

“She's never going to return.” Elain remarked as they stared at the spot from where the fae had disappeared.

“She won’t. Fae are not welcome in the mortal lands.” Nesta answered quietly.

She thought of Rhysand who was in love with Feyre. If Feyre did ever accept Rhysand as a lover, she would definitely not return. He was someone who wielded power and influence. He was polite to them only because they were related to the woman he loved. His only obligation other than the relation was the threat the war posed to the lands he ruled.

For his people, Rhysand would fight, beg, and bow. He would kill and be killed, do and endure worse. Nesta felt like Rhys might have already gone through all of that if he had been High Lord for over five centuries.

Nesta looked at Nyra who looked at the sky from the closed window. Elain had returned to her room and had informed them that she would join them for preparing lunch at noon. That would be three hours. Nesta resolved to read another novel to distract herself. Her mind was a whirlpool but her thoughts could not swim. Everything was happening, all at once. She did not want to drown in the water. Amidst her desire, she had become the fire that burned cold.

Her twin had yet to recover completely. Nyra had a life to live. Like Elain, she had to live, laugh, and love. Elain had found someone to love, the evidence of it resting on the ring finger of her left hand. Nyra too deserved a life. Nesta did not. She did not deserve to be loved.

Love was a luxury Nesta did not deserve but her sisters loved her. Her twin, the younger one she protected and the youngest whom she tried to hate with all of her being. And she felt a spark of it just recently. Nesta walked away and ascended the stairs, hoping the movement would remove old thoughts and replace it with new ones.

When Nesta reached Elain’s room, she could hear the sobs before she knocked. Her hand halted and she hesitated more as the sobs continued. She retreated as quietly as possible and headed to her bedroom.

The doors opened and her grand bedroom revealed itself. It was a splash of burgundy curtains, brick red sheets with ochre pillows and cushions. She preferred gold over the silver that Nyra preferred. Red, however, sang to her. And she tossed a few logs into the fireplace and lit it. The glow of the flames brought out the spirit of the room and its occupant.

She turned at the sound of a single knock on the door which was Nyra’s preferred pattern of knocking. “Come in!” Her twin entered the room, the golden glow of the flames colouring her as she approached Nesta by the fireplace.

And the sisters did not speak, but revelled in the silence for hours to Elain came by and reminded them of lunch.

****

The days passed by. Previously, the monotony that was only interrupted when either Cassian or Azriel visited. Cassian had stopped visiting after his banter with Nesta had once escalated to the point where she had banished him from setting foot into the estate unless it was to meet the queens. But now, the meetings with the queens had come to pass. Their fae guests had gotten their hands on whatever they sought. There was no more communication from them.

A gentle tap on her window late in the night has Nyra looking outside. Nesta walked over and opened the window. For a moment, she was convinced it was just the wind but she looked back instantly to find Azriel materialising from the shadows next to Nyra’s bed. Nesta closed the window and walked over. The two of them sat down on the chairs near the bed.

“No news from the queens.” Nesta began. It was a disappointing update. Azriel nodded at her once.

“How are things otherwise?” He asked kindly. He was probably referring to her health but Nyra did not ignore the possibility of him asking it in a general sense.

“Things are as dull as they can be.” Nyra replied, the dullness she mentioned lacing her voice.

“I hear the two of you have reading habits.” He lifted a palm and the shadows brought a neatly wrapped package. Azriel gently set it on the bedside table. He wasn’t sure why he bought them but he didn’t like the idea of revisiting for the first time alone just like that. “They are novels from our world.”

Nesta couldn’t accept the world of the fae but Azriel was the most polite and well mannered of the bunch. She nodded with a hum. Nyra took the package eagerly and began unwrapping it. When she couldn’t get it right after a point of time, she frowned and ripped the package. Azriel chuckled at the enthusiasm. The three books lay on the blankets above her lap. Hardcover with a carefully intricate design drawn over it. Nyra beamed at him with a smile and his gaze softened.

Nesta saw the exchange and knew that they might talk about those novels at some point once the sisters had read them. And it would have been fine. Anything would be accepted as a topic of conversation except the hopeless news from the queens. Conversation with Azriel had been surprisingly easier. Conversation with Cassian was either a headache or a challenge or both.

Nesta knew that she missed Cassian. Because she was actually starting to look forward to their banters. Despite her declaration of banishment, Cassian would visit whenever he claimed Azriel was busy. She knew he liked their interactions. She also knew that Nyra was starting to like the fae. That her dear twin had started enjoying Azriel and Cassian’s company. Nesta had watched as Cassian and Nyra joke around each other. And Azriel and Nyra had discussed books and histories of their kind and a friendship had bloomed between them.

“The Treaty between the fae and the humans was a headache.” Azriel sighed. Nyra raised a curious eyebrow. “Rhys was healing, so he wasn’t there. Cassian and Mor attended on our behalf and I was travelling around the Night Court.”

“And this was around the time Rhys became High Lord?” Azriel nodded his head at Nyra’s question.

“We barely have any records here in our side of the world.” There it was. The stark reminder that they were from different worlds and that even this odd story of friendship would be a difficult thing to maintain. Maybe, someday in the future, Azriel would forget them. Feyre would forget ever having sisters white they would remember her their entire lives.

“Any information about anything that old is either word of mouth or anything passed down by families. Official records exist in the archives of the mortal queens but that remains unavailable to the common folk.”

Nyra watched him with lips slightly parted. Nesta knew at once something ridiculous was cooking inside her head. As smart as Nyra was, she could say the most outrageous things at times.

"I will never be able to digest the fact that you are so old." Nyra spoke. Azriel let out a snort and a small laugh. "Even our ancestors with the Archeron name would not have been born five centuries ago and you were there. During the war, after it, and now. It's just..."

"Even the thought of it is inconceivable." Nesta spoke where Nyra trailed away. Azriel turned to her with a curiousity. "To have lived in what we refer to as the past and to stand before our eyes as though you have not aged."

"We haven't aged since we were thirty. That's when fae are considered to be completely adults." Azriel explained. He did not dwell on the details of how Illyrians aged and how it differed from others.

It had been almost a month since the mortal Archerons saw anyone from the Night Court. And the sisters were not ashamed to admit that they missed their company. Not only had they lost their sister to immortality but also new friends. Nesta would never consider the fae her friends but Nyra would. She had befriended Azriel and Cassian and even Rhysand to an extent. Even Elain had been a part of their conversations with Morrigan bringing tea for them. But with the war to prepare for, nobody visited. And they remained confined to their estate.

****

A sweet voice kept calling out to her. By her name. Over and over again. In the depths of what seemed like the abyss, the bright silhouette of a female called out to her.

“Nyra.” She had never heard a more melodious voice. Soothing and calm. Something so different from what she had experienced so far. Drastically so.

“Awaken.” The voice whispered. “Remember.” It felt like somebody was holding their hand. That hand was soft, their grip gentle. Slowly, Nyra felt herself be tugged forward. She did not know whether she was standing or floating or flying but she somehow followed that tug. "Live."

An entire life flashed before her eyes. Birth. Childhood. Adolescence. Adulthood. Age. And finally, death. Parents, siblings, friends, love. It felt like a story unwrap itself before her eyes. She soaked in every detail before she realised what exactly was happening. A life was showing itself.

And she would remember. Stories long forgotten and unrecorded because it belonged to someone who did not win. To someone who had not made their mark in history. The resolve to make that mark. A footprint to be recorded in history books. To become a winner because winners write history. Winners are remembered.

The next life came forth. The next book opened. Chapter one, two, three, four and till the end of the book.

Some lives felt like watching a mural. Some felt like novels. Some felt like dreams. Some felt like something else. And she wanted to see. After being confined in the house for so long, Nyra Archeron wanted to live. And so she opened everything.

“Slowly, my child.” The voice whispered. “Everything is yours.”

Nesta Archeron had drowned in the Cauldron promising death to the King. The King watched warily as she walked towards her Cauldron Made sister. She pushed Lucien away and took Elain in her arms and looked around. And then at the King and roared. “Where’s she?” Her eyes blazed with the promise of death. Everything would end at her hands.

Nyra Archeron had yet to rise from the Cauldron. The King looked at the Cauldron and signalled two of his soldiers to pull the last sister. The twins were pushed in together after Elain. The trembling fawn and the fanged beast had risen. And now, the chirping of a thousand birds sounded across the room. The two soldiers who were supposed to pull Nyra out screamed in pain and fell to the ground as though they were puppets and their strings had been cut.

Azriel looked up, his blurry vision allowing him to see only silhouettes and the bright light of the electricity that had resulted in someone screaming. His younger shadows kept screaming at him to go. To drag himself to the Cauldron even if it was his corpse. He followed that call. He felt calm which was odd. Cassian’s wings were shredded. Tamlin turned out to be a traitor and Lucien was the middle sister's mate. Nesta was angry. Rhysand and Feyre risked losing each other. Mor had been frozen by her fear. And Az continued to crawl to the Cauldron. His older shadows had abandoned him already, moving to the Cauldron faster than he could.

All the light from across the world flowed into the Cauldron in strands and cords. Light of different colours. All the white and the gold and the red and the blue and the green and so many colours flowed in. And his shadows followed a song clearer than Azriel’s had ever been. He was too weak to rein them in and the shadows emerged with the new fae from the Cauldron. A wave of calm and peace washed over. So different from Nesta’s deathly presence. The shadows helped Nyra exit the Cauldron.

Just as she exited the Cauldron, it rose mid-air. The Cauldron tipped and the liquid from it fell on Nyra, bathing her in whatever essence it deigned to grant her. A while later, it stopped and settled back where it initially was. Nyra's eyes were closed and the shadows were carrying her out and they laid her next to the shadowsinger.

Azriel had never felt so at peace right then. With his shadows and with this female lying next to him. And soon, there was a faint tune. It became clearer and louder. An ancient song thrummed within him and the shadows led him to her. There was nothing more important, nothing more beautiful, nothing more stronger than this moment. Even with that hole in his chest from Jurian’s spear, he felt his heart fill to the brim with relief.

Azriel fell asleep, feeling peaceful at the sight of her. Nyra was drenched and unconscious but he was already fainting. He did not realise it when his hand had taken hers. And if he were to die then and there, he would die peacefully. Did not feel when Mor winnowed him back to Velaris and had started healing him. All he felt was his mate and their bond. He was home.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley

#a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acofas #acomaf #acotar #acosf #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel #feyre archeron #feysand #archeron sisters #rhysand #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #elain archeron

[jdeclerc]

welcome home, general

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: the night court's general returns home, craving the touch of his mate - he is met with the most thorough of welcomes.

author's note: cassian is it for me. i'm also sorry this is so long? no idea how that happened. i'll try my best to write something a bit shorter...no promises though ;)

warnings: smut (with a bit more plot than first anticipated)

word count: 3,815

Cassian lands on the balcony of the House of Wind and feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks.

His week-long mission in the Illyrian Steppes had quickly become two…three…four weeks away from his home, his family, his mate. It is the thought of his mate that has the tension in his shoulders loosening.

You and he had decided long ago to close-off the bond when one of you was working for an extended period. He feels the embers of it flicker to life for the first time and does his best to tamper it. You aren’t expecting him home until tomorrow morning, he had worked hard to maintain the surprise of his early arrival.

Cassian can’t help but fix his gaze on the window above him. He knows you lay behind it. An image of you sitting in bed, a book in your hand, and a cup of tea on the bedside table enters his mind.  He can’t count how many times you sacrificed sleep to finish ‘just one more chapter.’ The corners of his mouth turn up at the thought.

He admires your ability to fall into the worlds of your books. Some of his favourite moments are you excitedly telling him about your latest read, and he is raptured by your every word, even when he has no grasp on what in the cauldron you are speaking about.

His thoughts turn darker as his memories turn to his favourite method of getting you to finally take a break from reading. He would take the book from your hands, put your marker in so you don’t lose your page, and place it on his bedside table. Cassian would then lean you back into the pillows and position himself between your legs, wrapping them around his waist. In those moments it becomes his singular goal to worship every part of you, showing you that even after centuries, his need for you has never diminished.

Cauldron help him the first time you had wanted to recreate a scene from one of your books. He was a male undone, never having found release quite like that.

“She’s missed you brother, as have we.”

Cassian is shaken from his thoughts at the sound of Rhys’ voice, turning to find him and Azriel approaching from the house. He opens his arms to both and pulls them into himself. Another wave of relief washes over him as he embraces his brothers, it is yet another sign of him being home.

They step back from one another but remain close. Cassian knows, like he has felt, that his brothers need him near to know he’s truly home safely.

“When did she get here?”

“Two days after you left. She wanted to wait but knew you would have words for her if she did.”

Cassian nodded at Azriel’s words and glanced back up at the window.

The two of you often frequented the House of Wind but had built your own home on the outskirts of the city about a century after being mated. Your family rarely visited, the place becoming a sanctuary for yourself and Cassian.

But Cassian knew, because he experienced the same, that you had difficulty sleeping there without him. Your home encompassed the heart and soul of your mateship and felt empty when the other wasn’t there for an extended period. You both had taken to staying with Azriel and Gwyn at the House of Wind, impatiently awaiting your mate’s return.

On his flight home Cassian had every intention of taking you home and showing you just how much he missed you. But he knows that the moment he opens the bond and lays eyes on you that his plan will vanish in an instant. He craves your scent and the feeling of your skin beneath his hands more than he cares to admit, even to himself.

“Y/N retired to your room early, she cleared her schedule tomorrow and wants to finish training before she thinks you’re getting home. This one was hard for her Cas, as I’m sure it’s been on you as well.” Azriel squeezes Cassian’s shoulder.

“And in effort to do themselves a favour, Gwyn and Az are staying at the River House tonight. You both can join us tomorrow, if you’re not too exhausted, that is.” Rhys gives Cassian a sly grin and a knowing look. “The entire family is spending the day together, even Nesta and Eris are coming to celebrate your safe return.”

“We’ll be there…maybe a bit late but we’ll be there.”

Rhys can’t help but let out a laugh at Cassian’s words.

“Good.” Rhys motions to Azriel and they step past Cassian toward the edge of the balcony. “Now go, you’ve got a mate that needs tending to.”

“Try not to be too much of a disappointment, will you?” Azriel shoots Cassian a shit-eating grin as he says the words.

“You can both go kindly fuck yourselves.”

Cassian can hear his brothers’ responding laughter as they shoot into the sky. He can tell neither of them let up on their speed as they descend toward the city, weaving in and out from each other. They’re racing one another. Despite being centuries old, the brothers’ competitiveness is as childish as ever. Cassian can’t predict which of them will win but knows he’ll hear every detail the following day.

He watches them for a few moments longer, turning toward and entering the house only when he loses sight of them.

Cassian takes the stairs two at a time, as silently as his massive form can manage. It’s only as he approaches the door of your shared room that he registers any sound in the house at all. He carefully pushes the door open, conscious of the damaged hinge neither of you had fixed. The two of you had been interrupted by various members of your family one too many times not to appreciate the warning squeal the hinge lets out as the door opens.

It's as he steps into the room that his suspicion is confirmed; the noise he hears is coming from the adjoining bathing chamber.

Cassian isn’t one to be caught off guard but as he steps into the doorway of the bathing chamber, the first sight of his mate has him grinding to a halt.

You haven’t noticed him, and Cassian allows himself a moment to drink in the sight of you before he even thinks of alerting you to his presence.

You’re standing directly under the stream of water. He can tell by the way your eyes are closed that you’re lost in thought, having always found solace in the noise of the water flooding your senses.

His eyes follow the water as it cascades down your bare form. He watches it hit every dip and dive, tracing the body he knows as well as his own.

It’s the scent of your arousal that knocks him out of his daze. Whatever is going on in your glorious head has your hands moving over yourself. He watches as you run your hands down the front your body, descending painfully slowly.

Cassian can see more than hear his name fall from your lips as you reach the apex of your thighs. Your voice filled with such need that it comes out as more of a breath than a fully formed word. He anticipates the moves you make as you touch yourself, knowing the exact motions and pace you’ll use. It was one of the first things he had you show him, your satisfaction always being placed above his own.

He stops breathing as he watches you slip a single finger into yourself, your mouth falling open slightly at the action.

It’s at that moment that he opens his end of the bond. He can see the exact moment his need meets your own. You gasp as the wave of emotion hits you. Your eyes slowly open and meet his own, a range of emotions cross your face in an instant: relief, longing, desire. Your hand halting its movements at your seeing him.

“Don’t stop.” Both a command and a plea wrapped into one. You resume your movements without hesitation.

Cassian’s eyes don’t stray from your form as he begins unclasping his siphons, one hitting the floor after another. You gaze, however, tracks every movement of his hands. He’s known you long enough to know you don’t do so purely out of desire. No, you’re waiting for any sign of injury. Any sign that his movements are out of the ordinary or encumbered in even the smallest way.

As he removes the top half of his leathers, he understands why you stop this time. He silently vows to tell you the stories of his bruises later, when the need to be with you isn’t demanding to be met. The look in your eyes has him undoing the laces of his pants with precision. Worry has replaced all desire that was there only a moment ago.

When he is as bare as the Mother made him, Cassian starts moving. He doesn’t wait for the shower door to close behind him before he’s reaching for you. His hands slide around your waist as yours run over his abdomen before moving to his chest. He knows the question you need answered as you look up at him.

“They’re nothing serious, I swear to you.” His voice is low. “I’m here…I’m home…I’m safe.”

He can feel the tension leave your body at his words, at the use of the mantra you both use when returning to each other. The words quelling any worry no matter what marks mar either of you.

You give him a small nod and it’s as though he can feel the air thicken with the return of your arousal.

Cassian tightens his arms around you and moves you several steps until your back meets the wall. Your hands come to rest on either side of his neck as he gazes down at you.

He takes a moment to admire his mate. The warmth of your skin under his hands and your scent filling the air grounding him like nothing else can.

It’s the brush of your chest against his as you pull him closer that snaps his resolve. He is on you in an instant.

Cassian pulls you impossibly close as his lips meet yours. The kiss burning with four weeks of built-up need and desire. Your hands encircle his shoulders as he slides one of his own up your back and stops at the base of your neck. He applies just enough pressure to have your head tilting further back, allowing him better access to devour you.

His lips move along your jaw, coming to stop at the spot below your ear that he knows does you in. Your responding whimper is all he needs to continue his exploration. He forges a path down your neck and across to the center of your chest. His hands come to rest on either side of you, his thumbs brushing across the bottom of your breasts. Cassian takes a moment to drink in the sight of you before descending on you once more.

He sucks a mark into the top of your left breast first before doing the same to your right. His desire to mark you as his outweighing the reality that they will be gone by morning, nothing but a memory.

 Cassian takes your right nipple between his lips, drawing it in into his mouth until he can feel it tighten against his tongue. His left hand circling the other as he does. His teeth catch your nipple as he releases it, and he flicks his tongue across the hard surface before moving to repeat his actions on your left side.

Your breathless by the time his mouth leaves you and his eyes remain locked on yours as he sinks to his knees before you. His motions are reverent as he rests his forehead on your lower stomach and his hands come to rest at the backs of your thighs.

Cassian closes his eyes and breathes you in. He runs his hand across the top of your left thigh until he can take hold of its underside. He leans back and his eyes don’t leave your centre as he lifts your thigh so he can place it over his shoulder. He runs his thumb across your folds and groans at what he feels. Your desire evident in the tremor that runs through you at the second pass of his thumb.

Cassian knows you could take him then and there, but he is too selfish a male in that moment to deny himself of what he had dreamed about countless times while away.

He turns his head and begins a trail along your inner thigh of kisses so feather-light that they leave goosebumps in their wake.  He feels one of your hands find purchase in his hair as his mouth closes over your clit.

He devours you like a male starved. Moving his tongue in a way that he knows will have your legs shaking before long. Cassian lets out a hum of satisfaction as two of his fingers slide easily into you. He works them through you and curls them in just the right way, he is nothing but an expert at his chosen craft.

“Cas…”

Cassian can tell by your tone that you’re close. He can feel it in the way you move, chasing your release against him.

It’s the sounds you make and how you clench around his fingers as your orgasm tears through you that has Cassian understanding why the priestesses are so devout in their worship. He would spend a lifetime on his knees if this is what it entailed. He would worship before you for eternity, even if it meant only feeling what he just had even one more time.

He moves his mouth from you and slows the movement of his fingers as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. Only when he’s confident your legs will hold you does he lower the one over his shoulder and rise to stand.

He stands so close to you that your chest brushes his as it rises and falls in quick succession. You open your mouth to speak but he’s the first one to get words out.

“Turn around.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and look up at him through your lashes at his words and Cassian is so transfixed by the action that he barely registers the need to take a half step back to allow you room to follow his command. When you do, he snakes one of his arms around your waist and moves you forward, caging you in with his massive form. His other hand moves to the back of your thigh and raises it to rest on the bench built into the right side of the shower.

He can’t help a tremor of his own passing over him as he takes hold of his cock and slides it through your folds; having been hard since walking into the bathing chamber.

Cassian lines himself up and relishes in the gasp you let out as he pushes into you. It’s a feeling he’s never gotten used to, the rush of euphoria that passes over him every time never getting old.

Only when he’s fully seated in you does he still. His right hand lands over yours and dwarfs it where it rests on the shower wall. His left moves from its position at your waist, up your torso, stopping between your breasts, and he pulls you flush to his chest so you face is no longer resting on the shower wall.

Cassian lays his forehead on your shoulder and waits, giving you time. You’d told him in the past that your body needed a moment to adjust to his size, no matter how many times the two of you had done this.

He’s given you this time ever since. And despite your repeated reassurances of the contrary, he still finds himself feeling sick at the thought of causing you even the slightest discomfort.

Your hand squeezes the forearm he has around your front.

“You’re sure?”

“Cas, please…I need you to move.” Your voice is laced with the most beautiful desperation, nails digging into his forearm.

Cassian moves his hand down, your own maintaining its grip. His fingers find your clit and circle it purposefully, painfully slow.

“And if I don’t?” He continues his movements. “I could keep you here until you’re begging to cum around my cock, so full, never getting to feel it splitting you open over and over again.” Cassian knows his words are a complete lie, knows his desperation outweighs yours ten-fold.

“It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting…General.”

It’s your use of his title that has Cassian pulling out to the tip and pushing back into you so that you feel every ridge and vein as they move inside you. You both know the effect the title has on him.

Your head falls onto his shoulder, and he brings his mouth to your ear. His voice rough with warning.

“As you command, my lady.”

Cassian sets a burning pace, bottoming out inside you with every thrust. His hand taking a bruising hold of your waist to keep you in place.

It isn’t long before he knows your close to coming undone. Your arm comes to circle his neck as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hand moving to resume its movements on your clit.

You break the kiss as you cum, head falling to his shoulder once more, and you’re unable to hold in your moans. Cassian holds you with both arms to keep you standing, you body trembling as he continues with slow, deliberate thrusts.

Once you’ve come down from the high, he maintains his hold on you as he slowly pulls out, gently setting your leg on the shower floor, and turning you to face him.

Cassian brings your hands to rest around his shoulders. He crouches just enough to reach the backs of your thighs and lifts you into his arms, pressing your back into the shower wall. Your eyes close as you rest your head on the wall, the falling of the water the only sound passing through the space.

“Eyes on me.” Cassian brings a hand to the back your neck and tilts your head to press your forehead to his. You open your eyes, and he sees nothing but pure satisfaction staring back at him. “One more…give me one more. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod your head.

“Words…I need to hear you say the words.”

You give him a small smile and bring your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Make me see stars Cassian.”

He doesn’t hesitate to resume his earlier pace. The drag of your nails across his back, past where his wings meet his skin, has him angling you to reach even deeper inside you.

It’s the feeling of your skin against his as you cling to him that has Cassian approaching his release. He slides his hand between your bodies and brings his thumb to the most sensitive part of you, wanting your finish to precede his.

You hold him painfully close as you cum with a cry. Your sounds pushing Cassian straight over the edge into oblivion. He cums with a roar and holds you to the base of his cock as he fills you. He moves with shallow thrusts, carrying both of you through the end of your respective orgasms. He stills as the last of his leaves him.

Time lapses for several minutes, neither of you move until he feels you stop shaking. He brings his hand up to push back the hair sticking to your face. You do the same to the strands that have fallen from where his hair is tied at the back of his head. He holds your gaze, the both of you seeing each other free from the haze of desire for the first time.

“Hi.” You whisper the words, pushing love down the bond.

“Hi yourself.” He responds by sending a wave of his own down the bond, his voice matching the volume of yours. “You feeling okay?”

“More than.”

You both chuckle at your words.

“Fuck, I missed this…missed you. I love you.”

“I love you, Cas. I’m so fucking happy you’re home.”

“I’m happy to be home.” He loosens his grip on you and glances down to where your bodies are still joined. “You ready?”

“My legs might be a little shaky, help me stay on two feet?”

“Always.”

Cassian gives you a deep, slow kiss before he pulls out of you. Your brow pinches and you let out a small whimper at the loss of him inside you. He sets your legs down gently and your knees begin to buckle before he pulls you into him, keeping you stable. He presses his face to the side of your neck, breathing you in and taking a moment to fully realize that he’s home with his mate.

“Should we finish this shower before we use every drop of water from the Sidra?”

Cassian responds with only a bellowing laugh as he moves to grab your favourite wash. He washes you from head to toe. Taking special care when cleaning the mess between your thighs, your body still responding to every pass he makes.

You then do the same. Washing away the few bits of grime left from his mission, especially those on the delicate membranes of his wings. Cassian knows you don’t miss how he tenses when you brush over the bruises covering his top half, the adrenaline of your tryst having fully worn off. You throw him a look that speaks volumes to his owing you an explanation.

“Tomorrow…I promise.”

You accept his vow with a nod as he turns the water off. He catches you stifling a yawn as he turns back toward you. Without a word he picks you up once more, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Let’s get you to bed, my wonderful, beautiful mate.”

Cassian walks you both straight through the bathroom without stopping.

“Cassian, we are soaking wet.”

“Your point being?” He enters the bedroom and moves to his side of the bed.

“The sheets, Cas. They’re brand new.”

Without losing his grip on you he lowers himself to the bed and settles you directly on top of him. He missed feeling the weight of your body over his own, of having his mate with him as he slept.

It takes only moments for exhaustion to hit you. Cassian’s words are the last thing you hear before drifting off into the deepest of sleeps.

“Fuck the sheets.”

#cassian x reader #cassian #rhysand #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #night court

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 15)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: basically filler, fully feyfey's pov, we'll get revelations in the next chapter 🫶🏻

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Feyre's pov.

The relief that spread through Feyre was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was her chest constricting, making it hard to breath, but it was also the first full breath she had taken in the past hour.

And that beast...

Tamlin.

Feyre did not know whether to cry in fright, weep in joy or hide in shame.

The male she had destroyed for no reason other than her mate's wishes had brought her child, her light in dark and a part of her soul, back to her, and also probably saved him from some sort of danger.

She did not know whether to beg for his forgiveness or thank him for his mercy.

And when his beast-like eyes met hers, everything stilled around Feyre.

Only for her though. She stopped hearing anything, only a high pitched ringing in her ears. Everything around her seemed to move, the room spinning.

The huge and airy space did nothing to alleviate her light headedness.

Feyre watched as Tamlin crouched low so Nyx could get off, as if in slow motion. Nyx grabbed fistfuls of Tamlin's fur, scrambling to get off, the smile on his face never faltering.

Feyre did not realise that she had stopped breathing, that tears were flowing down her face anew until her lungs screamed for air and she had no choice but to oblige.

She drew in a sharp gasp, the feeling a little painful as she watched Nyx waddle over to her. Feyre knew that the only reason Nyx was walking towards her was because Cassian and the other two were holding themselves back from picking him up.

Feyre fell to her knees, holding out her shaking hands, and Nyx's brows furrowed, his smile dropping.

"Mama? Why are you crying?"

Feyre shook her head, pulling him into her chest. "I'm not crying. My eyes are just sweating because there is dirt in them."

Feyre glanced around, realising everyone was staring at the two. Y/n and Mor were crying, while the rest of the males looked on, their faces grim.

With a start, she realised Tamlin had turned to his fae form.

He looked healthy. Healthier than he had been before.

That was all she could focus on, her mind refusing to let go of her fear and making it hard to think properly.

Nyx pushed away from her, smiling again. "You know momma, I made a new friend." He turned halfway to point at Tamlin, who looked on, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Is that so darling? That's very nice. But how did you meet him?"

Nyx opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped, his brows furrowing. Dread started pooling in Feyre's stomach.

"I don't remember..." He trailed off.

"It's okay baby. We'll figure it out later." Feyre pushed his hair back from his face, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Nyx? Are you still awake?" The sound of Fin's voice drew everyone's attention, and Feyre watched the three members of the inner circle closely.

Confusion scrunched their faces before recognition set in. Even Azriel, who was usually collected and calm, could not hide the shock at seeing another child that resembled so much of his brother.

Their wide eyed gazes swung to Y/n, who walked up to Fin and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, a determined expression on his face, before he walked over to Nyx, tugging him away. The maid that had been assigned to Fin followed the boys closely back to their rooms.

Feyre rose a questioning brow at Y/n, who simply extended a hand to help Feyre climb back to her feet. Y/n glanced around once, then whispered to Feyre. "Go with the kids. After the meeting is done, I'll bring them to Fin's room to talk." She inclined her head towards the confused Inner circle members.

Feyre nodded.

And, with a last glance at Tamlin, followed after the kids.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @tele86

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne @mybestfriendmademe @going-through-shit @thisblogisaboutabook @thehighlordishere @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #a court of mist and fury #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra #acotar

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

I don't usually judge people for the way they perceive a story. With that being said, it genuinely confuses me that there are some people who have:

Read the bits and pieces of Azriel's tragic background we've been provided

Read the way he was pining for Mor for 500 years without ever approaching her or speaking his feelings

Read about the way he respects women

Read about the way he is so painfully insecure

Read about the gentleness in which he treats Elain

Read about the way he has never hesitated to think of, include, and protect Elain

Read the ACOSF bonus chapter that shows how utterly tormented he is by his feelings that extend beyond just lust.....

And somehow have come to the conclusion that Azriel is an entitled male for questioning something that Feyre, the damn High Lady, questioned herself. That he believes he is owed Elain's affections, when he was simply expressing his confusion. Entitled. Owed. I could think of 20 different words to describe him, and those two would never, ever make the list.

I don't even think it's a matter of opinion. I genuinely think some folks have completely and utterly mischaracterized or misunderstood his character, whether accidentally or purposely. We don't have his full story, but we've been given enough information to understand part of who Azriel is at his core. He is anything but entitled.

#elriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #elain and azriel #azriel x elain #pro elriel #pro azriel #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster

[littlebugs]

saved - chapter one

azriel x reader series

warnings: she/her reader, a little language, short!reader, reader is the archeon's half sister (no race mentioned), fluffy ish, azriel ooc, sfw, not edited oops, azriel has a big wingspan, elain slander i'm sorry i have to rafs bloo notes: this was supposed to be a blurb but i just...spiraled. first time posting a series here BE NICE. also i kind of imagine this charcater with a evie vibe hence the gif (: description: you're half fae, living life on the borders of various courts after your half siblings got dunked in the cauldron. set after acowar, feyre has invited her half-sibling to Velaris to reunite the family. but what happens after a certain shadowsinger takes interest in you?

The night air in Velaris holds a mystic chill as you ascend the multitude of steps leading to Rhysand's townhouse. More like a deathly chill,  as you’re not dressed for a trek up the small mountain stationed at what seems to be the highest point of Velaris. Finally making it to the top, you keel over, cursing whatever god decided this what your life. 

 Despite the weariness, a sense of anticipation lingers, excitement almost. Or maybe you’re catching frostbite and becoming delusional. After a few minutes, you finally reach the top, swearing and actually panting.  Before you can gather the energy to knock on the door, it swings open, leaving you surprised. 

A tall figure stands in the doorway, the glow of lights inside outlining his broad shoulders. His features, sharp and captivating, come into focus. The eyes, a shade of violet that sparkled with mischief, locked onto yours. Is he tryna rizz me up or- 

The tall figure extends a hand, his handsome face framed by windswept hair. "You look like you've just climbed a mountain. Welcome. I'm Rhysand." The sarcasm in his voice is undeniable, but you refrain from sneering. Ripping your eyes away from the High Lord, you notice two more figures emerging from behind him. One, with an easygoing grin and tousled hair, winks at you. The other, with piercing hazel eyes that observe with a quiet intensity, makes no move. They’re all very hot.

Rhysand vaguely gestures toward them, "This is Cassian, and Azriel."

Cassian, the one with the easy grin, greets you warmly, and you smile back. Azriel's gaze lingeres, still not making any moves, but stepping aside to allow you to enter. Finally out of this cold ass bit- You hear Rhysand snicker behind you, laughing at an unheard joke. Or maybe you’re the joke. It’s hard to tell. 

Only seconds after crossing the threshold, a joyous commotion erupts from deep within the townhouse. Feyre, Nesta, and Elain, a hurricane of brown hair and laughter, rush towards you. Feyre, her vibrant blue-gray eyes lit with happiness, embraces you first. "You made it!" Her hug crushes you, and you swear you hear a rib snap. 

Nesta, looking bored, adds, "It's been too long." But you swear you can see a hint of a smile on her lips as she hugs you alongside Feyre. And finally, Elain, looking sort of sickly but better than when she was human, joins the embrace. "I’ve missed you" she says softly, her arms wrapping around you. 

The reunion unfolds with laughter and hugs, your sisters laughing and examining you, everything from your hair, to your shoes, and kind of scandalous outfit which Elain pales at. 

After they finally get tired of you (you swear a singular tear escaped Nesta’s eye.) Feyre guides you into a sitting room, which is charming and cozy at the same time. Taking a seat on a couch, you find yourself flanked by Feyre and a blonde headed fae, smiling almost too widely at you.

As soon as you turn to look at her, she starts talking. Very fast. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Feyre has told us so much about you!"

You stammer, shocked by her swiftness “Oh, uhm I-”

Rescuing you from introduction, Elain chimes in, from the couch. "This is Mor, Rhys's cousin, and that's Amren, who's…yeah," her face strains at the mention of Amren, as she gestures to a woman sulking in a corner, who looks at you with nothing but disdain in those oddly shiny eyes. Almost.. silver? You quickly look away, trying to avoid her gaze.

As you settle into the space, the blonde, Mor, starts yammering on about some sort of dress. You listen intnetly, until your sister's mate enters the room. 

Rhysand, (The most delightful, cunning, handsome High Lord, as Feyre has told you,) takes the seat across from you, his two friends joining him. Almost out of earshot, he quietly leans toward Azriel. "What's going on, Az? You're acting strange."

Azriel, the one who has not said a word to you since you’ve arrived, remains silent, his focus elsewhere. He’s actually very….attractive. Like a greek god, like you would just let him throw you across the room and- 

Rhys snorts, distracting you from your train of thought. Almost like he heard what you were thinking. Oh. The blonde on your left quickly distracts you, laughing loudly, as the Cassian lad rants about the quickest way to behead someone, which is just..swell. And all the meanwhile Rhys and Feyre stare at each other giggling. Feyre opens her mouth in shock and Rhys nods, gesturing to you, engaged in silent conversation

Raising your arms up in silent defeat, you get up and walk to what seems to be a kitchen. With no food. Which is just-  You nearly jump as Azriel basically appears out of nowhere. He shoots you a seemingly uncharacteristic smile as he observes your bemused expression.

"Curious about the kitchen, aren't you?" Azriel's voice, deep and resonant, carries warmth. Very at odds at how he looked at you like you were some sort of demon  five minutes ago. 

You nod, very confused with the switch up, and lack of any food, while drinking in his appearance. His hair, dark and tousled, frames a face chiseled with handsome features. Hazel eyes, deep and mysterious, hold intensity that make you never want to look away. Why he kinda…  Feyre and Rhysand start laughing again, and you feel yourself getting flustered.

"Is there something I'm missing?" You ask, gesturing to the seemingly empty kitchen.

Azriel leans against the counter, looking oddly casual. He crosses his muscular arms across his chest in a way that makes you shiver, and continues "In this house, you don't find the food. You just..think of it."

Confusion lifts from your face as Azriel just…thinks. In an instant, the kitchen responds. A tall glass of water appearing in front of him automatically, as if the room itself is eager to please.

You can't help but marvel, "That's incredible." You look at him, but to meet his eyes you have to physically tilt your head, and as he loos down at you, the height difference is obvious.

With a stretches flex of his arms, his impressive wings unfold gracefully, each membrane extending with a mesmerizing precision. As the Illyrian basically flexes, the intricate webbing catches the light, with wings that are far bigger than the ones you saw on Rhysand at the door.

From the living room, a conversation commences "What is Azriel doing?" Cassian whispers, smirking slightly. Rhysand, clueless himself, raises an eyebrow. 

As you borderline gape, you catch Elain's gaze intensifying, frustration apparent in her expression. You can only wonder, why as Cassian blurts out from the other room "Well, someone's feeling extra dramatic today."

You look over to Rhysand, leaning back with a sly smile adding, "I didn't know our shadowsinger had a flair for the theatrical."

Azriel, with a casual shrug, replies, "Just felt like stretching my wings a bit."

Breaking the heavy silence that fell over the group, Mor finally breaks into laughter. "Well, well, Az. I never thought I'd see the day. What's next, a dance number?"

The group laughs, but seeing Elain’s pointed stare, you make your way back to the sitting room, leaving the Illyrian in the kitchen, unbeknownst to you, disappointed. 

______________________

As the night deepens, members of the once noisy dinner party leave one by one, leaving the town home quieter than it was. With only the three Illyrians and the blonde (whose name you keep forgetting) you head towards the stairs, bidding them good night. 

Your ascent to the second floor brings you to an opened door at the end of the hallway adorned with what you expect are Night Court aesthetics – moonlit tapestries, celestial motifs, and the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. You breathe in, and slowly sit down on your bed, trying to get the hazel eyes and mysterious shadows out of your head.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Azriel stands abruptly, and not so discreetly follows you upstairs. Cassian and Rhysand, left in the living room, exchange bemused glances

Rhysand, eyebrows raised in silent query, looks to Cassian for an explanation. Cassian, shrugging with an amused grin, whispers, "Beats me. Maybe our shadowsinger has a sudden interest in beauty rest."

Intrigued and sensing unspoken mystery, Rhysand and Cassian exchange conspiratorial glances. With shared nods, they decide to venture upstairs, their footsteps quiet as shadows against the Night Court's nocturnal melody.

Back in your room, you find comfort in the surroundings of your room. Moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow on the elegant furnishings. Deciding to settle in for the night, you slip into a set of…you could barely call them pajamas, more like scraps of silk, and stretch your arms, sighing faintly. 

A soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. You secretly hope for a certain shadowsinger as you trudge towards the door. Opening it, you silently rejoice to the cauldron as Azriel stands there, his typical shadowed demeanor now softened by an unusual glint in his eyes.

"Mind if I come in?" he asks, breaking the silence.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #inner circle x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel spymaster x you #azriel fluff

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Cowboy Like Me - Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Reader and Elain are forced to spend a little one on one time together. Mor whisks reader out for a night on the town. Azriel loses his shit during an incident at Rita’s and comforts reader afterward. A new boundary is crossed between Azriel and reader.

A/n: We’re coming into the home stretch with this story! It will only have a couple more chapters.

Part 5

Warnings: Alcohol, Language, mild violence, seizure, poisoning, mention (kind of) of drugging via alcohol

Elain’s garden was lovely. A labor of love that only countless hours of tending and getting hands dirty could cultivate. Her tension eased slightly as she shared details of the various flora blooming throughout.

Truthfully, I had no interest in gardening and most of the plant names went in one of my ears and out the other but her passion was captivating. There was something about listening to someone speak of their interests that I couldn’t get enough of.

As if she were a demure flower that came into bloom when she entered her space, she went from uncomfortable with me to genuine. I could see why Azriel had interest in her.

As we finished her tour of the garden, nobody had come to collect us and the awkwardness once returned.

Finally Elain looked to her feet and then back to me. “You and Azriel are a lovely pair.”

I started. “Oh no, we’re not together. It’s just an assignment.”

Elain thought for a moment beginning to say something but holding herself back.

And because I was nothing if not incurably nosey I blurted out. “It’s okay. You can say whatever it is you’re holding back. It won’t hurt me, Elain.”

“It’s not like that.” She spoke softly. “Just be careful. Not with him, he is a good, honorable male. But I am a seer. It was one of the powers thrust upon me by the cauldron and I’ve seen something that I don’t understand. A mangled skeleton in a tunnel with you…. And threads of gold flowing from the opposite direction.”

I paled. What an ominous thing to say. “My visions are strange and I don’t understand how to decipher them just yet. I don’t want to alarm you. Please,” she took my hand earnestly, “just be careful.”

I squeezed her hand in return. Who was I to make the female before me feel uncomfortable for sharing something she clearly still struggled to speak about. She had no reason to be kind to me. I was a stranger, a spy, in close proximity to someone she had or perhaps still did have feelings for. And yet, I could feel she was being genuine. So I met her eyes sincerely, “Thank you, Elain. I’m happy to have met you.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, nothing of substance, just contented small talk.

Eventually Rhysand came to the garden, Azriel behind him looking uncomfortable. “Thank you for your patience, ladies. Amren can get rather cranky when she hasn’t had her nap. Please excuse her…. brazen ways. It makes her a great second, but an occasional pain in the ass at dinner.”

He gestured to the female beside me, “Thank you for showing our guest your garden, Elain.” before turning to me. “Y/N, please join Azriel, Cassian, and I in my office.”

Rhysand turned back toward the house, Azriel lingering behind to wait for me. I felt his gaze as we wandered through a corridor of the massive estate. I felt awkward after the earlier encounter, not quite sure what to say. It was Azriel who broke the silence as he slowed his pace. “Y/N…”

I looked up to the male towering over me. His wings were tucked in tightly behind him as his shadows whirled around our feet. “You look so much more than nice. You’re resplendent.”

My face heated in a blush and a flicker sparked in those hazel eyes. Oh, he knew that effected me and was proud of recovering from his earlier stumble.

“Thank you, Azriel.” I reached toward his tunic. “You clean up quite well yourself.”

It was his turn to blush now. I jerked my head toward the High Lord now several yards ahead of us. “We best catch up with him.”

“Yes, of course.” He extended his arm as I looped mine through it.

Rhysand’s office was less of an office and more of a library. In fact, I am pretty sure that I’ve seen smaller libraries in my travels to the Day Court. “What an impressive collection” I marveled at the grand room surrounding us that was both warm and elegant. A lovely painting of the High Lady hung behind his desk. I wondered if she painted it.

“She did.” Rhys spoke into my head. “Lovely, isn’t she?”

“The loveliest” I mused wistfully. She truly was. “Hey, now get out of my head.”

He held his hands up in a show of innocence before mentally replying “No mind reading here. It was easy enough to read on your face, little spy. Nice to know all I need to break a spy is my beautiful mate.”

I only giggled in return. I liked him. I had heard rumors that he was a much more benevolent ruler than he let the world see but hearing it versus experiencing were two totally different things.

Azriel’s low voice interrupted and brought me back to reality “I’d love to be included in whatever you two are going on about.”

Whoops. Busted.

“Yeah, guys.” Cassian’s booming voice came from the doorway. “Secrets don’t make friends.”

“They do keep my pockets lined though.” I replied without thinking. Probably not in my best interest to make such jokes after Amren’s display at dinner.

To both my surprise and lack of it, Cassian laughed. “Touché, little spy.”

Rhys placed his palms on the desk, eyes fixating on a letter before lifting his head back to us. “We have new information on the infiltrated shipments. A trace amount of the same poison that had laced the spices imported to the Summer Court were detected in one of Beron’s vaults. Not enough to damn him but enough to suggest we are looking in the right direction.”

“Who relayed this intel?” Azriel asked.

“Who do you think?” Cassian goaded, earning an eye roll from his brother.

I cut in “It was Eris, right? Are you sure he can be trusted?”

“I trust him far more than Beron and he hasn’t led us astray yet.” Rhys replied. “I see no reason not to believe him at this point in time.”

“Now,” Rhys continued. “Here’s where things get interesting. Beron will be attending the ball next week. Eris will be there as well and I’ve contacted Lucien. He was hesitant to show given his history with his father but with Elain in attendance he plans to join.”

Azriel gave no response, physical or verbal, to the mention of Elain. He only continued listening intently. “Lucien was concerned about Elain given Beron being there but she has made it abundantly clear to Feyre and I that it is her choice to go.”

“Is it necessary for her to attend?” Cassian asked.

“Once again, it is her choice. She had a vision leading me to believe Beron has something planned and that was before Eris confirmed that Beron is attending the ball and of the traces of poison he had discovered.”

“Shit.” Cassian muttered.

“Azriel, I need you and Y/N to stay here in the event that anything urgent comes up. Y/N, would you be comfortable staying in Velaris for the time being? You can stay at the House of Wind with Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel and train with Nesta in the mornings.”

As if I would be sad to stay in a gorgeous city and not in a giant palace in the middle of nowhere with only one grumpy Shadowsinger for company. Okay, the last part wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t that grumpy… and he was rather pleasant to look at it.

Rhys waited patiently for an answer. “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

———————

Upon reentering the main living area, I was greeted by an eager Mor. “What would an evening together be without a little Amren drama?” She clung to my arm guiding me toward a liquor cart, pouring us each a glass of Cognac served neat. “Cheers to surviving your first family dinner!”

Azriel only huffed. “We should get to the House of Wind. It’s late and we have to train in the morning.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Mor gripped my arm tightly.

“Don’t even think about it, Mor.” Azriel warned.

“My gift is truth. And the truth is that Y/N has not experienced Velaris until she’s had a night out at Rita’s.”

Azriel kept his stance. “Well she’ll be here for at least a week longer. We’re going to stay at the House of Wind until the ball.”

Mor squealed. “Oh, we are going to have so much fun!”

“She’s still here for work, Mor.” He reprimanded

Her brows knit together “And? What does that have to do with anything? There’s plenty of time for work. Now, let’s play.”

I wasn’t about to get into this battle of wills between Mor and Az but the idea of a night out was appealing. I’ve never had a night out for just fun. It was always for work, always. I wanted to feel music and lose my myself for a bit, but… Azriel did have a point. It was getting late and we did have to train tomorrow.

The blonde waived a hand dismissively. “Azriel. You work too hard. You’ve been wound tight for months now. You need this just as much.”

He scoffed. “My idea of an enjoyable night out isn’t babysitting my belligerent best friend and one of my spies.”

“Excuse me?” I chimed in. “One: you don’t have to babysit me. Two: I’m a spy for hire, not one of your spies.”

And with that, I could have sworn hurt flickered across his stoic features before regaining his composure. “Do what you want then. I’m not going out.”

“Fine.” I stated. “I’m going with Mor.”

“For fucks sake.” He muttered under his breath.

Mor again squealed. “Come on! Let’s change.”

———————-

I wasn’t sure why Mor insisted on changing when the dress I had been wearing was perfectly suitable for a night out, but who was I to fight the determined female? I saw how far it got Azriel who had known her for 500 years. There was no way that I would win that battle with her.

So, I found myself at Rita’s a lively bar with even livelier music in a much too short, skin tight dress, high heels, and an obscene amount of cleavage.

Cassian and Nesta came along as Nesta loved the music though she did not drink.

And Az thought he would have to babysit when Nesta was right there?

I would obey any command the silver eyed female gave me. Any command. Cassian was a very lucky male.

Rita’s was far more lively than I anticipated, nothing like the taverns I had frequented where a sole piano collected dust until a passing bard came through to warm the keys for tips. No, this bar had a stage dedicated for instrumentals and singers with sultry voices. The drinks were far from the stale and shitty varieties of ale I was used to. While there were plenty of bottom shelf options, Mor ordered everything from the top, and I gladly indulged.

We did several rounds of shots before Mor pulled me onto the dance floor. Nesta following with Cassian in tow. Round of drinks were served to us in between sets and I completely lost myself to the music. I took turns writhing against Mor and Nesta, which Cassian did not mind ogling in the slightest. Nesta only gave him a sultry smirk before losing herself to the music again.

A few males tried getting close to us but Cassian’s big scary “Lord of Bloodshed” face drove them off. Fortunately for them.

I had a feeling that if they slipped past his harrowing gaze, Nesta would happily eat them alive. Just to reiterate, Cassian is a very lucky male.

The liquor continued flowing and my head felt light in the best of ways. A lightness I’d experienced so few times over the years. I knew I was a sight, we all were. Nesta’s curves were stunning in anything, and Mor and I… well we had enough on display for anyone to appreciate.

Eventually Rhys and Feyre came into the bar, seemingly having left Nyx with Elain for the rest of the night. They were a sight together, the moon and stars, so effortlessly captivating.

Feyre joined us out on the dance floor as tendrils of darkness swirled around the booth Rhysand sat at, his white teeth shining through as an amused grin crossed his face.

Maybe if I’d looked closer I would have noticed that those weren’t tendrils of darkness at all but shadow that surrounded the booth.

Mor was drawn into dance with a beautiful female as Cassian took reprieve to visit Rhys in his booth and Nesta and Feyre took to chatting with eachother in a corner. The perfect moment to sneak away and indulge in one more drink.

I approached the bar, fighting through a crowd of bystanders to place another order. After three attempts to catch the bartenders attention, a pretty male appeared next to me with that classic High Fae beauty and he was so, so tall. “What do you want?” He asked. “I’ve got you.” And in a normal circumstances would have insisted I am a strong, independent female perfectly calable to order my own drink but honestly…. My inhibitions were low enough that I was happy to accept the feat of a beautiful male buying me a drink.

I yelled my drink order to him over the crowd to which he raised an eyebrow then threw a long arm up in the air with two fingers and a gold mark. Ah, money, great attention getter. It was only a moment before the bartender made his way over to take his order. The bartender opened a new bottle of the liquor from the shelf. Not a high end liquor but not totally bottom of the barrel either. Something that said I’m a classy lady but also considerate of the fact that someone else is paying for my drink.

The bartender slid the drinks over to which the male handed me mine, gave a cheers, and invited me for a dance.

One dance wouldn’t hurt.

He stayed close to me but remained respectful. His hands not drifting anywhere above or below mid-waist and keeping a few centimeters of space between our bodies.

As I became more comfortable with the stranger and the music became a bit more seductive, I leaned back into his warm chest. It was nice, comfortable, but my eyes began to grow heavy and my limbs a bit more lucid. My motions became slower and I felt myself slumping a bit. The male noticed too because he peered around me. “Hey. Hey, are you-“ and suddenly shadows surrounded us and a low, gravely voice spoke. “Step away from my lady.”

I heard the male gasp beginning to speak, letting go of me as Azriel’s large, strong hands caught me, not letting go until I steadied. “Wait, I wasn’t-“ he didn’t finish the sentence before Azriel’s fist met the males face, hard.

“Fuck!” The male shouted as Azriel shoved him further away from me and it was then that I fell to the floor, darkness overtaking me.

——————

When I came to it, I was in an unfamiliar bed. A warm fire glowed in a large stone fireplace before me and a few stars still interés in the sky outside. Pain radiated through me shooting from my stomach and throughout the rest of my body. I tried to sit up but immediately needed to throw up.

Suddenly a scarred hand passed a bucket to me. “Here, here take this.” I gripped my hands onto it and heaved. A warm hand helped keep me sitting upright, thumb running soft strokes over my back as another held my hair back.

“Holy shit.” I gasped before heaving again. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Not a bad idea.” Azriel spoke, no hint of amusement in his voice. “But drinking wasn’t the sole factor.”

Pain radiated through my skull. “What do you mean?”

Then a flashback ran through my mind of shadow and Azriel’s fist meeting a males face.

Fuck, how could I have been so stupid! “That male. He…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “Did he-?”

Azriel looked down to his feet before taking the bucket back and handing me a cup of ginger tea.

“Look, I…” shame darkened his features. “My shadows sensed something was wrong. I saw you slumping in his arms and I acted before realizing.”

My brows furrowed, lips drawing into a straight line. “I still don’t understand. What do you mean, Azriel?”

“No, he didn’t do anything wrong. For what it’s worth, he seems like a decent male. But after you fell, I ran to you. I shouldn’t have stepped away from you in the first place. You began seizing, Y/N. It fucking terrified me. Cassian apprehended him before the same thing happened to the male. He lost his steadiness, fell to the ground, and began seizing as well.

I immediately took you to Madja who examined you, induced vomiting and provided tonics to counteract the symptoms. “What happened to me?”

Rage. Icy rage crossed his features. “You were poisoned. Mor came and stayed by your side while Madja worked on you. Rhys, Cassian, and I were able to question several people at Rita’s. It turns out that soon after you fell ill, a few others came down with the same symptoms. It was the liquor that had been poisoned. We spoke with the owner of Rita’s who checked their logs and the bottle of liquor you were last served from had been imported around the time that the rogue shipment landed in the summer court.”

“Fuuuck.” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I overreacted. I thought he hurt you. And when i considered his intentions….”

His hands flexed and a light hint of silver lined his eyes. “Fuck, I just lost it.”

“Is he okay?” I asked. “Yes, once the tonic took effect for him. I was able to apologize and he was forgiving. Very decent of him given that if the roles were reversed… I didn’t deserve the forgiveness.”

“What about the other patrons who were poisoned?” I asked. “Is everyone okay?”

Azriel’s shadows whirred angrily. “Fortunately. Madja and her staff were quick and everyone will recover.”

His hazel eyes met mine sympathetically, “but it may take a full day for the effects to fully clear from your system. It won’t be a pleasant process.”

Given the pain and nausea within me, I was dreading the next several hours. Looking down, I saw that I’d been changed into an oversized t-shirt and men’s boxer briefs. I looked to Azriel with a raised eyebrow. “Your doing?”

The male blushed, blushed for the second time in less than twelve hours, and I couldn’t repress the small grin that came to my lips. “Nesta helped you into these. Your dress was covered in vomit. And Nesta may dress somewhat modestly in public but she has preferences in her nightly attire so it was either my clothes or a night gown that left very little to the imagination.

Mor is going to bring you some of the clothes you bought yesterday and some of hers after she gets a few hours of sleep. I’ll retrieve clothes from the Moonstone Palace once you’re better.”

Had he forgotten that I was only wearing clothes from the guest armoire there? “I know they aren’t yours but they suited you. Night Court attire suits you.”

I remembered the cobalt blue outfits I wore around the palace. Cobalt blue like…. Oh my gods, his siphons.

It was my turn to blush.

“You should get some more rest, Y/N.”

“Fine.” I sighed. A fevered chill running through me that even the warm bed and fire couldn’t suppress.

He started as he saw the shivers overtake me, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?” He asked cautiously.

“Will you lay with me? I’m cold.”

And that was the first night I slept in the arms of the Shadowsinger.

———————

Azriel

He sat beside her bed for hours, heart lurching at any stir in her sleep. Had he just gone out with them in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe it would have been him holding her against his chest on the dance floor, maybe she wouldn’t have wandered off for that last drink.

When she seized on the floor, he felt his soul leave his body. He’d never known such panic in his life, not when his brothers held fire to his hands, not when he saw Mor in that field, not even when Elain had been captured by Hybern. He was always able to master himself in times of distress. But he knew that this time was different and if it weren’t for the adrenaline rush that overtook his senses in rushing her to Madja, he would have been hyperventilating on the floor next to her, he was certain of it.

So when she finally awoke and asked meekly if he’d sleep with her, there was no other option. She felt so right in his arms. As her breathing evened out, sleep once again overtaking her, he quietly whispered into the night, to himself, to her sleeping form, to the gods, anyone who would listen. “Never again.”

His shadows hummed in agreement.

Never again would he leave her when he knew she wanted his company. No, she didn’t say it out loud, but he felt it somewhere deep within his chest. Never again would he let someone bring harm to her, and if they did, he wouldn’t let them get away with it. Never again would his little spy feel alone in this world.

With that he softly brushed his lips across her temple. A seal of a vow. A silent show of adoration.

And he could have sworn he felt a little flutter in his chest as her lip quirked upward in her dream state.

————————————————

Tags: @fxckmiup @saltedcoffeescotch @minnieoo @dr4g0ngirl @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

Sorry for the delay with this chapter!

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #nessian #nesta #cassian #feysand #elain archeron #morrigan #acotar x taylor swift #cowboy like me #inspired by taylor swift #shadowsinger #acotar fluff #acotar angst

[theseeingfawn]

Is something wrong with Lucien and Elain’s mating bond?

First, there is Nesta...

ACOWAR Ch. 65

“She is no such thing,” Nesta said and shoved Lucien.

ACOTAR Ch. 30

“Your beast’s little trick didn’t work on me,” Nesta said with quiet steel. “Apparently, an iron will is all it takes.

Does Azriel also sense something is wrong?

ACOSF Bonus Chapter

"Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond."

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

And Feyre senses something wrong as well...

"What if"—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden— “that is what she needs?"

But both sisters have no issues with Azriel being near Elain

ACOWAR Ch. 24

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went."

ACOWAR Ch. 30

"Why not make them mates?"

ACOWAR Ch. 24

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x elain #elain archeron #elain x azriel #elriel

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Ten

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

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

Warnings: Mentions of cannon-typical violence. Azriel and Y/n have a late night conversation. Fluff and other stuff.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Gwyn says hi by the way.” 

Azriel choked on his coffee, bitter flavor rising in his throat. Nesta sauntered into the kitchen, cool eyes glaring at the back of his head. Your familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found. 

Not here. His shadows whispered. With Rhys.

“Calm down you idiot.” Nesta’s voice dripped with unrestrained contempt as she poured herself a cup and sat. His tan skin glistened with sweat after his morning training session, inky tattoos splashing across his bare chest and trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and up to his neck. In the cloudy afternoon light it was difficult to tell where his shadows ended and where his tattoos began. 

“Y/n’s not here. You’ll have to walk around half-naked some other time.” 

Azriel winced. “That isn’t what—”

Nesta brushed him off with a wave of her hand, eyes narrowing over her mug. Azriel felt like a bug pinned down under a microscope. A crushed butterfly about to hang.

“How is Gwyn doing?” he asked gingerly, casually. 

“She’s fine. Believe it or not, the world did not end when you broke up with her.”

Again he flinched. “I’m sorry, Nes,” he whispered rather pathetically. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. But you already know that.” 

There seemed to be no shortage of people he needed to apologize to: Elain, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, even Lucien — especially Lucien. His cheeks burned to think of the absolute mess of things he’d made. Feyre had been the quickest to forgive him for the debacle with Elain and Gwyn. But as Cassian had mentioned at dinner, there was a reason everyone was staying away from the River House, and the reason was him. 

Two years ago he’d challenged Lucien Vanserra to a blood duel for Elain’s hand. It had felt so right at the time, so obvious: three sisters for three brothers. But it was only when their deaths had loomed over her head with shocking reality that Elain realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. The mistake they’d made together. 

“Call it off,” she’d commanded him, blocking Lucien’s bloody, heaving body. The son of Autumn’s sword had been kicked away, scraping across the rock with an eerie scream and disappearing over the cliff edge. But Elain had stayed, soft brown eyes begging, “Do this and I will never forgive you. What we did… it wasn’t right. It was a mistake.”

A mistake, she’d called it. Years of silent longing and bare bone brushes of their hands in dark hallways. All a mistake. Those words had haunted him. They’d chased him into Gwyn’s kind arms where he once again mistook the friendship he felt towards her as love and broke her heart in the process. Add that to his lackluster response to Mor’s coming out and… well he had a lot of work ahead of him. 

He hoped he would be forgiven in time, but that didn’t mean he’d twiddle his thumbs until that day came. He scoured Prythian’s publishers for new releases of adventure, mystery, and romance books — the raunchier the better — and they showed up every month at Cagniv Library like clockwork. The priestesses still thought it was part of a trade bargain with the Day Court. He’d sent Elain and Lucien plenty of letters and gifts, but either they weren’t being opened or they weren’t bothering to respond. He wouldn’t blame them either way. As for Mor and Emerie, they were gone with the wind, too busy infiltrating lands and enjoying an extended honeymoon on the continent to bother with him. 

That cold stillness in Nesta’s eyes transformed into pity. It was hard not to be reminded of her own failures when she looked at him. Seeing him angry. Watching him crawl into the darkest corners of himself and burn every bridge he crossed had been a shock to Nesta’s system. A plunge into freezing waters that brought pain and clarity. 

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just give them time, Az. They’ll come around. If they did it for me, they’ll do it for you.” “I think our situations are rather different.” 

“I don’t.” 

“You didn’t try to kill anyone.”

She grimaced. “I came close.”  

He stayed silent for a long while. He washed his cup. He dried it. He put it in the cupboard. 

“Can you—can you please not tell Y/n?” he begged. His voice was small and quiet. He’d been a fool in the past and made terrible decisions in the name of love. Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. They’d all lived more in his mind than in his heart — people he could never fully grasp, and therefore never lose. They’d been safe. Easy. 

It didn’t feel that way with you. You felt solid and warm, even if he’d only touched you once. You felt more real to him than anyone else. You felt like someone he could actually have. Which meant he could lose you before you’d even become his to lose. 

“You can’t keep her in the dark forever. Not about your history, not about the bond. If you’re going to learn anything from your brothers, learn that.”  

“I know,” he whispered. “I just want to get it right this time.” He had to get it right this time. “I want her to fall in love with me because she wants me, not out of some sense of obligation. I want…” I want to be worthy of her.  

Nesta shook her head, a laugh escaping despite her best attempts to stifle it. Azriel looked at her like she’d gone mad.

She giggled again. “It’s funny. For a male as handsome and desirable as you, you have the worst fucking luck with women. The Mother must have a twisted sense of humor.” 

Maybe she did. But Azriel was still enough of a romantic to hope that he had learned from his mistakes, and that his bad luck would end with you. 

You shoved the notebook off Rhysand’s desk, loose papers flying out like uncoordinated doves. 

“I told you notetaking was a futile effort.” The High Lord didn’t even look at you, too busy searching for invisible dirt beneath his manicured fingernails.

You groaned and dropped your head against the book he’d handed you two hours before. 

Rhysand had to smile at your frustration. It was a wholly different experience teaching you magic compared to teaching Feyre. With Feyre, her greatest barrier had been her lack of knowledge (and her hatred of him at the time). She’d been thrust into the world of fae without preparation, but it had left her malleable and adaptable. It was like teaching a newborn how to walk — a mind that could absorb more because it knew so little.

But you knew too much. You could spout off magical theory at the drop of a hat. You were a pedagogical master with a thousand mnemonics to your name. You were the first to wake in all of Velaris, making your way to the Library before bodies could fill the streets, and you only returned when the crowds had either turned in for the night or gone out to drink until daybreak. You swallowed every history book on the Night Court, Clairvoyants, daemati, and death gods until you felt untethered from the earth — until your mind began to float outside your body, buzzing with thoughts that never went away. 

But none of that mattered. Your power was an immovable object that couldn’t be controlled by logic or studying. 

You shoved against that power now.

“Good,” Rhysand nodded, leaning against the window, “You’re getting better at it.” 

He lingered in your mind, hovering over the depths of your emotions and memories like a bird ready to break water. It had taken some time before you felt comfortable with the intrusion. Your first lesson together, Rhysand’s presence in your mind had made it impossible to focus. Panic had seized your mind and your body until you could do nothing more than brace your hands and feet against the chair’s leather upholstery. You could have sworn you saw a head of silver hair to your left. The gentle pitter patter of rain had sounded like dripping blood. 

It wasn’t like that anymore. Henna had left you with a useful skill — you could wind your consciousness around Rhysand and keep him there, suspended in that indescribable space where your thoughts lay so he could do no more damage than you permitted him. 

Through your mind he felt the narrowing of your power. You imagined it like a blanket wrapped around your body, suffocating but familiar. It was this power that laced your skin and made contact with others so hard. You imagined the fabric shortening, creeping up your arms and legs, curling around your torso and squeezing like a snake. Inch by inch you tightened it around you, burying it within your chest instead of carrying it openly like a wound. 

You held a music book between your hands — Nyx’s to be exact. The little Lordling showcased a certain aptitude for the piano his father could only dream of, and being as young and protected as he was, the worst kind of emotion imbued within its pages was agitation. You could hear one of the ballads written within it as clearly as if Nyx was sitting beside you plucking out the melody. 

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. You swallowed your power. Pulled what was outside inwards. Slowly but surely the music faded away until the book was as all books should be — silent. 

Sweat beaded your brow. This was the most difficult part — not tuning out the music, but keeping the volume at zero. 

Rhysand checked his watch. Waited. Checked it again. 

You lasted thirty minutes before your power burst out along your skin once more like a thousand prickling needles. You shuddered, half-disappointed, half-grateful that you could hear the melody again.

Rhysand clapped his hands, slow and proud. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room was dangerously close to five bells. Rhysand nodded. 

“Perfect timing. We’re done for today.” 

“I can go for longer,” you pleaded. 

“I know you can.” Rhysand pushed off the wall, polished leather boots gleaming. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers this time, the scent of wind still clinging to his skin after a visit to the northern war camps.

Old Illyria lasted thousands of years. The clans used to flow up and down the Steppes, following the tundrabeast that lay claim to those mountainous regions and were said to speak for their god Ramiel — Starbreaker, Night Herder — after whom the mountain is named. They don’t move with the cold winds anymore, even if they’ve kept their names: Ironcrest, Bloodborn, Windhaven, Seawhip, Hawkseed, Timberbane, and a dozen others. And they don’t make sacrifices, although the Blood Rite might be a close—

Rhysand rapped his knuckles on the desk to grab your attention and splayed his fingers wide. “I also know that the moment I dismiss you, you’ll scamper off to the Library to work until you can’t see straight.” 

You shifted in your seat. “I like it there.”

“That’s besides the point. If you keep going at this pace you’ll burn out. Then you won’t be able to help anyone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” 

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “I know what it feels like to burn out and it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I promise.” 

Rhysand suppressed the urgent need to roll his eyes as you gathered your things and walked out the door. “And here I thought I worked too much,” he muttered beneath his breath. 

You carried Henna’s journal tucked within your new Librarian robes — black with ivory detailing and wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists. You kept a hand on it during late nights at the Library. You ate with it propped open, black splotches swimming across the page like worms. You slept with it beneath your pillow. 

But alas, it would seem the book was going to make you work to wring meaning out of every odd symbol.

You were muttering to yourself as you walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. You’d effectively commandeered one of the reading rooms on the seventh floor, leaving the library only when required for Rhysand’s lessons. Helion’s most recent letter lay open on the table with Cherp’s resting just beneath it. A map hung crooked on the wall, four athenaeums circled in bleeding red ink alongside a list of books that had gone missing — the ones that people knew about at least. 

The Alcove, Ares House, Folkmen’s Bard, and most recently, Argot’s.

 Three Librarians dead. Their throats slit. Blood dribbling down their burgundy robes as they’d sat hunched over their desks. The week before it had been two from Ares House caught swaying from the third floor balcony. 

No one has any idea how it happened. The wards were never set off. Nothing in the Library was disrupted. I tell you this only because you deserve to know what’s happened to your people. Continue your training. Continue your research. Do whatever you need to do. But leave the court business to me, dear. I’ll write to you again when I can.

~ Helion 

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers against your hip where the book remained silent. “None of this makes sense.” 

You’d used every ounce of Rhysand’s training on the book. You’d imagined your power sliding over it like water, fire, needles shooting through cowhide, a hammerstrike, every metaphor imaginable. You’d glared at it with an intensity that would have disintegrated a lesser object. 

When that failed, you had moved onto solving the murders and thefts at your father’s court. You couldn’t content yourself with sitting in one of the cushy, high-backed chairs in Rhysand’s office sipping imported tea in porcelain cups while athenaeums were on lockdown. 

The pattern was shockingly simple — Koschei was going after books that could be traced back to him. Books that might give his enemies the upper hand: folktales alluding to him and his siblings, translated texts from old Bauldish that might have proved useful in deciphering Henna’s book, secondary accounts of the age before High Lords ruled. 

If you were Koschei you’d go after Godswoods next — the collection of athenaeums dedicated to religion. Then on to The Gallows — the athenaeum on death and dying. The two were intricately tied to one another, but people tended to write books on dying before coming up with explanations for what comes after. You’d spent a great deal of time there following your mother’s death, and you could picture it now — solemn black bookshelves looping around a circular room that tapered up into a point like a blade pointed to the sky. 

You finished writing your letter to Helion, along with the list of books you wanted pulled from the archives. Cagniv Library may have been a glowing beacon in the Night Court, and a place of sanctuary for the priestesses, but it was nothing like you were used to.

You held the paper out in front of you, Helion’s glimmering pen tucked behind your sharp ears, and blew. The black letters lifted off the page and faded away like a breath in cold air. The message was already writing itself back into existence in Helion’s office.

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

You scribbled out another note, this one for yourself with another pen. You ripped it to pieces and fed it to the fire. 

What was Koschei looking for now? Was he still looking for the book that now rested against your hip, or had he turned to some other prize? And why kill the Librarians and set all of Day Court on high alert? 

Henna had been careful. She’d stayed hidden until she was forced to tear down the Alcove to get the book. Whoever was causing the killings now was either a showman or a fool. They left bodies hanging from rafters. They carved smiles into throats. They let the Librarians know what they were stealing whether they meant to or not. They left patterns scattered among wreckage for someone like you to figure out. 

It all felt… juvenile for lack of a better word. Someone young. Someone who wanted to prove themselves in a loud way. Someone whose ego hadn’t been tested yet and wasn’t listening to Koschei’s commands in their entirety. 

Azriel. 

You couldn’t help but think of him. 

Azriel was nothing like that. 

He wasn’t loud. He didn’t vy for attention. He didn’t seek the light in a room. His confidence was quiet and true. His kindness took the shape of the shadows that lingered by your ankles. It took the shape of the robes you wore now. He was the only one who’d seen them at The Alcove. He was the only one who could have requested the court seamstress to make a copy and leave it hanging in your closet.

No. Azriel was nothing like that.

Azriel’s eyes lit up like embers when you slid through the front door, weary but bright-eyed and cradling your journals against your chest. The shadows he’d left behind with you slithered across the floor like mist. 

She’s been in the Library all day. Working. The shadows whispered in his ear. She thought about you. 

Azriel smiled. He’d thought about you as well. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” 

You gasped, closing the door louder than you intended. You’d developed a talent for sneaking in and out of the River House unnoticed to the point where Cassian considered hiding bells in your pockets. Nyx had tried to do it as a joke, but you’d caught him giggling too loudly in your bedroom. 

You brightened immediately, a broad smile appearing on your face. Azriel felt his heart leap, then quiet as he caught the scent of parchment paper. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” You whispered, tip-toeing through the dimly lit hallway to where Azriel was in the sitting room. You sank into the couch with a groan. The hardwood desks at the Library had not been kind to you. 

He shrugged and brushed back his wind-thickened hair, shifting to face you better. A crumb-coated plate lay on the table and he still wore his leathers. He must have just arrived home. 

“I flew as quick as I could. I wanted to be home.” With you. 

He’d gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping across the hallway that he’d flown the last three days without sleep. It was worth it to see you again. From the looks of it, you’d not fared well in his absence either. Your eyes had that glassy, half-there sheen: a perfect mixture of exhaustion and mind-crackling clarity. 

“And how were the Mortal Lands?” You tucked your knees beneath you and leaned against your hand, fighting the sleep that seemed to grapple for you now that Azriel was home. His wings were spread wide and you resisted the urge to close the last few inches between you and the talon that glimmered in the faelight like obsidian glass.

You’d never been that far south. You’d never had reason to. But Azriel flew far and wide. The Continent was now Mor’s domain, but the secret goings of Prythian and the Mortal Lands belonged to him and him alone. The Spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadowsinger.

Azriel shook his head. “Quiet. Koschei hasn’t touched them yet as far as I can tell, and the Mortal Queens don’t care. They seem to think that they can handle Koschei because he’s agreed to bargains with them in the past.” 

You made a noise of disapproval. “Like they handled Hybern? The only reason they’re still standing is because fae fought their war.” 

The scattering of human armies that had arrived on that battlefield had belonged to no crown. They’d either fought for the bloodlust or the money. You could respect them for that. 

Azriel tipped his head to the side, following the curling of his shadows around his shoulders. “But they are still standing. They don’t know what we sacrificed to keep them safe. That’s the problem with humans. They forget too quickly and get complacent” 

“It would seem we have the opposite problem. We can’t help but remember everything,” you said, with no small amount of bitterness. 

He wanted to keep you talking. He wanted your thoughts. Wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice after three weeks of silence. You weren’t aware of it, but the bond had felt thin the further he’d traveled away from you. Like a tightrope stretched to its snapping point. Now that he was back, and you were here, his heart didn’t feel like such a strenuous burden.

He smiled. “I think that’s just you. I know plenty of fae who are forgetful and empty-minded.” He leaned back, stretching his wings out to the side, and winced. They were whipped raw and tender from the flight. 

Without thinking you got up and moved to the fireplace, feeding wood to the flames until it crackled happily. There was a reason Cassian and Azriel loved to bath their wings in sunlight every chance they got. The heat helped the soreness and eased the wind’s rough edge. 

It also drove color into your cheeks and set your hair alight in a soft golden haze. You were a marvel. An angel with a halo to match and Azriel drank in the sight. 

“Like who?”

“Cassian.” 

You smirked and chucked the last of the wood into the flame’s gaping mouth. 

Cass was far from empty-minded, but after decades of being feared as the Lord of Bloodshed he was grateful that people loved him enough to be just a little mean. He gave and received friendly blows like kisses on the cheek and smiled all the wider for it. To threaten his life was the same as saying I love you. It must be why the Mother had made Nesta his mate. She said I love you to him all hours of the day. 

Azriel asked you what you were thinking, and when you told him he felt some of that pain slide off his shoulders like rain. He threw his head back and laughed until his chest started to hurt again and you thought about how rare that sound must be, and how much you loved it. 

“How are the others? Rhysand told me Feyre’s sister is down there along with your friends.” 

Azriel sobered up quickly and cleared his throat. “Yes. Elain, Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.”

His voice caught on two names: Elain and Lucien, and it didn't escape your notice. He sounded... nervous.

“And? Are they alright?”

He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window to the inky black sky. Vassa would be sleeping now in her human form, and if she was lucky, she’d wake up in the morning still within the manor’s grey stone walls. Safe. Home. 

He shook his head gravely. “They’re nothing short of terrified. Koschei has Vassa under a spell that would normally keep her tied to his lake. He let her go during the war against Hybern and he’s been allowing her to stay, but… everyone’s just holding their breath and trying to prepare for the day he’ll take her back.”

You shivered and wrapped one of the spare blankets around your shoulders. You couldn’t imagine a life where every waking moment held the risk of being torn away from everything you held dear. The anticipation would have broken you more than the act itself. 

“I’ve heard of her. The firebird.” You murmured softly. You imagined a creature with glowing eyes, blue-red feathers streaking behind like ribbons set on fire. Azriel narrowed his eyes in confusion, and you explained, “Ares House records all wartime information. I read the reports. We’re very thorough.”

Azriel smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

Silence passed in comfort, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Vassa.

“Do you think they’d be able to stop it if Koschei did make her go back?” 

“I don’t know, Y/n.” And it was driving him mad to have Koschei hanging around like a forgotten word at the end of his tongue.

“I hate this,” you spat out, “The not knowing. I hate it.” 

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes silently begging you to continue. Shadows curled around your body, gently tugging you closer to him until your knees were a whisper away from touching. 

You both sighed softly into the quiet air. Even the River House seemed to be at rest for the night. The usual background hum of cooking and cleaning were absent. It was just you and the Shadowsinger. 

“How are things going? With the book?” 

You slipped your hand through the slit in your robes and pulled it out. The gold chain rustled, glowing faintly from your touch. 

“It’s going.” You shoved the book back out of sight. You couldn’t even stand to look at it after the hours you’d spent agonizing over its pages. “Rhysand’s been teaching me to contain my power better. I can actually touch some things now.” 

But not him. Still not him. And it was killing you. 

Azriel gave another one of his small smiles. The ones that never failed to make the world a smaller, more manageable place. “That’s good.”

“I just… this may sound silly but, I’m not used to things being this hard. With my powers a lot of things just sort of came naturally for me. But now people are dying and I’m just sitting here on this very expensive couch and I can’t do the thing I was brought here to do and I… I don’t like feeling this useless.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Azriel murmured. He closed the space between you even more, shadows hovering over your face in silent permission. When you didn’t pull away they brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over your face with a cool, silky touch. 

Azriel was all calm darkness and you imagined that if you reached out to touch his chest your hand might just slip through him like he wasn’t there at all. He seemed too good to be real. 

But he was real, and he was sitting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheeks. 

“You’re not useless. Never believe that. Not even for a second. And even if you were useless, it wouldn’t matter. You’re worth more than the things you can do, remember?”

“I remember.” Your voice was quiet and thick. 

You rested your cheek in the crook of your arm as you gazed at him wearily. 

Azriel kept his hands out in the open, one hand reaching across the couch cushions before stopping mere inches away from yours. His shadows closed the remaining distance, slipping in between your fingers to mimic Azriel’s touch. 

“Did you uncover any more secrets of mine while I was gone?” Azriel asked as your eyelids began to droop. 

“I confess I forgot to look. But maybe now that you’re here, I’ll start again,” you mumbled into the encroaching dark.

“I look forward to it,” were the last words that filtered through your ears before you fell asleep to the untranslatable whispers of shadows. 

Nyx bounded down the stairs, leaping the last six steps before landing soundlessly on the floor with a soft bend of his knees — just like Azriel had taught him. Feyre gave a proud nod before ruffling his ebony hair and Rhysand beamed. 

Let me. Feyre adjusted the wrappings around Rhys’s chest that kept Velaria’s plump body swaddled and comfortable. Her pink lips opened in a yawn that had both mates sighing. 

“Uncle Az!” Nyx raced forward towards the sitting room and then froze, mouth opened in a surprised oh.

Azriel slept like the dead on the floor, chest rising and falling with the beat of his gentle breath. You lay stretched out on the couch, one arm propped beneath your head and the other dangling over your waist and off the cushions. Your fingers swayed an inch above Azriel’s chest, shadows swimming over his torso and creeping up your arms so that even in sleep you were connected to one another. 

Feyre gasped softly at the picture. The sunlight blanketing the both of you in peach fuzz. The faint uptick of Azriel’s lips and the smoothness of his brow. The way you looked like you were bleeding into him. The black of his shadows and your robes. 

Rhysand rubbed Nyx’s shoulder and kissed Feyre’s cheek.

Let them sleep, Nyx. We’ll get breakfast at Huth’s today.

Nyx let his parents lead him towards the door without protest. He’d never seen Uncle Az sleep so soundly in his life. 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Yeah... this slow burn is burning... but I just love it so much and I love writing all the sweet little moments they have and their conversations with one another and I hope you're enjoying it as well.

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #everyone deserves a person who'll help them relax enough to fall asleep #late night conversations and barely there touches and longing and asdfbaefnaks #AZRIEL FREAKING MADE HER NEW ROBES SO SHE WOULD FEEL MORE COMFORTABLE #He's trying to grow and do right by his exes so he will feel more worthy of Y/n and I just ugh #i'm giving him Mr. Darcy energy I don't give a shit

[tato-acm]

gwyneth berdara - scenes (4/?): chapter 60

>> fav gwyn fc: kennedy walsh (21/?)

Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, “What do we get if we finish the course?” Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.” Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”

[...]

And when Gwyn reached the finish line, bloody and panting and grinning so wildly her teal eyes glowed like a sunlit sea, she only extended her battered hand to Azriel. “Well?” “You already have your prize,” Azriel said simply. “You just passed the Blood Rite Qualifier. Congratulations.” Gwyn gaped.

#gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #gwynriel #azriel shadowsinger #acosf #gwyn x kenny #acosf ch 60 #gwyn scenes #gwyn x azriel

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

Chapter 24

Ao3 ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Smut, Language

Elain was an expert in quick changes, but slipping into the lacy lingerie that she had bought specifically for Azriel was by far the most important of them all. She was just browsing online when she saw the dusty lilac babydoll. As soon as she laid eyes on it she wanted to see Azriel’s reaction to her wearing it. It was feminine and romantic and she just knew he’d like it. 

Her suitcase was unzipped and her clothes were falling out of it and moved into the far corner of the room, hastily shoved to the side, and her travel clothes were on the floor next to it. Hopefully Azriel would be too focused on her to notice the mess she made. 

She heard his footsteps in the hall and her heart jumped into her throat. His footsteps were quiet, so quiet that everyone else thought he was silent, but she was so deeply in tune with him that she heard him no matter what.

The doorknob to her room turned, and Elain found herself falling back onto one elbow and she positioned her legs in a way that she knew was sultry and showed off her full hips. 

Damn, she silently cursed herself, she should have packed heels. 

Elain watched as Azriel walked into the room and stop in his tracks when he saw her splayed out on the bed. Her golden curls tossed behind her shoulders. He looked like he was hit by an invisible truck, his body completely stopping short. 

“Hi.” Elain breathed, smiling at him. She had planned to stay sultry and seductive, but his reaction caused the biggest smile to overtake her face. 

“Fuck.” 

She couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh as he dropped his suitcase on the floor. And not even a sexy laugh, but one that was full-bodied and had her gasping for air. 

“I’m supposed to be seducing you.” Elain said through her laughter, which caused her body to shake. His hazel eyes slid along the curve of her body before latching onto her heavy breasts. 

“It’s fucking working.” Azriel growled and started towards bed. 

“Uh-uh-uh!” Elain stopped him with a pointed finger and extended a leg towards him. “Condom.” 

Azriel cursed under his breath and riffled through his suitcase for his box of condoms, and when he found them he tossed the package onto the bed next to her. 

He pulled off his shirt and let it drop to the floor, and Elain felt her pussy clench at the sight of his muscled torso. His brown skin beautiful, tattooed, and scarred. Her hands balled into fists to stop herself from reaching for him. She wanted those hard muscles under the pads of her fingers. Wanted to feel his body react to her touch. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Elain said, staring up at him and he unbuckled his belt. 

Her toes curled at the sound of his zipper coming undone. 

 Azriel was silent as he shucked off his jeans, taking his briefs with him, and then he was naked standing before her. 

Her chest rose and fell as she took heavy breathes. 

She squirmed as he walked closer to her, and as soon as he was close enough Elain placed her hands on his bare hips. Her thumbs grazing the sharp edges of his hip bones before moving her hands up and over his abs. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” Elain admitted, and before Azriel could question her she moved forward and ran her tongue up along the ridges of his six-pack. His muscles quaking underneath her. 

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned, his hands digging into her hair. “How long, exactly, have you wanted to lick my abs?” 

“Too long.” Elain said and pressed a kiss into his navel, her humid breath ghosting over his skin. 

Azriel let out a pained groan as Elain slid from his grasp and fell to her back. 

“This,” His hand landed flat on her stomach, and her muscles clenched under his touch. “This is beautiful, Elain,” His fingers worked the silky fabric. “And one day I’ll fuck you while you wear it, but not today.” 

Azriel lifted the scrap of fabric over her head and threw it over his shoulder, and then he slowly pulled the matching panties down her legs. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Azriel said, pressing kisses into her soft belly. He brought one hand between her thighs and groaned into her skin. “And wet.” 

“It’s the anticipation.” Elain said, sighing as Azriel clasped one of her nipples between his teeth. Gently teasing the hardened bud. 

His fingers started working between her legs, brushing over her clit before plunging one finger inside of her warmth. And then another. Thrusting in and out while his thumb pressed on her swollen bud. 

“Azriel.” Elain gasped, arching as she clenched around his fingers. 

He propped himself onto his elbow and stared down at her, taking in the way her eyes screwed shut and the way her mouth hung open in pleasure. 

“More,” Elain whispered, opening her eyes slightly to look at him. “Please.” 

Azriel didn’t say anything. He slowly retracted his hand and then reached across the bed to grab one of the condoms that had fallen out of the box. 

The tearing of foil sounded through the room. 

Elain watched as he slid the condom over his cock and bit down on her bottom lip as her stomach tumbled with excitement. She pushed herself to her elbows, her hair falling messily behind her, and looked as Azriel positioned himself at her entrance. 

With one hand on her hip, Azriel sank into her. Slow and steady and one of Elain’s hands came up to grip Azriel’s bicep, her nails sinking into his muscle. 

“Fuck,” Azriel said, dropping down onto one hand next to her. His black hair falling into his face. “You’re so tight. And so fucking wet. You feel like a fucking dream.” 

Elain took deep breaths, getting used to the size and feel of him. How he stretched her so deliciously to the point of almost pain. 

It had been so long since Elain last had sex that it felt like the first time all over again. Well, not exactly. There was no awkward fumbling. No discomfort. Just pleasure. 

“You,” Elain gasped as Azriel sank in another inch. “Feel even bigger than you look.” 

Slowly, Azriel pushed forward into her until Elain was completely full. 

Elain gasped as she felt the press of his piercing deep inside of her, in a place that no one had ever reached before. 

By pure reflex, one of Elain’s hands reached for his tight ass cheek, her nails digging into his flesh. 

Her hips shifted up as his pelvis ground against her clit, and the walls of sex clenched around him, causing Azriel’s breath to turn jagged. 

“I pictured fucking you for hours and hours the first time,” Azriel said heavily, his breath against his damp breath gasping against her neck. “Until we were both seeing stars, but fuck you feel better than I imagined.” 

“We can,” Elain’s breath jolted as he pulled out, his piercing pressing against her clit before thrusting back into her, her wetness sounding through the room. “Still do that.” 

Azriel started to move his hips faster, more erratic as his control started slipping further and further away from him. 

The sound of his pounding into her filled the room, causing Elain to buck her hips. 

“Fuck.” Azriel breathed, thrusting harder. 

Hot pleasure was mounting within Elain, and with one last push Elain hit her breaking point. The walls of her cunt clenching his dick as her orgasm cratered through her. 

Azriel grabbed her hips, making sure he was as deep seated as possible, before coming inside of her. 

“That was…” Elain drifted off breathlessly, loving the feel of his muscle-hardened, sweaty body against hers. 

“I agree.” Azriel said, breathing heavily through his nose before pulling her in for a sloppy kiss. 

Elain reached down to pull off the used condom, and she tossed it on the floor without a second thought. 

“Thank you.” Elain said as Azriel dropped next to her. She wasted no time before snuggling into his side, wanting every inch of their skin to touch. 

“For what?” Azriel asked, his breath slowly turning back to normal. His hands felt her entire body. Running up the length of her back and lush bottom. 

“It was perfect.” Elain sighed, kissing his strong neck. 

Azriel held her closer. 

— —

When Azriel woke, it was slowly. 

This wasn’t the first time that Elain had recognized it, but it was different. Maybe it was because she still felt sore from their day (and night) together, but the way Azriel was clinging to her and burrowing his face into her neck made it seem as if there was nowhere else he wanted to be. 

“Good morning,” Elain said, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips came together in a leisurely kiss. “Would you like to explain to me why I smell coffee?” Elain asked against his lips. 

“I set it up last night when I got us dinner,” Azriel said in a sleep ridden voice. One that made Elain’s bones melt. He cracked open one hazel eye. “I figured we’d be a bit busy last night and wouldn’t want to get up and brew it this morning.”

“You think of everything,” Elain sighed and pressed a kiss into his hard peck. “I love that about you.” 

Azriel placed a kiss on top of her head. 

Elain moved to get out of bed and right when she was about to plant her feet on the wooden floor, she squealed and jerked back. Almost tumbling into Azriel. 

“What the fuck?” Azriel asked, worry pulling at his brows, and his hands grabbing Elain to pull her away from the edge of the bed. “Is there a mouse?” 

“No,” Elain shook her head and looked at him with wide eyes. “How many times did we do it last night?” 

She blinked at him, her face flushing. 

Azriel tried to stop the smile from forming fully on his lips. 

“Quite a few.” Azriel responded. 

Elain jerked her head, urging Azriel to peek over the edge of the bed. 

“Did we go through the entire box?” Elain whisper-yelled, and then fought the embarrassment that rose within her. There was nobody here to hear her. And she certainly wasn’t whispering last night. 

Azriel rubbed his lips with his finger as he looked at the used condoms they had discarded on the floor. 

It was a bit of a concerning sight to see first thing in the morning. 

Elain crawled across the bed, her bum in the air, and reached for the box at the foot of the bed.

“That is a much better sight.” Azriel said, tilting his head to take in Elain’s rounded bottom. 

She looked over her shoulder at him, her cheeks still pink, and shook the empty box at him. 

“We should make a run to the store,” Elain said, watching as Azriel moved towards her, and not stopping him as he grasped her hips to twist her so that she laid on her back. “To get some more.” 

Azriel nodded in agreement and pressed his morning erection into her wet, swollen pussy. 

Elain moaned and moved against him. 

“I’m going on the pill, or something. Whatever the doctor recommends.” Elain gasped as his piercing flicked over her clit. 

Azriel stilled above her. 

“You don’t have to.” Azriel said, pulling back. 

“I want to feel you inside me… with no barriers. And I trust you.” 

Azriel placed one large hand on her neck and pulled her in for a passionately slow kiss. Their hips still moving against each other. 

If Elain was with anybody else, then she might have been embarrassed by her body’s reaction to him. How wet she got just from his kiss and the feel of his cock moving against her sex — but she felt too good, and Azriel was just as turned on by her body as she was by his. 

He moved again, pressing her deeper into the mattress. 

Elain’s body pulsed as an orgasm rushed through her, and she felt Azriel coming all over her pussy and stomach. The warm liquid landing on her sensitive skin. 

“That was,” Elain took a deep breath. “Hot.” 

“The things I want to do to you, Elain.” Azriel groaned against her lips. A sinful promise in his voice.

Elain swallowed. 

“We’ll go to the store after breakfast?” Elain asked and Azriel nodded in agreement. 

Before anything else could happen, Elain crawled out of bed and grabbed the tshirt Azriel had discarded on the floor. 

“Maybe we should have coffee in the kitchen,” Elain said, biting her lip as a naked Azriel lounged in twisted sheets. Sheets that they had twisted the night before. And that morning. “That way we might behave?”  Elain ignored the condom graveyard that littered on the floor. 

“I don’t think location matters for us, beautiful.” Azriel said, his eyes warm as they looked at his girlfriend. 

Elain nodded. 

“But,” He continued. “I’ll clean up our mess and meet you in the kitchen. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can fuck you again.” 

A blush coated Elain’s cheeks and she looked at the mess they had made on her and said, “I need a washcloth first.”

-------

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #how you get the girl #how you get the girl chapter 24

[mhevarujta]

I'm genuinely sorry for fans of Azriel who like him less in the bonus chapter and take Rhys' distortion of his feelings to be canon.

Like, we as readers are meant to know better. Azriel does not see himself as a good person. More than that he sees himself as tainted. Finally pursuing someone that he like to the extend he does Elain, even if it's just for once, a surrender in the moment, is a threshold for his character. He even feels watched only by the Mother. He feels benevolence in having that moment.

And there comes Rhys, not only hindering, but equating the situation to the meaningless sex Azriel has had and speaking of entitlement, which can be misinterpreted into but is not inherent in Azriel's words. Because Azriel questioning whether the cauldron was wrong was not about being entitled. It was about having the depth of emotions that makes him question whether this woman should be his mate, since to the fae, and especially to males this is the strongest bond they can have. This was never about what Azriel feels he deserves, each shimply about the strength of what he feels.

In fact, it's insensitive of Rhys to make this about being 'worthy' when he's speaking to a friend as insecure as Azriel, who COULD say his opinion about Lucien (I love Lucien by the way and not shipping him with Elain for me is not about him being unworthy, but I understand why someone who sees him antangonistically and doesn't really know him would want to think that). He could not say that HE himself is worthy of her though, because he doesn't believe it, and the LAST thing he needed was his worthiness to be questioned by one of his best friends. Certain readers entertaining that Rhys' words are the bible and should be taken at face-value, instead of just the means to instigate romantic and political conflict for the next book, are wrond and are seriously missing out on Azriel's character.

#azriel #elriel #elain archeron #acosf #rhysand #rhys

[b00kdiary]

A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel

FOUR UPDATES IN ONE WEEK - WHO AM I??? (lol)

Chapter Thirteen Snippet:

"Alexis, please," Azriel whispered, agony shattering his face as he extended his hand to me. My heart was bleeding, it was bleeding in my fucking chest. "Please don't do this."

"I'm sorry, Azriel," My voice broke, and I felt the tears welling in my eyes. "I am so sorry."

LITTLE SNIPPET OF CHAPTER THIRTEEN, POSTED ON WATTPAD AND AO3 (linked)

Comment to be added to a tag list for more updates and sneak peeks like this!

@hellodarling1357 @charlineraven @starrystarkey93 @mockingjaytributes @nelapeach14 @alessiazeni @bishhh2003 @impossibelle @firebreathingbishqueen @lovely-susie @sarawritestories @hellowinterlane @minnieoo @charlineraven @acotarfics-mharmie009 @ithan-holstroms-girl @bionic-donut @blackgirlmagicforever @azzydaddy @shinyghosteclipse @shinyghosteclipse @pinkcowracing @marvelouslovely-barnes @mysticalfuncollectorus @daughterofthemoons-stuff @superspideyparker @blissfulliberation

#acotar #azriel acotar #acotar smut #acowar #acomaf #acosf #cc hofas #hosaf #hosaf spoilers #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #cassian acotar #rhysand acotar #nesta archeron #bryce quinlan #ruhn danaan #smut #fluff #ao3 fanfic #wattpad #wip #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel spymaster #acotar 5

[bluelancess]

Untouchable | Elriel fic part 1/3

Summary: The inner circle is having one of their usual dinner parties, during which Azriel can't help but shoot death glares to Lucien across the table, Elain is the only one who manages to calm him down.

Tags: secret meetings, forbidden love, secret relationship

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Read on AO3.

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Chapter 1: This is falling in love in the cruelest way

The Townhouse was exceptionally quiet today, the only sound filling its empty walls came from Elain’s soft humming in the kitchen. It was a melody she had heard a couple of days back while strolling along Velaris’ farmer’s market. She thought it was sweet, sounded almost a little magical to her ears, she had stopped on her tracks to give her full attention to the street performers, marveling at the way their expert fingers played the instruments, and at how they could attract a large crowd after  only playing a single enchanting note. She was most definitely not doing the song justice, but humming helped her keep her mind away from dangerous black holes that always threatened to swallow her whole, the same way baking and gardening did. 

She was adamant on never letting her mind take her away again. 

Ever.

Elain put the final touches to the delicious meal she was cooking for dinner, and cleaned the palms of her hands on the front part of her light-blue apron. Roasted rosemary potatoes, grilled chicken with lemon zest, honey and mustard, various vegetables she had seasoned earlier; broccoli, peas, a tomato salad with basil and olive oil. 

Cooking kept her busy and occupied most of the time. And it filled her with joy to be able to be helpful in any way she could. Besides, today was one of the Inner Circle’s weekly dinner meeting. Rhysand made it almost mandatory, and considering everyone was busy doing their own thing nowadays, having an afternoon where they could catch up on everything else other than work-related subjects, was a refreshing change. 

Elain had dessert finishing baking in the oven, a blueberry crust pie she was going to  serve alongside some vanilla ice-cream and whipped cream, when Nuala and Cerridwen entered the kitchen, both walked as silently as a ghost would. It used to perturbe Elain at the beginning, them being so silent, but with time she had gotten used to their presence, their company. 

“The table is set,” Nuala said. “We can finish up here.” 

“Thank you,” Elain smiled at her, and slowly removed her apron. Cerridwen extended her hand towards her, so Elain could hand her the clothing item covered in flower. “Is Feyre still asleep?” 

Nuala nodded softly. “She and the babe, both.” 

Elain chewed on her lower lip, concealing the smile that had formed after picturing the image in her head. Feyre lying on her bed, Nyx resting on top on her chest, the tiny wings tucked in, his little chubby hands holding onto Feyre’s gown like he used to do when he slept in that position as if scared Feyre might put him in his crib as soon as he fell asleep. 

“I’ll go change,” Elain told them both, “then I can check up on them.” 

“We’ll clean up here.”

“Thank you.” 

With that, Elain exited the kitchen, and took slow, soft steps towards the stairs. She had already chosen the gown she would wear for dinner. A lavender satiny dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, with hug shoulders, long slit sleeves and a cirde skirt that reached a little under her ankles that flowed when she walked, making her her feel like a real-life fairytale princess. It was her favorite dress as of late. She hadn’t worn it for other people yet, she was waiting for an special occasion. 

This seemed like the right time. 

Considering Az would be here any minute. 

Just thinking about the Shadowsinger brought a wave of unbearable heat cursing through her, warming up her cheeks, her neck, her ears. She needed to learn to control herself, if she wanted whatever was going on between them to remain private. 

Any time she stopped to remember they way Az had looked that one night he came knocking on her window at three in the morning, her whole body shivered, the memory carefully stored in a special place in her heart. It had been the night everything shifted, everything changed, for her. For Azriel. 

No one knew about it. 

No one could. 

Elain had been awake twisting and turning on the sheets, as per usual since their moment at the Winter Solstice, that cursed night that some days, the bad days, she wanted to desperately forget. Forget the way he had touched her and made her light up with so much want, so much need… She had never felt so alive before. Only to end with him pushing her away, such a regretful look in his eyes, telling her that it had been a mistake. But then… there were the good days, those days were she thought about him and hoped, prayed to whatever had interest in hearing her pleas, to have a second chance. To ask him all the questions roaming her head. All the doubts eating at her. 

She never imagined he was feeling the same way. 

But then, as if he were almost as desperate as her, he’d come in the middle of the night, looking like he’d also had been tossing and turning, so many sleepless night catching up to him. She opened the window with her heart on her throat, and he whispered to her to come with him. Only for a moment. He begged with his eyes, a desperation that was so painfully palpable, Elain’s whole chest squeezed at the sight of it. 

Breathless, she took his hand that night. 

It was the first time he took her flying, just for the fun of it. They had made it a habit now. He would knock on her window, she would open it, and he would scoop her in his arms, kiss her brow and marvel at her laughs when he would take off, holding her close to him, showing her the sky. It was those moments, that made Elain feel like she was actually free. 

Elain opened the door to her bedroom, and froze at the threshold, her brown eyes going wide, her traitorous heart beating so fast it reverberated in her ears. 

Azriel brought his index fingers to his lips and it was pure luck she didn't scream when she saw him; sprawled on her bed, boots still on, his wings so big they barely fit the mattress. She licked her lower lip, feet glued to the floor. He looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive, and Elain’s cheeks warmed up. He chuckled, darkly, softly and motioned for her to come forward with his hand, she shook her head like she couldn't believe what he was doing. 

After taking a deep breath, Elain quickly looked over her shoulder before closing the door behind her. She didn’t have time to give a single step, before Azriel got to his feet, and closed the space between them in two exact and calculated steps. 

“You’re insane,” she breathed, lifting her head to look at him in the eyes, he was so tall, it never stoped amazing her, so tall, and so beautiful. Azriel hands went to her cheeks, holding her so gently as if he were scared to hurt her. 

“I missed you,” he simply replied, lifting a shoulder, one of his thumbs caressing her lower lip, his face getting nearer to hers, she could almost taste him. After a couple of weeks meeting in secret, delighting herself with his company, Elain had realized that Azriel liked to tease her. So much. He liked to take things so painfully slow, until she was barely breathing and begging him to touch her, to kiss her, to give her everything. “Just thinking about the fact that I have to sit on that dinner table, unable to touch you for hours, was driving me crazy.” 

Azriel left a phantom kiss on her right cheekbone, then moved to the bridge of her nose. Elain closed her eyes at the contact, savoring the feel of him. Her hands roaming him from his shoulders, down to the muscles of his chest. She loved the way his Illyrian leathers felt under her fingertips. She dreamed of the day she finally would have the opportunity to peel them off of him.

But she couldn’t. They couldn’t. 

Not yet. 

It was too risky, everyone would to know they had been together, their scents would mix, there would be no denying it. And although Azriel was usually cocky and confident when it came to the fact the he most definitely would win a blood duel against Lucien, she couldn't even fathom the idea of Az risking his life in that matter for her. Az kept distributing tiny kisses along her face, like he wanted to pain it all with his lips. It was certainly torture having to wait until they were finally free to fall into the lust consuming their bodies, their souls. But she was completely sure it’d be worth the wait. 

“So you decided to cheat and get a little taste before dinner?” She asked, and he hummed, as he kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the right corner of her mouth. So soft, so gentle. 

“Hmm,” he muttered, “I was actually hoping you wanted to skip dinner altogether.” 

“Because that wouldn’t be suspicious.” He kissed the left corner of her mouth now, and a groan left Elain’s throat, Azriel ignored it and moved down to her jaw. “How long have you been here anyway?” 

“About half an hour,” he replied, voice low, no more than a rumble, but she heard it perfectly, felt it everywhere. He kissed right under her earlobe and Elain bit her lower lip hard, tying to conceal the moan escaping her. “You smell so good.” 

She melted against him the the words, reality crashing into her like a hard wave. Remembering where they were, who that house belonged to. 

“Rhys could get home any minute,” she breathed, he groaned at the name of another male leaving her mouth when he was licking up the column of her neck, her hands grasping his uniform as if she needed it to remain standing. Cauldron, he was killing her. 

“I don’t care,” Azriel replied, sucking gently at the sensitive, pale skin, his hands angling her head, exposing her neck just the way he wanted, the way he needed. “Maybe I should just leave a mark right here,” he whispered, and gently kissed right under her jaw. “Everyone can come to their own conclusions.”

“You wouldn’t.” She teased him, somehow, for some reason, the idea sparked something in her, something feral. She wanted him to claim her, to show everyone that she was his and he was hers. 

That they had chosen one another. 

Damn the consequences. 

 “Someday I will.” He told her, making it sound like a threat. He couldn’t hide the smile of surprise when she let out a breathy moan, as if she could just picture the idea in her head and loved it. 

Elain was about to just grab his beautiful face, get on her tippy toes, and steal a long kiss from his lips, when Azriel stepped away from her, so fast she almost lost her balance. A knock on the door had her spine straightening, her heart jumping. 

“El, are you there?” Feyre. It was her sister’s voice, still sleepy from the nap she had been taking with Nyx. 

She turned around, the door was behind her, she had been pressed against the wood by Azriel's solid body. She swallowed hard, running her fingers through her hair, her face, her neck, she could still feel Azriel lips on her skin, the wet strokes of his tongue, the little painless bites. She was definitely flushed. 

She looked over her shoulder, Azriel was nowhere to be seen, but in the corner of the room, right under the door that connected to her dressing room, a little shadow was peaking, sharp like a knife, as if getting ready to attack if she needed it to. 

“Elain?” Feyre knocked again, and Elain forced herself to take one, two long breaths before turning the knob and opening the door. 

“Sorry,” she told her sister. “I was about to change my clothes. They’re covered in food... you know, from cooking and all that.” 

Feyre yawned, her eyes were glassy and her cheeks rosy from sleep, Elain tried to block the view of the inside of her rooms, just to be sure. But Feyre ignored it, putting one of her hands on her sister’s shoulders and going inside, to lay face first on the bed. 

“Dinner smells so good,” Feyre murmured. “I’m so hungry the smell woke me up. Also, Nyx started to cry. He was hungry too.” 

“You had a good nap?” Elain asked, her voice sounded strange even to herself, but Feyre didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

“Yes, I needed it.” After a beat, Feyre sat on the bed and looked at Elain, the relaxed look on her face from the last couple of seconds going away in a blink. “Actually, I came to talk to you about something.” 

Elain took a couple steps towards her sister, sitting beside her on the side of the bed. “What happened?”

“I just spoke with Rhys, mainly to asked him what time he was coming home for dinner, and he mentioned to me Lucien is in the city. He came because he has some reports he need to give Rhys, and …” Feyre grimaced, she looked worried, almost guilty. “I know it makes you uncomfortable, so I told him to not even think about bringing him tonight before asking you.” 

Elain couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t breathe. 

She hated this. Hated that cursed mating bond so much. 

All she wanted was to be free of that male, but it was like he didn’t know when to give up. No matter how many hints she sent his way, or the fact that she made it her mission to stay as far away from him as possible. He wouldn’t budge. 

She couldn’t understand how he could continue to pursue her, knowing that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Lucien couldn’t be so naive to believe she’d change her mind with a couple of expensive gifts and awkward dinner parties where he didn’t even make the effort to see her, understand her. 

But, even if she wanted to say no, this wasn’t her house. Not really. 

It was her sister’s, and her mate’s. She was living there because they were kind enough to let her. Because they cared about her, yes, but that didn’t mean that sometimes, she wished she could have something that was entirely hers. 

Just hers. 

“Lucien is your friend, I don’t want you to not invite him because of me,” the words tasted wrong on the mouth, and the shadows slowly started gathering in the corners of the room, like steam from a boiling pot. 

“Are you sure?” Feyre’s face changed, glowing, “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to, I don’t want to ruin your night.” 

“You won’t. It’s fine.” She tried to give her sister a smile. The truth was, at this point, after everything Feyre had done for her and their family, Elain was willing to do, to endure, absolutely anything for her sister. It was the least she could do. 

No sacrifice seemed great enough. Not after everything Feyre had lost, suffered through for them. For her. 

She could be an adult and enjoy one evening with Lucien. Put on a smile, pretend everything was perfect and delicious, and she was happy. Because she was happy. More than ever. She just had to remind herself that once the dinner party was over, and the guests went home, she could return to her little room, and maybe, just maybe, Azriel would be waiting for her. 

And if he was, she’d ask him to take her flying. 

Feyre threw her arms around her sister and kissed her temple. 

“Everyone is getting here in fifteen minutes.” Feyre stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.” 

Elain closed the door as soon as her sister left, and rested her forehead on the cool wood. She felt the spymaster presence at her back, his eyes piercing, his shadows surrounding the four walls of her rooms like he wanted to keep her there, all to himself.

“Did you know he was on the city?” She asked softly, turning around to see him standing right outside her dressing room. 

Azriel shook his head. 

“Rhys ordered me to take care of other business today,” he replied, his voice lethal, scarred hands curling into tight balls, shoulders tense. She approached him, and softly put the pads on her fingers in his hands, willing them to relax, to open up for her and let her in, hold her. 

“It’ll be okay.” 

“I can’t stand it,” he groaned. “I can’t stand the way he looks at you. The smell—“ Azriel took her hands into his, closing his fingers around hers tight, the muscle on his jaw flexing. 

“It’s not easy for me either.” 

“Then let’s not go,” he looked at her like he wanted to whisk her away, show her everything, run and run until no one knew who they were. "Let's go somewhere else, just you and me."

“Az…” His name sounded so charged coming from her lips, like a prayer, a promise, the sweetest of secrets, something she only said when it was the two of them, alone. “We can’t.” 

He let out a long sigh, and rested his chin on top of her head. 

“Don’t ask me to be nice, then,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to.” 

“Good.” 

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this is going to be a 3 part little one shot so enjoy &lt;3

#pro elriel #elriel #elain x azriel #pro elain #azriel x elain #acotar #azriel #elain archeron