#bat boy imagines

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

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

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

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

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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

Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel supremacy #i love this bat boy sm #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #hoo boy this is nasty #Save a horse ride a bat boy am i right? #bat boys #bat boys x reader #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #azriel acomaf #azriel acosf

[azpizazz]

headcanons about azriel’s wings because I can’t sleep and they’re all I can think about

- first of all, he definitely has the largest wingspan, but he’s not cocky about it and let’s his brothers think that theirs are bigger

- they twitch when he’s irritated, or pissed off, or even sometimes when he’s turned on

- he’ll shoot one out in front of you so you don’t walk away from him or to prevent you from going any further somewhere else

- he uses them to shield you from things or other people and it has you standing on your tippy toes to try and look over them but they’re so damn huge that you can’t

- he’ll curl one around you to guide you closer to his side

- they flare slightly to show his dominance whenever another male looks at you a little too long for his liking and it always has you rolling your eyes at him

- he’s so needy and when you’re not paying attention to him, he’ll flap them, sending a gust of air in your direction and he smiles when you finally address him, even if it’s just to scold him for ruining your hair

- he drapes one across you while you sleep and it’s just like a second blanket

- you’re the first and only one besides healers he allows to ever touch his wings

- you’ll sit at the edge of the bathtub and clean them for him because “you get all the hard to reach places”

- and don’t even get me started on wingplay…

- the first time you gently stroke a particularly sensitive spot, he whimpers, yes whimpers

- you like to dance your fingertips along the membrane just to see his eyes closed and face scrunched up

- you’ll lean to kiss them because they’re just so beautiful and he’s coming undone within seconds

- there are plenty of times that you’ve made him finish by just playing with his wings

- anyway…

- the first time he comes to your small studio apartment, they bump into everything and you’re giggling as he tries to catch all the things that are falling off counters and shelves

- they slump when you’re upset with him or just sad in general because he hates seeing you like that

- similarly, they perk up whenever he sees you or hears your voice or laughter

- he’ll reach out and gently stroke one down your spine just to let you know he’s there

- he likes to cocoon you in them often, because he says it feels like it’s just you and him in the whole wide world

there’s a lot more but you get the gist

#azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel headcanons #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #bat boys #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #sarah j. maas

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.

Part 02

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.

A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.

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The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.

Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”

You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.

"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.

But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"

Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."

Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.

Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.

Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.

You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.

As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.

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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.

Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.

As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.

With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.

Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.

Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress."  As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.

"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."

Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.

As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.

Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.

Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.

But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.

With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."

You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.

Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."

The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."

The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."

With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.

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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.

He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.

As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.

"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."

Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."

Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."

Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."

There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week.  Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.

Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.

His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.

He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.

With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.

Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.

His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit.  Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.

As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.

And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.

Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"

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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)

#acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel fluff #fem reader #x reader #imagine #bat boys

[writingstreetspirit]

One Breath, One Touch

Summary: A night out at Rita’s changes everything for the better

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tension, reader is very shy, prolonged eye contact, kissing

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I last wrote a longer piece instead of headcanons, so here’s a Azriel piece. If you liked this, please like/comment/reblog/follow as it helps me and every other content creator out there. Thank you! 🫶🏻

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Rita’s is full of people, not unusual as it was Saturday night. Drinking, laughing, dancing, and music fills up the building, a pleasant atmosphere of life all around you. A lot of handsome and beautiful things and people to look at, but there is only one person that’s grabbed your attention tonight.

You can tell he is watching you, because you can feel his stare in your soul. The Night Court's own Shadowsinger Azriel is just a few meters away, along with several others that are part of the Inner Circle, Cassian, Nesta, Mor, and Amren. They’re drinking and laughing, Mor and Cassian goofing along to the music.

While Azriel is there in the middle of the group, his focus seems to be entirely on you. His eyes are like whiskey, they glow in the light, and are dark in the shadows. He stands there, looking at you, waiting and watching.

You blush from the intense staring, not being able to hold the intense eye contact for more than a few seconds before having to look away, only to then return your eyes to him again, starting over the process.

This has become a routine over the years. While Velaris is not a small city, it is inevitable to run into all citizens at some point or another. Especially with you being a co-owner at the local bakery in the middle of town, you have had customers all over the Court visit to purchase freshly baked bread or sweet pastries.

That includes the Inner Circle, Feyre and Mor often visit for the delicious cupcakes, and oftentimes Azriel accompanies them, probably as a safety precaution with Feyre being with the High Lord of the Night Courts, Rhysand. The first ever time you meet the lovely High Lady you also saw Azriel.

It’s almost been four years to the day, and every time the door opened and Azriel stepped inside, your heart would race. You’d engage in small conversations, well, more like just a few words, but you’d think about those hazel eyes and dark hair for days until the next drop in.

He raises an eyebrow slightly. He leans back against the wall he’s against, and stares you down. You can sense some kind of tension like it’s something you can physically touch and see. You feel nervous, a fluttering in your stomach.

He stares at you for a while longer. When you're not expecting it, he walks away from his group and steps right up to you. His voice is low and rumbling. “Are you here alone?”

You blink slowly, feeling warmth traveling through your face. If you had a mirror to see yourself, you bet you’d be as red as a tomato. You admit in barely a whisper, “No, I came with a friend. Though I think they’ve left me for a male.”

The corner of his mouth curls down in a small frown, and he glances away from you for a split second before his eyes pierce into yours again. “She didn’t even say that she were leaving?”

You shook your head. It wasn’t the first time something like that has happened, and while it stung the first couple times, it didn’t bother you anymore.

“Would you like company? You seem lonely.” You gulp, looking away from Azriel’s intense eyes. Your cheeks are burning hot, and despite the thin dress and the slightly cool temperature you break out into a sweat. You croak, “Yes, I’d like that.”

His gaze returns to yours, Azriel’s eyes seem to pierce through you. He leans closer towards you, the a small smile forming on his lips. “Should I get us something to drink?”

“Okay,” You breathe out, your heart racing inside your chest. Azriel’s the most handsome male you’ve ever seen, and so…kind and caring. You find it hard to look at him without revealing all your personal thoughts and feelings about him. About how he’d been on your mind everyday since he first walk inside the bakery.

You can smell his scent, it is intoxicating, and it fills your mind with thoughts of him. He’s wearing that cologne that you’d sniffed out whenever he’s been near enough for years now. It’s good, fitting him perfectly. He is so close you could kiss him.

“What would you like to drink, sweetheart?” Azriel asks, and his low voice sends shivers down your spine. Your heart fluttered, he had called you sweetheart.

You don’t answer for a long moment. You’re sure that he’ll know what you’re thinking about if you answer him. Hell, he probably already knows. After all, he is a Spymaster, and a very skilled one at that. Finally you squeak out, “Surprise me.”

He smiles, then turns away to walk towards the bar. You breathe out shakily once your alone. Fuck, you think, I must look so dumb in front of him. He’s just being kind, he doesn’t like me like that. Just as you’d managed to gather yourself somewhat, he returns with to glasses in his hand. One’s a whisky, the other is…your favorite drink.

“I hope you like this one, I can get another for you if you don’t.” Azriel says, holding out the glass towards you. A shaking hand accept the glass, letting the cold drink cool your flushed skin. “Thank you. No, this is perfect actually.”

You sip the drink through the straw, a pleasant hum escaping your mouth at the pleasant taste. You miss the pleased smile forming on Azriel’s face as he takes a swing of the whisky.

“Have you had a pleasant evening, despite your friend leaving?” Azriel asked, and you look up from your drink to see that he’s already looking at you. You hum, nodding once. “I have. Have you? Had a pleasant evening, I mean?”

He chuckled, nodding to behind him where his very obviously family were still hanging out. “Indeed, but I think they’ve had more fun than me based on how much they’ve drank. Especially Cassian and Mor.”

You laugh softly, gazing down at your high heels clad feet bash fully. “Yes, it seems to be that case.”

Azriel studies you for a long while, waiting for you to look back up again. When you finally do he smiles that smile that you’d like to think was reserved just for you. Your hair has thankfully fallen in front of your face and you hope the strands hid the flush that spreads across cheeks.

“Though I can think of something else that would make this night impossible better than it already is.” Azriel spoke low, his voice barely louder than that you just managed to here him. You look at him questioning, curious as to what he was thinking.

He raises his hand, scarred fingers brushing strands of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. He pauses, the space between you is electric and palpable. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about right now?”

You want to say yes, tell me, I want to know everything single thing you’re thinking, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, but you're too flustered to speak, so you nod instead.

He smiles slightly, it’s as if he already knew you’re tongue tied. His thumb traces your jawline, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He whispers, “Y/N, I have been wanting to do this since the moment first I saw you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing what Azriel is referring to, but before you could ask what he meant, his lips were pressed against your.

His touch is gentle, yet intense. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. You feel alive, your whole body is humming, electric. Azriels free hand is cupping your cheek tenderly, and you melt into his touch. Your hands creep up to his waist, gripping onto the fabric both to pull him impossibly closer and to keep your unsteady legs upright. Somewhere far in the back of your mind your hoping that you’re not spilling the drink all over the back of his shirt.

You don't want the kiss to end, but eventually it does. He pulls away slowly, as if he also didn’t want to leave your pillow soft lips. His hand fall away from your face, and you look up at him. Your breath rushes back to your lungs, and you are breathless.

Azriel stares back at you, you are both breathless. Eventually he speaks, his voice is low and rumbling. “You are the most beautiful person my eyes have ever laid upon.”

Your heart races, you have never felt like this before. Never been so enamored, felt so seen, both in and out, or so cherished by another. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time. Please, a voice in your head said, don’t ever let this feeling go away. You pant, eyes unable to look away from his for even a second, “Really?

Azriel lowers his hand to touch your chin, to cup it in his and make you look him in the eyes. They are warm and soft, unlike his usual hard and closed off expression. His voice is low and rumbling, you can feel in your heart that he is telling the truth.

“I could look at you all day.” He tells you, “and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

You lean your flushed cheek into his hand, nuzzling into his warm skin. You smile up at him, at the male that had stolen your heart. The true words spill out of your mouth without any embarrassment or uncertainty. “You are too, Azriel. So very beautiful.”

He smiles back, and his touch is gentle as he strokes your cheek. All the tension and nervousness has melted away between you. Instead a warm, cozy feeling lingers between the two of you, the rest of the visitors in the bar just background noise.

“Will you take me home with you, Azriel?” You asked, looking deep into his eyes. Azriel lowers his hand from your chin, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Yes,” he says, his face shining with what you could only describe as pure joy. Wherever your newfound confidence came from, you thanked it greatly. He puts down his whisky on the table top beside you, and you follow with your own glass. “I will take you home with me if you desire it, sweetheart.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You ask, a small playful smile breaking out across your face. Azriel chuckles low, slowly wrapping his strong arm tenderly around your waist and gently guides you along with him out of Rita’s and into the night breeze.

#writingstreetspirit #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar bat boys #bat boys

[imaginesmai]

Promises to keep (2) - Azriel

Part 1

Plot: you and Azriel try to make it out of your captivity in time. With your powers discovered, is up to you to survive enough to save him - and with your powers draining, is up to him to save you.

Warnings: blood and violence, again.

You weren’t the first one to move. Stories about your parents’ death, hunted and slaughtered for their powers, terrified you until you couldn’t force yourself to move. Safe in Velaris, you had never wondered the consequences of a power like yours in such a selfish world.

When the first fae lunched at you, it was Azriel who made her trip with his crippled leg to the ground. His years of training and war showed themselves when the woman didn’t utter another breath, her neck broken in a terrible angle. Your mate growled like a storm, promising death to whoever came close to you.

That thought, Azriel facing them hurt and defenseless, was enough to spur you into action – and everyone else. You weren’t a warrior, not like him. Hadn’t been trained in your power in fear someone would sense it and come for you. You were clumsy, untrained and tired, but you were powerful.

It was blur of blood, iron and light.

Your goal was clear – not to let them close to Azriel. He could defend himself, maybe, for a few minutes. But you weren’t stupid enough to believe he could win against trained soldiers in the state he was in. So you fought, with your power, nails and teeth.

A knife sliced through your collarbone and someone kicked your knee to make you fall. They were blasted away before you touched the ground, only to be replaced by an arm around your throat and a punch against your stomach.

You lost your breath and the light disappeared, and you couldn’t get it back. Not with the male behind you chocking the life out of you, arm and fingers pressing over your windpipe. You wondered briefly if he could break your neck, crush your throat, with just his grip, but he was pushed off you before you could wonder farther.

Azriel’s pained inhale made your light explode, and then everything was silent.

You fell to the ground and curled yourself in a tight ball, your ears ringing. It felt as if every part of your body was covered by fried nerves, the feel of the ground on your skin sickening. Old wounds reopened by the sheer force of your power, blood coming out of them.

The pain and overwhelming feelings weren’t enough obstacle to realize there were no other heartbeats but Azriel’s and yours.

You never used your power, and you were ready to never use them again. The next breath was forced into your lungs when Azriel hastily turned you over and pain wrecked your body. He had a new gash on his forehead, and was covered in blood that wasn’t his.

“Look at me” he grabbed your cheeks and only dared himself to flinch at the obvious pain in your gaze. “You need to breath. You’re not breathing – Y/N! Now!”

He physically recoiled when he moved you, knowing what it would do to your sensitive body. But he had to shake you out of your stupor before it was too late. You finally took a shaky breath and kept hyperventilating, not tearing your gaze away from him.

That was what he had always feared. That you would be forced to use it, because of him, because he wasn’t able to protect you. He had trained harder for centuries, had assured your safety after you found refuge in his court and he became your protector, your friend, your mate and lover. Watching your body rigid with pain and shock, watching you kill those fae for him, was threatening to pull him under another wave of panic and terror.

“Listen to me” he exhaled, his whole body screaming at the movement. “The male – he’s gone. He has managed to get out and he’s coming back. You need to leave. The door is open and –“

“I killed them” you stated, not looking around but smelling their blood.

“It was either them or us. You saved us” Azriel allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, pushing the spy out of him and bringing the caring mate you needed. “I know you are scared. I am scared. And when all of this is over, we can be scared together. But I need you to run, darling, because I can’t hold them off forever when they come back. Don’t look back. Listen for any sound and choose the opposite direction. And if it comes between you and them, you burn this place down”

Those words took you out of your shock, because burning that place down meant burning him with it. Yet you realized he hadn’t included himself in that certain part of the plan, because he was asking you to run without him.

Through fried nerve ends and rigid limbs, you found it in you to be furious. To want to berate for hours about him being a selfless idiot and punch some sense into him. Instead of doing that, you rose up until you were kneeling on shaky limbs. Your burnt hands were bleeding all over again, pressed against the tiles of the cell in an effort to keep you conscious.

You brushed Azriel’s worried hand off your shoulder and got up only blacking out for a few seconds. The cell rotated around you, lights and shadows behind your eyelids.

By the time you could orientate yourself, you noticed Azriel had gotten up too using just one leg, and was keeping you straight between himself and the wall.

“I’m not going to leave you” you stated.

“My love” he used that damned nickname, knowing it made you weak in the knees. “You have to. I can buy you enough time for you to go out. I can’t… you have to”

Looking down, you fixed your gaze on his leg. The sight of open, seeping wounds and sticking bones was enough to tremble your world, and if you looked at his wings, it would only be worse. But you swallowed the lump around your throat and shook your head.

“We are walking out of this cell together, or we wait here together. I’m not gonna leave you”

You couldn’t stop shaking your head, couldn’t stop your voice from trembling. Because living without Azriel would be worse than dying in that cell without him. He seemed to understand he wouldn’t be winning that argument, so he nodded softly. He didn’t protest when you used part of your power as a crutch to keep him steady, when you wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him forward.

Azriel could only look at you swallowing down your pain and wish the Cauldron was merciful enough to keep you safe when he was gone.

He couldn’t identify where you were, because the hallways looked the same. No windows, no rooms. Just walls and ceilings and floors of stone and marble, right and left, long and short. Each step felt like a race against time, and Azriel was aware that you weren’t winning. Without him, you could move at a limited speed. He had seen what using your power meant, after you barely escaped your captors when he found you centuries ago.

Without him, you would be able to walk fast, maybe jog at certain time without rest. But you were holding onto him as if he was the one carrying both of you. You held his weight and used part of your power to keep him straight enough not to fall.

Azriel kept looking behind his shoulder, waiting to see them coming at you. His heart jumped in his throat when he heard a noise, but so far, you had only found two patrols that you had taken care of. The first one was easy – after the second, he had to help you sit down against the wall and wait impatiently for you regain conscious.

“Don’t fall back” he reminded you, even though it was pointless. Your body was slacking off and his was too. “One step at a time”

“I’m trying” your breath came in pants.

“Drop my leg”

“Shut up”

For the fifth time, you refused to let that little help go, even if that was the last remain of your strength. You could do it on your own, you could get out of there without him, but Azriel understood that he wouldn’t. Trying to convince you otherwise, trying to make you see that it was pointless, would be wasting a time that you didn’t have.

So his hope lay on the faebane.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast nor lunch, which was starting to take a toll on his already mangled body. But that meant he hadn’t had faebane in his body for a while. And now, out of that damn cell, he could try to use his powers without risking your life.

He was already starting to feel the bond back, waves of nausea and pain that weren’t his coming in steady waves. Azriel had blocked his part, but you were too busy to notice yours. So he swallowed the stinging of your burned hands, the tightness of your body and the cut on your collarbone.

You didn’t waste time either talking, nor trying to plan your escape. By the time you had escaped the fourth patrol, Azriel was the one carrying you. You didn’t argue when you were lowered to the ground once more, his scarred hand brushing the hair out of your sweaty face.

“I’m not going to drop it” you reminded him, your eyes half-closed. You had never used to much power, but were ready to see where it took you. “Nor leave you”

“Got the point a couple of hours ago. How are you feeling?” he asked, leaving his hand covering your cheek. While you got worse with each minute, Azriel had gained some of his strength and power back. “Tell me how can I help”

“It feels like I’m being turned inside out” you told him honestly, no point in lying when both of your lives were at risk. “I’m hot but shivering, my whole body vibrated and it… I’m tired”

“Let’s get this jacket off, hm?”

You noticed he was still stiff and hurt, but he managed to brush his own jacket off your body and use part of it to clean the dried blood from your face. You closed your eyes against his touch, his warmth. If you drifted far enough, you could pretend you were back in Velaris, Azriel brushing the hair off your face while you fell asleep.

Memories from your relationship filled your mind. The first time you met, how scared you had been and how kind the winged stranger had been. The weeks of healing and explaining, his presence always by your side. Moments together in your shared cabin, taken from granted. If you tried enough, you could pretend you were locked in one of them.

Azriel’s voice brought you back to the present. He tried giving you a reassuring smile, but you could see in his eyes that he had been talking for a while and you hadn’t answered. That he was beyond worried.

“Back with me?” he asked, always gentle.

“Yeah” you looked towards the end of another hallway. “We should keep going. It must end somewhere”

“Rhys is coming” Azriel blurted out, making you slightly more aware. “He must have noticed our presences without the faebane, but I sent some shadows. Just in case. He’s coming, so you just hold on, alright?”

“I can’t feel it” you frowned.

Azriel didn’t bother pointing out that with the drain of your power it was a mystery how you were still conscious. He had watched you twice now lose consciousness, only to come back moments later with your gaze a little darker. Every inch of his power was directed at his high lord, at his brother, because he knew he wouldn’t be getting you out of there on his own.

You stared at him in silence. In a matter of hours, things had changed – Azriel could now walk without your help, a little trembling, but he could manage. His wings were still useless and he almost blacked out too when he rotated his shoulder. Still, things had changed. Because now it was him who stood a chance of making it out, while you dampened in front of him.

It was pointless to turn the tables and ask him to leave, so you decided to give it a rest. You retreated your power from his leg and sagged against the wall. Certainly, you felt like there wasn’t anything left of you.

“Hold on. And that’s an order, not a promise”

“So bossy”

Azriel smiled with silver lines under his bruised eyes. He leaned forward and, for the first time since you were taken, pressed his lips against yours. The kiss tasted like blood, yours or his you couldn’t know. They were gentle and soft, despite the many times his lips had been opened by an angry fist.

He cupped your cheek, as if it was the first time you kissed, and brushed his tongue against your lower lip. Before he could deepen it, he moved his mouth to the corner of yours. To your lower cheek, then to your upper part. He kissed each and every part of your face, gathering the scared tears you were finally letting free.

Your breath hiccupped as you finally let yourself feel afraid. That you might not make it out, that the power you had used killed people with families, that your body was drained and ready to give out. That, if you blinked for too long, no one assured you that Azriel would be breathing when you opened them again.

You rose your hand and closed it around his wrist. If you made it out, you would have matching scars, but that was the least of your worries. Your burns needed treatment, and you didn’t miss how his body went rigid under your touch. Still, he pulled away and looked at you in the eyes.

“Promise me it’ll be okay” you begged him, the sight of him blurry with tears. “Just one time”

“I promise it’ll be okay” he lied without hesitation, knowing he couldn’t make you that promise. Even if you made it out, he knew it wouldn’t be fine. “You promise me to hold on a little longer”

You fell quiet, blinking slowly. Could you promise him that, though? Could you gather strength to lie to him one more time? Just as you were, he could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer. You wouldn’t get up that time. Even if you tried, all you would gather was a brief flick of light. And he would try, you were certain, to get up, and maybe would hold them for a while.

Swallowing down, you nodded and whispered your promise.

Azriel was all you could feel and see for a moment. His hazel eyes, filled with worry and sorrow and guilt, so much more guilt that any person should carry. His soft freckles, that were covered by stains of blood. Dark locks of hair fell over his face, greasy and tangled, but they couldn’t cover the beauty of your mate.

He still held your face on the palm of his hand and you still gripped his wrist. If you had to die, you guessed, you didn’t mind doing it staring at him. And he must have thought the same, because his shoulders sagged in relief and his eyes softened.

His mouth moved, saying something. I love you seemed worthy of the moment, but you didn’t hear it. Only white noise and static. His smile dropped and his eyebrows scrunched when he repeated himself and you didn’t move.

You must had been worthy in any other life, because suddenly there were two beautiful copies of your mate in front of you, both of them equally worried. Before you blinked one last time, you saw Azriel’s face scrunching in horror, a kind hand making him step sideways.

Worried violet eyes were the last thing you remembered before blacking out.

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

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

#imaginemai #imaginesmai #acotar #acotar fic #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #bat boys acotar #AZRIEL #azriel #azriel one shot #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel acotar #x you #x reader #imagine #one shot #fic #fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic

[yandereworlds]

Return to CAI + New Bots!

After some long contemplation, I've decided I'll be returning to CAI. Mostly due to the fact that I can't really use Janitor at the moment. So, I'll be adding all my Janitor bots onto CAI. Here's a compiled list of all the new bots I've recently added today!

Yandere Capitano (Genshin Impact)

Yandere!Slashers

Yandere!Super family (DC)

Yandere!Mob!Bat family (DC)

Yandere!Fez & Ash (Euphoria)

Yandere!Prowler (Across The Spiderverse)

Yandere!Homelander (The Boys)

Yandere!Loid Forger (Spyxfamily)

For those interested, I accept bot requests both through my yandere server and suggestion box that you can find by clicking the link!

#yandere #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere oc #male yandere #//mun kiki #yanderecore #c.ai bot #c.ai #super family #dc #dc comics #bat family #batfam #prowler miles #prowler #across the spiderverse #euphoria #homelander #the boys #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #fezco #ashtray #slashers #spy x family #loid forger

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW 🦇🌟

azriel x reader smau!

status: ongoing!

pairing: azriel x reader, slight eris x reader

includes: humor, angst, fluff, modern au, coffee shop au, college/university au, strangers to lovers (for azriel x reader), childhood friends to lovers (for eris x reader)

description: being a childhood friend of the archerons and vanserras; you happen to keep running into a certain member of the inner circle at velaris university, but pursuing a new relationship with someone else is hard when you struggle with commitment issues from your first love.

content warning: contains themes of azriel’s canonically toxic family life, mentioned/implied homophobia for mor’s arc (chapters containing these will have a warning)

00 profiles: y/n’s group exiles cafe inner circle

001: “ i blew things out of proportion ”

002: “ i pinned your hands behind your back ”

003: “ thought i had reason to attack ”

004: “ fighting with a true love ”

005: “ boxing with no gloves ”

006: “ this ultraviolet morning light ”

007: “ chemistry ‘til it blows up ”

008: “ tells me this love is worth the fight ”

009: “ tell me that you’re still mine ”

010: “ why’d i have to break what i love so much? ”

011: “ it’s all me, in my head… ”

012: “ i’m sorry that i hurt you ”

013: “ but it’s not what i meant ”

014: “ i don’t wanna lose this with you ”

015: “ just wanna lift you up, not let you go ”

016: “ i lived like an island ”

017: “ tell me that it’s not my fault ”

018: “ i don’t wanna do this to you ”

019: “ i’m the one who burned this down ”

020: “ just don’t go ”

bonus chapters:

002.5: “ who’s that barista guy? ”

013.5: “ why are you calling me your babygirl? ”

taglist: open!! lmk if you want to be added

#— afterglow #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar au #azriel au #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadow singer x reader #night court x reader #inner circle x reader #acotar rhysand #acotar cassian #bat boys x you #bat boys x reader #azriel imagine #azriel acosf #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #autumn court x reader #acotar lucien #azriel angst

[highladyivy]

Fic Recs

💕 Fluff

❤️‍🔥 Smut

💔 Angst

📚Multi Chapter

📖 WIP 📒 Completed

Be Yours by @writingsbychlo 💕

Forever my love by @bat-boys 💕❤️‍🔥

Overwritten by @illyrian-dreamer (11 parts) 💔❤️‍🔥 📚📒

Hobbies by @milswrites (12parts) 💕💔📚📒

Notice me by @heartless-tate 💕

Teach Me by @solbaby7 (brief Elain x Reader) 💕

Always by @redbleedingrose (9 parts)💔💕📚📒

Not again by @fanwarriorfictions 📚📖(Rowilen Daughter)

An Education in Malice by @illyrianbitch ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

A Court of Soul & Shadow by (AO3) 📚📖

When the heart is still longing by @illyrianbitch 💔

A Place For Dying by @illyrianbitch 💔

A Court of Healers & Plotholes by @witchysquirrel 💔❤️‍🔥📚📖

Mama Mia 2 by @assriels 💔💔💔

Knocked Up by @tadpolesonalgae ❤️‍🔥

The bonds that break us by @daydreaming-nerd 💕💔❤️‍🔥📚

To Be Wed 2 by @bloodycassian (AzrielxReaderxRhysand)❤️‍🔥

Handmaid by @littlestw01f (NestaxReaderxEris) ❤️‍🔥

Blurred Lines 2 3 4 by @solbaby7 (readerxRhysand&Azriel) ❤️‍🔥📚

Double Duty by @azsazz (RhysandxReaderxCassian) ❤️‍🔥

If you should die by @azsazz (BatBoysxReader)❤️‍🔥

Tender by @shadowdaddies (batboys x reader) ❤️‍🔥💕

But Home Is Nowhere by @mirandasidefics 💔📚📖 (endgame pairing undetermined)(Ruhn, Azriel, Lucien)

Lucien x Reader by @gothicbabydollz ❤️‍🔥

Care for you by @shallyne 💕(Feyre x Lucien)

About Last Night By @readychilledwine ❤️‍🔥

Coming soon

The Dilemma by @shadowdaddies (Az & Cas present) ❤️‍🔥

Happiness in the heart by @munsons-hellfire 💔💕

Love and Lust by @surielstea ❤️‍🔥💕

Gust & Flame by @invisibleanonymousmonsters 💔💕📚📖

Remember Me by @thelov3lybookworm 💔💕📚📖

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #cassian #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanons #acotar imagines #acotar series #acotar smut #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #Azriel Smut #Rhysand Smut #Cassian Smut #Lucien Smut #Eris Smut #Bat Boys #Bat Boys Smut #Azriel x Reader #Rhysand x Reader #Cassian Reader #Nesta x Reader #Lucien x Reader #Eris x Reader #Bat Boys x Reader #feyre archeron #Feyre x reader #feysand #Feysand x reader #nessian x reader

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

The anti ecto laws go into effect just before S2E2 “Doctors Disorders”. So when Danny’s entire class, including Sam and Tucker, becomes sick with ghost flu and start exhibiting ghost powers, the GIW swoop in and cart all the sick kids off to a GIW facility. They claim the kids are all ecto contaminated and therefore fall under the anti ecto laws! And the GIW aren’t concerned with trying to help the kids get better. Instead they’re experimenting on them. Danny knows he can’t get into the GIW facility to rescue them on his own without getting captured. So he does the only thing he can do, he goes to the Justice League for help.

The Justice League, and the Justice Dark are all together in the watchtower for a meeting when Danny shows up. He’s an absolute mess because his friends and classmates have all been taken by the GIW. And he latches onto the first person in the room that he sees. Which just so happens to be Batman. Now Batman has a sobbing hysterical ghost child clinging to him! Everyone is super confused. It takes them half an hour to calm Danny down enough that he can explain what the problem is.

When they find out about the anti ecto laws and what the GIW have done they are all horrified and pissed!! They immediately set out to rescue Danny’s classmates. And if they just so happen to accidentally destroy the GIW facility along the way well none of them are to broken up about it. After the kids are all rescued, cured from the ghost flu, and returned to their parents, the Justice League sets out to get the anti ecto laws repealed. They reveal to the whole world just what the GIW did to a whole class of innocent human children while using the anti ecto laws as cover to do it! The whole world is outraged! It only takes two days for the laws to be repealed, and for the GIW to be permanently disbanded.

A few days later Danny Phantom does a live tv interview where he answers questions about ghosts and the ghost zone. He hopes that this will help people better understand ghosts and their true nature.

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #dc comics #you know Bruce adopted Danny the second that child latched into him in the tower #his dad instincts went into overdrive #Danny is now the baby of the Justice League #Batman May have adopted him first #but all the others collectively decided that he was now the child of the Justice League #imagine their shock when three weeks later #after his whole town got randomly yanked into the infinite realms #he returns as the new king of the infinite realms #whole Justice Dark has a collective aneurism #and then a week later he shows up at the bat cave sobbing about a possible future timeline where he turned evil and destroyed the world #and he just hands Batman a file on all his weaknesses and how to beat him if he ever goes evil #once more Batman has to console a sobbing hysterical ghost child #on the plus side once the boys calmed down he finally gets to meet his new siblings

[hadesrise]

meet the addams.

previous part.

summary ➳ the bat family meets the addams family

pairings ➳ jason todd x addams!male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, strong language, pet names, hesitant bruce, weapons, typical addams family behavior ( homicide, dark humor, weird, etc ), jason and reader being a simp for each other, the addams being wholesome as always, implied reader’s atheism (i think the entire addams are atheist tbh), mention of torture

author’s note ➳ wow, hades updated !! shocking, i know. i'm sorry for the long hiatus and inactive, i wasn't okay and it was difficult for me to write when my mind was in such a messed up state. mental health can be a bitch, you know :D i'm trying to recover, and went back on writing again. hope this was a good comeback.

Letting his family meet you hadn’t crossed Jason’s mind at all until that very day when his annoying older brother caught him by the ice cream truck buying a dark chocolate and a mint chocolate flavored ice cream.

Dick was on officer duty patrol in undercover civilian clothes that afternoon, walking around the streets of Gotham in hopes of catching some shady business going around the city or just someone doing a simple act that goes against the law, being a good police officer that he is. Though, instead of seeing criminals like he assumed he would, his most rebellious little brother dressed in bad boy-ish clothes as usual buying ice creams caught his eyes.

He was supposed to walk right past since there really is no reason to approach Jason, but seeing him sit down next to a mysterious, old fashioned, well-dressed, expensive looking guy in all black with sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose and give the dark chocolate flavored ice cream to? Now, Dick certainly can’t walk past without knowing about you because he’s a little shit who just can’t help but stuck his nose into his brother’s business. That and, well, he also found you really cool. There’s not a thing in this world that can stop Dick Grayson from wanting to befriend someone who seems cooler than the Dark Knight himself.

So, in all his glory, Dick approached Jason with his usual charming smile dancing across his lips.

“Oh, god...” Jason groaned in annoyance as soon as he spotted the grinning male, rolling his eyes. Peace seems to never be an option whenever he takes you around the city for simple walks.

“Jason, are you uttering your all father’s name religiously or simply as an expression as of the moment?” Your elegant yet soothing, deep voice speaks out a sentence composed of well thought words and syllables, innocent curiosity behind the gentle tone.

Dick takes a mental note that your way of speaking sounded similar to the way humanity used to speak centuries ago, when everything was still old-fashioned and technologies hardly ever existed. It made him feel like you came from the past, as if he was witnessing the existence of a time traveler. Stopping in front of you two, he gives you a charming grin as soon as your eyes catches his. A hint of curiosity and wonder flashed within them behind the dark shades of your sunglasses before they were gone in an instant, replaced by a questioning look instead.

“May I help you?” You simply asked, but Dick doesn’t fail to notice the sudden drop in your previously soft tone and the piercing, calculated gaze holding wariness as well as subtle suspicion.

“Sorry, I’m Dick Grayson. I was curious about the person Jay’s hanging out with, I couldn’t help myself but approach.” He elaborates himself while trying his best to ensure he wasn’t a threat through body language, relaxing his figure. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out a little.”

Recognition flashed in your face, brows raising only barely to show subtle surprise, “Jason’s older brother. The name’s (Y/n) Addams. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” You smiled, and even something just as simple as that looked graceful in Dick’s eyes.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, you were enchanting to look at as everything you do or say was captivating. How Jason managed to pull you was beyond him.

“Nice to meet you too,” He says back with a soft smile.

Even though his little brother hasn’t introduced you yet to their family, at least you seemed to know about them. Hopefully, nothing unpleasant has been said, but Dick doubts Jason would hide his trauma from you, considering how he was leaning to your side now subconsciously, as if being away from you will bring back awful memories.

He was worried about his practically traumatized-for-life little brother living alone, but it appears he didn’t have to worry at all.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” Jason more of grumbled, annoyed that your date has been interrupted. Almost automatically, one of your hands move to settle itself on his thigh to give it a gentle and soothing rub to ease his growing annoyance, while the other held your dark chocolate ice cream that you had begun eating with clean manners. He relaxed in an instant after feeling your touch.

“I think you should introduce (Y/n) to our family, Jay.” Dick suggests with enthusiasm that didn’t match Jason’s, not really answering his question. “They would want to know who you’re going out with. We can all have a dinner together!” There was excitement shining in his eyes as he shrugged his shoulders, trying to remain nonchalant despite his body language practically screaming excited.

Your lover groans, “Why the hell do they have to know who I’m going out with?”

Amusement crosses your face as you smirked, licking off the small bits of ice cream that got on your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that. I’m certain my family will be more than happy to meet them.” Jason gives you a look, to which you responded with an innocent smile. “Oh, mon amour. What could go wrong? I have been looking forward to meet your family, but you’ve never considered to bring me there. It’s a little concerning how you seem too hesitant to let them meet me.” You pout, feigning sadness.

Your lover widens his eyes, panic appearing in them as he gripped your hand that was on his thigh after realizing what you were implying. “That’s not what it looks like, babe! I just don’t want you to meet them ‘cause they can be a bit unbearable. Bruce is the worst person you could ever meet,” He scrunched his nose. “It’s not you I don’t want them to meet, it’s them I don’t want you to meet. There’s a difference. You’re never the problem.”

You chuckled at his quick attempt of elaboration.

Jason feels his cheeks redden at how deeply elegant and amazing your laugh sounded; it never fails to make his heart go haywire even after all this time. You manage to effortlessly make him fall in love with you deeper and deeper every day without even meaning to.

“Worry not, darling. I was just teasing you. I’m far from upset.” Reassuring him, your hand gently cups his cheek to rub the skin comfortingly. “Let me meet them once you’ve gotten rid of your doubts completely, my Jason. It isn’t necessary to rush.” You then let go of his face to push some of his hair away from his forehead before leaning back to continue eating the ice cream.

Dick witnessed a starstruck smile spread across Jason’s lips in an instant, the way his expression was so soft when looking at you, how his emerald eyes that usually held pent-up rage towards the world sparks brightly in love and adoration.

Huh. He’s never seen his brother this happy and content.

Maybe you are Jason’s one true love.

“Dick,” Jason calls out after watching you eat your ice cream with a barely hidden happiness. You looked happy to meet one of his family even though you haven’t said anything, and he was willing to throw away his pride if it meant making you happy.

“Hm?” Dick hummed, smiling when Jason glanced at you and looked back at him.

“Tell the others.”

That was all he needed to let out the excitement he was holding in, beaming at you two. “Right away, little bird!” He doesn’t waste a time to pull his phone out of his pocket, “I’m going then. It was nice meeting you, (Y/n). I’ll text you when!” He waved his hand and walked away, already dialling Bruce’s number.

Jason watched him go incredulously. “Did he just come here to convince me to introduce you?”

You chuckle under your breath, “Perhaps. Your brother has sorted out his priorities well.” However, a frown appears on your lips when you turned to Jason. “Do you genuinely feel comfortable letting my family meet them? We could always cancel, mon amour. There are many other fascinating activities we can bother ourselves with.”

Jason felt his heart swell at your gentle tone and concerned eyes, making him feel loved in many different ways. You don’t even realize that you’re slowly healing his troubled heart with simple things like this. He already knows you love him more than the Guillotine itself (which is a really big deal since nothing except him could ever beat your love for it) as you’ve always told him before, but the way you treat him, talk to him, and look at him just adds so much weight on your words. You don’t just tell him you love him — you show it in the most perfect, best, casual ways.

Intertwining his hand with yours, he brought it up to rest on his chest, hiding how overwhelmed he was with the love for you. “Like what, sweetheart?” Faint amusement laced his tone as he already knew the answer.

“Like slicing or shooting criminals, of course.” You winked before bringing your intertwined hands to press a kiss on his knuckles.

Jason laughs, and you admired the way he threw his head back to let the sound escape. “Knew you would say that!” He wheezed, before calming down to kiss your knuckles just like you did to his. “But it’s really fine, (Y/n). I want to introduce you and your family to mine.” His expression then turns apologetic, “ ‘m sorry if it seemed like I was keeping you in the shadows.”

You shake your head and leaned in to capture his lips in a peck, a gesture to let him know you didn’t mind. “If you were keeping me in the shadows, we wouldn’t be having a date out in the open where any of your family can see me. Don’t be apologetic, chéri. I’m nowhere near upset.”

Letting a smile break out, Jason leans in to kiss you more longer this time before pulling away.

Just like that, you both sat on the bench and ate ice creams in comfortable silence, holding each other’s hand.

Dick, Tim, Damian, Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie all stood in front of the Wayne Manor with barely contained excitement, waiting for the infamous Addams family and Jason to show up.

Dick was mainly looking forward for his family to see the side of Jason no one had ever seen before, Tim was occasionally standing on his tiptoes to see if any car was nearing, and Damian was keeping himself still but his body practically trembled with excitement due to being a fan of your vigilante persona for a long time. Barbara had a smile on her face with a hint of nervousness, while Cassandra and Stephanie talked to each other to calm their nerves.

Even without research, the Addams family was quite the celebrity family in Gotham because of their richness that seemed to tie with Bruce Wayne, but moreover, they were rather infamous for being “weird” and gothic as those experts for minding businesses that aren’t their own paparazzi claimed. The Wayne family didn’t really need to dive into the deepest parts of internet in their computer; one newspaper — with the front cover of five people with gothic outfits standing in front of the big ass almost-castle-house — dedicated entirely to the weird family already helped.

Only thing they needed to research about was you, and surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to find information about your vigilantism — which is how all of them realized not only was Jason dating the person Damian idolizes more than his own father, but also the one who brutally tortured and straight-up dumped Joker into Arkham Asylum. Needless to say, it kinda made sense to them that Jason’s dating you, though Bruce wasn’t pleased.

The gates being opened to a black limousine caught their attention, making Cass and Steph break their conversation to watch the car drive closer before eventually stopping in front of them. A butler, who took them by surprise due to his seemingly inhuman looks similar to the Frankenstein monster, got out to open the door.

A man wearing a black suit with white stripes was the first to come out of the limousine as he smiles cheerfully at them, helping his wife to step out. Cassandra’s jaw dropped at the beautiful woman with black, long and silky hair who gives them an enchanting, almost hypnotizing smile.

Next to step out were a boy wearing black and white striped shirt and a girl who had her hair braided on two sides. The boy gave them an all too adorable friendly smile, but his sister only held a blank face as she observed each of the Wayne members. Finally, Jason got out together with you, all of them noticing your intertwined hands.

Your lover raised his brows, “Why are you all here?”

“Well, Bruce said we didn’t have to, but we wanted to welcome you here.” Dick shrugged, nodding at you. “Good to see you again, (Y/n).”

“Likewise, Dick.” You smile. “Greetings, ladies, gentlemen. The name’s (Y/n). This are my parents Gomez and Morticia,” Your parents greet them with a nod and friendly smile. “And my siblings Wednesday and Pugsley.” Pugsley waves his hand, enthusiastic to meet Jason’s family, while Wednesday crosses her arms above her chest and simply nods without a word.

Dick was grinning at your siblings because of their adorableness, not even the slightest bit bothered by Wednesday’s lack of emotion. Cassandra and Tim were gawking at Gomez and Morticia, how they seem so perfect and gorgeous, not only each on their own but together as well. Stephanie and Barbara beamed at you while Damian observed Wednesday and Pugsley, but there wasn’t any hint of malice or bad intention in his eyes — just curiosity. The Addams family sure are good looking individuals.

“Uh — hi,” Tim was the first to speak out of the Wayne’s, awkwardly waving his hand because of the fact he felt as if the Addams were ethereal beings due to their beauty. “You... You all look beautiful. I’m surprised.”

Wednesday’s brows raised as you tilted your head slightly to the side, looking confused. Morticia and Gomez exchanges a glance from not knowing what to say, while Pugsley smiled nicely at Tim despite the truth of being called beautiful feels like an insult. Yours and your family’s reaction immediately worried the Wayne children; none of you seemed pleased or happy with the compliment Tim gave, in fact, you kind of looked offended.

Seeing his siblings getting worried that they might’ve done something wrong, Jason clears his throat to catch everyone’s attention and successfully did so. “What he means is you all look deadly and loathsome. He wasn’t trying to offend you in any way, he just isn’t used to our ways of compliment.” He elaborated with a genuine look, and his siblings looked taken aback that he seemed really calm and gentle with you and your family. Jason have always had anger issues; his rage was explosive everywhere he goes and the main victims of it were criminals, but sometimes it was directed entirely at Bruce because of their unpleasant history.

He was never known as a calm person even in the family. Always seemed on edge, like a walking bomb that’s ticking every second, unknown by people how to stop it from exploding so suddenly. However, as Jason stands with you holding your hand tightly, his entire demeanor was almost completely different from what his family was used to. He was as calm as a wind that caresses the Mother Nature so softly in fear of disturbing her and as gentle as anyone who holds a little kitten in their hands — there was no ticking time bomb, just a soft man caring and pouring his heart and love out to his awesome lover. Jason looked comfortable around you and your family, extremely to the point that he hadn’t noticed practically calling himself an Addams. It made his siblings’ hearts swell with happiness.

“Oh,” Morticia sighed in relief, and even just that felt and looked so heavenly. “We’re sorry, my dear. We weren’t aware of that. I was afraid you found us tolerable.”

Tim chuckles, not really knowing what to say. He was visibly confused, though from what he was able to pick up on, negative comments seems to be taken as positive ones in your family. While most of them were confused just like Tim, Damian quickly understood how compliments worked within the Addams and smirked fondly.

Dick finally gathers his thoughts to clear his throat, “Well, let’s go in now, shall we?”

As your family nodded in sync, you turn to Jason while fixing your collar with the empty hand. “Love, do I look menacing? I have to look presentable when meeting your father. I despise looking good.” You stated, checking your outfit and trying to fix where you found unpresentable.

It’s rare to see you fidgeting and uneasy, making Jason smile. He knew you lose your composure only when it comes to him and it made him feel so loved, appreciated, and important. “You always look menacing, babe. Could scare off any children that passes by.” He compliments, bringing up your intertwined hands and kissing the back of yours.

The corner of your lips twitched up, squeezing his hand back as amusement and adoration shows themselves on your expression. “That’s very lovely. This is why I loathe you.”

The flirting between you and Jason was so natural that even Damian wasn’t affected by it — he’s mostly disgusted and cringed out when people flirt in front of him, but for some reason, Jason flirting with you didn’t bother him at all. Perhaps, because it isn’t a modern type of flirting where couples show disgusting amount of PDA or say things halfheartedly just to make their partner feel good, but rather, it’s one that uses old-fashioned yet romantic language which truthfully comes from the heart. You and Jason flirt with respect for each other, where neither of you objectify nor sexualize the other.

There was a clear unspoken understanding between you, which was shown in just this little flirtatious moment. The way you show your love for each other might be old-fashioned and out of ordinary in this modern day, but it’s honestly more romantic than any of the modernized ones.

“You two always flirt,” Wednesday spoke as she swiftly turned around to meet yours and Jason’s eyes. “It would’ve been more perfect if you were holding a human heart and giving it to each other.”

Barbara, Cassandra, and Stephanie all widened their eyes at her opinion — is she telling you to kill someone, take their heart out, and give it to each other to show your love? That wouldn’t be a romance anymore; it’ll be a dark romance.

However, you only shrugged your shoulders while Jason chuckled in amusement, as if that comment was as normal as seeing trees and nature everywhere. Neither of you were even concerned with what Wednesday said. “There’s precisely a possibility of that occurring, though it’s not yet now.” You responded calmly, as expressionless as Wednesday but slight amusement littered your tone.

The others tensed at your statement with the exception of Damian, who only smirked in pride, as they all remember the news of Joker getting dumped into Arkham Asylum by a vigilante that isn’t Batman. Like mentioned before, Joker was in a really bad shape when he was quite literally thrown into the Asylum, very visible signs of torture coating his body everywhere.

When Bruce visited, it was worse than how the media portrayed it to be. Tongue cut off, fingers broken and two missing, heavily concussed, several cuts along his face and body, and bruises covering most of his body parts. Worst of it all was that Joker didn’t seem like himself anymore; he does laugh — never had been a time when Joker didn’t laugh — but it wasn’t his typical laughter. All the mockery, self-confidence and cockiness weren’t there. Instead, fear and paranoia filled the laughter Bruce was so used to hearing. It was so uncharacteristic and very unlikely of Joker.

He’s finally put behind bars for good, but how the fuck can a vigilante absolutely destroy the Joker? He was indestructible yet you managed to break him so bad that his insanity got flooded with immense fear rather than the urge to kill everyone and everybody for no reason.

And as they stand in front of you now, none of them can even imagine how such a gentleman like you could’ve broke him completely. You seem so respectful, sweet, gentleman, and lovely that it’s almost impossible to believe you were the one who did it. But everyone should always expect the unexpected, right?

“Dick,” Jason’s voice snaps the oldest boy out of his own thoughts as he nods his head towards the door. “Let’s go in.”

The Grayson only hummed, turning around to open the door and gesture inside with his other hand, bowing a little to show respect. Morticia and Gomez smiled pleasantly and brightly, touched by his manners as they enter. Wednesday followed next with a usual expressionless face, and Pugsley said “thank you” first before entering, then Jason pulled you along with him at last. The door closed behind Damian who was the last to enter.

“Welcome,” Bruce immediately greeted as soon as all of your eyes met his, and your parents doesn’t hesitate to smile respectfully and kindly at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.” Gomez steps forward with his hand extended to shake Bruce’s hand before gesturing to his wife standing beside him. “She’s my wife Morticia and these are my children. Perhaps, you already know about (Y/n)?”

Bruce’s unreadable gaze shift from your father to you, attempting to figure out your characteristics by just looking. However, despite the nervousness you’re feeling, you didn’t fail to compose yourself and appeal confident with the usual emotionless expression on your face. Your gaze sparkling darkly under the light made him feel uneasy somehow, as if you knew all of his dirty little secrets and his entire characteristics as well as personality and attitude without analyzing that much.

Truth be told, you heard Bruce’s attitude from Jason when he opened himself up to you. Your Beloved was extremely traumatized by what happened with Joker that it affected the way he saw the world; it should’ve been that way too with Bruce because he’s Jason’s adoptive father — yet what really happened was the complete opposite.

Bruce may not have had an ill intent of dismissing or ignoring what happened to Jason, but to continue living like Joker didn’t kill his second son made him unlikable on your list. You’re a very respectful person as Gomez and Morticia didn’t raise you to be an awful entity, and you would never want to go against your lover’s adoptive father — although, that does not mean you accept his morals.

Hiding the unsettled feeling building up in his stomach, Bruce attempts to smile at you and shake your hand. “So you’re (Y/n). I’ve only ever heard once about you.”

Only the corner of your lips twitched, a barely formed smile appearing as you shake his hand, eyes still piercing through him like a dagger. “And I’ve heard a lot of... things about you, Mr. Wayne.” The calculative tone in your voice set an alarm within Bruce’s head and he would’ve pulled his hand away from your grasp if it wasn’t for his conscious mind forcing himself to calm down. “Be not afraid — You’ll see no judgement here.” You gave him a pointed look.

Jason quickly goes behind you and wraps an arm around your waist, the soft look on him being noticed by everyone present in the room. “Babe, let’s have dinner first. You’ll absolutely love Alfred’s cooking. They’re hella tasty.” He compliments, winking at Alfred who stood at the side. Alfred smiled with gratitude.

Bruce notices the way a small bit of light shine on your dead-like eyes as soon as you looked at Jason. “Well then, may we?” You shift your soft gaze from Jason to Bruce as you tilt your head slightly to the side.

From then on, the peaceful dinner began with mainly your parents and Bruce sharing thoughts about their own children while the others watch with a smile as Damian starts a conversation with you, the one he idolizes the most. It’s surprising to see Damian being really talkative — for the first time ever, he was being an actual child, asking you questions after questions with his eyes sparkling in joy. Not wanting to ruin this seemingly precious moment for Damian, everyone just decided to listen and chime in only once in a while when they feel like it. You were extremely patient with Damian the entire time he was bombarding you with questions, answering all of them without getting annoyed.

Jason felt relieved to witness the dinner going smoothly.

Truth be told, he was secretly worried about it turning into a disaster due to your vigilantism — Jason knew how Bruce felt about you after realizing you were the unnamed vigilante that nearly killed the Joker, and he thought Bruce would bring it up right away soon as dinner started. Luckily, he didn’t. It made Jason sigh in relief and relax on his seat, smiling as he watched you talk with his siblings.

However, perhaps it was too soon.

“(Y/n), how long have you been a vigilante?”

Jason immediately froze at Bruce’s question. The chit-chatting within the dining hall quickly falls into silence as everyone, too, froze — except the Addams family, who were still eating calmly and quietly, unbothered.

You first swallowed the food you were chewing before wiping your mouth elegantly with a napkin and not even hesitating to meet Bruce’s piercing eyes. “Since I was a child, Mr. Wayne.” You answered simply.

Bruce leans on the table, taking it slow. “Why did you become one?”

You felt Jason squeezing your hand under the table, as if to say you don’t have to answer everything. Though, you still did. “One of our ancestors was a vigilante, although he was hanged alongside his wife’s burning body when a rumour spread that she was a witch. He’s quite the legend within our family, you see.” Dick, Stephanie and Barbara’s jaws dropped. “I could say I was inspired by him. Although the sole purpose of my vigilantism is to bring justice to those who were rejected, neglected, and ignored by our unpleasantly ridiculous, worthless justice system.”

Feeling nervousness radiate off of Jason from how he squeezed your hand even more strongly, you gently hold and knead his hand to give him relaxation. After he stopped squeezing and slightly calmed down, you readjusted his hand so your and his fingers would intertwine with each other. You could feel him staring, but you never avoided eye contact with Bruce.

“To bring justice...” The Billionaire trails off meaningfully, as if it was something he wasn’t expecting to hear from you. “Was that your way of bringing justice?” The sharpness in his tone clearly gave everyone an idea of what he’s talking about.

However, despite the tension thickening and Bruce’s eyes narrowing in judgment, you kept your composure with an expressionless face, nerves surprisingly as calm as water flows. There wasn’t anything you were feeling at the moment, just the patience you need to deal with Jason’s shallow-minded father.

“I’m most definitely certain yours and my understanding of justice varies.” You immediately responded without missing a beat. Bruce’s eyes pierced through you, but your (e/c) eyes were much worse. It was reading him thoroughly, looking into his soul, his mind, feeling as if you knew everything.

“Though, I must admit for everyone’s knowledge, just so no one is left unaware — I tortured Joker not to seek justice for my lover, but to feed my vengeance and urge to revenge.” Your dark eyes glinted in amusement under the lights as the confession slips from your mouth with no restraints, like you’re just talking about nonchalant things. That’s not the only thing that made a cold shiver run down everyone’s spine; it was also the way your supposedly expressionless face completely shifted for the first time only to form a dark, prideful, egotistical look, accompanied by a smirk which obviously stated you weren’t regretful.

Now, there’s no way Bruce would take it lightly.

Sensing the events had turned out more worrisome, Jason tries to tug on your intertwined hands. “(Y/n), sweetheart, we should—”

Your cold gaze avert towards him, and it softened only a bit. “Apologies for interrupting you, my love, but leaving our dinner without finishing them would be disrespect to the person who cooked them for us.” You placed a gentle kiss on the back of Jason’s hand to assure him. “Worry not so much. Your father and I are only getting to know one another.”

As soon as your cold and piercing eyes returned to him, Bruce immediately feels an unsettling feeling in his gut as his heartbeat quickens. He could see it’s easy for you to deal with him or this kind of confrontation — the dangerous thing he noticed about you is that you never lose composure and patience regardless if the situation at hand benefits you or not. The only time you’ve probably ever lost your collectedness was with Joker, whom you actually had every right to get absolutely livid at. You love Jason more than words could ever tell, Bruce can easily see that, but your actions not lining up with his morals made it difficult for him to accept you willingly.

While the Addams simply minded their own business by continuing to eat, the others couldn’t find it in themselves to act like there was no tension rising in the air. They knew this confrontation was coming, but witnessing it unfold before their own eyes isn’t easy. Most of them had to swallow the lump that formed in their throat, with Damian being the only one who isn’t nervous in the slightest.

“Mr. Wayne, I have a deep understanding of your morals and the regulations you’ve set in this home... how none of your family is allowed to kill criminals.” You stated with a smile that was barely visible, though respectful nonetheless. However, it instantly vanishes. “But I must remind you one thing — just because you believe your morals are correct does not make it righteous in any way.”

That certainly struck a core in Bruce.

“We, humans, are incapable of finding the correct morals that all of humanity would agree on. You may believe your morals are absolute and there could be a wonderful soul who has developed the same belief as you, but it would never be everyone.” Your hand gracefully gestures to the people in the dining room to emphasize your point before it comes to rest on the table as you intertwine it with your other hand. “You see, humans are not humans without distinctive differences, and pushing your own standards on others likely causes more harm than it should help put them in control.”

The way you’ve said every word with such grace and elegance was nothing but fascinating as everyone found themselves suddenly voiceless. Your every gesture and movement showed an exquisite manner no other human beings were blessed with, alongside your use of sophisticated language that silently told your high level of intelligence. Other than that, Bruce was speechless from how much your words contained truth and wisdom only a philosopher has. He had never seen nor met someone so wise as you.

Perhaps, that’s why you’re so intimidating — every bit of your intelligence and attitude is your very own power no one else could ever have.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce clears his throat to find his voice and meets your eyes. “Are you implying I should accept how different yours and my morals are?”

“Precisely,” You answered without hesitation, sipping the wine Jason had poured for you when the dinner started. “My morality is concerned with the victims, not the perpetrators nor myself. Your morality is concerned with your inability to control your murderous urges when committed.” Bruce inhales sharply, making your eyes glint since he proved you right.

Gomez and Morticia smile to themselves as they felt proud of how you’re always able to point out things others usually don’t or can’t. Despite your brutal honesty, there is clearly respect within the way you speak to Bruce, which is why neither of them stopped you from defending and proving yourself. Helping you was not in their options; they knew you can handle yourself perfectly fine with the number of times you’ve put people in their place physically or verbally.

“(Y/n), baby... It’s okay,” Jason quietly attempts to stop you, knowing those words were intentionally spoken to strike a nerve in his non-biological father.

He knew how your blood boiled when you found out Bruce didn’t kill the Joker because of his ridiculous morality. He can still remember the way your eyes always darkened at even the slightest mention of Batman or Bruce Wayne. It took two years for you to overcome your wrath on the billionaire before you went after the Joker.

Before you could respond to your lover, Bruce caught your attention again with a simple question — “Why did you do it?”

You look back at him, seeing him staring at you and waiting for an answer. The corner of your lips lifted. “Well, wouldn’t we do anything for love?” Bruce's brows raised at the warm look on your face, not knowing your face was capable of making such expression. “No one hurts my soul and live freely without heavy consequences.” You shrugged, looking heavily smug.

Wednesday scoffed, “You should’ve just put a curse on him. It would have saved you all the trouble and exhaustion.” She looked at you as if what you did was the most incorrect thing in the world.

“No, should’ve electrocuted him!” Said Pugsley with a grin. “It didn’t make me insane when Wednesday did it to me, but it could break his mind.” Everyone’s face shifted into a look of shock at the sudden revelation.

“Now now, children.” Morticia interrupts, “What (Y/n) does to his enemies should be decided by him and him only. You don’t decide for (Y/n).”

“Well, Joker hurt Jason and he’s our brother. Nobody hurts my brothers and lives.” Wednesday responded immediately with empty eyes seeking vengeance, stabbing the steak with a fork and making Dick, Tim and Stephanie flinch.

You threw a knife at her with a single flick of your wrist, just narrowly missing her face, stabbing the wall behind her. She doesn’t flinch and instead gives you a look, which you ignore and reach for another knife to cut your steak with. “Manners, Wednesday. If you wish to stab something, search for someone that would be worthy of it, not a supper.”

“You missed on purpose,” Wednesday complains, annoyed.

You sarcastically smile, “Perhaps, I wouldn’t intentionally miss again if you’re respectful towards a supper.”

She glared, “Miss again and I’ll dump you in a paint full of pastels.”

You just rolled your eyes at her tactics while Jason bursts into laughter, knowing how much you and your family hate pastels. To the Addams, pastels and joyful people are the most insufferable matters in the world. There’s nothing you all hate more than that.

His father and brothers couldn’t believe what happened in front of them. None of the Addams, even Jason, cared that you just threw a knife at Wednesday. In fact, your parents were far from concerned as they only watched with warm smiles on their faces, because truthfully that was just you and Wednesday bickering. It’s nothing serious although others might disagree.

“Apologies for our children, Mr. Wayne.” Morticia says casually after Wednesday had returned to eating her dinner, making Bruce turn to look at her. “They’ve always bickered even when they were just a child. (Y/n) and Wednesday in particular, they liked to attempt burning each other alive ever since hearing the story of one of our ancestors who got burned at the Salem Witch Trials. Children love those stories, you know.” She places a hand on her chest, right above her heart, smiling at her children.

“Wait, hold on— You tried to burn each other alive?” Dick was the one who questioned what everyone couldn’t find their voices to ask about, too shocked and horrified that attempting to kill each other seems so natural and normal within the Addams family.

“Yes, for the record.” You answer without looking up. “Being burned alive is classified as the most painful, agonizing way to die, which is why it had been the perfect punishment for those who were accused of witchcraft in 1692 and 1693. My sister and I were intrigued to see whether this was a fact or just merely false information, so we would always attempt to burn each other in hopes of discovering the truth.”

“Funny thing is, they never did.” Jason cackles as Wednesday shot him an unamused look. “(Y/n) still wishes he could die being burned alive, though.”

The corner of your lips merely twitched in a soft smile as you kissed the back of Jason’s hand affectionately, eyes closed. “Have I ever mentioned I want you to do the honor?” You say with such a loving and adoring tone that Jason felt his heart swell, knowing this is somewhat a proposal that only an Addams would understand.

It was a traditional Addams way of showing they love the person rather than wrapping it up in just three words that rarely comes from the bottom of one’s heart. You would die for him, and only he could bring your ultimate demise, no one else. You were offering him your heart and soul, as well as life, permitting him to hold and treasure it for the rest of your lives. It was an implication that you would dedicate your life to him with nothing in return — you will do everything for him. It’s easy to kill — you’ve nearly done it with the Joker — but it’s not easy to live and die for him, but you will and you would.

Feeling overwhelmed with all the love you endlessly give and show, Jason couldn’t help but hide behind his empty hand in an attempt to hold his tears in, always being emotional whenever he gets the love he doesn’t think he deserves. But he does. You’ve never failed to show him he deserves everything you offer. God, how did he even end up with you? You’re so good to him, so loving and giving, Jason didn’t even expect you’ll be like this back when you two were just strangers building friendship. Jason can’t let you go anymore, and he would never even if you asked him to. He loves you just as much as you love him, although yours seem bigger than his.

The Wayne family witnessed Jason, the usually insufferable Todd who thrives off of violence, cry at the mere love and affection his lover gave. Jason was crying because you reminded him of how significant he was to your life. The big bad wolf, the ruthless Red Hood, the boy who had an immense thirst for vengeance, the boy whose blood is filled with utmost rage towards the world, was crying at the simple showcase of love.

And that’s how Bruce — no, his entire family — knew they failed to love him enough.

But they don’t have to make it up to him anymore. They can’t, because you’re already showering him with love and adoration and appreciation and everything he deserves. You did everything what they were supposed to do — what Bruce was supposed to do.

“Oh, mon amour...” You let go of his hand to gently hold his face with both hands, kissing away the tears that overflowed from his eyes. Jason stayed still, relishing how good you are, how soft you treated him as he gripped your gentle hands. Once you’re done kissing his tears away, he buried his face into your chest while wrapping his arms around you, embracing tightly. You kiss the top of his head, caging him in your arms as you gently run your fingers through his hair.

Jason closes his eyes within your embrace, inhaling your calming scent mixed with a cooling hint of cologne. It’s funny how you’ve always associated yourself with death and darkness, yet for Jason, your mere presence is a light at the end of the tunnel that makes him alive every day. “Thank you, (Y/n)...” He murmurs into your chest, barely audible, but heard by you nonetheless.

You gently scratch his scalp, not caring about your meals and attention solely focused on your lover. “For what exactly, chéri? I have not done anything for you to give me such gratitude, at least not that I remember. I have only been attempting to drown you in my love and affection, haven’t I? Are they worthy of your gratitude?”

He chuckled, “You know damn well they are.”

You tilt your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “Even so, do you truly believe it’s significant for me more than just your presence?” Jason slowly looks up at you, his mesmerizing eyes meeting yours, before shaking his head quietly. A satisfied look crosses your face at that, “There you go. It isn’t difficult to figure out now, is it?” Jason shakes his head, burying his face into your chest once again.

As you continue to comfort Jason, Damian stares at the sight with a weird look. “Todd is extremely quiet when he’s around (Y/n). It’s... weird.”

Dick nudged him, “Hey, let him be. Jay’s probably just very comfortable with him.”

“It’s still weird, though.” Tim insists.

Barbara and Stephanie watched with smiles while you kiss Jason’s forehead, too willing to accept you despite finding your family quite strange. People have different traditions and cultures anyway; they figured yours are just too extraordinary and unusual that don’t fit society’s standards. Being different doesn’t matter when it’s clear that you love Jason too much, in your own special way.

Cassandra glances at Bruce, who seemed to be in deep thought. “I don’t think you have any other choice but to accept him.” Her voice snaps him out of his thoughts, “Look at them. They’re very much in love. More than in love, I’d say. It looks like they were meant to be with each other. Like destiny’s the one who wrote them together.”

Bruce looked at the two of you, who obviously saw nothing but each other in your little world.

“Besides, he basically called bullshit on your morals. And you know all too well he’s beyond right.” Cassandra smirks, “I hope your pride doesn’t get in the way of welcoming a new member, dad.”

Bruce sighed.

Well, it’s inevitable that you’ll be a member one way or another. Cassandra was right about that, and although he didn’t want to admit it, Bruce knew he accepted you the moment you stood up against him. It’s not always there’s someone who is brave enough to speak up against the Bruce Wayne.

Though, he may have to teach you not to strangle literally every single person who mess with Jason.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

#gay #male reader #x male reader #dceu #dc comics #dc #dc jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x y/n #the addams family #red hood x male reader #red hood x reader #dc red hood #red hood #red hood fluff #red hood fanfic #male reader insert #jason x male reader #jason x reader #red hood x y/n #dc fanfic #dc x male reader #dc x reader #reader insert #batfam #bat boys

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue! 

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol 

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone. 

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did. 

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident. 

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights. 

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave. 

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you. 

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness. 

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.” Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you. 

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.” 

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.” 

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink. 

 “Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night. 

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there. 

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

 “Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble. 

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights. 

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle. 

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle. 

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes. 

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. 

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought. 

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth.  “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief. 

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress. 

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile. 

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?” 

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you. 

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.  

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.” 

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted. 

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these. 

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand. 

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble. 

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.” 

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.” 

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen. 

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?” 

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible. 

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach. 

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well. 

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you. 

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master. 

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms.  He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.” 

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life. 

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence. 

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth. 

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.” 

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking. 

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.” 

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow. 

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.” 

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved. 

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine. 

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave. 

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later. 

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern. 

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening.  “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage. 

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again. 

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked. 

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide.  He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this. 

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all. 

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you. 

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in. 

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines. 

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls. 

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.  

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.” He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him. 

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #i love this bat boy sm #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #Azriel smut #bat boys x reader #bat boys #azriel acosf #azriel acomaf #This is utter filth guys #These two really went at it for like 24 hours straight

[honeybeefae]

Bat Boys x Reader SP

(As always I couldn't just wait for you all to read this I HAD to do this sneak peek. It's literally one of my fav things I've written and I hope you all EAT THIS UP BC SHEWWWW ITS GOOD SOUP)

“Ha ha, very funny.” You laughed without humor, your eyebrows knitting together in anger. “You all are assholes for teasing me, you know that? I’m going to bed.”

This time it was Azriel who stopped you though not with his hands. Two silky, dark tendrils of smoke curled around your arms and held you on the floor. It made your breath hitch and goosebumps rise on your skin as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Az, this isn’t funny.”

“We aren’t joking, princess.” Cassian purred, one of his hands wandering to your thigh as he made his way beside you. “There are many things we would joke about but your pleasure isn’t one of them…and trust me when I say that we would love to help you out.”

“What-all of you?” You asked softly as your gaze moved across all three of them. “I don’t…I mean you are all very handsome, obviously, but don’t feel obligated to-”

Rhysand sat in front of you and grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, the former dragging over your bottom lip as you held back a moan at the contact. Azriel’s shadows were drawing shapes into your soft skin while Cassian’s hand seemed to drift higher and higher, all the attention making your head spin.

Your High Lord knew it too, a smirk working its way to his lips as he bent down until he was a hairsbreath away from your lips.

“This is anything but an obligation to us, darling. This is pure, carnal desire in its rawest form. A primal need.” His voice was smooth as silk, your eyelids fluttering as his lips moved to ghost over your ear. “A desperate urge to take care of you until you’re drowning in pleasure.”

“Look at her,” Azriel growled from your other side, his hazel eyes appearing behind Rhys. He had on a wicked smile, his head slightly tilted as he surveyed you. “She wants it so bad.”

“Do you, princess?” Cassian asked teasingly, his hand stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Do you want us to take care of you?”

#sneak peek #azriel x reader #rhys x reader #cassian x reader #bat boys x reader #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar smut #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader smut #azriel x reader smut #cassian x reader smut #rhysand x reader smut #bat boys #bat boys x reader smut #acotar reader smut

[danikamariewrites]

First off, I always love reading your work. Makes me smile when I’m going through it 🫶🏻

Could you do rhys x reader or maybe a batboys head canon for how they’d take care of you while life seems to be out to get you? Like every time you think your problems are solved, something blows up in your face? Maybe like something breaks in your flat, and then something crazy happens at work, and then like you get sick or something and reader is just super down and rhys/batboys are trying to bring her back up? Taking care of her and stuff?

Sorry if this is too confusing or similar to anything you’ve had before, my brain is a little short-circuited tonight lol and I’ve been kinda going through it so I can’t think straight

Dry Your Tears

Bat boys x reader

A/n: I dream of the three of them taking care of me. Also I’m sorry babe, I’m also going through it so we’re together on this

Warnings: Tamlin being mean to reader, anxiety, and fluff

Your luck for charming High Lords and their advisors has finally run out

You were on a roll on your little tour of Day, Winter, and Summer

But coming home from other courts empty handed sucked

Especially when it was the spring court

With Tamlin finally back in power with a group of advisors and his court put together he’s been full of himself acting all high and mighty

Yesterday was your first time there since the court was put together

Of course it was all males who didn’t respect you one bit and Tamlin was no help either

The spring high lord was very condescending and it brought out your insecurities about your place in the court

Tamlin also targeted your relationship with the boys, pointing out other flaws there

You slept in your own bed once you arrived at the town house since you left Spring so late

As you fell into a fitful sleep you dreaded the paper work you had to do in the morning

The next morning you found a note on the kitchen table from Rhys that read, Sorry we missed you darling. Emergency in Windhaven. We’ll be back tomorrow morning. We love you very much

You frown at the note but smile at the little heart drawn at the end

After breakfast you set out to do paperwork with infrequent visits from Amren about updates on court matters

Getting to the Spring Court report drained you

Just thinking about it makes your skin itch

You get up deciding to take a walk to clear your head

The walk didn’t help. It simply made things worse

There was too much around the town house that didn’t feel right to you. Like you needed to reorganize

But now you wanted new furniture and things bc the throw pillows didn’t look right and the couch looked too old

To distract from that you went into the kitchen to find a snack only to realize none of the boys went grocery shopping (who are you kidding it’s Nuala and Cerridwen that do it)

You slammed the cabinet shut

With the slam of the cabinet a cough crept up your throat

It was dry and you felt like you couldn’t breathe

You shouldn’t have traveled to Winter then Spring

Ignoring what the cough meant you remembered your report for Rhys and stomped back to your office

The report took way longer than you would’ve liked

Thinking about Tamlin and his comments about your relationship made you blood boil

As your anger washed away it turned into anxiety and sadness and doubt

Are you capable of this job if these males get to you so easily? Is your relationship and mating bond with the boys going to last?

You needed to shake this off. You closed your side of the bond as to not worry your mates. They don’t need to worry about you right now

You kept stewing in your anxiety and anger for the rest of the day

Amren left at 5 so you had dinner alone with what was left in the house. You’d go shopping tomorrow when your head was clear and you weren’t pissed at the fact that the boys forgot

Sleep evaded you that night as you wished your boys were here to hold you and whisper sweet nothings to you

Your cough kept you up all night as well

By the time the sun was up you were curled against against the headboard. Your eyes watering from that dry cough you’ve developed. You didn’t feel like moving, you were too tired. Too tired to even greet your mates at the door

Cassian’s heavy, booted footsteps come up the stairs first

Tears pricked your eyes from exhaustion and anxiety

Azriel silently pushed your bedroom door open, making his way over to your bed. “Hey princess, whats wrong?” You sniffle and start to cry harder into his chest

Without hesitating Az picked you up, rushing you to your shared bedroom. Rhys and Cass stop unpacking and move to comfort you

“My darling, why are you so upset?” You look up at the three of them with the saddest look on your face. Cassian wipes your tears with his thumbs giving you an equally sad look

You look back at Rhys tapping your temple for him to look at your memories. Rhys nods and you close your eyes

He shares your memories of the Spring meeting and your day yesterday. When it was over you opened your eyes to see Az and Cass fuming. Rhys was giving you a sympathetic look. “Darling, no. You do not listen to a word they say. You do not believe them. Everything they said was a lie, alright.” Rhys said firmly, cupping your face in his large hands

“You are our world, sweetheart. Don’t think for a second that you aren’t important.” Cassian stressed, kissing your forehead

The next few days are spent taking care of you and cheering you up

You read together, go out for meals, shopping for clothes books and anything else your heart desired or whatever the boys felt like spoiling you with. The boys even did the grocery shopping

They take turns holding you on their laps, keeping you tucked into their chest as they tell you stories from camp or when they first fell in love with you and other relationship stories

You have to admit, it was hilarious to imagine the people of Velaris staring as their High Lord, the General, and Spymaster food shop

Laughing about it did make you feel better

They spent the next few nights worshiping your body. Paying attention to every part of you that gets a reaction. Working you up to the most earth shattering orgasms you’ve ever had

By the end of the week you had put Tamlin and his court out of your mind, feeling overjoyed at the amount of love your mates show you

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #bat boys acotar #bat boys x reader #bat boys #bat boys x you #poly!batboys #poly!batboys x reader #poly!batboys x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand headcanon #azriel headcanons #Cassian x you #Cassian x reader #Cassian headcanon #Cassian acotar

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Down the rabbit hole (dp x dc)

"Shit, shit, shit," Danny mumbled to himself as he frantically looked around to see if anybody had noticed the glowing green portal that had opened up underneath the giant overpass.

As he desperately tried to pull the dimensional hole closed, he couldn't help but curse his lack of sleep. If he hadn't gone to sleep so late because of the Doom event that was taking place on his server, he would've woken up in time for him to get to the airport to take his flight connection back to Amity.

Instead, he had woken up so late, his only chance of getting there on time was flying himself as Phantom. Apparently, a lack of sleep meant his control on his powers got a little wonky and he'd ended up face planting right into the overpass and through some sort of unlucky coincidence, as he instinctively grappled to catch himself from falling, he'd inadvertently clawed a rift right through to the ghost zone. Truly, this was the worst timing to discover what would otherwise be a very cool new power.

Danny grabbed at his hair desperately, as he walked to and fro, while still floating a few centimetres off the floor. On one hand, leaving an open portal to the ghost zone would be terribly irresponsible. On the other, he knew from experience these types of portals never lasted long by themselves, at most a quarter of an hour. But that was a quarter of an hour he did not have.

What to do, what to do? If he missed his plane, Jazz was going to kill him. Danny bit at his lips as he looked around to the deserted area. The chance of somebody finding the portal in the next ten minutes were astronomically low. Maybe if he put up a sign or something...

Looking around, Danny spotted an old piece of cardboard, just large enough to cover the portal. With a last look around, Danny got a sharpie from his bag.

Stephanie was about to turn in for the night. She grappled towards the Dini bridge, where she'd gone a few times to catch the first rays of light touching on the city. It usually made for a nice ending to some of her long nights, and Stephanie was due for a nice pick-me-up.

As she got there, she noticed a new feature that hadn't been there before. About five meters off the ground, there was a piece of cardboard, nailed to the bridge with what looked like a metal ruler. Stephanie squinted. In black sharpie, in an uneven calligraphy was written the following: "DANGER! PORTAL TO ANOTHER DIMENSION. DO NOT REMOVE"

Curiosity piqued, she shot a line up at the railing of the bridge, before starting to reel herself in until she was hanging in front of the cardboard. Attaching the line to her belt to free her hands, Stephanie grabbed the bottom of the cardboard and lifted it up. Her eyes widened as she came face-to-face with a whirling green portal.

"Ok," she whispered to herself a little bit uncertainly. "Guess the sign wasn't lying."

She was about to flip the cardboard back down and call Oracle for some backup, when the foothold she was using to push herself off the wall shifted and Stephanie felt herself swing right into the green gaping maw. With a cut-off scream she fell right into it, though luckily her grapple line was still tense and solidly anchored to the bridge's railing.

If Stephanie had been a bit luckier, this would have been an easy fix, as she would have swung right back out thanks to her momentum and the anchor up above.

Unfortunately, at this precise moment, the portal ran out of time, and closed just behind Stephanie, leaving behind a few strands of blonde hair, a cut grapple line and a hanging piece of cardboard behind with its ominous message on it.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #danny fenton #stephanie brown #disaster duo #Danny messed up BIG TIME #but I think Steph would have a blast in the zone after she got over the initial panic #Like imagine Sam finds her chilling with ember and kitty while she's exploring the zone #and like everyone just gets to talking and is just having a good time #meanwhile in Gotham Cass and Tim are losing it and it's starting to spread to all the bats #Danny is still unaware of the Forces of Destruction heading his way #brace yourself Danny-boy coz you've got a big storm coming #objectively Cass and Tim would be terrifying as a team #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

[k-daydreams]

The Pursuit of Feeling Alive: IV. Hot and Cold

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Synopsis: cousin to Rhysand and Morrigan, y/n was once her family’s golden child. Faced with trials and tribulations her whole life, she needed reprieve— a distraction. Until a surprise homecoming opens Pandora’s box, and gives y/n a reality check. Especially facing her once close friend Azriel. Friends to Enemies to lovers trope.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of abuse/trauma, the Court of Nightmares being the worst, noncanon events, and let me just add again ANGST, probably poorly proofread

Authors note: wakey wakey I’ve finally finished part 4!!! Sorry for the delay, it’s been a busy summer! I’ve been burning myself out a wee bit and found it difficult to keep up with the fic and power through writing tbh. Hopefully this was worth the wait. And for treat we get Azriel’s POV. 🫣 Thank you all for the patience and love you all still give!! 🩷

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

The Hewn City never failed to evoke an unsettling unease, sending a chill down your spine with every step. Shadows lurked within the ancient peaks, unseen eyes watching from hidden crevices. Despite this, you strived to maintain a composed façade, refusing to let the Court of Nightmares perceive your inner turmoil. The sensuous strains of music resonated from the throne room, each beat pounding in harmony with your racing heart. The murmurs of the crowd swelled, as Cassian, Mor, and Lucien led the way to the antechamber while Azriel and you trailed behind.

Azriel walked beside you, so close that your fingers practically brushed with every step. At times, his shadow grazed your pinky, leaving you wondering if he noticed. His face remained impassive, devoid of emotion, his gaze fixed ahead. You tried to mirror his demeanor, yet couldn't help stealing glances at him. What thoughts occupied his mind? Was he as nervous as you were? Could he sense the buzzing energy emanating from your side? Memories of the earlier encounter in the foyer flashed through your thoughts—his closeness, his breath on your face, his calloused hand on your hip, the overwhelming scent of cedar and mist. Your stomach did flips at the thought.

"Do you have a staring problem?" His voice broke the silence, his eyes still focused ahead. You realized you had indeed been staring at him.

"I could ask you the same," you retorted smoothly. "For someone who doesn't desire my presence, you seem to do a fair amount of staring." Satisfaction prickled through your body as a mischievous smirk adorned your lips. You fixed your gaze straight ahead now, focusing on the back of Lucien's head.

"I wouldn't call it staring," he replied.

"Then what would you call it?" you inquired, your smirk fading slightly.

"Observing," he stated simply.

"What observations have you made, then?" you challenged, crossing your arms. He remained silent for a few seconds, likely searching for an answer. Seizing the moment, you dared another glance at the shadowsinger and caught him looking at you, specifically at your pushed-up bust from your crossed arms. A glint sparked in your eyes, despite feeling a flush across your cheeks.

"Those observations," clarifying his previous statement. "Typical Illyrian man can despise a woman, yet still ogle her." You watched as his face contorted in anger, his wings rustling, shadows swirling with indifference as he tried to regain composure.

You knew that would irk him the most, knowing how far from the truth it was. He was unlike any Illyrian man you had ever encountered, a gentleman who treated the women in his life like royalty and with respect. But you had found enjoyment causing him some ire knowing how much he could hate his Illyrian roots at times. The group ahead halted at the entrance to the throne room, and before you got too close, you provocatively placed your hand on Azriel's bicep, stopping him. Sliding it up his arm and around his neck, drawing his ear close to your lips.

"It's alright, Shadowsinger. It happens to the best of men. Just don't let it distract you from your duties tonight. Remember, you're supposed to be my fearless protector," you whispered, a sultry tone lacing your words. You felt his jaw tense beneath your fingertips, letting them linger caressing his defined jawline before releasing him. With a concealed smile, you walked toward the group.

"We're just here to make an appearance," Mor reminded, her voice cutting through the tense air turning to face everyone. "Cass, Lucien first, then I'll go, Y/n, and Az last. Let's get this over with please." She turned back around, her gaze determined. Cassian and Lucien made their way towards the grand throne room, Azriel taking his place next to you. The sound of murmuring voices subsided as they entered, the weight of expectation filling the space. You stood tall, despite the ache in your feet, pinning your shoulders back and adopting a stoic expression that concealed the amusement you had just moments ago.

"The official emissary for the Night Court," Mor announced, signaling your turn to make your entrance alongside Azriel. You strode forward, finding solace in the rhythmic beat of the music that still echoed throughout the room. The murmurs grew louder as you traversed the court, determined not to let the disdainful gazes of the Court of Nightmares' courtiers shake your resolve. You were aware that your presence was not welcomed; they saw you as a traitor, the one they had discarded to the Spring Court in the first place. No matter how much you proved yourself worthy and tried to make amends.

The walk to the throne felt interminable, under the scrutiny of judgmental eyes. Finally, you halted before the imposing seat, looking out at the assembled courtiers as the music gradually faded away. Kier and your parents approached, their scowls evident, yet they bowed to you reluctantly.

"The first visit in months, and the High Lord sends us the traitor.” Your father sneered, he spoke to Kier. Your mother nodded in agreement, her features mirroring their shared distaste. Next to you, Azriel emitted a low snarl at their words.

“Good to see you too, Father.” A sweet smile on your lips not letting your already building annoyance show. "Rhysand sends warm wishes," you responded, your voice calm yet tinged with a hint of steel. "He had other pressing matters to attend to. So, I'll be handling our little check-in." Taking a seat on the throne like you always had to make a point. The seat was cold compared to your warm skin, making you sit more upright.

“Why would I dispel any matters to a whore who doesn’t know where their loyalties lie?” Kier said arrogantly. “You had been frolicking in the Day Court last I heard, probably another one of Helion’s play things that he got tired of.”

You traced the serpent that wrapped around the throne’s arm, “my matters in other courts shouldn’t concern you or who I run off with nonetheless.” You noted how Azriel’s shoulders tensed, and he became so still he didn’t look like he was even breathing.

"We thought Amarantha let you rot under the mountain," your mother interjected, her voice laced with venom. She added, “instead she made you even more of a traitorous whore.”

She appeared just as she did during your last encounter—hair braided into an oversized bun that nearly doubled the size of her head, eyes dark as onyx, and fragile as a delicate piece of paper, swathed in her customary high-collared black gown. She no longer resembled a fae; instead, she embodied the beautiful demon who haunts your nightmares, the one who torments you alongside the redheaded evil woman she spoke of in your said nightmares.

The court erupted into whispers, some even cackling at your mother's statement. Azriel took a step forward, his readiness to strike palpable, while your closest friends looked at you with anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, fueled by a fiery rage that surged through your veins. You couldn't let those memories of what that wicked woman had forced you to do consume you. Instead, you embraced the anger, allowing it to fuel your inner fire. "Give them hell, you've earned it, little star," the note from Rhysand and Feyre echoed in your mind.

The crowd hushed as they noticed the faelights start to flicker in the room, a familiar tingling prickled at you as a surge filled the room that seemed to hum in a whirring vibration. You could taste and smell the bitter tanginess of magic, leaving the room in a thick blanket of trepidation. You inhaled willing yourself to keep the powers at bay, this was your game to play and win; not theirs.

“Music, food, drinks for the courtiers.” You demanded, snapping your fingers, letting the sensuous music drown that hum in the room, and dishes appeared on the tables around the hall. “Celebrate!” Your tone brash, making some of the courtiers flinch and turn away from the scene before them.

Then you rose to your feet, resting a hand on Azriel’s bicep as you sauntered past him toward your parents. A silent command for him to not intervene.

“Must we ruin the courtier's night with frivolous family matters?” You scanned the room to see if any of them paid any mind, then turned your sight to your father and Kier. “Or we can go about our business?” Something in your eyes shifted, a glow that emanated the whirring vibration that everyone could still feel around them despite not hearing it over the music anymore.

“We have nothing to discuss,” your father cleared his throat. He stood his ground as best as he could.

“Is that so?” Inquisitively you looked at three crones in front of you. “Why did the High Lord and Lady send me here so urgently then?”

“At least with you.” Kier interjected, his diadem shining on top of his gold hair. You could feel both the thrum of his and your father’s power slithering through the whir of yours.

“I don’t know why Rhysand trusts formal duties with a treacherous whore.” Your mother spoke boredly.

"Takes a whore to know one, doesn't it?" your voice devoid of emotion as you stared directly into your mother's eyes.

There was no trace of mercy in your gaze as she grew wary, sensing the power simmering beneath your skin. Was it mere coincidence that she took aim at you blindly by the insult of “whore”, or did she truly comprehend the extent of the horrors you—as her daughter—had endured during those unbearable fifty years? Amarantha had forced you to engage in her dark machinations, most of the time leaving you feeling soiled, as if a layer of filth clung to your very being at the mere thought of it.

She began to stammer, her voice trembling. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

So much for not bringing up frivolous family matters.

"I never told Father?" you replied, feigning shock. A flicker of realization flashed across her face as she recognized your seriousness. She pleaded with you to stop, but it was too late. You had held onto this potent piece of blackmail, a weapon you had kept hidden for centuries, ignoring her tearful pleas.

"Do you remember when Beron was here to arrange Mor's marriage?" you mused aloud, placing a hand on your chin as if contemplating. "I found you and him in our personal library, with you bent over Father's favorite reading chair." You glanced at your father, observing his reaction as your words sank in.

The faelights in the chandeliers began to flicker more intensely, rattling globes they were contained in. The music had stopped with your increasing temper, everything you have felt the past week, years—hell over half a century bubbled over. All the pokes, prodes, and resentment from your family was too much. The volley of insults between you and Azriel. Feeling inadequate no matter where you trekked.

Power consumed you beneath your skin, seeming to take over every rational instinct. You glanced at Mor, who sat on the edge of her seat looking skeptical at what you had planned. Your gaze shifted to Kier, locking eyes with him. With a mischievous wink from you, his face drained of color.

"And what about the time I sneaked out of my room late at night and discovered Kier and Mother on the dining room table?" you continued, your voice sickeningly sweet. "You had breakfast where they had fucked only a few hours prior, Father."

You had received more lashings than you could count once your father went into his meetings that day from your mother. Your father's nostrils flared, and he turned to your mother and Kier. The courtiers stood, sensing the impending storm, their conversations growing quieter.

“But I’m a whore?” You laughed bitterly. “When all I’ve done since my husband was murdered was try to make right with this court to prove my loyalty. Under the mountain you don’t know what I sacrificed for this court. Rhys had his reasons for what he did, and I had mine.” By now your eyes burned and your throat tightened at the tears of anger wanting to spill. “But I’m a traitor?”

Your mother had begun shaking silently, looking at you with a wild look in her eyes. That didn’t stop your wrath upon her.

"Should I bring up Thanatos though?"

The mere mention was enough to make your mother scream and charge at you. Azriel and Cassian instinctively unsheathed their weapons, freezing only when the glass containing the faelights shattered.

The tingling and prickling turned to a crackling that had been building up underneath your skin almost all at once came to the surface, creating a feeling you hadn’t felt in years. The lights seemed to mirror your emotions and converge on your mother. The room plunged into darkness and shook as she cried out in pain, the light piercing her body. The gasps of the crowd filled the air as the room went pitch black.

The burning sensation within you gradually subsided to a dull crackling. Panting, your heart hammering, you caught your breath. Anger and duress swelled through you, but you felt a surge of pride through you too. Azriel's shadows caressed your shoulder trying to find you in the dark. Then gently his scarred hand pulled your shoulder back, ensuring your safety. Raising your hand, you waved it through the dark, willing radiant light to materialize at your fingertips. Orbs danced between your fingers as you sent them forth to illuminate the broken chandeliers and lights once more.

As the room regained its illumination, you surveyed your mother's unconscious body, twitching slightly. You hadn't killed her, only shocked her—quite literally. Your father and Kier stood staring at her in shock. You smoothed your dress, brushing away imaginary dirt, and turned to face Azriel, who still had his hand on your shoulder. In his eyes, you detected a hint of concern. You pushed his hand away, glancing at your friends who had seemed to approve. Mor tried to hide her amusement as she covered her mouth with her hand, while Cassian sheathed his weapons cautiously, his eyes darting around the room to make sure no one attacked. Lucien stood from his seat as he watched the scene in front of him in an awe.

"Consider that a warning to think twice before speaking to me, or you'll end up worse off than that traitorous whore.” Nonchalantly readjusting the diadem atop your head.

“You have gotten your wish, Kier. Wait for your High Lord and Lady, I’m sure they won’t be as pleasant as I was.” You grimaced walking past your family. No one dared to speak, still frozen in place as you wordlessly walked out of the throne room the only sound was the glass breaking even more beneath your heels.

You didn’t know where you were walking to, you were just letting your feet take you to wherever in the Hewn City. Was it a wise choice? Probably not, but you didn’t care to think about that. You knew the cavernous hallways like the back of your hand from when you were younger, and you had brought yourself to the only place that had brought you true solace back then. It was an abandoned library in a wing that wasn’t in use for many centuries and by the looks of it, it still hadn’t.

Cobwebs and dust were thick films on furniture and books, the elegantly crafted black mantle fireplace contained a mound of ashes that stirred as you closed the tall dark mahogany doors behind you. You held your hand out, letting the light dance from your fingers to ignite faelights around you like you had in the throne room before waving it to use magic to dust off the your favorite chair to sit in. Kicking off the excruciatingly uncomfortable heels, you tucked your legs underneath you as you sat in the worn leather and mahogany chair. Absent-mindedly tracing the serpents that wrapped up the arms, you just sat staring at the hollow fireplace.

You mulled over everything within the past week, then the past five years, and then the last fifty years… and then the last century. That’s all you seemed to do lately was think of the past. You were so deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door creak open.

“Are you alright?” Azriel’s deep husky voice echoed concern through the small library. The rasp that always lingered in his words sending an unwarranted shiver through you not expecting anyone to follow you.

“Why would you care to know?” A bitter bite back as he took a seat across from you in the dusty chair.

“I am supposed to be your fearless protector tonight.” He braced his elbows on his knees trying to fit his wings within the seat.

“Right,” you trailed off still staring at the empty fireplace. “Well you don’t have to pretend to care.” You cleared your throat, a lump forming within it.

He chose to ignore your statement. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that extent of your power.”

“She had it coming,” you mumbled.

“I know the healing process can be painful.”

Your head snapped up toward the Shadowsinger to find him already looking at you with the irritating intense look he always gave you.

“Are you trying to be funny?” You said dryly.

He made a gesture with his tragically beautiful scarred hands, “I just know from personal experience.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have used your shadowsinger abilities on me and you wouldn’t have had to find out the hard way?” There was an edge in your tone.

“And maybe,” he clicked his tongue. “Just maybe, if you wouldn’t have been so hellbent on trying to prove something—I wouldn’t have felt the need to use them?”

Your eyes narrowed at him, “I was trying to protect my high lord.”

He scoffed, “he didn’t want our help. He was protecting us, why do you think he didn’t let us know before it was too late?”

“Because I knew Amarantha!” You clenched your fists in your lap. The way she had try to slither into the Spring Court, she had once tried to befriend you. You saw right through her though.

“Then you should’ve known when you snuck under the mountain that it was a trap.” His voice was a lot calmer than yours.

“I was sick of standing back and watching. Watching my friends…my family helpless.” Your heart ached at the confession. “I was locked in a mansion during the Great War because my husband thought he knew better. I then stood back and watched as he plotted with his brothers and father to kill Rhys and his mother and sister without a way to reach any of you. I watched Rhys’ father get slain by Tamlin.”

“I was tired of being a damsel or treated like some dainty noble wife. I was stoned and chastised when I returned for it.” A tear slipped down your cheek finally as you quickly tried to wipe it away. “Yet I wanted to do something to prove to my friends and my court that I wasn’t some treacherous bitch like everyone assumed I was.”

You sniffled, “even with Hybern, Helion didn’t even let me do anything besides go to Dawn to help Nuan and then Adriata to help with human refuges. I begged for days to let me fight, but he insisted it was handled.”

Azriel was quiet, his gaze on you unwavering as he listened. You didn’t know why he stayed and or didn’t interrupt. He had only told you days prior he didn’t care to know what happened to you under the mountain so why did he care to listen about this?

“Like I said, you don’t have to pretend to care about what I have to say.” You untucked your legs, and crossed them instead. You wiped your tears away, embarrassed you let him see you like this.

“You never had to prove to us anything.” Was all Azriel said as he got up from his chair. His scaled armor that had glittered under the lights when he first entered now was matte from the dust. His siphons roared brightly as he walked out of the room without another word leaving you be.

That was the first civilized conversation you had for the first time in forever, at least on his part. You easily flew off the handle nowadays even the weeks prior to leaving the Day Court. Even if he didn’t care to listen, it was nice just to have him sit there and let you send your tangent off to the void of shadows. It felt familiar like the days before you two had played this hot and cold game. You sat there for who knew how long before Mor had found you with Lucien in tow.

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Azriel was beside himself with feelings, something that wasn’t out of the norm for him. He always did a good job at keeping his mask of cold on to hide them… except when it came to you. The friction and emotion you caused him drove him crazy. You made him reckless and irrational, often making him aggravated, and in the end taking it out on you.

He told you he didn’t want to hear what you had to say, but that’s all that consumed his brain. You were all that consumed his brain. And you were all that consumed him while he laid on the ground as you left him for dead to sneak under the mountain. He was the moth and you were the flame that constantly burned him everytime he was near you. But he couldn’t stop the concern that poured over him when it came to you. He hated to admit that to himself.

He had thought for a while that he did the same for Mor, but when he saw you for the first time since Rhys brought you back from the Spring Court—you had become a plague to his thoughts, something Mor never did to him. He had chalked it up to the fact he always carried a sense of protectiveness towards you, being the youngest of all of them.

Watching you try to be the obedient daughter, every little thing you did was monitored by your family. Especially after Mor sullied herself, they became merciless with you. When the high lord wasn’t around you suffered greatly at their hands if you did something that displeased them. Your mother was the worst of them when it came to punishments, sometimes he swore she was a reincarnated death-god.

You were right about one thing: she had it coming. He was surprised you didn’t do it sooner, feeling quite proud of you and couldn’t help but feel that pride rumble in his chest the moment you struck her down. He would’ve happily obliged to do the maiming for you if you hadn’t.

Walking through the cavernous halls, he rubbed the back of his arm subconsciously at a small mark not many noticed amongst his other tattoos.

A beam of light.

He saw the look in your eyes when you had mentioned you wanted to fight, how it hurt you. He couldn’t admit he was the reason to you yet, not if he wanted a round two of you two almost killing each other. He had realized how selfish he had been when he had made that bargain with Helion all those years ago.

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It had been nearly two years of radio silence from you, but he knew you were in the Day Court keeping yourself busy. Rhys had reassured him, his spies had let him know too. After Rhys came back without you from under the mountain, Azriel was ready to tear whatever and whoever apart to find you. You hadn’t wanted to be found though, and that thought alone killed him. He could’ve throttled a thousand more times by your power and it still would’ve hurt less than knowing you purposely didn’t contact him.

Now with war approaching again, he wasn’t sure if he’d see you again. He wanted and was going to do everything in his power to keep you safe; whether you wanted it or not. Even if it meant sparing a few white lies to his brothers and friends. All he told Mor before he left the House of Wind that morning was he was going to gather information from some of his spies.

His nerves got the best of him as he waited in the private dining area of the Day Court’s palace. He had reached out to Helion privately under the guise of wanting to discuss an urgent matter. It wasn’t so much a guise as he considered you an urgent matter.

“Spymaster,” Helion greeted, slipping into the room exuberantly. The gold bands wrapped around his biceps and that clipped his cobalt fabrics together glimmered in the warm Day light as he walked towards Azriel

He just nodded in greeting at the ethereal High Lord, his hands clasped behind his back respectively.

“Thank you for meeting me under these circumstances.” Was all he uttered trying to keep his mask of cold coolness. Helion held out his hand and he braced his scarred one in his in a firm shake.

“It was a surprise to receive your urgent correspondence, but not unwelcome.” He drawled, before gesturing to the small table by the veranda. “Take a seat, would you like a glass of wine?”

The spymaster only shook his head, causing Helion to shrug as they sat. His massive wings uncomfortably cramped in the small chair.

“More for me, war preparations have me so tense. I’m sure it’s weighing on your court as well?” He sighed, pouring himself a glass from the decanter that appeared at the table as they sat.

“We’re bearing,” tapping his fingers on the table, impatient. He was not in the mood for small talk.

Helion noted his behavior as he took a long sip before speaking again. “What are the urgent matters you’d like to discuss?”

“How is she?” Was all he asked, and Helion’s typical overly confident smile graced his features.

“Ah, urgent matters revolving around our beautiful light-shifter. I should've known.” Azriel fought the urge to bare his teeth when the lord said ‘our’. You were not his. He kept a lid on the icy rage boiling through his veins. “She fares well here, the Day Court sun suits her. Her glow puts Thesan’s to shame.”

He could only imagine, he thought rather sourly. Still feeling a bite of overprotectiveness deep down. The image of you letting the light kiss your skin when you two would walk around during the sunny days in Velaris filled his mind. How your smile seemed to glimmer even ten times brighter from your power. Or when the stars braced your skin when he’d offer to fly you to the townhouse after a long night at Rita’s and your feet had ached from dancing with Mor. A little star. He shoved the thoughts away, focusing on the matter at hand.

“What is her role in the upcoming battle?” His tone low, anticipating the response.

That feline-like smile on the High Lord’s face curled to a smirk, a glint in his eye. “I was planning to put her on the front line. I think it would be a therapeutic experience for her.”

“Is that wise?” Azriel tried to not sound worried or look wary. Therapeutic wouldn’t be the word he would’ve used himself, maybe traumatizing.

The inner circle had trained you well in physical training once you had come back to court all those centuries ago. You could easily keep up with an Illyrian warrior, and your magic was one of a kind. None of your family had your powers that had been still alive. Rhys and Amren couldn’t figure it out, even having you go to the Dawn Court to learn to control it. Thesan was only able to teach you so much since the light you were able to generate was still different from his. So you had spent hours on the roof of the House of Wind by yourself practicing. With an occasional visit from the inner circle to keep you company.

The male across from him only raised an eyebrow, “are you not confident in her abilities?”

For the first time in ages, the Spymaster had been at a loss for words. He knew you were capable, more than capable. You had proven it the day you struck him yards away and left him for dead. Just something in him couldn’t let you go out there or see you out there bloodied and battered. He certainly couldn’t imagine you close to death either.

Clearing his throat, Azriel spoke carefully. “She has never fought in a war.” He had hoped that was enough of a response.

“She’s been training.” Helion countered back, that glint still in his eye. “I saw what she could do under that mountain—all of us High Lords did. It’s a shame for Hybern that Tamlin’s brother locked her away during the first war.”

“Please,” Azriel couldn’t stop the plea coming out of his mouth.

That mischievous look then softened. As if he understood. “I don’t know what I would have her do, she would be furious to know she won’t be out there fighting.”

“Anything, I’d rather her be pissed than hurt or worse—” the Shadowsinger couldn’t finish the sentence.

Contemplative, Helion traced his finger around the rim of his glass. “Praytell, how far would you go to keep her safe?” That softened empathetic glaze in his eyes turned almost dangerous looking. “I know your court is quite fond of making bargains.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes, jaw tensed. “What is it you require from me, Helion?” He spoke through gritted teeth, an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach.

“I would still love a night with you, Cassian, and Mor.” The High Lord across from him said casually.

The uneasiness turned to queasiness, unsure of the intent behind the statement. He watched the male sit back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “That would be quite unfair though.”

He asked after a moment of silence. “How about providing some intel for me? I have quite a laundry list of inquiries and no one has been able to track them down for me.”

“And she’ll stay off the battlefield?” Rubbing the back of his arm, scanning the warm skinned lord’s amber eyes for any evidence of deceit. Helion was an ally for some time with the Night Court, the Shadowsinger never put his full faith into the term ally. Nothing had been absolute to him.

“It will be difficult, but she won’t see Hybern.” The long dark haired male reassured him.

Azriel visibly relaxed from the words. The two had discussed the terms of the bargain and whom Azriel would be gathering information about. The list ranged from lovers that spited him to old debts that still needed to be settled, and no doubt would put Azriel into a frenzy after the war was over—if he made it. At least he didn’t have to think of the consequences of if you didn’t.

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[x] previous chapter

Ahhhhh even tho this was tough to write and maybe not my best, I’m proud I beat the writers block for this!! I appreciate any feedback lovelies! Thoughts, opinions, likes, and reblogs!! Feel free to reply or message if I missed you in the taglist or want to be added 🩷🩷

Taglist: @tcris2020 @rachelnicolee @mich0731 @brekkershadowsinger @thelov3lybookworm @t0uch-starved-h0e @penguins-are-the-best @bubybubsters @jiinmii @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @mcgintyandbeyond @callmelovergirl @marigold-morelli @marina468 @nightless @vellichor01 @brandywineeeee @fussel9913 @gretavanbobatea

#acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #pofa #azriel #cassian x reader #feyre archeron #helion spell cleaver #morrigan acotar #morrigan #lucien acotar #Lucien Vanserra fic #amren acotar #bat boys #bat boys fic #azriel shadowsinger imagine #azriel shadowsinger fic #cassian acotar #a court of thorns and roses fan fiction #acotar imagine

[unboundbnha]

Okay I’m gonna post something controversial

#I KNOW THERES A TYPO LEAVE ME ALONE #anti tim drake #god I finally get to use that tag #listen. I don’t want to piss in anyone’s cereal. but I’ve seen polls that got flooded by t*m fans #oooooohooooooo the poor baby ooohoohogogooogkdjf shut up #if there are 1000 Tim drake haters I am one of them. if there are five Tim drake haters I am one of them. if there are no Tim drake haters? #I’m dead. #I’m so tired of both him and his fans #HE AINT THAT GREAT #also god. I’m a jason fan and I can’t imagine being a duke fan or a cass fan #watching them get erased for any of the ‘’main’’ bat boys #that shit would be infuriating #as a Jason fan I apologize :( I also love your special little guys and gals #they! deserve! better!