#detective!azriel

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Demons of Night Past [I]

A Halloween treat! 🎃👻

A demon!Elain x detective!Azriel two-part story. Modern fantasy AU.

Summary: Detective Azriel Corleone has been investigating the gruesome murders terrorizing the city of Velaris for three weeks now. He’s got zero leads and a mountain of pressure pushing the Velaris Police Department to solve the murders, and quick.

When he discovers a mysterious artifact at one of the crime scenes, he’s convinced it holds a clue that can help the investigation. But things take an unexpected turn, plunging him into an implausible fantasy world, far from anything his mundane life has ever known.

Artwork by @/artofelaineho on IG

Elain x Azriel. Modern AU. 3.5k words

Detective Azriel Corleone ran a rough hand through his hair, the black strands artlessly tousled. Having been roused from sleep at two-thirty in the morning, in conjunction with the numerous times he’d already threaded his fingers through the inky locks in aggravation, his mop of thick hair stood dishevelled in every direction.

Padding his way carefully through the crime scene, cautious not to step on any crimson patches of sticky blood or nearby debris, his keen gaze scanned his surroundings with meticulous scrutiny.

Hazel eyes examined the back alley vigilantly, attempting to capture every detail in the darkness of the early morning. The sky was still pitch black, but the full moon above cast a silvery light over the world, as the wavering streetlamp ahead emitted a weedy glow over the scene before him. The gritty brick walls, the dubious puddles across the damp cement ground, the piled bags of garbage along either side of the alley… and the prone body left dumped in those grim surroundings in the wake of the rampaging murderer that had been terrorizing Velaris now for three weeks.

Three murders, in just as many weeks. And no leads. The media was having a field day with the story. The perceived incompetence of the Velaris PD was making headlines daily due to the particularly gruesome nature of the crime scenes and the subsequent incredulity of the public that the murders so far remained unsolved.

Despite the grisly scenery each slain victim had found themselves in, detectives had not yet been able to gather any clues to lead them to an arrest. No DNA left behind or beneath victims’ fingernails, no weapons, no footprints or stray hairs or particles from foreign clothing. It was as if the assassin had appeared out of thin air, slain their victim swiftly and expertly, then disappeared once again without a trace.

Azriel had groggily answered his phone twenty-five minutes earlier, the gruff voice of his commanding officer barking the address of the site of the latest killing down the line; only a few short blocks from his sad little apartment on the west side of Velaris.

After a few choice colourful expletives, Azriel had pushed his feet through the discarded pants crumpled by the side of his bed and grabbed his jacket before hastily making the short trip to the dingy alley on his motorbike.

Thoughts of the murders engrossed his mind his entire ride there, as they had been since the killings started, trying in vain to uncover the missing piece of the puzzle. That taunting mystery remained hanging just out of reach, dangling mockingly outside the breadth of their fingertips, only serving to baffle and embarrass the Velaris Police Department. Not to mention the wide-spread terror that was flowing across the city, its residents now living in fear, dubiously appraising neighbours and strangers alike.

The task force had painstakingly considered the crimes from every angle they could. The victims themselves didn’t even have any known connections. Other than they had all found themselves in downtown Velaris when they met their demise, and that they all had convictions of various heinous crimes on their files. Domestic abuse, sexual assault, aggravated assault. It made Azriel feel just a tad less guilty they hadn’t caught the perpetrator yet. It was as if some masked vigilante had taken it upon themselves to rid the city of all the vermin, the worst of the abusers and monstruous criminals, the scummiest of citizens.

Still, Azriel couldn’t figure it out. And he needed to. His livelihood depended on it. A life lost was a life lost, and it was his sworn duty to protect this city.

Turning his focus toward the ground at the victims’ feet, he swept his eyes up the cooling corpse. Hazel eyes settled on the male’s face and surprise coloured Azriel’s features; he recognised this one. A pretentious, insufferable man from Spring.

Azriel had arrested him just last month against claims of domestic abuse. He couldn’t recall his name, but he remembered the smug look on his face as his frightened looking wife had meekly rescinded her accusations. He’d given the woman his direct number, imploring her to call if she ever needed help, and made sure she received the appropriate anonymous counselling and support from the department.

Sighing, Azriel got to work, pulling out his notepad. As a result of being the first detective on the scene after the call from his commanding officer, Azriel had the unfortunate honour of examining the victims mangled body.

The male lay bloodied and bruised, emerald eyes wide with terror and mouth agape as if in a scream. It was as if he had been slashed across the chest with a blade whilst the air had been strangled from his lungs simultaneously. The veins in his neck bulged and ran darker than normal, leaving ominous looking navy tracks across parts of his cold skin. Deep ruby stains bloomed across his chest although his clothing remained intact. His grimy white t-shirt was soaked with his own blood, and his ruddy blonde hair caked with it.

Trailing his gaze over the body and making notes in his pad, a shimmer caught Azriel’s attention. Partially covered by the cold fingers of the victims’ right hand, was something that Azriel hadn’t immediately noticed.

Pulling a pair of black latex gloves from his pocket, he crouched beside the body, pulling them over his rough scarred fingers. Poking around in the pooled dirt and blood, his fingers fished out a fine gold chain. Carefully tugging it out from beneath the corpse, a small charm revealed itself on what appeared to be the end of a necklace, the amulet barely the size of his thumb nail.

The charm was made of glass, and somehow, despite the blood and dirt that caked the alleyway, it remained unblemished, as if it repelled all and any substance that would stain it. Holding the necklace up to the light, Azriel noted the glass charm had a small, intricate, onyx rose embedded into one side. The obsidian of the rose seemed to gobble up the dim light, setting the delicate petals gleaming as the moonlight delicately caressed its edges. The charm slowly spun, rotating in his hand as it dangled from the fine gold chain, when strange lettering on the reverse side was gradually revealed:

Venisti ad me

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he looked at the words gleaming in miniscule gold lettering, intuition telling him that the strange phrase on the charm could very well be the breakthrough the VPD had been looking for. Reading the engraving over once, twice, he wracked his brain, pondering what language it could be and how he could set about finding out. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.

“Venisti ad me…” Azriel murmured into the silent darkness of night, his breath puffing out before him like a fog. The chill autumn weather of October had finally grasped Velaris in its hold, preparing for the inevitable turn of seasons as winter approached.

An icy wind swept through the alley, ruffling Azriel’s hair and whipping at his leather jacket. But despite it being early in the morning hours before dawn, despite it inching ever closer to winter, the temperature had dropped uncharacteristically low just in the last few moments. The streetlamp ahead flickered and died, plunging the alleyway in almost complete darkness for several moments before shining unsteadily once more.

Azriel’s skin erupted in goosebumps beneath his leather jacket and his breath continued billowing clouds of mist as his exhales grew heavier against the suddenly arctic air. The unnerving feeling that he was being watched expeditiously crept across his mind, causing the hair at the nape of his neck to stand on end.

Whipping his head back to glance behind him from his crouched position, he was only met with an empty lane, distant sirens alerting him to the knowledge that his squad were on their way. He almost sagged with relief, reminding himself not to be so paranoid.

Turning back toward the corpse, his sigh of relief caught in his throat as hazel eyes snagged on a figure that hadn’t been there a moment before.

He startled, stumbling to his full height briskly, habitually reaching for the gun holstered at his side.

A supple-bodied woman had appeared in the alleyway up ahead, her face obscured by the shadows that seemed to swarm and darken around her. But despite the swirling shadows, he could just make out the silhouette of her taller than average stature, her hourglass figure, and eyes that seemed to gleam like embers in the darkness. He thought he noticed those glowing eyes flashing to his gun before landing on his face once more. His fingers curled around the grip in response.

“That won’t be necessary,” her melodic voice rang out in the stillness of the night like a bell, “I don’t intend to hurt you.”

Her voice was raspy and yet sweet, soothing and exhilarating all at once. It slithered along his bones and allayed his soul. Yet, his head told him not to act a fool, it reminded him that innocent, albeit alluring women, did not just appear upon gruesome crime scenes without some macabre reason.

Ever the careful detective, his head won out. He didn’t lower his hand from his weapon. “Come out of the shadows, leave your hands where I can see them.”

He heard a breathy laugh, light and tinkling but with an edge of sharpness that spoke of secret ferocity. The woman edged forwards, stepping out of the darkness and into the light, and Azriel was rendered utterly speechless.

His breath had caught in his chest, for she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But could he call her a woman? She looked… other worldly.

Surely, she didn’t belong in this world. For whatever reason, that thought crept upon his mind and refused to subside. Something about her was peculiar, unnerving, yet all the while enthralling. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her if he tried.

He’d never seen anyone like her. Her glossy golden-brown hair hung down to her waist, floating about her as if a phantom wind danced and affectionately caressed its silky lengths. As if the air itself couldn’t resist the temptation of touching her, giving her luxurious mane a life of its own. She wore a black figure-hugging dress, the silk appearing almost fluid as it mellifluously wrapped around her sinful curves, leaving her arms and décolletage bare. She should have been shivering in this cold, but she didn’t seem phased in the slightest by the harsh chill. On the contrary, her pale, golden skin seemed to glow— beautifully stark against the midnight hue of her gown— not a single blemish or scar marring the expanse of exposed alabaster skin. She looked too perfect, as if carved of marble, designed by man. Her eyes were large, wide and all-seeing, like a doe, the soft chocolate of her irises swirling ominously within a ring of depthless ebony. Even her hands were beautiful, if such a thing were possible. Her palms were held out before her and he noticed her red tipped nails crowning her long, elegant fingers. A solitary ring adorned the third finger on her left hand, the lustrous cobalt gemstone glinting in the dim alleyway.

Azriel’s heart ratcheted in his chest, a reaction he wasn’t sure whether to contribute to fear, or amorous curiosity toward the woman before him.

As if hearing his treacherous heart, the woman smiled, her lips curling to reveal white teeth, larger and brighter than he had anticipated.

“Ma’am, were you the civilian who called in the tip?” Azriel inquired, his hand still on his holster but otherwise rendered frozen in place. He was certain the murderer wouldn’t be stupid enough to return to the scene of the crime.

The woman angled her head, her hair shifting over a slim shoulder with the movement as she beheld him, carefully scrutinising him.

“I believe you summoned me,” the woman replied with a lupine smile, her red lips lifting higher at a corner, a single perfect dark brow arching in question. Another slow step toward him bathed her further in the iridescent glow of the moon, the black silk dress shifting with her movement to reveal a long, slender, creamy thigh. The split in her dress came up almost indecently high, grazing her hip, and the movement revealed a knife strapped to her leg, the hilt so dark it seemed to gobble up the light. Strange etchings along the handle glinted as the moonlight bounced off it with her gait, snagging Azriel’s attention.

Azriel observed her suspiciously, determined to remain calm and pacifying until he had back-up arrive on the scene. He reached a scarred hand out toward her placatingly, palm facing her in a gesture of composed control, intending to halt her advances. “This is a crime scene; you cannot be here—”

Just then, the woman hissed, her nostrils flaring and elongated canines flashing. Her head snapped toward the end of the alley, the movement so animalistic in contrast to the fluid grace she had exuded so far that Azriel was caught off guard, and a moment later he heard what must have triggered her. Faint, thudding footsteps; his squad must have arrived.

Darting her gaze back to him, he could have sworn the woman’s eyes flashed the darkest shade of onyx before she strode the few remaining paces over to him— faster than his sight could follow, faster than should have been possible. Standing suddenly before him, she didn’t hesitate before she grasped his forearm tightly in her hold as shadows swarmed her like plumes of smoke, engulfing them both into unending darkness.

Azriel’s entire world went black.

A shout left his lips as the sensation of being hurtled through space engulfed his senses. All the while, the strong clasp of the strange woman’s fingers on his arm remained, digging into his jacket as if he were being gripped by stone. Before he could fathom what was happening to him, what direction he was being thrown in, the scene changed again. His feet once again landing on solid ground.

Stumbling and glancing around in disbelief, he found himself in a gloomy, filthy, dilapidated house. The room appeared to once have been very grand but had since fallen into disrepair. The windows were murky with grime and the parquet floors covered in a thick layer of dust. The heavy curtains were tattered and hanging off the rods haphazardly. A broken sconce that hung on a yellowing wall was feebly illuminating the room in a watery light, and the full moon peeking through the shattered window seemed much too large, much too white, to be real. Glancing out at the scenery beyond the window, he couldn’t help but think he’d never seen the night sky so…alive.

But possibly the most unnerving thing, sprawled across the entire expanse of the walls, ceiling, and what he was sure was the remainder of the decrepit manor beyond, were gnarled, thick, tangled vines. And although one would expect to find vines within a house of this state simply twisted with thorns and baron branches, these, astonishingly, bore a riot of roses. Midnight black, ruby-red edged roses. Thousands of them. They seemed to explode from every direction and filled his senses with their perniciously sweet aroma.

Azriel scuttered back, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Pulling away from the woman, he wrenched his arm out of her strong grasp, a look of utter panic plastered across his face.

“Where are we? What is this?”

His mind reeled. How had they appeared in this room? Had he been drugged? Had he fallen, hit his head, and was now having a fever dream whilst in a coma? He didn’t think his imagination was this creative.

He couldn’t be sure, but the bite of the cool steel of his gun felt stark against his skin, and the howling wind from the broken window set his teeth to near chattering. This was it. All signs pointed to you’ve finally lost your fucking mind, Az.

The woman angled her head in that unnerving way that she did, her once again chocolate brown eyes trailing across his face, as if searching for something. Looking for the answer to a question he hadn’t spoken.

“You do not remember me,” she murmured bleakly. It wasn’t a question. Her voice had turned cold, her eyes falling flat.

“Remember you? I do not know you. Where are we?” he almost shrieked.

Azriel was trained to keep his cool in times of duress, keep his wits about him to ensure his own survival and the survival of those around him. But in the current states of events, he was downright struggling to keep his breathing from reaching levels of hyperventilation and his voice from hitching like a teenager.

He closed his eyes. Deep breath. Another.

So soft, as if the words were not intended for him to hear, he heard a murmured, “I thought you had finally come for me.”

His eyes flew open at her words. She was making no sense. This entire situation made absolutely zero sense. This woman had to be an escaped mental patient. Or perhaps he was the one having a mental episode.

Azriel ignored her statement, not knowing how to answer anyway.

“Where am I? Where have you brought me?” he demanded again.

The woman appeared to consider him for a moment, her peculiar eyes searching his face, the halo of black around her irises glinting in the dim light.

“This is Rosehall, w— I lived here for a while.” She gestured to the room around her with a small wave of her hand, but her gaze remained imprinted on him. On his face, her eyes boring into his. She didn’t blink nearly as often as normal. She was so strange.

He had never heard of anywhere called Rosehall. This had to be a hoax.

“Who are you?”

The woman’s shoulders seemed to sag imperceptibly, her brown eyes hardening in resolve before the hollow obsidian flashed within her bright irises again before turning back.

“My name is Elain.”

Elain. Something small, unanswered, tugged at the edge of his subconscious. He promptly ignored it.

“You cannot… remove a police officer from the scene of a crime, it is an offence to cause harm—”

“I already told you, I do not intend to cause you harm.” She looked at him so openly, so unabashedly, he almost believed her.

“I have a murder to solve, I don’t have time for these ridiculous pranks,” he was truly dubious now, his anger beginning to rise.

Azriel wasn’t sure how this woman had pulled it off, but he had no time to play games. He knew the youth of Velaris took Halloween very seriously, and October was always rife with elaborate hoaxes and games and spectacles. A waste of his damn time, that’s what this was. Either that, or he really had fallen and hit his head. Hard. He avoided thinking on it too closely.

“I’ve been looking for you,” the woman breathed. Elain. Her eyes shone with something like hurt, longing. She was really sticking to this extravagant charade then.

His patience was waning, she was speaking in riddles and wasting his damn time. “I’m leaving. Now,” Azriel deadpanned, deciding she wasn’t a threat after all and turned on a heel to make his way out of wherever they were.

He heard her sigh deeply, as if she truly was sorry for his rejection of the situation. Whatever this situation was.

“If that is what you wish, Azriel.”

He whirled back around at the sound of his name on her lips, his gaze flickering across her beautiful face, hazel eyes wild. But before he could ponder further on how this strange woman knew his name, his world once again, turned black.

~

Azriel awoke in the morning with a groan, the watery autumn sun streaming in from behind his blinds. His head thumped angrily at him, murky memories of last night swimming into his subconsciousness in drips and drabs. Rubbing his temples, a futile attempt to alleviate the pounding in his head, Azriel pushed himself up on an elbow.

What the fuck kind of dream was that? Beautiful demon-women, sudden relocations to dilapidated manors, summonings? Had he even been called to a crime scene last night? He really was fucking lonely if he was dreaming of strange, beautiful woman whisking him away in the night.

Fuck his life was sad. He had to get a pet, or something.

Blindly reaching for the Advil he kept on his nightstand, his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. He curled his fingers back as something poisonous had lurched out and bit him.

Azriel froze, his eyes snapping open. Twisting his gaze toward his bedside, he reached his fingers incredulously toward the single black rose with ruby-red edges that lay there. Moving slowly, as if the rose were a figment of his imagination, as if it would disappear in a puff of smoke, his fingers once again grazed the satin edges of the blooming petals.

Lifting the rose gingerly between a forefinger and a thumb, his eyes all but bulged from their sockets at what he beheld. Snagged around the sharp thorns of the stem was an unremarkable gold chain, a small glass charm hanging from its length, the obsidian of the petals of the black rose within glinting in the morning light.

*******

tagging: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows​ @the-laughing-bubble​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @pagemasters​ @tswaney17​ @sakurakittypeach​ @thefangirlofhp​ @wingedblooms​

A/N: As mentioned, this will be a two part story (I think). It’s something I discussed with a few friends about writing a while ago, however have only just found the inspiration to do so. Thank you to those special people that helped me hash this out. You probably don’t remember doing so as it was forever ago, but this wouldn’t be seeing the light of day without you all. You all know who you are ♥️

It’s not my best work and I don’t really know how I feel about it but I just couldn’t agonize over it any longer. I would love to hear any thoughts and comments about this so far! It’s probably the first thing I’ve ever written that I’ve somewhat planned in it’s entirety before publication. I’m usually a fuck-around-til-something-works kinda gal 🙂 T xx

#elriel fanfic #t writes #halloween treats #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #demon girl x detective boy #acotar #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elriel fanfiction #elain #pro elriel

[lurienpc]

@tranquilangelist Azriel Navarro-Ortega fancast

#my oc azriel #he is a detective #takes place in the 70s #i love him w all my heart #idk mario lopez fits his vibe #especially the mullet

[utterlyazriel]

the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

#i'm so on the fence on whether i like this one ! >.< #but i do think he would be sooooo foolish once he got jealous #esp if u were nearly a thing but not quite #and i do think he wouldn't have a kiss. just a handhold #when u two finally come together :") #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger x you #acotar

[imaginesmai]

Missed target - Azriel

Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.

Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

The Suriel 1

The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.

Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.

“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”

The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.

Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.

As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.

Missed date

Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.

Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.

Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.

Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.

But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.

“Are you ready to order?”

He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.

“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”

“Water is fine”

They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.

Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.

It was a nice plant.

“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”

“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.

“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “

Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.

The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.

Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.

Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.

Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.

Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.

His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.

Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.

You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.

“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”

“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.

“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”

Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.

But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.

“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”

“I’m Azriel”

“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”

“No”

He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.

You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.

When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.

As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.

The market

Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.

There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.

She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.

It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.

But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.

It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.

The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.

When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.

Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.

“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”

“Are you planning to eat it with me?”

Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.

He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.

Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.

“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”

The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.

But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.

He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

The flowers

Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.

He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.

He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.

The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.

It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.

She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.

Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.

In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Try to smile without looking creepy.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.

In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?

Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.

Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.

All because of the stupid melody.

His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.

He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.

“Hello?”

Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.

You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.

He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.

Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.

He had signed it.

Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel

His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.

The dance

“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.

“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”

Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.

His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.

“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”

“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.

“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”

“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”

“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”

Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.

Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.

He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.

Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.

Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.

Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.

“Is it because Elain?”

The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.

“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”

“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”

“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.

Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.

He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.

For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.

He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.

When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.

Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.

“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.

“Who’s not coming?”

“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”

Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.

Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.

Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.

“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”

“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.

“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”

Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.

Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.

He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.

Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.

Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.

“Damnit!”

“Careful – “

Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.

Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.

His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.

Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.

“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”

“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”

“That’s good”

Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.

Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.

“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.

“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”

“It feels right”

Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.

Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.

His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.

The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.

The Suriel 2

In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.

But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.

The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.

As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.

The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.

He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.

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!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend

Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)

@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog

#imaginemai #imaginesmai #one shot #imagine #x reader #imagine mai #imagines mai #fic #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #shadowsinger x reader #acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again

Azriel x Rowaelin Daughter Reader

Summary: Azriel has a bad habit of finding random females falling onto the River House lawn. This time, the female in question catches him off guard, and she seems to be even stranger than the last.

Series Masterlist

-Part One-

There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. He would’ve thought just that if it hadn’t been for the keen wisps of shadows at his shoulders whispering in his ears, outside, someone’s here, outside, here, here, here, here.

The room filled with his family was non the wiser as the shadowsinger shifted towards the door, all of them talking and laughing by the fire place. Feyre and Rhys cozied up on the loveseat, little Nyx nestled in his mothers arms. Nesta sitting on Cassian’s lap, the sisters talking about the recent books they’d read, his brothers admiring their mates. Mor sipped on her third glass of wine, listening to Elain talk about her blooming garden while she absently fiddled with her still full glass, Lucien sitting comfortably by her side, content to just listen to his mate talk. Amren was nowhere to be found tonight, Varian presumably in town.

Azriel found it easy to slip out the back door, ready to deal with the supposed trouble without disturbing his family’s peace. His shadows didn’t seem alarmed, persistent, but not noting any imminent threat. Despite their ease, he found Truth Teller in his hand, ready to deal with whoever he found if necessary.

It was dark outside, the brisk night air dancing over his fire warmed skin. Calm, no sign of that subtle shift, nothing but his shadows urging him towards the garden, towards whoever was out here causing the small disturbance.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, what he was expecting to find. Maybe a drunk who wandered to far from the main streets of Velaris, maybe a curious young fae who just wanted a glimpse of the inner circle. He’d dealt with his fair share of both, gently warning them away from the home.

But whatever he’d been expecting it certainly wasn’t what he found. A female laid on the ground, clothes and skin covered with dirt and blood, her body sprawled like she’d been thrown down without care. He could sent fresh blood on her coming from a wound on her head, the stream of it dripping down onto the stones beneath her. Her breathing was steady, her heartbeat strong.

Azriel clenched the blade’s hilt tight in his hand, drawing closer to her slowly. Her scent drifted towards him on a phantom wind, pine and snow, like the mountains of Illryia. Despite his resentment of the people who lived there, the scent reminded him of home.

His shadows curiously trail around the female, finding more and more injuries, a cut on her thigh, bruising across her abdomen. Whoever she was, she had seen her fair share of violence. She was high fae, her ears arched into delicate points, though he could not discern which court she may belong too. Her clothes were to disheveled to detect a distinct style, black leather pants and a long sleeved green shirt beneath a leather vest sheathed with knives like a bandolier. Clothes that could belong to any court, maybe even from the continent.

So busy examining her he didn’t detect the change in her breathing until it was to late.

The female launched up with such speed he was almost to slow to block the attack. She’d pulled one of those knives from her vest, it’s wickedly sharp edge to close to his throat for comfort. Truth Teller blocked the blade, the metal singing against her dagger. The female was quick to pull back, not lunging again like he thought she would but reaching for a smaller knife at her ribs, it was flying through the air faster than he could blink, aiming for his eye with remarkable accuracy, Cassian would be proud of a throw like that. The only reason it didn’t take his eye was due to a shadow darting out to grab the blade midair.

The female is a blur as she lunges again, going for the arm holding his blade. He dodges back, the strike missing him by a hair. She’s fast, faster than most fae he’s fought over the centuries. He catches her next strike, a blow to his side that could’ve left him bleeding out on the floor. She pulls back and retreats a few steps, her stance shifting back like she might jump at him again.

“Stop,” he snarls at her.

She hisses, baring her teeth at him, teeth with unusually sharp canines, and then she speaks, a language he’d never heard before. And that’s when the pieces start to click, when his shadows start to whisper, not of this world, another, another world, another, another, another.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he grounds out, “not again.”

The female only snarls, reaching for another of those small wicked blades. She flips it, pinching the sharp tip between her fingers.

“Wait,” he says, sheathing his dagger at his side, “just wait.”

Her eyes track his movements, the ice cold look in them enough to make him shiver. It felt like the air around them tried to freeze under her gaze, the wind no longer a soft breeze but an ice kissed howl.

His head cocked to the side, that was her, she was controlling the wind. The air swirling around them faster and faster, colder and colder.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said though he was sure she couldn’t understand him.

He held his hands up so she could see them, willing his shadows away so he could look as unthreatening as possible. When the last unknown female had landed on this lawn, she’d fallen right in front of him, he’d been able to get his blade angled to her throat before she had anytime to react, this female on the other hand, had managed to get the jump on him first, a fact that his brothers would never let him live down.

The wind bit at his wings, discomfort sooner turning to pain if it kept up like that. It felt like the moisture in the air was turning to ice, slicing into his skin.

She repeats her words, her voice hard and unforgiving just like the wind around them. A shield, he realized, a casing of wind to block all sound, to keep others out and to keep him trapped.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, hoping she can understand the plea in his tone.

Her head tilts, examining him from head to toe, a predator studying its next meal. In that moment, Azriel had never felt more like prey in his life. She had an intensity that rivaled Nesta and Amren, like she knew she was the most powerful creature in the room and she’d be happy to prove it. This female was dangerous, strong, fast, and from another world just like Bryce Quinlann, he could only hope she’d turn out to be an ally as well.

Blood still drips down her face, the cut on her brow deep and jagged, like it had been ripped across a dull object. The scent of her blood filled his nose, laced with that pine and snow, and something warm, like an ember drifting from a fire. Again, it smelled uncannily like home.

Those cold eyes flare wide, the frost bitten wind warming a fraction. Something in her posture shifts, no longer in fight mode, but flight.

“Stop,” he pleads, “hold on.”

Her voice shifts when she speaks, lighter and less harsh, he still can’t understand any of it. His confusion must be evident on his face because she scoffs, lowering the dagger to her side, still not sheathing it. The wind fades away, replaced by a warm gentle breeze that thaws his near frozen wings.

Azriel sighs in relief and she cocks her head at the sound. Her eyes take in his wings, noting the frost on them that slowly melts away. The air seems to get even warmer then.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head to show his gratitude, all while keeping an eye on her.

Though she seems to be less hostile, he wouldn’t let his guard down for a second around her.

He felt it then, the gentle prying talons on his mind, ones he instantly let in. Showing Rhys exactly where he was and who was before him.

Not again, Rhys sighs.

That’s what I said, Azriel replies.

And then that night kissed power settles around them, the female’s eyes hardening back to ice, dagger already raised and ready to defend herself. Azriel was half tempted to tell her it wasn’t worth it, that there was little she could do against Rhys, but he kept his mouth shut as his high lord appeared before them. Giving the female that cool charming look that had most ready to eat out of the palm of his hand.

She didn’t have that kind of reaction, instead she lifted that dagger towards his high lord, a snarl on her lips, those vicious canines on display.

“Well that’s interesting,” Rhys says, coolly looking her over, “high fae, but not one of ours.”

She snaps at him, words he couldn’t understand but by the way she ground them out Azriel could tell they weren’t niceties.

“I’m sure that was her way of calling me a prick,” Rhys chuckles, “I’d recognize it in any language.”

Azriel eyes the two of them, he has no doubts that his high lord could defend himself against the female, but after the last encounter he’d had with a foreign fae he didn’t want to underestimate her. Rhys seems to agree, Azriel can almost see the invisible attack he launches, and he sees the exact moment Rhys hits a wall of pure ice around her mind.

His high lord hisses in pain at the exact moment a bright blue light flares from the female, a mark shining on her brow. The mark like those in the book of breathings, like the horn on Bryce’s back.

The female swears, free hand touching that mark as if she could will it back beneath her skin. Her dagger is aimed for Rhys, but her eyes dance between them both, watching for any movement from Azriel, ready to take both of them on in a heartbeat if it was necessary.

“Go get Amren,” Azriel says, “and bring one of those damned translators.”

Rhys is gone within a split second, and the female is angling that dagger at Azriel instead, a warning to stay back, she makes no move to fight nor flee, her frozen stare colder than before though the air continues to stay warm.

Azriel simply holds his hands in the air, “We mean you no harm.”

She responds in that soft swirling language, his shadows writhe in answer, almost like they could understand her. She frowns at them as they travel across the ground towards her, a soft snarl from her lips has them skittering back. Interesting, the way she seems almost familiar with them, he wonders if she’d encountered fae like him before, maybe like Quinlann’s brother.

Rhys and Amren appear in that night kissed darkness, the female’s attention snapping towards them. Amren curiously examines the girl, that mark that still simmers faintly in her brow.

“Are you collecting more strays?”

Azriel doesn’t respond to the jab, watching as Amren takes the small silver bean from her pocket and throws it towards the female without warning. She catches it with ease, glancing between it and Amren with a raised brow.

“Eat,” Amren commands, miming the action, taping on her mouth as she speaks, “to understand.”

Her eyes find Azriel’s, brow quirked in confusion. He simply nods, mimicking Amren’s actions. She seems to understand that, as she lifts the translator to her mouth and swallows it down.

And just like that she erupts, not with that ice cold wind, but with fire, hotter and stronger than that of the heirs of Autumn. Maybe even hotter than Beron’s himself. A shield from Rhys traps the explosion of power though he winces from the effort of keeping her contained. The fire rages, the earth below her turning to ash in an instant. She burns so hot that the flame around her starts to turn blue. She burns and burns and burns, so bright Azriel shields his eyes, so hot that the shield around her can barely contain that heat.

Rhys does not remove the shield until that fire stops its raging, until all that’s left is smoke and ash. She had collapsed on the floor, her dagger red hot against her skin yet it doesn’t burn her hand. That mark burns brighter as she glares up at them, vibrant blue that lights up the world around them.

“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she snaps, her voice tinged with that soft accent of her language.

“Hard to do that when we don’t speak your tongue,” Amren snaps back. “Who are you?”

Her ice cold stare is unsettling as it examines them all. She stands from the ground, that red hot blade lifting towards them, the air warping from the heat.

“My name is Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius,” her voice is steady, regal, “Crown Princess of Terrasen. And I’d like to know which one of you opened the gate that dragged me here.”

#this is so self indulgent #but I don’t care at all #Azriel’s shadows are cute little busybodies and I love them #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

[angelshadowsinger]

Too Late (Priorities 2)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Azriel hurries back from his mission to find you’re gone. (sequel to Priorities)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

hiii guys! i originally intended on leaving Priorities an open-ended angst, but! y'all demanded part 2, so here it is~ just so you know, this is not happy. if i make a part 3, that might be! also, sorry this is a bit late. this last week was crazy busy and next week probably will be too. TW: very brief mention of vomit

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The wind howled as Azriel pelted through the sky, his raw cheeks stinging from its relentless barrage. Scarred fists were clenched so hard the imprint of his fingernails marred his palms, jaw set as he grit his teeth and powered through exhaustion. 

You were right. 

The mission that Rhys had sent him on was nothing but a menial task. Any of the lower members of Azriel’s investigation force could have done the job the same as him. But ultimately, it was only himself he had to blame; even if his brother had given him the task, he had failed to pass it on to his espionage underlings. Delegation was perhaps one of his weakest skills— even after all these years he felt he had to earn his worth within his family. 

Thankfully, he was already on his way home the evening after leaving, the ordeal taking not even a full day. And he was flying full-speed in order to get back to you as fast as he could. 

His stomach had been in knots ever since he winnowed from his room at the Town House, where he had left you alone with your tears. The sound of your sobs echoed in his head, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled your pleas for him to stay. 

He should’ve listened— This mission was the last nail in the coffin he had been slowly building every time his brother had summoned him away from you, calling him to duty with barely any time to rest between requests, barely any time to hold you in his arms. 

Gods, he missed you. Every time he had to leave you was like pulling teeth, his body and his shadows always begging to stay by your side, savor your kiss and your touch and your voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. But his mind always won out. He couldn’t count how many times he had forced himself to withdraw from your ambrosial embrace, how many times he averted his sight from your melancholy gaze. If he allowed himself to linger on it, shame would begin to swirl in his guts and tighten his throat. 

The border of Velaris came into view and the shadowsinger dared to smile, stopping on a tall plain to gather a few wildflowers together. A meager peace offering, but a gift to show his remorse nonetheless. He had never returned to you empty-handed after a fight, and would not begin now.

Azriel plucked a few more stems to fluff up the bouquet, silently preparing himself for the emotional turmoil that was bound to ensue. The things he felt for you terrified him— and maybe that was partly why he would always answer Rhys’ call. Because if he stayed, and told his brother no… that would be his recognition that you had become his top priority. Perhaps it was time to make that leap, he thought, as he winnowed right into the foyer of the townhouse.

The home was eerily silent as he materialized in the dark, no candles or faelight illuminating the first floor. The sound of the clock ticking caught his attention, hazel eyes glancing at the last hour of dusk. The Illyrian frowned, straining to hear you, hoping to pick up the clank of dishes in the sink, the crisp turn of a page from a book, or even the quiet breaths of your sleeping form from the couch you usually dozed off on when you waited up for his return. But he detected not a single sound. 

Anxiety exploded in his chest, his shadows immediately surging out in every direction without needing instruction. His feet were moving before he could think, swiftly carrying him to the last place he had seen you— where he left you, falling apart and alone. 

He cursed as he hurtled up the stairs, three steps with each stride. It was times like these that he especially wished you were his mate, so that he could reach out to you and calm the ceaseless concerns that regarded your well-being every second he was apart from you. 

Rounding the corner, Azriel burst into his bedroom, eyes immediately zeroing in on the empty, made bed. Within a second, faelight lit the room. His shadows dwindled in the corners of the room, uncharacteristically mild as they slowly swirled at the floor, not reporting their findings to their master. Azriel bared his teeth at none of them in particular, but the reprimanding he was ready to bark out died in his throat as he noticed a small whirl of black lingering on the nightstand at his side of the bed. 

He came closer to inspect it, the little mass of shadow concentrated there, some spilling down the drawers at the side and joining its gloomy brethren on the ground. With a wave of his hand it dissipated. The bouquet in his grip fell to the tile with a soft whoosh. 

Your ring. 

It felt as if he had been shot, the jolt of lethal pain akin to when he had taken an arrow to the chest in Hybern. His lips parted as he examined the delicate silver band, the large, tear-shaped sapphire that once gleamed so brightly now dull against the wood. 

‘Stop wearing this the day you stop loving me,’ he had said, his arms around her as she giggled into his chest. She was giddy at his gift, kept admiring how it looked on her finger, her hand fanning out so the moonlight would catch the gem and shine. 

‘That would be never, shadowsinger,’ she had replied easily. 

He had never felt so light, so careless and content; she loved him too. She loved him, and he kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps she was. 

Azriel fell to the ground, his knees buckling and smashing onto the hard tile. He barely felt it, every fiber of him in shock as he stared at the piece of jewelry that lay on the tabletop, now at eye-level. 

He barely heard his shadows inform him that the ring was the only piece of you in the home left, that your clothes and books and even that ugly throw pillow he hated was gone from the sofa. His wings slowly dipped until they pooled into a black mass on the floor behind him, dread oozing through him as he read the words that laid on the note beneath your ring. 

I’ll never stop, even if you have.

The shadowsinger sat and stared at the ring, at those awful words. He read them again, and then he reread them, again and again. 

He had told you he loved you before he left… But you didn’t believe him. And why should you, when all he gave you as of late were empty promises? Pretty words could only satisfy temporarily, and the latest string of seemingly-endless missions was longer than ever before. 

Doubts began to fill his mind with malicious whispers, his gaze still stuck on the ring and that hideous note. They murmured the thoughts that often found him at the odd hours of the night, when he would lay with your perfect body in his arms and sleep would welcome you but evade him– that you deserved more than he could ever give you, that he was unworthy of your pure and whole love. 

The sound of droplets splattering on the ground summoned Azriel from his descent into devastation, and his eyes slowly fell to examine the tiny pools his tears had formed beside his knees. He hadn’t realized he had started crying. He gingerly raised a scarred hand to his cheek, studying the newfound wetness on his fingertips. It had been so long since he last cried, the evidence of his emotion was foreign. 

Shaky fingers plucked the ring from the nightstand, coming to hold the tiny finery in his lap. It looked so bizarre against the crude black of the leathers binding his thighs, so bright and pure that he couldn’t help but think of you. Couldn’t help but think of when he had seen you personified the same, and he himself as a mass of darkness that would bleed into your light and poison you somehow. He thought of how every time he felt that way, you had worked so hard to convince him that he deserved you and that he deserved love, that you were so happy to be the one to give it to him. More tears escaped as he now realized his failure in telling you the same. You had always been there for him, and when you had begged him for support in your time of need, he had failed you. He had run away.

And now you had erased all traces of yourself from the house Rhys had gifted him. 

The town house had become Azriel’s official residence since his brothers had coupled off, and it had once been the fortress of his solitude. That was before he had found you, and before you had gradually moved your things in… before it had become a home. And now that it was void of you once more, it had suddenly reverted back to that empty, bleak place he had learned to hate.

A lump formed in his throat at the notion that perhaps this place had slowly transformed into your own prison of isolation these last few months. That maybe you had felt this sinking, desperate feeling when you were here, in the place that was meant to be your nest of love, your safe haven. That you had told him you were drowning here, and he had simply told you to wait for him when you were already exhausted, gasping out for him with your last breath. That when he had disregarded your desperate plea, he had effectively swung the sword and severed any faith you had left in him. 

You were gone, and it was all his fault. 

He was too late.

Nausea rolled deep in his gut and he winnowed in front of the toilet just in time before the contents of his stomach surfaced. Only once his body had heaved up everything it could did he begin to sob, knuckles pale as they clenched onto porcelain, his broad form slumped on the cool tile. Shadows swarmed the bath, mirroring their master’s distress. 

Eventually the shadowsinger sat back against the nearest wall, trying to calm his ragged breath. The shadows produced the note that had been left behind, and the sight of your parting words to him nearly triggered another fit, bile rising at the back of his throat. But he paused as he read the words again, scrutinized them even though they were few and short. He sat up and analyzed the note, hazel revisiting and eating up every curve of ink.

You still loved him. 

Even after he had ignored you, neglected you, failed you… you still loved him. Was there a chance that you… still wanted him? If he could repent and swear to do better, would you take him back? If he could just talk to you, if he could get one more chance from you… he could love you. He already did love you, but if he had another shot to be with you, then he could really give you his all, he could really allow himself to love you like he had always dreamt of. He could stand up to his brother, he could tell you how his world was meaningless without you, he could cherish you– prioritize you, he could… 

Azriel frowned, a panicked hand combing through his dark hair. 

Could he do all of that?

He had never been so outright with his emotions, it felt weak to bear his heart to such a degree… But what was the alternative? A life without you? A life filled with wondering what could have been had he not been a coward that was too scared to tell you how he really felt, too scared to even try? 

If there was a time to be brave, it was now. 

He was absolutely terrified, but his resolve was steel as he took a minute to fix himself, another to grab the flowers from the ground and ensure he had your ring. And then he was off in search of you, shadows enveloping him and melting into the night.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x you #acotar x reader #azriel angst #my work #angelshadowsinger

[blueariel3-blog]

Rest Now, Darling

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Just as Elain had finished preparing tea for you, the door to Rhys' study closed. You snapped your head up to the sound and prayed to the mother that everything was alright. The debrief from the mission could take hours and you always waited in anticipation of Azriel's mood. 

You silently sipped your tea and counted the minutes as they sat in the room. Elain had gone out to her garden at some point and Feyre walked through the house to her room to change out of her leathers and into her painting clothes. Nesta dropped by to return one of your books as the sky began to creep into darkness. 

All the while you sat silently on the couch, eyes gazing into the fire as if you could extend some of its warmth to the brooding male upstairs. 

The door gently opened, a shuffle of feet across the carpet, and the click of Azriel's door. You sighed and stood from your spot, stretching the knots in your back that had developed since you first sat on the couch hours ago. Rhys was intently reading something on his desk when you entered. 

His head rose slightly, swimming eyes meeting yours as he inclined for you to close the door. Silent steps across the room as you sat perfectly still in the seat still warm from Azriel's earlier occupation. His scent gently rose to meet you and you inhaled, smoothing the wringles in your pants out as you tried to detect any scent of blood. 

"He's fine. Physcially. Mentally, he may be brooding for a few days. Go with him, I'll have the twins leave some plates in the fridge if you get hungry." 

Not needing a dismissal, you gently rose from the seat and set out to find the shadow singer. The soft click of the door was all that could be heard in the hallway as you made your way to his room. The lights were off, the shadows quietly breezing through the air and wrapping around your wrist in a comforting manner. 

You took small steps toward the figure hunched over his knees that sat on his bed. His thoughts ran wild as he replayed the scenes over and over; the agony washing over him was unbearable. As much as he needed to reach out and assure himself you were safe, he had no energy to do so. His shadows whispered in his ear that you were moving towards him and he exhaled some of his worry. 

You gently touched his head, running your finger through the soft, dark curls. His forehead came to rest against your chest and his arms hung limply around your legs. You continued to offer him this soft comfort in the quiet, knowing that he needed it. 

No words were said as you gently pulled the top of his leathers up. You ran your hands over his smooth skin comfortingly as you pulled it off, careful to mind his wings. His head continued to droop as you silently motioned him to stand up and remove the rest of his clothes. A pair of bottoms floating over on a shadow appeared in your hand and you quickly slipped them over his legs. 

The covers pulled back by the force of the darkness and you let him slip into bed. His eyes continued to stare blankly at the ceiling as you changed your clothes into one of his t-shirts. His skin was cold as you placed a hand over his heart, only to reassure yourself that he was alright. The sheets were soft against your skin as you moved closer to him. 

As you lay agsint the pillows next to him, he suddenly shifted and lay atop you. It was not a sexual act, but an intimate one for certain. He lay sprawled over you and the rise and fall of his chest pushed against yours. You placed your hands along his back and head once more to continue the mindless scratching that seemed to soothe him. 

Azriel wanted quiet as his thoughts ran wild. He wanted to be alone as he had to remember every detail of what he had heard and seen. He always wanted your touch, craved it like a man who had been without water for a thousand years. He need you there to ground him. 

The beating of your hearts was in time, but not yet tethered together. 

Azriel fought against the darkness that wanted to drag him into a place of Hell, but the comforting whispers of his shadows and soothing motions of your hands seemed to lull him there anyways. There was nothing he could do as descended into his thoughts. 

"Rest now, darling," you whispered into the night as his wings cocooned around you. Despite the turmoil he was feeling, you would be there in the morning to face the day with him. And every day after that. 

#azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel imagine #Azriel

[lalacliffthorne]

🪽 if you go down 🪽

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: when a mission goes awry in the cold mountains, things take a turn, and suddenly, there's a lot more at stake than planned.

notes: look who's back!! yours truly got knocked out by a flu sent straight from hell, which meant being buried in bed and no writing for what felt likes ages. and of course when I did write again, I did not focus on other WIPs - noooo, I started this! whoops *winces*. to be fair tho, parts of this had been sitting in my ideas-folder for quite some time and when I had a sudden epiphany on how to use them, I couldn't just ignore that. especially since that epiphany was so... steamy. *grins* I'm back on my bullshit, and it's a spicy one! strap yourselves in, babes. we've got incoming drama and smut. also, even after splitting the whole thing, this is still long.

______________________________________________________________

The whole thing had been a shit show even before Azriel got shot out of the sky.

Rhys had sent the Spymaster and me into the mountains, to track down a group of soldiers gone rogue that had somehow swerved into the icy wilderness of the Night Court, raiding the small villages and leaving a trail of chaos and bodies.

It was a simple track and eliminate situation; find the group, assess the situation, move in if possible and track and wait if not.

Of course that meant nothing about it was simple.

“Damn it,”, I hissed, feeling my body tremble as a gush of ice cold wind grasped me.

I squinted, trying to make out anything in the chaos of swirling thick snowflakes that stuck to my lashes and hair. My cheeks were stinging under my heavy hood, my fingers freezing even in my thickly lined gloves, my skin icy under my winter leathers that weren't enough even with a second layer beneath.

The snowed-in wilderness of the Night Court was an icy climate to begin with, hard to navigate even in good weather.

Nearly impossible in a snowstorm.

We'd lost track of the soldiers about two or three hours ago, the quick falling fresh snow covering every track within minutes, the wind destroying every trace of footsteps and scent. Even Azriel's shadows seemed to be confused, coming up empty in the snowed-in woods, like the soldiers had buried themselves to avoid detection.

I huffed, my breath a white cloud.

Wouldn't have surprised me. They were trained to stay undetected.

This was bullshit.

Raising my head, my squinted eyes darted over the grey sky, clouds of thick whirling snow over the dark pines almost conceiling the dark figure high in the sky.

Even though it was risky, Azriel had decided that trudging through the forest without quite knowing which way to go wouldn't do. He had also ignored my protest that he'd be visible like a fucking beacon up there, no cover anywhere.

I had seen the hard glare he'd sent me before launching into the air - he knew perfectly well that it was a dangerous move. But just like me, he was irritated.

Pairing us together probably hadn't been the best idea.

The shadowsinger and I always clashed. Where Azriel was cool and quiet, I was fiery and quick to charge. Where he scowled, I grinned in challenge, where his eyes pierced, mine twinkled. He was rational and controlled to no avail, and I was empathetic and following my heart. His quiet watchfulness annoyed the crap out of me, and my smirks and cheeky taunts made his eyes flare.

I egged him on, challenged him where I could, and he usually rose to the occasion, shooting right back with sharp, well placed jabs.

It didn't help that he was breathtakingly beautiful. That his low, deep voice sent tingling shivers down my spine. It was infuriating, really; how it could make the hairs at the back of my neck rise, how him towering over me made something dip over in my chest.

It was a constant back and forth between us, which had made pairing us together for a mission a risky move even before the storm had hit. Now, we'd lost the soliders, I was freezing, Azriel's shadows were frenzied and uncoordinated, like they were responding to their master's agitation –

All in all, it was a mess.

Shivering, I slowly started to trudge through the snow again. I needed to move, or I would turn into a fucking icycle.

Screw Azriel and his stern “Stay here.”; if I did, he could take me home as an ice statue.

The snow swallowed every noise, the howling wind making listening for treacherous footsteps even harder. I moved slowly and carefully, my brown leathers blending in with the tree trunks, but still far too visible in the white forest as I squinted against the onslaught of falling snow that covered my tracks within minutes.

Gods, in this weather, those bastards could be miles away by now and we wouldn't kno-

Something shivered down my spine.

My eyes darted up, and I felt something dip over in my stomach when a wave of dread washed over me - premonition, instinct; precise and never amiss.

The strange tingle of sudden knowledge that something was about to go terribly, awfully wrong.

My instincts were something that even Azriel couldn´t scoff away.

In over 300 years, they had never once been wrong.

I swung around, drawing my swords as my gaze darted over the snowed in forest in search for anything; a trembling branch, a moving figure –

My gaze rose, and my eyes found the dark silhouette high in the sky.

Everything seemed to slow, my breath coming out in heaving clouds as something swelled under my ribs.

Then an arrow whizzed through the sky and hit the dark shape square in the chest.

My heart stopped. Simply ceased beating as I felt my eyes widen and my lips part.

In complete silence, the winged figure wavered. Then more black shapes whizzed through the air like lightning, catching and ripping through his wings, and like slow motion, Azriel tipped to the side and began to drop through the sky, freefalling towards the earth.

My limbs unfroze. A jolt went through my body as a wave of all-consuming dread crashed over me, and breathing a panicked “No.”, I rushed forward. Plunging my swords back into their sheets, I dodged a low hanging branch, then I started running.

My feet flew over the snow-covered ground, clouds of white whirling up behind me as I dashed through the trees. My heart was pounding against my ribs as something seized my chest, something like a clawed fist, squeezing tighter and tighter as I ran. Stumbling over roots and slipping on the icy ground, I dodged branches, freezing deadly cold washing through my veines as I stormed through the woods.

No.

I stumbled out from between the trees onto a stony beach, almost tripping as I skidded to a halt.

In front of me, a huge lake stretched, dark and deep and silent.

Right in it's middle, the water was sloshing, silently throwing small waves, like something big had crashed into it.

For a moment, I felt frozen, a name filling my throat, threatening to spill out, but I couldn't, couldn't scream without drawing attention, couldn't yell out the panicked cry building in my chest –

Azriel.

Panic crushed my ribs, and without a thought, without a second of consideration or planning, I darted towards the shore.

The water soaked my boots within seconds as I splashed into the lake. Icy cold water hit my feet, spattering up my legs and almost causing my muscles to lock in place. But I fought forward, holding onto the pulsing fear in my chest as I pushed my legs to move. Then I dove into the waves.

For a moment, the water seemed to freeze the blood in my veines. My lungs closed up, cold gripping my body. Then my head broke through the surface, the air hot in comparison to the icy water as I started to swim.

Something gripped my chest like an iron fist as I fought my way through the cold water. It was so deep, so dark, I couldn't see the ground, could only focus on that spot in the middle of the lake where the water was slowly beginning to calm.

Azriel had still not come up for air.

Something rose in my chest, gripped my throat, and I pushed, my skin burning with cold as I tried to swim faster, my arms and legs cleaving through the icy waves in powerful strokes. Then I sucked in a deep breath and dove under.

The water was so dark, I could barely see a few feet. Pushing myself deeper, feeling my wet clothes pull at me, my eyes darted through the depths until I spotted a huge shape floating below me. Shadows were slowly swirling around it, almost serenly, reaching out towards me like soft, gentle hands.

Something tightened violently in my chest, and I pushed myself up.

My head broke through the surface, and I gasped for air as the ice cold wind stung my wet cheeks. Breathing in deeply, I filled my lungs. Then I dove again.

The icy water enveloped me like hands pulling at me, like ghostly fingers numbing my skin as I started to swim into the deep. My body was burning as I fought my way through the stinging cold towards the far away bottom of the lake where Azriel was being gently swayed by the water, his wings stretched out and body limp, eyes closed.

My heart pulsed painfully.

Shit.

My lungs were beginning to protest as I reached out, feeling the pressure on my body pushing me as I grasped at nothingness. Then my fingers closed around Azriel's shoulders, and something dipped in my chest. I slipped an arm around his collarbones, feeling coolness sweep around me as his shadows pushed me upwards towards the light.

My chest was constricting as I fought myself upwards, black spots beginning to dance at the edge of my vision, and I tried to fight the panic, push forward -

My face broke through the surface, and I gasped for air, my fingers digging deeper into Azriel's shoulders as I hauled him up and into my chest, his face coming out of the water. The ice cold air stung my lungs and skin, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Azriel's tall, solid body completely motionless.

“Shit.” Gripping him tighter, I turned, frantically trying to catch sight of the beach. For a second, I couldn't find it, feeling panic slosh through me. Then I caught a glimpse of black stone strip in the distance.

“No, no, come on.” Shaking, I began to fight my way through the sloshing waves. Azriel's wings dragged through the water, making him even heavier and pulling him down. Water sloshed over his face, and I tried to tug him up, my eyes beginning to burn and a desperate sound breaking from my throat as my muscles protested.

Come on.

It felt like hours until I reached the shore. I was shivering uncontrollably as I pushed myself to my feet, my knees shaking as I dragged Azriel out of the water, his wings scraping over the stony ground. His shadows whispered as I dropped him, falling to my knees next to him.

“Az?!” My voice was hoarse and panicked as I pressed my fingers against his neck and felt my heart skip once before stilling.

He wasn't breathing.

“No, no, no, come on!” An ache spread through my chest, and with widening eyes, I slid forward, beginning to press my hands down on his lungs in a quick, steady rhythm, my whole body shaking as my heart pounded in my throat.

“Come on,”, I whispered frantically, “come on –“

Water sloshed out of Azriel's mouth, his body rearing up as he coughed out lake water.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I hastily pushed against his body, turning him onto his side and patting firmly onto his back.

Azriel inhaled harshly, his breath rattling. His body was shaking under my fingers, and something tightened violently in my chest when I felt him slump against me.

With shaking hands, I turned him onto his back again, leaning forward to slap his cheek. “Azriel. Azriel, fucking look at me!”

Whispering curses under my breath, I stared at the ash arrow in his chest, feeling my heart pound. I couldn't take it out, not here, not without anything to stop the bloodflow, not without risking him loosing too much blood. His wings needed healing as well, the rips in the thin membrane too big, too broad.

“Shit, shit, shit,”, I whispered hoarsely, throwing my head up to look around wildly. I couldn't stay here, or we'd freeze, and with our luck, the soldiers were heading this way, just to check on whether they had actually hit their target.

We needed shelter.

“Alright, come on.” Scrambling to get to my feet, I grabbed Azriel's wrist, his body dead weight as I slid his arm over my shoulder and dragged him to his feet. His wings slumped towards the ground, and I clenched my teeth, wrapping my arm tightly around his waist and firmly nudging my shoulder into his side.

“You're not giving up, you hear me?” My body was trembling from cold and adrenaline as I started to stumble towards the treeline, half dragging, half carrying Azriel with me. “You're going to hold on until I find a safe place; you're not going to leave me!” My voice quivered.

“I need you to glare at me and call me stupid for putting myself in danger, and I need you to be a stuck up idiot so I can kick your stupid beautiful ass for it!” My voice broke, and I cursed myself, raising my head and blinking against the stubborn burning sensation in my eyes as I breathed shakily. “You're not going to die on me; you're not going to die!”

The snow made getting forward difficult. Soon, my knees were shaking under Azriel's weight, and I could feel his rattling breath against my soaking wet hair, becoming flatter. His body shivered like mine, like it was fighting against the icy winds ripping at us, howling as the snowfall became heavier. At least it would cover our tracks and mask our scents.

I nearly stumbled over a root hidden in the snow, and something in my chest clenched.

If we didn't find shelter soon, Azriel would be dead by morning.

Something hot and flaming rose in my chest, and I clenched my teeth, adrenaline surging through my body.

No fucking way.

“Come – on,”, I pressed, gripping him tighter and fighting against the cold stinging my whole body, numbing my skin as I dragged the shadowsinger with me. “You're not getting away that easily, you hear me?”

For once, I wish I would get back a cutting, precise remark. But Azriel just rasped a flat breath, his body sinking heavier on mine. Panic washed over me, tightening its grip around my chest.

Shit.

The wind howled around us. Every crack of a branch when the weight of the snow got too heavy made my head whip around, my eyes darting frantically through the trees. But I couldn't see a soul, could only hear the sound of crunching snow under our feet and our heavy breathing. My mind was racing while I dragged Azriel through the snow.

The arrows had come from the opposite side of the lake, probably from quite a bit inside the forest. If they wanted to check if they had hit their target, they would have reached the lake by now, but the quick falling snow had masked all our tracks.

Hopefully.

They would hardly check the lake for a body, so if they didn't find one washed onto the shore, maybe we had a chance. Maybe if we found a spot to hide, wait out the storm and I got Azriel at least half back on his feet, he'd be able to transport us back to Velaris, and we could send reinforcements to find the soldiers.

For some reason, the thought wasn't nearly as satisfying as the heat twisting and raging in my chest, urging me to hunt them down myself. And sink my knives into the bastard who had dared firing those arrows.

The image kept me going, fed my numbing, chattering body with a grim, burning fire that wasn't warming but gave me something to cling to, hold onto as I staggered through the snow.

That and the male I half dragged, half carried, his body becoming heavier with the second. It caused a desperate tremble in my limbs.

There was no way I was going to lose him, no way I wasn't going to push until my legs gave out, and even then, I would curl over him if I had to, protect his far too tall body with mine, give him the last bit of warmth that was burning in my chest.

It was either the both of us leaving this stupid forest, or neither of us, because there was no way I was going to leave him. Even if his beautiful, dumb, rational ass would tell me to –

My eyes got caught on a dark structure ahead, flashing between the dark trees, almost obscured by clouds of whirling snow.

My heart tumbled, and I exhaled shakily, feeling my eyes widen as I tightened my grip around Azriel's waist and started lugging him forward.

The thrum in my chest began to quicken when I caught a glimpse at what looked like a simple wooden cabin. It was probably nothing more than one big room inside, with small windows and closed shutters, the porch covered in a thick layer of snow that the wind had blown past the protruding roof – but it made my heart rise in a wild flutter and my limbs melt from their frozen state.

The cabin looked empty, no light peaking out from the shutters, the snow high and unmarked around it. I dragged Azriel to the front door and felt my heart dip.

The door had been opened by force. It looked like someone had kicked it in, and when I leaned forward, breathing heavily, I caught a glimpse at an empty, slightly trashed inside. Judging by the thick layer of snow that had covered the entrance, the raid had happened more than a few hours ago, maybe even already last night.

My heart fluttered and jumped into my throat.

That meant the soldiers had already been this way, had probably reached the lake from this side before moving to the other to disappear deeper into the mountains.

If we were lucky, that meant they wouldn't come past here again, clearly already done searching for valuables in this place.

Unless they had a reason to, they wouldn't just backtrack and risk running into the people hunting them.

I nearly stumbled, lugging Azriel up the steps to the porch. We almost got stuck in the door, and I had to slide my arms around him to pull him through sideways to not hurt his wings. Then I looked over my shoulder, breathing heavily as I quickly scanned over the inside of the cabin.

It was one big room, with a fireplace and a bed covered in furs on the left, a big table and shelves on the right. The air smelled ice cold but stale, like no one had been here for quite some time. The cabinets had been thrown open, but nothing but cups and bowls were scattered over the floors, the bottles and jars in the shelves untouched. The sight made my heart skip high.

Maybe I had a chance of mixing something for Azriel's wounds together from that.

“Alright, come on.” Dragging Azriel towards the table, I heaved him onto the top, my limbs shaking from his weight. Minding his wings, I turned him onto his back, hastily checking his pulse before turning around and darting towards the door. Kicking most of the snow out onto the porch, I threw it shut, bolting it and using one of the chairs to block the handle just to be sure.

Now, the cabin lay in almost complete darkness. Outside, it seemed to already get darker, the thick clouds and the snow storm that only seemed to get heavier darkening the woods even quicker.

My teeth were chattering as I darted towards the shelves, my trembling fingers skimming over the bottles and tinctures, dried herbs and berries in jars. I found some candles in a drawer and matches in another, and setting them up in holders around the cabin, I lit them, my breath shaking as warm, golden light filled the room. Now that I wasn't moving, I felt the cold clinging to me even more, numbing my limbs.

We needed to warm up, quick.

But first, I had to take care of that arrow.

I had never been more thankful for Madja.

My fingers flew over the pestle and mortar I had found in the shelves, grinding up berries, mixing them with herbs, honey and fresh snow. I heard the old healer's voice in my head as I worked, explaining how to best treat wounds caused by ash arrows, how to make the paste that would help the naturally quicker healing of an Illyrian.

Provided the arrow had not injured any vital organs.

The thought made something dip over in my chest, and I threw a quick look over my shoulder to where Azriel was laying still on the big wooden table, his breathing far to flat, the white of his eyes visible under his fluttering eyes. His tanned skin was pale.

Snatching some bandages I had found in the back of a cabinet, I turned around, dropping the mortar on an empty chair next to the bandages and some clean fabrics I had found in the chest next to the bed. My fingers were trembling as I undid the buckles of Azriel'ss chest armor, the heavy leathers pierced by the arrow. His clothes were soaked and clammy like mine, and his skin was icy to the touch, so much so that I flinched.

Shit.

Breathing out, I closed my hand around the arrow, my breath shaking as I pressed my free arm down onto Azriel's chest.

“I'm so sorry,”, I whispered.

Azriel gave a gargled sound when I pulled the arrow from his chest, twisting in the spot. I tried to hold him down, squeezing my eyes shut as the arrow clattered to the floor and I hastily pressed some of the cloth onto the wound that gushed blood, though it looked a lot less than it maybe should be.

Godsdamned cold.

Hastily, I dragged Azriel's leathers off his torso, dropping the soaking material to the ground as I caught the blood with the cloth, pressing it down. My body was trembling as I waited, then I peaked at the wound - the bleeding was already slowing down.

I prayed it was Azriel's healing that caused it, not the cold shutting down his bloodflow.

Spreading the thick paste over the wound, I picked up the needle and thread I had found in a drawer and held the sharp tip into the flame of a candle before pulling the thread through it. My fingers trembled, and I needed three tries until it was looped through the needle.

Azriel twitched when I started stitching the wound together, my needlework a lot less clean than Madja's, but I was shaking too hard. My eyes darted towards Azriel's face constantly, my heart dropping deeper every time I caught a glimpse at the white of his eyes peaking out from under his lids. It felt like he was wandering somewhere between concious and unconcious, twitching and groaning softly at the pain, but too far away to open his eyes or gather anything about his surroundings.

Tying off the string, I grabbed the bandages. It took all my strength to pull Azriel up, his wings dragging him down as I wrapped the white gauze around his ribs tightly, my arms shaking.

I was sweating when I finally carefully put him down again, my cold, wet clothes sticking to my skin and making my teeth chatter.

I needed to get out of these leathers or I would catch something worse than death.

But Azriel's wings were first.

The thin membranes had been shredded by the sharp tips of the arrows, blood crusting the gaping cuts. I cleaned them, whispering trembling apologies whenever Azriel shifted and gave slurred, pained sounds that sunk their own sharp claws into my chest. Carefully stitching them together in the way Madja had showed me once, I spread more paste on the wounds, thick enough to cover them from both sides.

Hopefully, it would speed up the healing process.

Pressing my hand onto Azriel's cheek, I cursed under my breath. He was icy cold, his skin clammy.

I had to get him warmed up. Now.

My eyes darted over to the fireplace, then to the windows, and a knot formed in my throat.

Even though it was getting darker by the minute, the smoke of a fire could still give away our location, even with the storm.

I turned back towards the shadowsinger, who's hair was curling with dampness and melted snow, his torso bare, his wet pants clinging to his legs.

I needed to get him out of those; he didn't have a chance of warming up when he was still wearing the damp, clammy clothes.

Which meant stripping him.

Even though I was chattering with cold, I felt heat bleed into my cheeks.

“Gods, get yourself together,”, I mumbled to myself, moving forward and beginning to unbuckle the sheaths wrapped around Azriel's thighs. I tried to avoid looking at him; his chiselled torso, the smooth curve and width of his shoulders, the ink swirling over the planes of his chest, tried to not think about the rising feeling in my chest that came to life whenever his amber eyes settled on me for too long.

Letting the daggers slip to the floor, I unlaced Azriel's boots, cursing softly at how stiff my fingers were. I could barely feel them as I tugged the black leather off before turning around, blaming the cold for my trembling limbs and for my inability to unbuckle his belt on the first try. Then, stubbornly not staring at his bare skin, I tugged his pants down his legs. They were soaked like the rest of his clothes, making it difficult to tug the thick winter leathers off his skin.

Dropping the pants, I felt the heat in my cheeks deepen and quickly averted my eyes, sliding my arm around Azriel's waist and grunting softly when I maneuvered him off the table.

“Alright, come on.” Staggering slightly, I tried to ignore the weight of his muscled body as it leaned heavily onto mine, the feeling of his harsh breath, his lips brushing over my temple and his skin smooth and cool against my fingers.

It proved impossible.

Somehow, I managed to get Azriel under the covers. Turning him onto his sides so his wings weren't in the way, I tucked him under the blanket and threw the furs over, shivering as I turned around and spread out his dripping wet, icy cold clothes over the chairs. My own were beginning to feel like they'd been frozen by the snow and wind, and when I caught a look at myself in one of the windows, I felt my heart drop at the sight of my slightly blue lips.

Crap.

Quickly throwing a quick look over to where Azriel was laying on the bed, buried under the furs, still breathing too harsh, too uneven, I turned around again, feeling something thump harshly against my ribs. Then I swallowed and quickly started peeling off my own clothes.

My leathers stuck to my skin, completely wet and clammy, and I hissed in frustration as I kicked off my thick pants. Suddenly, I realised how cold the air in the cabin really was, making my limbs shake even more as I rubbed my stiff fingers over my thighs before quickly spreading my clothes over the rest of the furniture. Then I hesitated, looking down at the bra and top I was wearing over my underwear, both sticking to my skin, making goosebumps rise on my body.

I needed to get them off, but if I did – I was practically completely bare.

For a second, I was still, just breathing quickly and feeling myself shiver. Then I cursed softly and quickly shed both the undershirt and the bra, throwing them over the backrest of a chair. Crossing my arms quickly over my chest to cover myself, I turned around, my eyes getting caught on Azriel's frame. He had started to shiver violently.

I felt the overwhelming urge to grab one or two of the furs and curl up on the armchair by the cold fireplace. But I could feel the icy cold seep through me, now settled in my bones, could feel myself grow number.

Staring at Azriel's trembling form for another second, I whispered a curse under my breath, then I darted towards the bed and slid under the blankets.

Immediately, my body started shivering more. It felt like now that I wasn't moving anymore, the cold invaded every inch of me, causing my teeth to chatter loudly as I curled up on my side under the heavy furs, my damp hair sticking to my bare skin as I stared at Azriel's face in the warm flicker of the candles. He looked too pale, his breath too labored.

Swallowing, I scooted closer under the blankets until I could feel his body, just shy of touching my curled up form. Then I forced myself to relax, to stop the shivering, focusing on Azriel´s face, the crunch of his brows, like even unconcious, he was fighting, angry.

The thought made my lips twitch softly.

Curling up tighter, I buried myself in the sheets and breathed out. Suddenly, the exhaustion crashed over my like a wave, my limbs burning not only from the cold but from dragging Azriel through the water and the snow. My eyes drooped, and I had to fight to keep them open, clenching my jaw.

I couldn't fall asleep, I had to stay awake enough to listen for anything. To, for once, keep watch over Azriel, in case anything, anyone found us after all.

But the woods outside were quiet except for the howling wind.

I dozed off a few times. I didn't fall into a deep sleep, my body too cold, my heart beating too quickly, my ears too sensitive to any sound coming from beyond the windows, where the world became darker and darker. But the exhaustion soon overwhelmed me, and my body took what minutes of shut-eye it could pry from the grip of my will. The rest of the time, I stared at Azriel's face in the light of the candles, something thrumming heavily against my ribs.

Please be okay.

I was slowly slipping away into a deeper sleep when the mattress jerked. My eyes flew open, and my heart skipped into my throat when I found another pair staring right at me.

Azriel's eyes were blown as his gaze slowly tracked over the sliver of my bare shoulders and collarbones visible from where the furs had slipped from his abrupt waking. Then his throat worked, and I could see the moment he seemed to tear himself out of it, could see the confused but soft, slightly feverish expression bleed from his eyes as his iris narrowed in and darkness settled over his face.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, and Azriel tore his gaze up, eyes flaring as they pierced into mine.

He didn't need to open his mouth for me to know exactly what was going on in his head.

Explain. Now.

I breathed out and dropped my head onto the pillow, mumbling: “Calm down.” Curling tighter into the furs wrapping around me and trying to keep my teeth from chattering, I grumbled: “This wasn't exactly how I imagined this whole thing going either.” Trying to ignore the heat bleeding into my cheek, I watched him, my voice becoming softer when I mumbled: “You fell into a lake when they shot you down.”

Azriel blinked, and his eyes found my hair that was still damp and cold, sticking to my neck. His pupils constricted, and something flared in his eyes.

“You pulled me out.”

His voice sent a tingle down my spine, low and deep, so deep, hoarse with exhaustion but cutting, his eyes blazing with something I didn't recognize.

I shrugged softly, pulling the blankets tighter around me as I sent him a smile that wasn't half as mischievous as usual.

“Yes, well, I thought about how much you would hate me doing that and just couldn't resist. You know how I like to push your buttons.”

Azriel's jaw twitched, and something burning grew in his eyes as they pierced mine.

I felt my lips twitch in a weak attempt at a cheeky smirk. “That would be the moment to thank me for saving your life.”

Azriel's eyes narrowed, and I could see the muscles in his cheeks shift. “You exposed yourself, left yourself defenseless. That was reckless and stupid.”

His voice was cutting, icy, but I just stared at him, feeling something hot bloom in my chest as my heart skipped high against my ribs.

I blinked and felt my lips curve softly.

“You're welcome.” I turned to slide of the mattress, shivering as my bare feet hit the cold floors. Wrapping the furs around me, I dropped onto my knees next to the fireplace, reaching out to close my fingers around my pants. The leather was icy cold and wet.

“Damn it,”, I whispered under my breath.

I looked over my shoulder and found Azriel's eyes on my face, something raging in his iris, something I didn't recognize.

“What?” My gaze flickered over his face, something skipping softly against my ribs. Then I blinked and looked him over, feeling my lips curve into a cheeky smirk. “Don´t worry. I didn't look anywhere important.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's eyes dip towards his bare chest, and if I hadn't known any better, I thought I saw a faint blush spread over his cheekbones. Then he tore his eyes away and clenched his jaw.

“You left yourself completely defenseless.”

I turned back around, staring at the fireplace as I felt the smile bleed off my face.

“Yes, well, I wasn't exactly thinking,”, I mumbled, something tightening harshly in my chest.

Even from the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's gaze flare incredulously, his deep voice slicing through me.

“Not thinking gets you killed.”

I swallowed. My heart thrummed against my ribs as the moment I had watched Azriel fall flashed before my eyes.

“What if the soldiers had been at the lake, what if they'd gotten there by the time you came out of the water?” Azriel's jaw clenched, his voice tight, unrelenting. “You didn't think, and it could have cost you your life –“

“What do you care; if I hadn't made it, you wouldn't have either, but we did; what's your problem?!” I turned to stare at him, my breath hitching as an ache spread through my chest, and shadows whipped up the walls as Azriel growled.

“How can you be so reckless when it comes to your own fucking life –“

Something under my ribs shattered.

“I thought I'd lost you!!”

My desperate scream caused Azriel to fall silent like I had slapped him across the face.

I stared at him, breathing heavily, my body trembling as I barely fought the burning feeling of tears behind my eyes.

“You asshole!” My voice was shaking even though I didn't want it to, a bright aching feeling burning in my chest, flaring like that flicker in Azriel's eyes.

“I saw you fall, and then that stupid lake and I thought –“ My voice broke as I stared at him, an all-consuming pain growing under my ribs.

“You were drowning.” My hands trembled, my throat closing up tight as I blinked against the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks. “I wasn't thinking about anything but that, and that there was no fucking way I was going to let it happen! And you're a fucking jerk for berating me for it, just because what I did doesn't fit with your strategic expectations, or because you think it was reckless, when I thought I had lost you!” My next breath shuddered as I stared at him, my limbs trembling.

Azriel's throat worked as his eyes pierced mine, but for once, he was completely silent.

“You think that it was stupid? That it was reckless and emotional?” I felt heat grow in my chest; familiar, angry heat, and I scrambled to push myself to my feet, glaring at him as I trembled.

“Well, I don't give a shit about what you think! I would have dragged you through that stupid snowstorm until my legs gave out, even if it meant freezing in the end!” I balled my hands into fists. “There's no fucking way I would have ever left you!” Blinking against the tears gathering in my eyes, I swallowed, staring at him.

“Because that's the next thing you would have said, right?” I breathed a bitter smile, something tightening harshly in my chest. “That the rational thing would have been for me to leave you behind? That there was no way I could have carried you until I found a village, let alone all the way back to Velaris? That pulling you out of that lake and taking you with me meant leaving myself defenseless, to those bastards and that fucking cold out there, and that I should have never done that?” I fought the way my breath hitched and tears pricked my eyes as I glared at him. “I don't give a shit about all of that. Because I don't give up. I don't give people up, and I sure as hell never leave anyone behind, especially –“ I cut myself off, biting the inside of my cheek.

Especially not you.

I swallowed and curled my fingers into the fur wrapped around me as I returned Azriel's blazing stare, even as something closed around my throat, causing my voice to sound hoarse as I mumbled: “I would have rather frozen to death with you than leave you behind.”

Azriel blinked again. His jaw worked as his eyes flickered over my face, and something flashed through them. But I turned away before I could find out what it was, my chest tightening as I angrily wiped away the tear that rolled over my cheek, treacherous and letting on that maybe, I gave quite a shit after all.

“Our clothes are still too wet.” My voice was thick and a little shaky, but I refused to look at Azriel as I stared at my pants before turning my eyes towards the windows, behind which, the woods were completely dark.

“Without warmth, it's going to take too long for them to dry. And your body's too focused on keeping you from freezing to properly heal you, so you need to warm up.” I started pulling logs from the stack of firewood next to the fireplace, mumbling hoarsely: “Let's hope it's dark and windy enough that no one can trace the smoke.”

I could feel Azriel's eyes on me as I built and stoked the fire, my fingers trembling not from the cold. Something was constricting in my chest, rage towards this stubborn male swirling under my ribs, mixed with something aching and fluttering that made my heart quiver.

I stoked the fire until I could feel the warmth of the flames on my face. Shivering, I wrapped the furs tighter around me.

Just the thought of being close to Azriel caused something to tighten harshly in my chest. But I could feel cold crawl up from the floorboards, and the desire not to freeze was stronger than the one that told me stay away from the male on the bed.

Pushing myself back onto my feet, I turned around and, without looking at Azriel, slid back under the covers. Turning my back towards the shadowsinger, I curled up, my limbs trembling with cold and something else that had closed tightly around my chest.

I could feel Azriel shift behind me, slowly moving back under the blankets. I tucked myself in tighter, my teeth chattering softly.

The flames in the fireplace started to crackle slowly. I stared at their light dancing over the floorboards, tried to ignore the presence right behind me. But I couldn't ignore his scent, night chilled cedar mixed with the metallic scent of blood, and how it made something twinge in my chest. My mind kept looping back towards the fact that if I shifted back just a few inches, my body would press into hi-

“You're shaking.”

The low vibration of Azriel's voice trickled over my spine. It was deep and clipped, and I pressed my lips together.

“Yes, well, I'm cold.” I tried to scowl, but my voice sounded weak, not at all angry or sharp like I had hoped it would be.

Swallowing, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls. I could feel Azriel's stare piercing the back of my head, could sense the tension in his jaw and body –

The mattress shifted, then I felt something brush against my back.

I froze.

Scarred, calloused skin gently grazed over my side, and my breath hitched, getting caught in my throat.

Azriel's fingers curled against my skin, like he was hesitating, thinking about pulling back, or not quite in control of his own body – then his hand splayed over my skin, slowly sliding down onto my stomach, and carefully, Azriel pulled me backwards into his chest.

My heart dipped. Then it stilled.

I could feel Azriel shift behind me, could feel the tension rippling through every part of his muscles. His hand slid over my stomach, skin cold against mine as he slowly wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed me into his chest.

Suddenly, something twinged between my legs and in my heart.

I could feel every ridge of his torso in my back. Every curve of muscle, every inch of smooth, icy cold skin pressing against mine. His legs came up to thread through mine, and his tall, solid body slowly curled around me until there was no place we weren't touching.

Swallowing harshly, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls, my breath fluttering in my throat and my heart pounding against my ribs. I could feel every shift of muscle in Azriel's body, could feel the tension in his chest as he tightened his grip around me. Then he carefully dropped his forehead against the back of my head and gently tapped his fingers against my ribs six times.

My breath hitched, and my heart stilled.

The tapping thing was something between Mor and I, to communicate when were in the same room but not able to talk to each other. I hadn´t even realised Azriel knew about it, but - of course he did.

He always knew.

One tap meant I'm here, two taps danger, three taps you okay?, four taps need a distraction, five taps for they're lying, and six taps -

Something rose in my chest in a wild flutter.

I´m sorry.

I swallowed and stared at the wall.

Azriel's hand was still for a second, and I could feel the tension ripple through him. Then his fingers gently tapped against my skin again.

One, two, three. Four, five, six, seven.

Behind you.

My heart swelled in a weak, trapped giggle.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then I slowly twisted around under the blankets, and my breath hitched in my throat when my eyes found Azriel's only a few inches away.

My head settled on the pillow. The fire crackled as I swallowed softly and stared, and Azriel's iris shifted as he stared back. His eyes looked less stormy, glinting like molten caramel in the warm flickering lights as they pierced mine.

Slowly, his fingers brushed over my bare spine.

I barely suppressed a shudder, my lips parting, and Azriel's eyes dropped. His pupils expanded, and something flared in his eyes.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled, his voice quiet and rough: “After pulling me out of the lake, did you call me a stuck up idiot?”

My breath hitched in my throat, and my eyes darted up to meet his as they widened a little. But Azriel just stared at me, and behind that strange blazing fire in his eyes, it almost looked like they were twinkling a little.

“No,”, I whispered and blinked, and just for a second, the corner of Azriel's lips twitched. His gaze pierced mine.

“You also called me beautiful.”

I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs when I mumbled back hoarsely: “No, I called you stupid.”

Azriel's eyes flared, the gold in his iris melting together as his gaze dragged over my face.

Swallowing, I tore my eyes away before the fluttering thing in my chest could break free. Dropping my head a little, I reached out before I could stop myself and carefully brushed my fingers over the bandage wrapped around Azriel's ribs.

A deep sound broke from his throat, and my breath got caught in my throat as my eyes darted up again, just in time to see a muscle in Azriel's jaw twitch, his pupils blown as he stared at me.

“You're freezing.” Something dipped over in my chest at the rasp in his tight voice, and I swallowed and stared up at him.

“I could think of some ways to warm up.”

It was supposed to be a cheeky taunt. But it came out breathless when I felt Azriel's scarred hand brush slowly over my bare skin.

Azriel's fingers stilled. There was something in his eyes as he stared at me, that strange blazing flicker I had seen before, something raging and all-consuming that seeped through his carefully crafted walls.

A muscle in Azriel's jaw shifted as his gaze dragged over my face. Then his hand brushed up over my ribs, rising from under the blanket.

His rough skin against my neck made me shiver, a tremble running down my spine that suddenly had nothing to do with being cold when his fingers slipped into my hair. They threaded through the strands, and I felt my next breath shudder when his thumb slowly traced over the side of my throat.

Azriel's eyes moved slowly over mine, and that look in his eyes flashed, grew stronger. Then he lightly tugged me forward, and when I followed, my breathing growing shorter, he dipped his head.

His nose brushed against mine, and I reached up like reflex, my fingers trembling a little when I wrapped them around Azriel's wrist as his hot breath hit my lips.

Azriel stilled, fingers still threaded through my hair, lips nothing but a breath away from mine. I thought I could feel his lashes on my cheeks, the heat of his pulse under my fingers. Something was thrumming under my ribs, growing stronger with every second.

I sucked in a soft, trembling breath when I realised he was waiting.

The thrum in my chest grew unbearable, and I moved, dipping my head and pressing my lips slowly against Azriel's jaw.

His fingers curled into my hair, muscles shifting under my hand wrapped around his wrist, and I thought I felt something rumble in his chest.

I slid lower. My lips traced over the shape of his throat, feeling it work under the featherlight press of a kiss against the side of it. My teeth grazed over his skin, and Azriel's fingers scraped lightly over my scalp when a grunt escaped his chest that sounded a little strangled.

Dipping my head, I carefully pressed my lips onto the curve where his neck met his shoulder, and my heart rose, flaring.

I hadn't known the taste of someone's skin could do this – make you feel drunk off of it, cause a rush to fill your body, make your skin tingle and heart race.

Tracing the shape of Azriel's collarbone with my lips, I left a slow, careful kiss on his cool, inked skin before following the shape of his chest. My hand slid lower, and I felt the thrum of his heart under my palm, quick and erratic. It made my own swerve sharply, and Azriel's breath shuddered when I dragged my lips over his smooth skin.

Looking up at him through my lashes, I felt something jolt right down into my lower stomach, my own breath hitching and something hot rushing through my chest when my eyes met Azriel's, fixed onto my face, the amber flickering in the light of the fire, pupils blown. His jaw worked, and my spine tingled.

Slowly sliding down his body, I traced my lips over his chest. Leaving slow, careful kisses on the swirls of his tattoo, the silver lines of faded scars, I felt his muscles shift and flex under my featherlight touches. My fingers brushed over the bandage wrapped around his ribs, and a sound left Azriel that caused my heart to tilt over when I carefully pressed a kiss onto the spot where the arrow had pierced him.

Somewhere buried deep in my head, the thought stirred that this didn't feel like it was just about warming each other up.

Not with the way Azriel was staring down at me, something flaring in his darkened eyes, his breath out of rhythm, his body reacting to the smallest brush of my fingers with a shudder like it was the answer to a long lost prayer.

My lips traced over the hard ridges of Azriel's stomach. Following the lines, I felt his muscles shift and clench beneath his smooth skin when I pressed my lips slowly against his side, my tongue tracing lightly over his skin, and Azriel's hand fell out of my hair to grab onto the sheets. His knuckles turned white as I slid down, and something curled and tightened in my lower stomach when I traced my lips over the sharp line disappearing into his underwear.

Azriel's hips bucked upward, and a low, pressed grunt left him that caused tingling warmth to wash over me, my stomach twisting.

I gently nudged my nose against his skin, then I raised my head, and something rose in my chest in a wild flutter when my eyes met Azriel's, his jaw locked as his gaze burned into mine until something closed around my throat and I barely kept myself from swallowing.

Slowly, I shifted. Then I slung my leg over his waist.

Azriel's pupils seemed to grow darker, and without looking away, feeling that steady thrum in my throat, I slid down his body.

The sheets and furs went with me, but Azriel didn't seem to notice. His eyes were transfixed on my face. Then my hand slid under his waistband, and his expression slipped, jaw going lax and eyes fluttering when I wrapped my fingers around his cock.

Slowly pulling him out of his pants, I felt something dip and plunge in my lower stomach at how hard he already was. Swallowing, I carefully ran my thumb over his tip, coaxing a low curse from him. Then I looked up through my lashes and sent Azriel a small, cheeky smile.

“Tell me if I'm doing something you don't like.”

The shadowsinger's eyes flashed as a choked sound left him, and I dipped my head and wrapped my lips around him.

“Fuck.”

A breathy grunt broke from Azriel's chest, his head fell back as his hands fisted the sheets, and I gently ran my tongue over the underside of his cock before sucking him into my mouth.

Incoherent sounds spilled from Azriel's lips, deep grunts and rough muttered curses that made my stomach twinge as I started to stroke him slowly. His blazing eyes were dragging over my face, the muscles in his stomach twitching as my hand worked what my lips couldn't reach, my tongue running over the underside of his cock as I took him deep, beginning to suck.

“That's it.” Azriel's hands fisting the sheets trembled as he grunted breathlessly, his throat working and eyes squeezing shut for a second like he was trying to reign himself in, but the words stumbled past his lips, deep and gravelly.

“Fuck, just like that.”

My heart swerved sharply as I drank him in, his cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled and body heaving the longer I worked him. I twisted my hand a little, and he grunted, head falling back and hips bucking. I could feel him pulse, could tell he was getting closer, closer to that edge, his breath shuddering.

Azriel groaned. His fingers slid into my hair, threading through the strands and beginning to guide me, like he just couldn't help himself anymore, had to touch me, his grip tight as his flashing eyes followed my movements. My teeth grazed the underside of his head, and Azriel grunted, his voice strangled.

“If you don't stop I'll -“

I looked up at him through my lashes and sent him a crooked, cheeky smile that made him break off with a grunt. Then I swirled my tongue around his tip and sucked him into my mouth, and Azriel unravelled with a sound so deep, it vibrated through my very bones.

His head fell back, his back arched and his hips bucked, and Azriel came with a shudder. His load hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed it all, the salty taste causing my eyes to flutter.

Sucking gently for a few more seconds, I slowly let him go, gently brushing my thumb over his base, and my eyes met Azriel's, flickering amber in the firelight, his skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat as his burning eyes dragged over my face. His grip tightened in my hair, and he tugged, pulling me up his body.

My breath hitched when our noses brushed. Azriel's eyes looked like molten gold in the light, the flecks all swimming together in his hazel iris as it flickered over my face, and I felt my heart rise, trembling –

“Get on your back.”

I needed a second to realize the meaning behind the words mumbled against my skin, so deep and low and like a tremble running down my spine.

A wave of heat washed through me, my stomach twisted tight, and I blinked and pulled back my head, feeling my brows crunch incredulously.

“You're still hurt. No way; you're staying like this.”

Azriel's eyes darkened.

“Now.”

“No.” I glared back, which really, was ridiculous, because just the thought of him between my legs caused the pulsing feeling in my stomach to intensify tenfold, and I knew he could sense it, saw it in the way his nostrils flared and eyes flashed, but –

Azriel's hands closed around my sides, sliding my underwear down my legs; he groaned deep in his chest, then rough scarred fingers dug into my skin, right where my thighs and hips met, and my heart dipped and fell when Azriel dragged me up, up his torso, up over his shoulders.

“Wha-“ My breath got caught in my throat, and I hastily grabbed onto the headboard to not loose my balance, my eyes widening when I realised what he was doing.

My gaze whipped down; I tried to lift my hips, and Azriel wrapped his arms over my thighs and dragged me down, his piercing eyes meeting mine.

“No; I'm too –“

Azriel's tongue sliced through my folds, and I jolted and whimpered a string of trembling curses, my hips bucking down onto his face as my stomach twisted and my spine melted into burning, glowing matter.

Azriel groaned, the vibration travelling through me, and I dug my fingers into the headboard, feeling my heart tip over and insides clench.

“Shit – I –“ I tried to twist away in a weak attempt of trying to keep my weight off of him, but Azriel dragged me down further, not seeming to give a fuck about suffocating as he licked a broad stripe through my folds. His eyes flutterered, and he gave another grunt.

“Perfect.”

The low mumble rose up my spine, so deep and gravelly, my insides tightened around nothing. My breath shuddered, my brows crunched as my lips parted, and Azriel buried his face between my legs.

Whimpered curses spilled from my throat, senseless, blending into each other as my limbs trembled and Azriel's tongue traced the shape of me, mapping it like he was trying to commit to memory. Then he lazily circled my clit, and my lips parted, brows crunching as my hips bucked down in reflex and a whimper built in my throat.

My eyes flew down, and I could feel myself clench when my eyes met Azriel's, burning and flaring as he dipped his chin.

My breath hitched in a whine, and my hips spasmed when Azriel licked over my clit and sucked. His grip tightened, and the shadowsinger hummed, his nose nudging against my skin as his hazy, hooded eyes tracked over my face, molten like gold. My left hand flew down to bury in his dark hair as he ground my hips down onto his face, and I whimpered.

My body shook, the reason now far from freezing as my spine shuddered and hips bucked and waves of heat washed over me as I felt the world tip. Then Azriel's tongue slid into me, and my insides shuddered.

A breathless sound left me, I clenched, and Azriel groaned, tugging me down, and my head fell back as his tongue started to lazily dip in and out of me, circling, lapping until my body melted into a puddle. My fingers dug into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp as my hips rolled down without me being able to control it, but Azriel just gave a deep sound that travelled through me, his heavily hooded eyes fixed hungrily onto my face.

A knot formed in my lower stomach. Slowly, it build, twisting and churning as Azriel carried me towards something that would probably make me lose every last bit of control over my body, sucking on my clit, his eyes trained onto my face, coaxing every little reaction out of me, from my trembling fingers to my eyes rolling and head falling back, my thighs shaking next to his head –

Azriel's hand shifted, sliding down over my stomach. His tongue slid into me, and his thumb found my clit, circling tightly.

The world exploded, shattering as heat washed over me and the knot inside me bursted into a thousand stars. My hips spasmed, my back arching as my body tightened and loud, trembling noises left me that caused my fingers to curl and chest to tighten, my spine bleeding into nothingness, waves of blinding pleasure racking through me and causing my body to shudder and tremble. My hips jerked, and something bloomed in my stomach when Azriel groaned against me.

It took what felt like a lifetime until the sensations slowly dispersed and my spine stopped shuddering, and yet, Azriel was still lapping lazily at me, causing my hips twitch and a soft sound to break from my throat.

Slowly sliding my fingers out of his hair, my joints weak from clutching onto the silky strands, I weakly held onto the headboard and lifted my hips. My thighs trembled lightly, and Azriel's hands slid up to close around my hips, steading me, his head tipping back to stare up at me as I slowly started crawling down his body.

When I was hovering above his chest, I dropped my gaze. My heart rose into my throat, something dipped under my ribs, and I stilled.

Azriel's face was only an inch away. His iris was nothing but a ring of golden flecks around his blown pupils, his skin no longer pale but slightly flushed, the crease between his brows almost gone even as his jaw flexed, his gaze dragging over my face, and his lips -

My chest tightened as my breath hitched and I stared at his swollen, glistening lips. My hips bucked back as my spine shuddered, and Azriel's lids fluttered heavily, eyes blazing as his hand slipped onto my back, pushing me down, down until –

My nose grazed his, and something turned over in my chest when my own scent hit my lungs.

A deep sound rumbled through the shadowsinger's chest, his hand slid up to cup the side of my neck, and he dragged me down.

His breath ghosted over my lips, and my own hitched.

Azriel's nose softly nudged against mine, his thumb slowly tracing the curve of my throat. I could feel him, the warmth radiating from his skin, could feel his scent invading my senses and causing my heart to shudder, could feel something building in my chest as my fingers trembled.

Azriel's lips brushed over mine. His grip tightened, a strangled sound built in his chest, and he tugged me forward and crashed his lips onto mine.

My heart faltered. Then the whole world stilled.

Azriel kissed me like he'd been starving.

A breathless whimper tore from my throat, my fingers dug into the pillows, and Azriel groaned softly. His fingers slid further into my hair, then his lips parted mine and his tongue slid into my mouth.

My breath faltered as the ground seemed to sway. I clutched onto the sheets, a desperate sound building in my chest, and Azriel's hand curled into my hair as he kissed me harder, more feverish. He was kissing me like he'd been wondering what it would be like for centuries and now that he'd had a taste - nothing else would ever be enough.

The thought made something pang painfully in my chest, and I whimpered, my body curving into his as I settled on his hips, my hands sliding to the sides of his neck, tipping his head, and Azriel's breath shuddered in a deep moan as his thumb brushed over the side of my throat. His tongue swirled lazily around mine, then his teeth caught my bottom lip, and a soft whimper broke from my throat as something clenched in my stomach.

Azriel's grip tightened, dragging me down towards him, his nose brushing past mine. I could feel something travel through his hands that felt like a tremble. Then he pulled me in with a hoarse noise and kissed me again, deep and hard and feverish as his fingers curled into my hair, and something in my chest rose in a wild flutter.

part II

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @icey--stars @azriels-mate2 @ailyr92

#azriel #az #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel/reader #azriel smut #az imagine #az x reader #az/reader #acotar x reader #acowar #acomaf #acotar #lalacliffthorne

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 4

Summary - The last thing Tamlin planned to have happen was a bond snapping between him and Y/N Archeron. Now the big question becomes, is it too late to fix what has been broken?

Warnings - stereotypical happy ever after, grudges, cutting ties with family, rhysand being a decent brother in law, divorce, children, babies, pregnancy, reader's powers are yin to Nesta's yang, loosely edited (squint away any mistakes💕)

A/n - I know some people might be upset with the direction this ended in, but it felt... right? Forgive me.

✨️Tamlin Masterlist✨️

Lost Bonds: Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

The Fire in Spring *can be read as a bonus Calanmai smut scene*

Rhysand was eerily calm as Azriel approached his office with Feyre. For the first time since her arrival here, Feyre would be in a seat he typically only forced the Inner Circle to instead of at his side.

Rhys sat and waited, hands laced together as they entered. “You are probably wondering why I asked you two to come in. Sit.” He motioned to the chairs across from him, not missing the look of confusion on Feyre's face. He waited for them to settle before saying the one thing he knew would begin the fight he prepared himself for, “I sent y/n to Spring yesterday. For Calanmai.”

Azriel's hands instantly twitched, and the fight began.

Three weeks had past with you and Tamlin and Tamlin and you. They were spent deep in the throes of passion. In need and want and want and need and every lingering emotion in between.

He had worshiped you. Truly and fully. He explored every inch of skin, tasting and kissing it every time like it was his last meal, like these were his last moments and he would rather spend them nowhere else than between the thighs he had become obsessed with.

It had taken 3 weeks for the bond to cool down enough for him to attempt to go back to his duties. He still ached for you and the completion that came with being yours, and you ached as well. You were like air to each other. Something so simple, yet so vital to life.

He sighed as he entered his office and sat in front of Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. “You selfish-”

His hand went up. “If you're going to start throwing names around, shadowsinger, I have several for you. Be silent and allow me to discuss this with your lord and lady.”

Rhys was the first to speak after the blatant dismissal. “Where is she?”

“She should be resting. She's had a long morning already. She spent the morning with other Ladies of the Court discussing the upcoming Summer celebrations. I believe she is still socializing, though. I do not keep track of her constantly. She is a grown adult.”

Feyre scoffed and Tamlin raised his brow at her before she instantly looked down. “Is she happy?”

“Happier than I've been in a long time,” you entered the room, long hair falling in waves, an apricot colored dress swaying as you did. The colors of Spring made you even more radiant, your skin glowing, eyes dancing with light that had been missing for several years. “I assume you brought papers for me.”

You moved to Tamlin, standing behind him and holding a hand out for his. Feyre was shaking, refusing to look at you. “If you sign this, if you choose to stay, I never want to see you again.” The words should have cut like a knife, but all you could do was sigh.

“Would you like me to stay in Night then?”

Azriel glared towards Tamlin. “Its where you belong. Where your husband is. Where your family is.”

“Where your mate is,” you began to trail on for him. “Where you can have your cake and eat it too. Where your family has spent the past 4 years letting you make a fool out of me. Fond memories, yes.”

“Our marriage wasn't always unhappy, y/n.”

“No. But it became unhappy the second you had an affair. Sign the papers, Azriel.”

Rhysand stayed oddly silent, as did Tamlin, the two high lords were in a silent conversation regarding the scent only they seemed to be able to detect. You were not leaving Spring, not when you, albeit unknowingly, were carrying its salvation inside of you.

Tamlin pointed to the line that would grant you your freedom. Tapping it twice in a silent message to you to sign and stay at his side as he watched Azriel. He had no doubt the male planned on grabbing you, upset that he was losing his own claim to a made sister, upset that the Cauldron had paired him with another.

Tamlin knew his look. The look of a male who wanted everything with no compromise. He remembered being there. Being that male. He knew the pain that came with it, the anger. He watched you sign, signature so flawless and soft, curling the page that gave you freedom and you stepped back. Hiding that joy that was flooding him as you did.

“I won't stop fighting for you.”

You shook your head as you laid the ring on the desk and slid it to him. “You will. You will realize this was best for both of us in time. You will find happiness, peace, and what you are looking for.”

“I won't sign.”

Rhysand pinched his nose and then picked at his jacket, a nervous habit now instead of obsession. “Azriel, sign the papers.”

“I won't-”

“You will because I have tolerated every moment of this bull shit knowing it is against every law we have honored for thousands of years.” Tamlin was oddly calm, hand still in yours. “I tolerated it for her happiness.”

“She was happy with me.”

“Until 4 years ago, yes.”

You turned to Rhysand, eyes pleading. “Please.” Her brother in law nodded, taking her side and owning his error another time.

“Sign the papers, Azriel.” Feyre and Azriel seemed to freeze. It was a set command, one the shadowsinger would not be able to push. “Sign the papers.”

“I will never forgive you for this.”

Rhys shrugged. “I'll add it to the many times I was doing what was best for everyone else but made the bad guy. Sign the papers.”

Azriel stared at Tamlin as he signed the papers before taking the ring and standing. He left without saying goodbye, without looking back at you one last time. Without even so much as a sign of the love you two once shared.

“You will never see Nyx again.” Tamlin tugged the bond, sending you his love and support regardless of what you picked but silently begging you to stay.

Your throat tightened as you looked to Feyre, “Are you truly that selfish? Without Tamlin, you would not even have Nyx. You wouldn't have a mate.” She glared at you, chin head high as you continued, “you were never met to be Tamlin's, Feyre. Imagine a world where you would have just let me go, where I came here as the person who was supposed to.” She suddenly looked away, eyes squeezing shut as she did. “If that is the road you would like us to go down, consider it done. You are no longer my sister, no longer my other half, no longer part of me. If my happiness means this little to you, then we need to part ways.”

Feyre just nodded, standing and holding her hand out to Rhysand. Your brother in law shook his head, nodding for her to go. He sunk further into the chair he was in before looking to you and Tamlin. “Congratulations,” in was sincere, soft. Rhys grabbed your hand, kissing the palm. “You will always have a home in Velaris.”

10 years later

Tamlin sighed quietly next to you, bouncing your third child and daughter, Willow, on his lap as the other two sat. Oakland, your oldest son, was reading with his back leaned against your legs. Fleur, your middle daughter, was sitting by the glittering fish pond every court was circling.

High Lord's meetings were now quarterly. A way of holding each other all in check and accountable. Each one was more of a bitchfest than productive, but it had allowed relations between several courts to improve.

This one had been called due to Helion stepping down. With Beron gone, Autumn stable, and his mate and son finally at his side, the High Lord decided there was no better way to celebrate than relinquishing his powers to Lucien and enjoying the lost time he should have had with Andromeda.

Lucien looked to Tamlin, a little lost on the question Rhysand was asking before clearing his throat to answer, “I will not be enforcing rank and class if that's what you are asking. Fae are fae. Lower or higher does not matter to me. Laws will be enforced, tax will be enforced, and opportunities will be fair.” Rhys seemed content in that answer, looking at Feyre and Nyx before nodding.

You two knew you were next and Tamlin sighed as he handed Willow to you, much to her protest. “Spring is fully rebuilt and has implemented a version of Tarquin’s laws that work best for us,” the mentioned high lord smiled and raised his bubbling wine. “Our army is young, growing, but eager.”

He looked to you, “We would appreciate the spies being removed from our court, though. We are willing to answer any questions someone may have. We feel the use of spies in unnecessary. We have opened our boarders and home to anyone."

“The mortals,” Eris began slowly. “They are?”

“Part of our court as of two months ago,” you answered for Tamlin. “We are the only court they agreed to form a pact with. Jurian and Vassa will remain ruling over them as a better connection point.”

Eris hummed. Satisfied with the answer.

“Will they be asking to travel?” Kal watched his daughter, stopping her before her snow pale hand touched the pond with a soft no. “There are concerns over them coming to Winter. They were not made for such temperatures.”

Tamlin nodded, “We had hoped to discuss that with each court one on one. They are… beautiful, curious creatures. They want to travel the courts and experience different foods and lifestyles. Provisions will need to be made for that to happen, though.”

You couldn't help but smile, hearing what you used to be called beautiful by the most stunning male you had ever seen. His hand moved to rest on your thigh, squeezing softly as the next question came.

“The growth in Spring, the herbs, the medicinal plants, the food, flowers,” Thesan took a short pause as he and his mate communicated silently. “How did that happen?”

Tamlin squeezed your thigh again. “Nesta was blessed with the powers of death. Y/n was blessed with the powers of fertility and live. Her presence alone has brought light and growth back to Spring.”

“And children,” Kal murmured. You chuckled softly. You knew your every growing family was a source if jealousy from several other High Lords and Ladies.

“Yes, and children. The increase of faelings in Spring has been our biggest blessing. We are averaging 20-25 babes a year instead of the standard 3.”

You watched Rhys smile behind his hand as Feyre still refused to look your way. “And how many more do you two plan on having?” The question came from Cassian. He had taken to his nieces and nephew like they were second nature to him. He was their favorite uncle, and Nesta was fighting Elain hard for favorite Auntie.

Tamlin looked at you. “Perhaps we will be done after this new one arrives.” You shook your head quickly, lip pouting out. “I promised her 12.” Eris and Lucien both spit out their wine. Having grown up with many siblings, the two of them both looked shocked as Helion and Lady Autumn both smiled wide. “We will decide here in a month or two.”

Your hand absentmindedly moved to your very swollen stomach. This one was a boy. You felt it in your soul, and new Tamlin was secretly excited over the idea of another beautiful son.

The meeting came to a close as soon as Summer finished their updates. Tamlin helped you stand, moving his hand to your lower back as he walked you and your three toddlers out of the room. You could feel both of their eyes on you. A lingering cold Hazel gaze, a heartbroken blue one.

He tugged the bond softly before winnowing you home and immediately taking you to bed as the children's nannies all came to collect them for nap time.

“She looked regretful,” Tamlin unlocked your dress, kissing your shoulder softly. “She will approach soon.”

“It doesn't matter if she does.” The acceptance came so easily now. “We have each other, our family. We have this,” you tugged the bond. “Nothing will come between our happy ever after.” You held your pinky to his, and he wrapped his much larger one around it. “To us and our happy ever after then.”

“To us, petal.”

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#acotar #acotar x reader #tamlin x reader #tamlin x archeron!reader #tamlin x yn #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 5

A/N: I’m trying something new here—been reading The Shining by Steven King and I like how the “thoughts” are presented :)

Warnings: general angst

Word count: 5,414

-Part 4- -Part 6-

Sharp, caramel eyes latch to your own from across the room.

Beneath his fingertips rest the planets of your solar system, whirring softly as they rotate, cogs clicking together. Your orrery.

Shoulders tense—it’s fine machinery, incredibly delicate. You don’t like the idea of him being so close to something so dear to you. He hasn’t proven to be particularly caring, or thoughtful. Anxiety closes around your throat. “Eris,” you greet, moving forward stiffly. “What are you doing here?” Why is he in the House of Wind, in the heart of the Night Court. Why is he in Velaris.

He taps against your world, the mechanical clicking coming to a stop, the system halting to his will. Retracts his hand. “You’re really kept out of the loop, aren’t you?” He asks, eyes gleaming, fingertips grazing the blade at his hip. Your brow narrows, “that’s not an answer.” You eye him warily, how close he is to that precious gift your sister had given you.

Lips lift into that familiar viper’s smile, “I’m here to have a meeting with your High Lord and Lady. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. Surprised too you’re allowed near me at all after our last encounter—do they not particularly mind your safety?” He inquires, moving around the kitchen table. You shift in response, mirroring his movements, the opening steps to a dance you’re uninterested in.

“I live here,” you counter, “why should I yield my ground to you. It’s my home.” He quirks a neatly groomed brow, taking another step around the table, so you’ve switched positions. “You don’t live with the rest of your lovely family? Your younger sister has a home deeper within this city, but you choose to stay here, in this lonely place?”

“It’s my home,” you repeat, “and I like the quiet. Can you understand that?”

Eris’ brow narrows at the perceived insult, and you move closer to the table, to your orrery. “What sort of nonsense question is that?” He asks sharply.

“You live in a palace, don’t you? Big; spacious? Filled with people and riches?” You ask, narrowing your eyes on the male. His lips quirk, “more riches than you can even comprehend.” Eyes run over you, judgementally, “more beauty, too.”

“Filled with people, I’ll bet,” you say, ignoring the comment with practiced ease. At least Azriel’s helped with desensitising you to such things. “Servants, courtiers, maids. Does your home— Does your father’s palace ever sleep? Do you ever get any peace?”

“If you’re prying to see if there’s a single moment I might be vulnerable to an assassination attempt, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. There isn’t a single person who steps foot in my palace without authorisation.” He replies smoothly, caramel eyes gleaming.

Your lips tilt quietly, “what a lovely cage you live in, Eris.”

He stiffens, then his mouth twists itself into something resembling a smile—too serpentine. “Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare? You’re quite talented at it.” You don’t mistake it for a compliment. “Tell me: which of them taught you to speak like that?”

Your brow dips in confusion. “It’s not warfare—It’s observation. There’s nothing aggressive about it.”

“No? No animosity in your prying? I could have sworn I detected a bite back by the river. Where have your claws gone? Were they clipped just like the hell-cat’s were?” He smiles—unnerving to be faced with it. “Bring them out. We can have ourselves a sparring match.” A hand raises in mocking challenge, beckoning you forward.

Hairs raise at the back of your neck, skin prickling with that itch that lies just below the scratch of your nails. Burning your fingertips. Dangerous. Manipulative. Manipulative.

“And where did you learn?” You fire back. “Who taught you to be so insidious? Or do you know no different?”

Caramel burns into you, charring your insides. “An answer for an answer.”

He’s got you. Knows you won’t rise to his challenge. So you switch methods.

Eyes flick down to the machinery on the table, “it’s very beautiful, isn’t it?”

If he’s caught off guard, he doesn’t show it. Well-accustomed to being on the constant edge. “A waste of time. The tinkerer has simply welded a few cogs and screws together—basic metal work.”

Your gaze rises to his, a hint of amusement within as you take a seat to better peer at the orrery. “You’re trying so hard to make it seem insignificant, yet you were studying our planet, so you’re clearly familiar with its structure.” Fingertips graze across the gilded metal of the sphere, the only one occupying the habitable zone. “I doubt you’ll answer my question, so I can only presume you’re used to hiding your interests.”

“Presume away,” he drawls, “it’s no bother to me.”

“No bother,” you echo, spinning the orrery, cogs ticking, globes rotating smoothly. “You hide like there’s something to be embarrassed about. What’s wrong with being fascinated by the world?” You play with the system, again falling under its spell, admiring the intricate carvings, how the tinkerer has rendered texture into metal—made it appear soft.

“You speak as if you’re knowledgeable of it. How much can you know having only spent two years in our land, feeding off our history?” He counters, stepping toward the table, eyes flicking carelessly over the mechanism. With forced lightness. Your brow furrows as you peer at him, “what’s the meaning of having endless time to discover if you don’t use it? I know about the world because I’ve read about it, and I’ve read about it because I want to know. Two years isn’t long to study something as vast as this, but unlike you, I have time to myself, to do things for myself that I want. And this—” you gesture to the small solar system, “—is what I’m interested in.”

The corners of Eris’ mouth tilt down, stepping finally closer to the table, as if accepting a conversation is inevitable. “And you think it is wise to invest your time in something as academic as this? You think you’ll be allowed to study it? Pursue your interest in it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You counter, absently tracing the rings of one of the planets—how beautiful they are! “I’m immortal now. Why shouldn’t I spend it doing things I like? Not all of us want to be sour and miserable.”

His lips quirk, “you maybe immortal, but you’re also detrimentally female. If you think your sex will not be an obstacle in your study, then you’re much more naive than I thought.”

Your brow dips, “and you’re awfully cynical. The library is filled with books, and is run by females, so no—I don’t think my sex will be an obstacle,” you snap. Take a breath in. He’s good at getting under your skin. You have to remember that’s his game. And you can’t fall for it. Otherwise Azriel will be right.

Eris opens his mouth, and you just know you don’t want to hear whatever rubbish he’s about to spit out. So you divert by returning to your wonderful orrery, “if you had to choose between these two planets to stand on for five minutes—” you point to the globes either side of your own, “—which would you go for? Air shortage aside?”

He rolls his eyes, irritated. “I do not have an interest in your childish device, and I did not come here to be lectured on how great the world is, nor anything beyond it. I have much more pressing things to concern myself with. The fact alone you choose to entertain yourself with knowledge that will never impact anyone is proof of your naiveté.”

You ignore the jab, even if it scratches its nails down your mental walls. “If you set foot on this one—” point to the one further from the centre, “—you would be crushed in seconds. Do you know why?”

The viper’s smile again, “as I have already said, I have no childish infatuation with things beyond my control. You’re wasting your time.”

“This planet,” you carry on, pointedly ignoring him, “spins nearly five times faster than our own, meaning gravity—the stuff that holds us to the—”

“I know what gravity is,” he snaps, fire lighting in his eyes.

You blink, startled by the outburst. He watches you silently. Doesn’t make a move to interrupt you again.

“Meaning the gravity,” you say slowly, waiting for him to jump again. He doesn’t. “…is stronger.” You blink again, but he makes no comment. “As a result, the days there last mere hours. How can that not fascinate you? How many other quirks are out there? Even limiting it to our own planet?”

His caramel eyes narrow. “Careful,” he warns. “People have been put to death for talking as you are.”

You look at him, confused. “People in your court? Why on earth would anyone be killed for this?”

“Regardless of court,” he drawls, as if it’s obvious. “For suggesting something other than the Mother. On grounds of blasphemy. The study of science is inherently rooted against her.”

Eyes widen as you stare at him.

“Is that what’s stopping you?” You ask, incredulously. “You’re a favoured heir to the throne, aren’t you? What good is that title if you’re unable to benefit from it?”

His brow narrows, “there are infinite ways I benefit from it. If you’re too ignorant to figure them out, then it speaks volumes to your wisdom.”

You ignore that, pushing forward. “But Rhys has one in his study—an orrery. It can’t be that serious?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re doubting yourself. “Is it?”

“Hasn’t your sister witnessed first-hand how selective the world can be in who it favours? Did you not listen when I told you your sex would present difficulties?” He says sharply. “If you’re set on remaining ignorant, I see no point in continuing this conversation.”

Spine straightens as you stare at him, surprised.

“If I don’t know something, then explain it to me,” you say quietly. “How can I learn if I don’t know where I’m lacking?”

“It is not my responsibility to educate you,” he snaps. “Neither my responsibility to entertain you with conversation. If you prove to be dull, I have no reason to waste my time on you.”

“I agree it’s not your responsibility to educate me,” you say, frowning, “but if you have knowledge of something I don’t, and refuse to share it, how can you stand there and remain irritated with me? When you have the ability to change that?”

Eris’ lips twist again. “Like I said: it’s a waste of time.”

Your brows curve in frustration and disappointment. “You’d rather allow your irritation to fester than do something to prevent it? If you have a problem, and the means to repair it, but choose not to… Well, it speaks volumes to what sort of High Lord you might be.” As soon as the title leaves your tongue, it smacks back into you, the weight registering in your mind. The male before you really might become High Lord—inherit the power and responsibility that comes with it.

He’ll become responsible for his whole Court—yet prefers inactivity when faced with a problem that does not directly impact him.

“Why spend my energy on something so useless? You are only one person—why should I waste my breath? You clearly have no concept of how important and limited time is to someone in my position, in spite of immortality,” he states coldly, caramel darkening to something icy. “I prioritise matters I deem to be important; you waste your time flicking through old books that would better serve a fire.”

“I’m wasting my time on something I love.” You reply sharply, skin itching again, prickling at your fingertips. Sick of having it looked down on. Of being looked down on.

Lips twist in a faint, serpentine smile, eyes gleaming with predatory focus. He descends into the seat opposite you, moving with the grace of a spider, spiralling down into the centre of his web to meet his prey. Suck it dry; liquidate its insides. “Now that piques my interest.”

You don’t need to look down to know the colour your skin has changed to. You do anyway, eyes widening as you take in the faint, radiant green of your fingertips. You stare silently, noting the iridescence.

“I gather my brother’s mate is a seer, while the hell-cat yielded her power,” his smile is one crafted from centuries of cultivated misery, sharp edges created to keep himself safe. Carving his own bones into weaponry. “Could Rhysand have kept you secret because you have no control over it? Even after all this time?”

You bite down on the fear—it’s the second time it’s sparked up in broad daylight. Out in the open. Where anyone can see. “So persistent with the theory of secrecy,” you manage, voice coming out smooth, for the most part. “Maybe you didn’t know, because my power is nothing. It doesn’t heal, doesn’t hurt—nothing besides a dim light in the dark. It’s utterly useless.”

Eris doesn’t look convinced. “The cauldron wouldn’t give you a meaningless power. You haven’t tried hard enough.”

“Why is it so unbelievable?” You counter, in a hurry to end the conversation so you can return to the cover of your room. “Elain is the only one gifted with a real power. Nesta—” Are you allowed to tell him? He already knows she yielded it, so you see no point in hiding it. “Nesta took something. Ripped it away from the cauldron. Why would I be given anything meaningful?” You ask, and see the interest drain from his eyes. “Out of the four of us, Elain’s the only one with a working power.”

“And that’s why you’ve had so much time to yourself,” he drawls, malice again swimming in his whiskey eyes. “No training to do, nothing useful to preoccupy yourself with. Just steadily draining resources, and researching nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” you fire back weakly. “And it’s not heresy either. —nor blasphemy, or whatever name you want to give it to try and convince me it’s wrong.”

His eyes harden, “it denies the power of the Mother. Everything was made when she tipped out the cauldron. Science seeks to disprove that.”

“It shows the beauty of the world!” You insist, vaguely aware of the colour growing more intense as you press your hands into the surface of the table, rising to your feet. “It shows how intricate, and delicately woven it is! The only thing it does is prove there is something out there. How can you look up into the night sky, or gaze across the world, filled with magic, and life, and think any other way?” You argue, pushing the orrery across the table. “There are patterns in our world. Strange, and wonderful patterns, if you know how to spot them. The perfect rotations of our world around the great star, how everything intertwines with one another, like those cogs and screws you were trying to make light of. How can a world be so intricately faceted by chance? There has to be a designer—a creator. The one who set everything in motion to become as it is now.”

Your heart spikes as you think about it—how great she must be. The vastness of her capabilities.

“Science does not deny the existence of the Mother—it allows us to study the depth of her. Or something close to it.”

Eris’ eyes flick down to the solar system that you’ve pushed between his hands—now studying the details. His attention drags back up to you, noting how your pupils have dilated, heart beating quickly, nails digging into the surface of the table, gleaming with iridescence. A slow smile as he makes the connection between your emotions and the glow.

It would be a shame to tell you.

He’ll watch you figure it out for yourself—even if you have to stumble your way to the end.

“You’re skilled with words,” he says at last. “Has anyone told you that?”

You regard him silently, a little taken aback. Almost exhausted from the output of energy. Who knew it could be so tiring sharing an interest. How draining excitement is. “You’re just saying that,” you murmur quietly, fatigue weighing on your tongue from the outburst. You know he’s manipulative. You won’t fall for it.

His smile grows a little wider, into something vaguely normal. “You might even have avoided execution with a speech like that.”

Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s lying. It’s not much to go off, not much to rely on. He’s had centuries to perfect this act, would be flawless at it by now. And yet…

And yet. It’s enough for you to believe him. Trust your gut, and it’s telling you he’s being sincere.

Strange indeed.

————

Mor had interrupted almost immediately after, making you spring back from the table, seeing her blonde head appear in the kitchen, eyes hard when they landed on the Autumn Court male.

She’d promptly whisked him away to whichever room they were having their meeting in, and you’d hastily tucked your hands at your back, concealing glowing fingertips from her sharp gaze. You’d hated yourself a little in that moment, for hiding it from her. For not being brave enough to face them head on.

It was nothing compared to the sharp, stabbing laceration in your gut when Eris noted the movement. Offered you a slow, vulpine smile.

It’s been days since then, and every step seems to echo your doom. Every footfall in the hallway, every chirp of voices—you’re convinced they know. Because how much longer is he going to keep it a secret? How long before he asks something from you? Something you can’t give, because you don’t have access to them. To any of them. Not in the way he would like.

A series of knocks is landed to you door, and the book slides from your hands. Yelp when it nearly hits your foot. Feyre really needs to start walking a little louder so things like that don’t happen. You sigh heavily.

“Come in,” you call, hastily collecting up the book, plonking it down atop the precarious stack at your bedside. A small gust of dust motes shoot out from the pages, and you cough, turning to the window. Opening it to invite in the crisp, midday air. Open the curtains a little wider, too.

You turn to face her, here probably to ask you to another dinner. It’s been nearly a fortnight since the last one, when Elain had invited you to the…mortal lands. You really don’t know what to call that part, now.

Hazel cuts into you, air catches in your lungs—maybe it’s the dust.

You stare. Stare, and stare, but he doesn’t morph, or transfigure into your sister. Shadows crawl at his feet, slink over his wings, kept tight to his body. It’s strange to see him so tense.

“What are you…” you trail off, shaking your head slowly. “No.”

Azriel’s mouth purses. Remains in the doorway, not even one step away from the threshold. “We should— I would like to speak with you.” You stare longer; shake your head again.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

“I don’t… No. I don’t want to,” you manage. “I’m in the middle of something right now.” His eyes flick about the room, and you shift to conceal the books at your bedside. “You don’t look busy,” he says slowly, aware how quickly things can turn sour. “That’s because I’m talking to you,” you reply, equally carefully.

He pauses, eyes once again scanning your room, then, “may I come in?”

Spine goes rigid; his pupils dilate. “I want to clear the air between us,” he supplies. “It would be better to do so in private.” He has a point. Feyre’s added a sound barrier to your room after the mess of last time, but… It’s midday, no one should be here. The only people who occasionally dip in are Elain and Feyre. Nesta doesn’t really…the two of you aren’t as close. “Okay,” you find yourself saying, dipping your head, “but I need to—” you gesture to the clothes on your floor. The general mess.

He nods, throat bobbing before he steps inside, the door clicking behind him as he keeps to the clear spaces on the floor. Few and far between.

You swallow, prying your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “What did you want to… Where do you want to start?” You ask, returning to the far end of your room to push the windows wider—as far as they can go. The breeze plays with strands of your hair, cleaning out the stuffy room, smelling slightly of mildew and parchment. Mostly dust, though.

“Your feelings for me…” he begins quietly, the words blaring throughout the room. “How long have you—”

“You know. Start somewhere else,” you interrupt, nails digging into the wooden frame, nudging the fabric of the curtains with your foot. He pauses, and you remain turned away from him, heart spiking. But he acquiesces.

“Okay…” he breathes heavily, followed by the faint stretch of leather as he folds his arms. Flexes his fingers before doing so. Still, you don’t look at him. “The talk with Eris.” It’s your turn to sigh, shifting on your feet to face him, wind blowing in gently from behind, soothing the heat between your shoulder blades, wrapping your cardigan a little tighter.

You don’t question how he knows about that short chat. Maybe Mor mentioned it—she’s the only one who saw, anyway. And you can’t imagine Azriel would have allowed it to go on that long if his shadows were aware. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“He just asked why I lived up here, instead of with the rest of you,” you mumble, scanning hastily for something to do. “I just said I liked the quiet, and that’s it.” Fingers grip the hem of a top, carrying it to your bed to fold away. The first of many.

Silence stretches between you, taut and tenuous. Hairs rise at the back of your neck, skin prickling.

“You didn’t mention that last time,” he says slowly, neutrally. Too controlled to be calm.

Your brows draw together. “I didn’t,” you confirm, picking up another top, folding it. It’s slightly out of place, the seams not lining up, and you redo it. Set it above the other. “Why not?” He asks tentatively. “It helps to know exactly things like that.” You stand straighter, looking at him—he does indeed have his arms crossed. Uncrosses them when you face him. Also straightens.

“We haven’t spoken since then,” you say slowly.

Eyes lock briefly when you both connect the dots.

“You’ve spoken with him since?” It’s phrased as a question, but…

Throat rolls, eyes turn away, body following shortly after, grabbing a pile of three garments. Set them on the bed. Hands moving like clockwork.

Head dips in confirmation.

Silence digs deeper. A shovel in a grave mound.

“When we had a meeting?” He asks, voice again taking on that controlled tone. Body coiled tight. Features neutral. “Yeah,” you murmur, “when you had that meeting.” Set the skirt atop the pile.

“And he asked why you live alone?” There’s an implication there. What is it? So many different angles to study it from—not a pleasing thought. “Not directly,” you mumble, “he said it was interesting I chose to live here when Feyre had a house deeper in the city. I think.”

“What you do you mean, you think?” He asks steadily, remaining statue-like in your peripherals.

“It was a few days ago,” you supply. “It didn’t stick with me.” That part didn’t, at least. He nods, reasoning it out in his head. Understandable.

“Was there anything else?” He asks instead. You know he marks the way your shoulders tense, even if you operate otherwise normally. “No,” you mumble, turning away from him, “nothing important.”

“We’ve been over this,” he reminds. “You don’t—…” Sighs. “Just tell me everything, and I’ll decide what’s important.” Why does this keep happening?

“You can’t trust him,” he adds gently, a touch softer than before.

You nod your head quickly, “I know.” Quiet reigns again, and he’s debating something. “Just say it,” you murmur, straightening the stack of books, skittish fingers fumbling with some of the loose papers. You should probably separate them out into a neater pile—they’ll only get more crinkled otherwise.

“I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he supplies carefully.

“Okay.” Nod once. “I won’t.”

Picture the way his throat rolls, fingers flex at his sides. “Do you really understand why you can’t trust him?”

You pick up a few books from the stack, depositing them on your desk, moving to sort through which ones can be returned to the library. Mentally cataloguing their numbers and titles that correlate with set aisles. “I do,” you say, seeing how that would have been misinterpreted. He does you the courtesy of not asking you to explain it. “So you understand why you have to be careful about what you say. What you let him know,” he reasons softly.

Something heavy settles in your gut at the reminder, but you keep your lips shut.

“Eris is a snake,” he continues. “I can’t stress enough how wary you should be around him. And certainly never by yourself.” Eyes briefly meet over that last part, then your own dart away, returning to organising the catastrophe on your desk. Shifting through papers and diagrams. Charts and catalogues. Star formations and little doodles. “If you give him something, he will find a way to use it. It’s imperative you never let him know anything important.” You look at him over your shoulder, temporarily removing your focus from the lovely books, “what counts as important?”

Azriel sighs, leans against the tall frame of your bed, one shoulder propped against it calmly. He looks relaxed—it’s intentional. A distortion to make things seem fine; to keep you calm.

He raises one hand, gestures between you and him. “Us,” he says, reluctantly. “Things like this—they’re private. Emotional problems, and squabbles or…complications,” he expands. “You can’t let him know about anything like that. If he thinks there’s weakness, or a rift he can exploit, he will.”

Breath catches in your chest, and you snap you attention off him, forcefully reattaching it to the books you’ve laid out. Which pile means what?

“I don’t…” you begin. Swallow. Unstick your tongue. “I don’t know about any of your relations. Within…within Rhys’…” You fumble, unsure how to describe them all.

(Us.)

“Family?” He supplies. “Within your family?”

“No,” you sigh. “Beyond my sisters. I don’t—…I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with Cassian, or Mor, or Amren, either. I don’t—… There’s nothing he can get from me.”

Azriel watches you silently, skin prickling beneath the weight of his focus. “They’re your family, too,” he says gently. Almost tenderly. “Not just Rhys’, or Feyre’s. You’re her older sister, so you’re a part of it all, too.”

(A single pair of pearl earrings.)

Hazel locks with your own, and you release a soft laugh, beams of amusements finally lighting your eyes, mirth building on your mouth. How long has it been since you’ve laughed because of him?

Azriel narrows his eyes, and the laughter dies on your tongue. “Oh.” The word whispers out on an exhale, subconsciously taking a step backward. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I thought—” You shake your head. “You’re just saying that.” He remains silent, watching you intently.

“They don’t—,” you fumble. Trying to find the words. “I mean, they—… We’re separate. Me, I mean. I’m not—”

“Yes you are.”

You shake your head, not accepting it. “You can’t expect me to believe that,” you mutter. “I’m not that naive.”

Azriel’s brow furrows. “Granted, you don’t make it easy. But you’re still part of it all.”

“So you—” You’re not sure if you can say it. “You don’t… You see me as family?”

It’s his turn to falter, coming up short. You shake your head in disbelief. “Azriel…”

His eyes narrow as he stares at you. Opens his mouth.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Let’s just… Let’s stay on track.” Otherwise it’s going to get ugly.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

Lower lip trembles; you bite it, turning your attention to your desk. He’s quiet for a few moments, and the energy begins to settle.

“Why does family bother you so much?” He asks, quietly.

Breath whooshes from your lungs, and you place both your palms flat on the desk, so tired. “Because,” you sigh, eyelids weighing heavy. Massage the bridge of your nose with both your middle and forth fingers. “The feelings I have for you…those don’t belong to a family member.” Shame heats your cheeks, fingers covering you eyes. How many times do you have to say it?

“Why do you insist on targeting everything I’m uncomfortable talking about?” You ask, softly, hands remaining over your features, muffling you. Because if you don’t divert, he’ll target that, too. “You did the same in the air,” you whisper, “you get hung up on these tiny points and you can’t let them go and it’s…” You don’t know.

“It’s what?” He asks, coldly. Lip trembles at the tone, pushing away the dampness, lowering your hands. “Why do you do it?”

“It’s my job to get the details right,” he replies.

(Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare?)

“I’m not your job, Azriel.”

“You are when you run off and have unmonitored chats with that male.”

“Eris, or Bas?” You ask quietly.

(You’re quite talented at it.)

He falters, then his jaw ticks, the muscle feathering. “We’ll talk about Bas in a minute,” he says. “For now, we’re talking about how you behave around Eris.” You stare at him. Blink. “I don’t know how to make it clearer,” he continues, watching the ceiling, head tipped upward slightly. Eyes flick down, looking as though you’re below him.

Lowers his head.

“Eris prefers verbal warfare,” he begins, repeating the same old things he’s already told you. Fingertips begin to itch.

Hazel pierces into you, muscle in his jaw tensing. “He’s good at it, too. Good enough to make all of us wary. Doesn’t that show enough?”

(You’re skilled with words, has anyone told you that?)

“I got that impression.”

He nods, no more than a gentle dip of his chin. “That’s good,” he sighs. “It’s a good start.” Something twists in your gut at the words.

“Just don’t go near him,” Azriel continues, unaware of the numbness that’s slowly spreading down your back. “Okay.” Hands move automatically, and you watch distantly as they go.

He sighs, “so tell me what happened most recently. All of it. Then I can tell you what’s good and what’s not.”

“I don’t remember all of it,” you mumble.

Why are you so tired? It’s not the same fatigue as after talking with Eris. That was pleasant. Your mind was tired from working. Now… You’re just tired of resisting.

“You said he asked about you living alone,” he prompts. You want to go to bed. Want to close the curtains and crawl deep under the sheets.

You nod distantly. “And you said you liked the quiet.”

Nod again.

“So what happened after that?” He’s gotten quieter, sensing your disengagement.

You shrug weakly. “We just talked.”

“This is what I mean,” he says gently, attempting to soften the words that need to be said. “Eris doesn’t do idle chatter. You have to start understanding that.”

You shake your head, denying, “he didn’t ask anything else.”

“But you were talking?” He asks pointedly, doubt clear.

You go quiet. Shoulders slope.

Azriel sighs, standing upright. There’s no use talking to you like this.

“Let’s try this another time. When you’re more… When you’re feeling better.” He waits a little for a response. Feel the weight of his gaze on your hands. You don’t respond, and he dips his head in acknowledgement. Allowing your peace.

But still, when he leaves, you’re torn between crying, and wanting to run after him.

Nothing’s gotten better.

You still crave his attention, even though it’s begun to hurt.

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Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter

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#CBMTHY #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You #CBMTHY Part 5 #Azriel #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Azriel x reader angst #angst #acotar #multi part fic #series

[pecanbrandies]

A Comparison of Mate Behavior...and Failed Pairings

What's wrong with the Lucien-Elain bond? There's something off about this, and I'll let the text speak for itself.

Let's start with an analysis of responding to a partner that's injured, or when they have something amiss.

Nesta - Cassian

But she surveyed his seven Siphons, the dim red stones. And then she said, "You're hurt." "I was busy, Cassian said, not taking his focus off Nesta as she studied the swollen wrist. How she'd detected it through the armor...She must have read it in his eyes, his stance.

Azriel - Elain

Azriel's hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. "She doesn't need anything," Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding...it freed her from whatever murky realm she'd been in.

Now take a look at the similarities between these two pairings and their responses to injuries:

Tamlin - Feyre (A Failed Pairing)

(Tamlin) never woke up when the nightmares dragged me from sleep...when I vomited my guts out every night. If he knew or heard, he said nothing about it.

Lucien - Elain

(Lucien) hadn't mentioned Elain...Elain hadn't asked him to stay, or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn't let on.

Look at how these pairings respond to fear (or lack thereof):

Rhysand - Feyre

"I was afraid of you at first." (Rhys's) white teeth flashed. "No, you weren't. Nervous, maybe, but never afraid."

Nesta - Cassian

I watched a tear slide down Nesta' cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch.

Azriel - Elain

"Would you like me to show you the garden?" ...But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded - just once.

Now look at how these two pairings respond to fear:

Lucien - Elain

Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him -

Tamlin - Feyre (A Failed Pairing)

Beneath the mask, I could have sworn his brows were raised. "I was trained to notice these things. But I could smell the fear on you, more than anything."

#acotar #elriel #azriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #anti elucien #pro elriel

[surielstea]

Paranoid Parent

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s scared of a microwave— and other things that might harm his pregnant wife.

Warnings: Drabble , pure fluff

1.2k words

Azriel has always been a light sleeper. But ever since you've been pregnant you were sure the male was entirely nocturnal.

Especially now that you've reached the third trimester. You'd get up to use the bathroom and find his side of the bed empty, on nights when you had the energy you'd venture through the house and usually find him in his office, always hunched over a book or his computer, glasses hanging off the tip of his nose as he stares at you with pure and utter concern.

Tonight, however, Azriel had slept the entire night. His large arm snaked around your waist to have his hand on your stomach protectively, your own hand atop his. His touch always made the baby relax, the kicking would cease whenever his warm hand cradled you.

However, that didn't stop you from having to use the bathroom every ten minutes. You released a silent groan, cursing Azriel for giving you twins as you clambered from the warm bed, from Azriel's open arms— and trudged toward the bathing chambers.

After exiting the restroom you noticed the sun peeking over the horizon, indicating the time. You released a long, frustrated breath— knowing you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

You look to Azriel, who was soundly asleep. You wondered how you didn't wake him up when shifting beneath him, supposing he took a sleeping medication of some sort.

You decide not to bother him and exit your spare bedroom. You walk past the nursery painted in a soft, pastel purple with two wooden cribs pushed against the wall. You were nervous about having twins— but Azriel, ever the researcher, seemed beyond anxious. Which oddly put you at ease, every insane thought he had left you saying, "It's fine, there's nothing to worry about." Which helped the both of you.

You walked into the kitchen, craving something spicy. You gnawed at your bottom lip as you searched the pantry for anything with some sort of tang. After about three minutes of scrounging, you found a bag of forgotten chips in the back. You smiled giddily, exiting the pantry as you opened the bag and kicked the pantry door shut behind you, deciding you wouldn't need to put this bag back by the time you were done with it.

You stuffed your mouth with the delectable chips, groaning in pleasure audibly because it's everything you craved at the moment.

Azriel's hand roamed your empty space, finding only warm sheets in your absence. He pats the space like he doesn't quite believe you're not there. When the realization hits him he springs up, eyes widening as he stares at your ruffled sheets. He didn't waste time in getting up, springing from the bed, eyes analyzing every crack and crevice of the wall like you've somehow disappeared into one of them.

He strides out of the room, his steps rushed as he pads down the hall.

He skids to a stop when he spots you in the kitchen, heating a pot of coffee in the microwave.

He releases a sigh of relief and walks towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You jump at the sudden contact, not hearing your husband enter the room. "You're so quiet, detective," You hum and he murmurs something softly into your shoulder but it’s inaudible. You turn around to look up at him. "Come back to bed." He pouts and a smile spreads over your features. "I can't sleep," You shrug. "You need your rest." His brows crease worriedly and you place your hands on his fidgeting ones. "I'll take a nap in a few hours." You reassure and all he can do is nod in reply.

You pivot on your heel, reaching for the bag of chips. "You want one?" You turn toward the male, offering him a chip. His eyes widen and he goes ghostly white. "How much of these have you eaten?" He grabs the entire bag from you and your brows crease. "Uh," you look down at the bag. "Most of them." You shrug and he frowns, clearly panicked. "Should I not have or something?" You tilt your head. "It's just— I read this thing about how spicy foods might result in blinding the babies." He murmurs and a giggle bubbles from my chest. "What's funny?" He blinks and you shake your head in disbelief. "You read too much," you murmur, reaching for the bag and he swerves, not letting you have it. "Az c'mon," you sigh, your hand coming to your stomach reflectively. "I promise whatever you've been reading is a myth," you reassure, reaching for the bag again, and this time he lets you have it. "What happened to my husband?" You bring a hand to his cheek. "My very skeptical husband." You correct and he frowns. "I just want everything to go well," He explains and you give him a saddened smile. "It won't be perfect, but everything will be fine if you stay by me, okay?" You rub your thumb along his sharp cheekbone and he releases a sigh with a nod.

The microwave beeps and you turn away from him, reaching toward the handle of the microwave before he grabs your hand. "Wait," He calls and your brows crease, before your shoulders slump and you realize what he's so paranoid over. "Az, c’mon." You sigh, craning your neck to look back at him tiredly. “Well, sometimes, microwaves can leak radiation.” He lets go of your hand and scratches his arm nervously. You square your features, staring directly at him. “I won’t explode if I open this, I promise.” You place your free hand on his bicep. You open the door of the microwave and he flinches, but nothing else happens.

A small smile comes to your face, both hands coming to his cheeks as you release a soft chuckle. “Why are you so worried Az?” You rub the tops of his cheeks with your thumbs. “You’re too smart to believe in any of this stuff.” You drone and he sighs. “I just worry,” He shrugs and you shake my head, rising onto the tips of your toes, and press a kiss to his lips, which he reciprocates by dipping down, hands coming to my jaw.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, my forehead pressing against his. “It’s alright, okay?” Your hands come to his and you lean into his touch, showing him that you’re just fine. “Okay.” He nods with creased brows. A smile curves your lips and you press a kiss to his lips again, before backing away as quick as you came. “You’re so protective.” You roll your eyes and back away from his hold— which he reluctantly lets you go from. You reach into the chip bag and pop a few into your mouth. “I promise the flavor dust won’t kill me,” you mumble, licking your fingers clean. “The seasoning?” He tilts his head with an inquisitive look and you pale, removing your thumb pad from your mouth and nodding. A genuine smile breaks out across his features, mirroring your own.

“I love you,” He says incredulously, pulling you into his big arms and peppering your face with kisses as you fight him off.

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Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings@lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp

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#acotar #suriels tea #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #sarah j maas #x reader #azriel #request #acomaf #bat boys #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fluff #x reader fluff #fluff #x you #fem reader #reader insert #fanfiction #cute #drabble

[azrielwingspan]

THE STRINGS OF FATE (AZRIEL X READER)

A/N: I've wanted to write a series based on a dark , mystery themed vibe for so long and I thought this would be a good way to start it off. I get to write about my favourite characters and transform it into something a bit darker and mystery fuelled. So I'm hoping you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed imagining it.

!! The image below does not belong to the author !!

Genre: Suspense thriller, Romance

Summary : The Prophecy. A band of words that incited terror in people but you had long since learnt that the fear of the unknown strikes deeper.

The prophecy was just the beginning of the end.

Warnings : Mentions of violence

PROLOGUE

"You would be a fool to not involve your cousin, Rhysand." Amren said coldly for the umpteenth time that night. "There is a reason the prophecy refers to the both of you. Don't try to change the course of fate boy. Not even a Lord of the Night can cross the Mother."

"I would be a fool to lead her into the arms of a certain death. If ignoring a prophecy is what must be done to keep her safe, I will do it." Rhys was growing more agitated as the conversation turned south.

"Saving one girl is worth the lives of millions?"

Silence prevailed at Amren's question. The office in the River House enclosed a dark and gloomy atmosphere as if detecting the undertone of the conversation and the issue at hand. The faelights flickered casting deep shadows across the Fae and Illyrians that had gathered in the room.

Hands clenched on the table, Rhysand took in deep breaths appearing to fight an internal battle. He had too much to lose. Too many to fight for. What was the purpose of being the most powerful high lord the world had ever seen if he couldn't keep his own family safe? He was tired of losing people, tired of fighting, tired of wondering if tomorrow would be someone's last.

"I promised her that no harm would come to her as long as I live." He said softly, seeming to speak to himself. "I made sure she was safe from Amarantha, from Hybern and mostly from myself. If it were to become public knowledge that we are related, they will hunt her down. They will torture her, use her and kill her mercilessly."

Amren's eyes softened at the agony in his voice. "The world is a cruel place, Rhysand. We do not have say in the destiny that has been chosen for us. We must simply walk, trudge and crawl along the path."

He let out scornful laugh, running his hands through his hair agitatedly. "It has been especially cruel to us I think."

Feyre's eyes lined with tears at her mate's heartache. She'd known about the things he had done to keep his cousin far away even if it hurt him. To see him unravel now because of a Cauldron damned prophecy was distressing to watch.

"Rhys." Cassian spoke into the silence that had claimed the room yet again. "I promise you, I'll keep her safe. No matter what comes her way."

"So will I." Azriel stepped up, his shadows stirring over his shoulders.

"All of us will." Feyre declared, her hand coming to rest on her mates shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. Her touch seemed to relax Rhysand immediately, his shoulders drooping underneath her hand.

Placing his head in his hands, Rhysand took in a deep breath, the battle within his mind coming to a conclusion. Feyre's grip tightened lightly, giving him the energy to push through yet another decision that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

"I'll go visit her myself. Explain the situation. The Prophecy. All of it. Whether she comes or not , is upto her." The others nodded in agreement.

"That is the least I can do for her. Give her a choice..... live or die."

A/N : Comment below if you want to be added to the tag list !

#azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #shadowsinger x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #cassian acotar #cassian #feyre archeron #amren #amren acotar #acotar fanfiction #fanfic #acotar imagine #acotar fic #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #azriel x female!reader

[k-daydreams]

The pursuit of Feeling Alive: I. Intro

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader, PLATONIC!IC x 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.

Warnings: trauma, swearing, pining, angst?

Word Count: 4.8k

Author note: this is my first acotar fic! It was originally going to be a singular self indulgent azriel fic, but I can’t ever get to the point and I got too many ideas. Definitely not very canon with the timeline of series I think lol, just going to throw that out there. I’ve already rough drafted another chapter and thought I’d share the work on here. Feel free to share your thoughts! If you’d like to be added to a tag list let me know!

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

Internally, you teetered on the edge of a nervous breakdown, ready to tear yourself apart from within. Externally, you wore a mask of cold calculation, hoping no one could detect your distress and near senility. Earlier in the day, your cousin Mor had mentioned that her high lord and your other dear cousin, Rhysand, had matters to discuss with your high lord, Helion. The reason for their meeting was of no concern to Mor to bother filling you in.

Your heart thumped against your chest, unsure of what to expect. It had been over fifty years since the Day Court and Night Court had engaged in official business since the end of Amarantha's reign of terror. You had seen Rhysand during the time under the mountain, where you spent nearly half a century with him until Feyre saved Prythian. Still holding visits with him after to report to him along with Mor, thanks to her frequent visits to Helion. However, the rest of the court, especially those you hadn't met since after Amarantha and Hybern, remained a mystery, with only Mor's updates for context.

Following your time under the mountain, you chose to reside in the Day Court under Helion's rule as an emissary between the two Solar Courts. It served as a means to shield yourself from feeling too deeply, allowing you to focus on healing from the traumatic events you endured during those fifty years. There were other matters you had yet to confront and come to terms with, voluntarily choosing to ignore them. By hiding away and conducting your business mainly with Mor and Rhys, you could maintain a sense of avoidance of your once home.

Now, in the dining hall of the palace where Helion and his inner court resided—including yourself—you found yourself on edge. Regardless of the pressing matters at hand, your high lord insisted on hosting a dinner for his court and other high fae to publicly display the alliance between the Night Court and the Day Court. Standing next to Helion's chair in the center of the room, you observed the lively chatter among the gathered individuals.

Your hands were clasped tightly in front of you, nervously inspecting your gown for nonexistent dirt, attempting to conceal your jitters. The gown itself could remind anyone of the place you resided and wanted to consider your new home. It was an off-the-shoulder nude gown with gossamer sleeves cascading around your arms. The bodice, nearly transparent, accentuated your bust, adorned with soft gold crystals intricately arranged over your body. The long skirts consisted of layers of gossamer, featuring two long slits up the front that revealed your legs. You appeared ethereal and angelic.

"You seem on edge," Helion called out to you, pulling you out of your internal thoughts. Your eyes scanned the room, observing every movement, before turning your attention to the main entrance. He gently traced his finger beneath the dainty black diamond bracelet adorning your wrist, bringing your attention back. This bracelet, along with matching pieces around your neck and ears, showed your affiliation with the visiting court. You wore them out of respect for your older cousins, never daring to show your true affection openly—a facade to conceal your true self. You knew they would appreciate it if they noticed.

"The Night Court was your home, was it not?" He questioned, his tone casual, as he glanced over his shoulder at the other members of the inner court to make sure they weren’t listening. Adjusting his shirt cuffs to his well-matched button-down very similar color to yours, he exuded regality from head to toe.

You mumbled stoically, "Was." Clearing your throat tentatively, your eyes returned to the main doors. "This is my home now, serving under your rule. I can't afford to be anything but cautious when the Night Court wishes to discuss an unknown matter."

You didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled. "Always playing this game, aren't you?" Helion scolded playfully. “There's no need to keep up the act. Rhys's actions beneath the mountain spoke volumes for our court."

You thought to yourself, 'But my actions don't, and I'd rather keep it that way.' Aloud, you replied smoothly, "One can't appear too soft when the Night Court steps through that door." The lie slipped easily from your lips.

"Are we referring to the whole court now or the spymaster we both have eyes for?" Helion hummed, reclining slightly in his chair as he took a sip of fae wine from his chalice-like glass. Damn him.

"I have no eyes for any man, particularly not a brute Illyrian man. And especially not one I've been watching wrestle with my cousin since we were young children," you retorted, feeling a surge of unease and clenching your jaw at the assumption.

"That's a match I would give up all my powers to witness," the handsome, dark-skinned lord purred, his words aimed at you.

You wanted to snap at him, your patience wearing thin at the mere mention of the tall Illyrian warrior. However, you managed to keep your composure in check. "It's hardly a match; Rhys won every time."

As if on cue, you felt the energy of several individuals entering the palace. Rhysand always loved a dramatic entrance. "Excellent, our guests have arrived," you murmured, straightening your shoulders as best as you could.

Helion followed suit, sitting more upright in his chair at the center of the hall. The rest of the inner court took their positions standing.

The sentries opened the doors for the guests. Morrigan was the first to enter, her golden hair elegantly curled, and she delightedly took you in before blinking a few times, returning to her sultry expression. Her red gown fitted her perfectly: a strapless piece that flowed around her as she walked. Following her was a sight you hadn't expected since hearing the gossip from Mor—Lucien Vanserra, adorned in deep autumnal colors that complemented his complexion and long, tidy red hair. He was an old confidant of yours when you had stayed in the spring court. You couldn't help but find it amusing, but you maintained a composed demeanor, concealing your bemusement at how out of place in the night court he seemed.

After Lucien came two beautiful high fae women. The younger one on the left wore a flowing champagne pink gown that accentuated her slim waist and showcased her porcelain fair skin. Her light brown hair was adorned with crystals and flowers, and she wore dainty opal teardrop earrings that complimented her brown eyes. On the right stood another woman in a form-fitting navy dress that subtly shimmered with every movement. The gown highlighted her curves and bust, while a sapphire-like sciphon necklace adorned her neck. Her darker brown hair was elegantly pinned up with a silver circlet. These must have been the High Lady's sisters, Elain and Nesta, whom you had heard so much about. Nesta's eyes had a hint of danger and coldness, while Elain's were filled with awe as they observed the dining hall.

Cassian followed the two women, and you discreetly coughed to suppress a snort. He appeared cleaned up, wearing a navy tunic and dark linen pants, with his hair slicked back and neatly tied. This was a different version of him from the rugged general you were accustomed to, not dressed in his usual fighting leathers to a formal affair. His siphons were cleverly disguised as jewelry pieces, and he had politely tucked back his larger wings. He seemed out of place as much as Lucien, but his mischievous eyes locked with yours, indicating he might have had similar thoughts about you.

Before you could even see her, you sensed Amren's piercing gaze from behind Cassian's towering figure. Her glowing silver eyes held an inscrutable expression, and her lips formed a slight grimace. She wore her usual grey color in a slip gown that elegantly draped down in the front. Though not dressed as extravagantly as the others, her presence demanded attention. A touch of red lipstick and a slightly tousled hairstyle were enough to enhance her beauty. You could see the rest of Helion’s inner court murmur from your peripheral, the usual whispers about the millennia’s old creature stalking towards them.

Rhysand made his entrance with the high lady from beside him, exuding confidence and power. He wore his customary dark attire that accentuated his commanding presence. His violet eyes locked with yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention to Helion. Feyre held her head high, a diadem hanging on the crown of her head, and her hair half up half down in loose waves. Her dress off the shoulder shone in sapphire crystals making it look like stars had been entwined on the gown. She was gorgeous as a mortal even when she was malnourished when you saw her under the mountain, but as a high fae she was even more devastating.

Last of the group, you spotted Azriel, his shadows swirling subtly around him, and your breath caught in your throat. His shadows slinked up his dark tunic clad shoulder seeming to whisper in his ear. He looked over at you making eye contact discreetly. His features were hard but something unreadable in his eyes as he observed you. You didn’t miss the slight bob of his throat as he looked quickly away to a distant corner in the room acting stoic. His hair was pushed back showing his sharp jawline, and you could see his tattoos peeking out his shirt. His silent and brooding presence always managed to unnerve you, unable to get a good read on what could’ve been going through his head. You refused to let your guard down, not wanting to think about the shadowsinger that stood mere feet away. This had been the first time you have seen each other in person since you were able to leave under the mountain.

The Night Court all stood in front of Helion, and he bowed his head in greeting. You did the same along with the rest of the inner court. The introductions began, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Helion gracefully welcomed his guests, exchanging pleasantries and acknowledging the significance of the meeting. You observed the interactions, keeping a blank face despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. It felt like you were looking into your old life from the outside watching the inner circle, and your heart ached for a second.

Eventually, it was time for you to step forward and join the introductions. As you approached Rhysand, his gaze never wavered from yours. His lips curved into a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the past. You stood before him, your heart pounding, but your expression remained composed.

"High Lord Rhysand," you greeted him, keeping your tone neutral and titles formal. "It has been a while."

His voice was smooth as he responded, “Y/n, always a pleasure. Allow me to introduce my wife and High Lady, Feyre.”

You bowed respectfully to the High Lady. “I am in awe, Feyre Cursebreaker. What an honor to have you grace the Day Court with your presence.”

A smile graced her lips in response. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I have heard so much about you, Y/n.” She took your hands in hers, and you were taken aback by the warm informal gesture. Your gaze fell upon the intricate tattoo adorning her hand and forearm, and in that moment, your heart swelled with joy for your cousin, and you dared to steal a glance at Rhys. His eyes were already fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but notice the subtle hints of tenderness and anticipation shining within them. You were so happy for him.

The formalities continued, and you exchanged polite words with Lucien, Elain, and Nesta. You longed for a chance to sit down and talk with them, to hear about their experiences since being freed from the cauldron. Your gaze wandered momentarily to Lucien, who stood near Morrigan, his amber eyes briefly glancing in your direction. A flicker of recognition passed between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of shared history. You had both suffered under the rule of the Spring Court, and it was a trauma you preferred to keep buried for now. But you couldn’t deny that you treasured the moments the young emissary had kept you sane within the trauma.

You stood next to Helion along with another Day Court emissary as Rhys, Amren, and Helion discussed some political topics. Deep down, you yearned for a moment alone with the inner circle, away from the prying eyes and expectations. But for now, you had to focus on the diplomatic matters at hand and navigate the complexities of the gathering. As the conversations flowed around you, you remained attentive, gathering information and assessing the dynamics between the courts.

Throughout the evening, conversations flowed, alliances were strengthened, and unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You played your part, engaging in polite conversation and maintaining the facade of an emissary, all the while battling the internal storm raging within you. It was beginning to wear on you though. Watching from afar at how Mor mingled with Nesta and Cassian. The Illyrian man had his arm around the oldest Archeon sister as they nodded and chuckled at Mor, and you wanted to smile. You had never expected Cassian finding a mate before you, but here you were.

A lot has changed since you had left indeed, and the longing you felt came back.

“You’re not my prisoner, you know. Feel free to mingle,” Helion’s voice chimed from behind, breaking through your thoughts.

“Isn’t that a bit informal?” you responded, sipping your glass of wine.

He arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “To talk at a party?” He snatched your wine from your hand.

You turned to face him, reaching for your half-filled glass that he held teasingly away from you. “Ah, don’t you think it’s a bit informal for an emissary to get drunk?” He added a playful spark in his eyes.

“To drink at a party?” You volleyed back, grinning mischievously as you continued your playful struggle for the glass.

“Why don’t you practice the talking part with Rhysand?” Helion suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It seems like he’s eager to have a word with his dear cousin.” He gestured subtly behind you, and amidst the revelry and banter, Rhysand and Feyre made their way toward you both. However, before you could react, your gaze caught Azriel’s intense hazel eyes from their table behind the approaching couple, where he sat next to Elain. His massive wings appeared tense and uncomfortably confined by the chair. Elain chatted with him, but it seemed his attention was elsewhere, fixated on you. His shadows still whispered in his ear as one crept across the table.You resisted the urge to shudder, maintaining your composure, and quickly turned your attention back to Helion, whose grin remained firmly in place.

“Helion, may we borrow Y/n for a moment?” Rhysand inquired, one eyebrow raised, his gaze flickering between you and Helion.

Helion practically pushed you into Feyre’s arms. “Go ahead, I was just informing her that she’s free from her duties until later!” he announced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as you realized his intent to encourage your mingling.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you replied, bowing your head with a touch of sarcasm. Rhysand extended his arm, and you looped yours through it, allowing him to guide you towards their table. A nervous gulp betrayed your anticipation.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone gentle and caring.

“May we speak on the balcony?” you requested, your voice filled with meekness.

“Of course, it’s getting a bit warm in here,” Rhysand agreed, leading the three of you towards the balcony bathed in soft faelight.

You all leaned casually against the balcony railing, observing the lively feast taking place inside.

"How's the Day Court treating you?" he asked in a relaxed tone, as if to put you at ease. Away from prying eyes, you felt your shoulders relax. It felt good to be with your cousin where you both didn’t have to wear a mask.

"Well," you replied, "the Day Court doesn't quite compare to the beauty of the Night Court, but the days are undeniably bright." You struggled to find a suitable comparison for the Day Court's allure to the Night Court.

Rhys and Feyre almost snorted out their wine, their amusement evident. "I wonder why," Rhys sarcastically murmured.

Choosing to ignore your cousin's comment, you continued, "I've been making progress translating some texts for the court, and delving into a lot of reading.”

It seemed as though the High Lord and Lady expected to hear more and urged you to continue, but they realized you had nothing more to share.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Wow, that sounds like quite a lot," he remarked. You could tell he wanted to throw a snide remark, but a warning look from his mate kept him at bay. Where was Feyre centuries ago when you always found to be the butt of your cousin's jokes?

You shrugged. "Keeps me distracted." From your vantage point, you had a perfect view of the inner circle's table. Mor, Amren, Azriel, Lucien, Nesta, and Cassian were all seated there, drinking and picking at their food. Helion even made sure Amren had a chalice of beast's blood. You missed being a part of that group, laughing and sharing moments with them. The only person in the Day Court you truly felt comfortable with was Helion, and even that remained behind closed doors.

"Come home," the words made your shoulders tense. It wasn't your cousin who had spoken, but Feyre. You looked at her, finding understanding in her eyes, as if she knew what you were going through.

Your gaze wandered back to the inner circle. Your eyes fell on Azriel, who was listening with a ghost of a smile on his lips, as Cassian animatedly spoke, his wings flaring about and nearly knocking over Lucien's wine glass. The group tried to hide their laughter while Amren scolded them. Azriel's shadows discreetly moved the glass out of Cassian's wingspan, hiding his amusement.

"They miss you," Rhys genuinely expressed. "I miss you, and even the House misses you." Tears welled up, tightening your throat. "He won’t say it out loud, but he misses you too."

You didn't need to be told who he was. You knew.

"I didn't even say goodbye," you spoke with a heavy heart, guilt washing over you.

"That was over fifty years ago, Y/n," Rhys reminded you gently.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We have texts for you to translate if it’s a means to keep you busy, we could even have you train with Madja. Want an apartment on the opposite side of town from the House of Wind? Consider it done. Desire a cottage in the middle of nowhere? It's yours. Just please, stop running away," Rhys pleaded.

You felt tears welling up, but you willed them away. "I... I just can't leave," you stammered. You could feel your heart torn.

"You can," Feyre said sympathetically, holding your hands. "Helion asked us to come and talk to you."

"We won't force you, but he mentioned that you've changed in the last few years," Rhys added. Feyre's grip on your hands tightened.

"Please talk to them maybe and think about it?" she requested. You knew she meant the inner circle.

Biting your lip, you contemplated. "I'll find you in a bit. I need some time alone."

With a nod, Rhysand and Feyre understood your need for solitude. They exchanged a brief glance before making their way back inside, leaving you alone on the balcony.

Leaning against the railing, you let the cool evening breeze brush against your skin, smell of wildflower and honey in the air, the quietness of the moment allowing your thoughts to swirl. Images of your past, the friendships you had forged and the bonds you had left behind, filled your mind. The longing in your heart grew stronger with each passing second your family stood in the same room as you. A longing you pushed deep down when you were still under the mountain, uncertain of seeing your loved ones again.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to not let tears slip. It was true that you had changed over the years, that the weight of your experiences had shaped you into someone different. But running away had only prolonged the pain, and you knew it was time to confront it. If your cousins had endured the pain, you were sure you could too.

Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the railing, determination igniting within you. You couldn't stay on the sidelines any longer. The inner circle had always been your family, even if circumstances had driven you apart. And now, as you stood on the cusp of a decision, you realized that it was time to bridge that gap.

Stepping back inside, you navigated through the crowd, searching for the familiar faces you had missed dearly. You found them at their table, still engaged in their playful banter, laughter filling the air. Taking a deep breath, you approached, your footsteps faltering only slightly.

As you reached the table, a hush fell over the group, their gazes turning towards you. Azriel's eyes locked with yours, and the shadows around him seemed to ripple, as though mirroring the tumultuous emotions within you.

"Can I join you?" you asked softly, your voice carrying a blend of trepidation and hope.

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Cassian's boisterous laughter echoed as he clapped you on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of you. Nesta's sharp gaze softened for a brief moment, Elain offered a warm but wary smile, and Lucien's amber eyes held surprise. Morrigan's voice was a welcoming melody as she pulled out a chair for you, and Amren, in her own enigmatic way, nodded approvingly.

Taking your seat among them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of homecoming. And as you settled into the comfort of their presence, you could feel your frozen heart just dethaw slightly.

“Y/n, I knew you were always shy, but around us?” Mor teased you endearingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You look so beautiful tonight!” She gushed, her words filled with genuine admiration as she played with a strand of your hair. “The dress would be better in a darker color though.” She whispered the last part so only you and the inner circle could hear, her voice laced with a conspiratorial tone.

“The gown color does wash you out,” Amren chimed in, her bored expression not fully hiding a hint of amusement.

A laugh bubbled out of your chest, surprising even yourself. "Not the first thing I thought I would hear from you in years," you quipped, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Amren raise her glass to you before taking a sip of the thick liquid in the cup.

“Better than that raggedy spring court piece you came back in, though," Rhysand interjected, his voice filled with playful banter as he and Feyre settled into the extra seats at the table. The original inner circle chuckled at the memory.

Despite that being one of the worst days of your life, you couldn't help but smile too. The shared laughter brought a warmth to the air, softening the edges of past wounds.

“You should’ve seen the dress I came to the Night Court in," Feyre chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Another monstrosity by Ianthe," Lucien muttered into his glass before taking a sip, his voice tinged with a touch of disdain. Your eyes widened at the snide comment, but the group erupted into laughter, momentarily forgetting the weight of your burdens.

As the night wore on, Helion raised his glass, signaling a toast to the alliance between the two courts. The hall fell silent, and you raised your glass as well, a faint smile playing at the corner of your lips. The toast created a joyous noise as everyone in attendance drank, and the music started playing. Mor instantly beamed and grabbed Feyre’s hand, followed by Elain, leading them to the dance floor. Rhysand and Lucien joined them, their steps filled with a carefree grace. Cassian took Nesta’s hand, and they followed suit. Amren excused herself to converse with the emissary from the Day Court with a request of Azriel to accompany her.

You turned to Mor, insisting you would join them shortly, as you wished to find Helion. She nodded understandingly, giving you a knowing smile as she disappeared into the swirling crowd. You made your way toward Helion, feeling the warmth of the night and the drinks starting to loosen your tongue and heart.

“Do you wish to get rid of me so easily?” you feigned offense, walking up to his side. The merriment of the evening had given you a newfound boldness. Your body hadn’t felt this light in ages. Your gaze met his, and a flicker of understanding passed between you.

Helion shook his head, a gentle smile gracing his features. “No, darling, never. I just think your heart belongs somewhere else.” His words were filled with gentle encouragement. He patted the arm of his chair, offering you a seat upon the rest. With an eye roll and a smile, you accepted, settling into the plush chair arm.

"Your presence is lovely, your duty is commendable, but I couldn't sit here watching you turn to stone any longer," Helion continued, his voice filled with genuine concern. His finger absentmindedly found the wrist under your bracelet, his touch a feather-light brush against your skin. A wave of warmth washed over you, and the faint scent of wildflowers drifted through the air.

"Besides, maybe it's time you face a certain Illyrian man," he whispered discreetly, his words carrying a hint of suggestion.

You looked at him, confusion swirling within you. His eyes subtly glanced over to the corner, and you followed his gaze. Azriel stood behind Amren, his intense gaze fixed on Helion and you. His jaw was clenched, and his wings were taut with tension, as if holding back an impending storm. The sight of him sent a jolt of both excitement and apprehension through your veins.

"I can't ignore those ravenous stares, knowing he wants to rip me to shreds, and not in the way I like," he added, teasingly toying with your bracelet as if oblivious to Azriel's presence. The Day Court High Lord knew exactly what he was doing it seemed. Azriel couldn’t have been glaring at Helion; it had to be you. Memories of your past argument with Azriel flashed through your mind, the intensity of the argument still fresh. You had both nearly destroyed each other. You hadn’t ever heard you two speak so many volatile and vulgar things— especially at each other.

"I could never forgive him for what he said," you sighed. "What's even worse is that I can't forgive myself for what I did, not only to him, but to my family. I feel responsible for my ex-husband's actions towards them." You admitted, realizing that you had never spoken those words aloud before.

Beside you, the lord sucked his teeth in retort. "You can't blame yourself for what your father put you through by selling you to that pretty little beast." He sat up straighter and looked at you earnestly. "Nobody blames you, Y/n." You found yourself unabashedly staring back at Azriel as he was still looking at the interaction between you and the high lord.

“We all carry burdens from our past, but we mustn't let them define our future," he said gently. "You were caught in a web spun by others, but you have the strength to break free. It's time to forgive yourself and embrace the healing you deserve."

You nodded nimbly, biting your lip in contemplation. You would always hold gratitude for Helion. His kindness you’ve experienced for the last several years was more than what you deserved and needed, but he still provided it. If you returned to the night court you wouldn’t have known where you stood in the court. What your rank would be, what your friends thought of you, and where to even pick back up in your life. You just knew you haven’t felt this alive in awhile, and you craved the feeling.

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

[x] next chapter

Let me know your thoughts, and feel free to like and reblog! I might change the title but that’s tbd.

#acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #pofa #Lucien Vanserra x reader #lucien acotar #Cassian x reader #inner circle fic #morrigan #feyre archeron #a court of thrones and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses fan fiction #azriel acotar #Cassian acotar #morrigan acotar #pro nesta #elain archeron #Amren acotar #inner circle #azriel shadowsinger fic #azriel shadowsinger fan fiction #azriel shadowsinger x reader imagine

[pricklepearbloom]

Ooh I love it I want more ruby/az 😍

a/n: FINE twist my arm! (jk I love Ruby and Az and I love YOU!)

masterlist

Windows Open

Pairing: Azriel x OC (Ruby)

Summary: Azriel can’t sleep without the windows open

Word Count: 900 (just a short little baby blurb!)

The cold night air whispered over Ruby’s arms making goosebumps erupt up and down her arms. Her body shivered to try and shake off the breeze, burrowing in further into the covers and closer to her own personal furnace. Her mate, Azriel. Who, for whatever reason, cannot sleep without the windows open. It drove Ruby batty. As someone who got cold very easily, she couldn’t stand sleeping with the windows open. Ruby glanced over at her lover, sound asleep with an arm thrown across her waist snoring without a care in the world. Her eyes narrowed in slight contempt at his ability to sleep while it was practically snowing in her bedroom. 

Her eyes shot over to the wide open window, biting her lip considering the probability that she could sneak out of his arms to close the window. He was completely asleep right? A loud snore ripped through Azriel making a fond smile etch itself onto her face at the obvious answer. Yeah, he’s definitely asleep, she mused to herself. She gently grabbed his hand that was wrapped around her waist and, as slowly as she could, she lifted it and started to scoot away from his grasp.

Subconsciously detecting the movement, Azriel’s hold tightened on Ruby, tucking her even closer to his chest. Ruby froze and waited a few minutes until she heard the snoring start again giving her the confidence to try again. She lifted his arm and wiggled her way out, slipping out of bed to tiptoe her way over to the window. Without the protection of the covers or Azriel’s body heat, Ruby’s shivering increased tenfold. She reached up feeling the freezing top of the window pane pulling down slowly so as not to wake Azriel up. The window started squeaking as she pulled it down and her body tensed so she made the split second decision to pull it down the rest of the way quickly. 

Once it was shut, she let out a breath of relief and turned around to head back into bed, hopefully to fall back asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. When she returned back to bed, her eyes met Azriel’s opened and trained on her. A sheepish smile found its way onto her face “it was cold.” she said simply. Azriel’s lips formed into a thin line on his face, eyes darting back and forth between hers. “I’m sorry, I just-” he cut himself off, obviously hesitating to finish his thought. “What is it?” Ruby asked quietly, brows furrowed on her forehead. 

Azriel took a deep breath before pushing on. “When I was younger, I was kept in a basement. No light. No people. Nothing. Every day I felt like I was being buried alive because the darkness felt like it was pressing in on me.” Azriel’s eyes shuddered close at the feeling of Ruby’s hand finding its way into his hair, lightly scratching his scalp giving him the comfort and courage to keep on. “Before the shadows found me, I was terrified of being kept in the dark, terrified of being contained like that. I can’t believe all of these years it’s still affecting me but because of it I just… I can’t-” “You can’t sleep with the windows closed.” Ruby finished softly understanding dawning in her eyes. “I’m sorry my love.” Ruby could practically see the self loathing take over Azriel making her shake her head vehemently. “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I just thought… I don’t know, maybe you liked the sounds of the outside or got warm at night?” Azriel chuckled softly. “I wish. Still it’s not fair on you to make you freeze or keep you up every night just because of my baggage.” Ruby tilted her head in contemplation. “Maybe not, but I think I can take that on. Plus, maybe you’ll just have to hold me extra close to keep me warm.” She lifted her eyebrows up and down suggestively. 

Azriel’s shoulders visibly lowered relieved, a smile drawing on his face before he pulled her in close. “I can do that” He nestles his head into her neck inhaling her scent deep into his lungs. Ruby’s eyes shut in contentment before shooting open in realization, “wait!” She pulled away from his grasp and quickly opened the window before trotting back into bed finding a soft expression on Azriel’s face. “You’re too good for me.” He whispered into her ear, tucking her back into her place in his arms. She shook her head, “You deserve all of the love in the world Az and I’m honored to be able to give it to you.” She kissed his strong jaw before they both fell into a deep sleep for the night.

The following day, Ruby found a box with a bow on it sitting on her bed. Inside was a heated blanket that she clutched to her chest, feeling a warm rush spread through her chest. Knowing the cause was not from the blanket she sat on her bed basking in the fluttering in her stomach.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #no beta we die like men #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #if this doesn't make sense #dont tell me #love you guys