deansimagination

[deansimagination]

Ahhhhhgggg

The Night We Met

pairing: azriel x reader

genre: romance, angst

Summary: Azriel finally meets his mate. Only to realize you exist only in his dreams. Each night with you feels achingly real, until one touch snaps the mating bond into place. When he wakes with only your scent and fading clues, he knows one thing: he’ll tear the world apart to find you.

Azriel had not dreamed in over two centuries.

Sleep, when it came at all, brought only blessed darkness. A temporary reprieve from constant vigilance.

Dreams were a luxury he'd abandoned long ago, along with hope and the foolish notion that somewhere in this vast world, someone might be meant for him.

So when he found himself standing in a moonlit clearing he'd never seen before, surrounded by ancient oaks humming with old magic, his first instinct was to reach for Truth-Teller.

The blade wasn't there.

Neither were his leathers.

Instead, he wore simple black clothing, and his shadows swirled around him with restless energy, reaching toward something he couldn't yet see.

That's when you stepped into the clearing.

The breath left his lungs in a rush.

Beautiful. The word felt inadequate for what stood before him.

You were ethereal in the moonlight, all flowing hair and luminous skin that seemed to glow from within. Your bow was held with easy confidence, but it was your face that undid him completely. Delicate features arranged in perfect harmony, eyes that sparkled with mischief, lips that looked made for kissing.

You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. In five centuries of existence, through courts filled with fae females of legendary beauty, nothing had prepared him for you.

When you saw him, you didn't scream or run. Instead, you tilted your head and said, "Well. You're definitely not a deer."

"No," he managed, voice rougher than usual. "I'm not."

You studied him with those captivating eyes, not assessing him as a threat but with genuine curiosity. "This is a dream, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Thank the gods," you breathed, lowering your bow completely. "I was starting to think I'd finally cracked and gone completely mad."

Despite five centuries of training that screamed at him to maintain distance, Azriel found his mouth curving upward. There was something infectiously warm about your presence.

"And why would you think that?"

"Because I've been having the strangest dreams lately," you said, gesturing animatedly. "Places that don't exist, magic that feels real enough to taste. And now there's you, looking like some dark god of war who wandered out of a fairy tale." You paused, color blooming across your cheeks. "I mean, not that you look like... I didn't mean to..."

The stammering was adorable. When was the last time anyone had blushed because of something they'd said to him?

"You're not afraid," he observed.

"Should I be?" You settled onto a moss-covered log, then immediately stood back up. "Actually, wait. That looked more elegant in my head."

You sat again, more carefully this time, but somehow managed to catch your braid on a low branch. As you untangled yourself with muttered curses, Azriel felt something unprecedented happen. He wanted to genuinely smile.

"It's a dream," you continued once you'd freed yourself. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could be a nightmare," he pointed out, moving closer despite every instinct.

"Could be." Your smile was warm, inviting. "Are you?"

His shadows crept closer despite his attempts to call them back.

"I don't know," he admitted.

You patted the space beside you with such casual invitation that he found himself sitting before he'd consciously decided to. His shadows immediately betrayed him, reaching toward you.

"Oh," you breathed, extending a hand toward the wisps of darkness. "They're beautiful."

Beautiful. Applied to parts of him others had only called terrifying.

"They're dangerous," he said quickly.

"So are thunderstorms," you replied, letting one curl around your wrist like a bracelet. "Doesn't make them any less gorgeous."

The shadow settled against your skin as if it belonged there. His shadows didn't behave this way. They didn't seek out strangers, didn't show interest in anyone outside his small circle of family.

"That's impossible," he murmured.

"Good impossible or bad impossible?"

The question made him look at you, really look. You were smiling at the darkness surrounding him as if it had given you some precious gift.

"I don't know," he said again.

"What's your name?" you asked.

Names had power. Names created connections.

But this was a dream, and you were looking at him like he was someone worth knowing.

"Azriel."

"Azriel." You repeated it carefully, and something about the way you said his name made his shadows pulse with satisfaction. "I'm—"

"Don't," he said quickly. "Don't tell me your name. Not yet."

You tilted your head curiously. "Why not?"

He couldn't explain the sudden certainty that knowing your name would make this too real, too dangerous. That it would cement something he wasn't ready to face.

"What do you do, Azriel? When you're not appearing in strange dreams looking like every maiden's fantasy?"

The casual compliment hit him like a physical blow. Every maiden's fantasy. You thought he was...

"I serve my High Lord," he managed. "I gather information."

You nodded as if he'd told you he tended gardens. "Sounds important. Lonely, though."

The observation hit close to home. "It can be."

"When's the last time you did something just for yourself?"

The question made him blink. "What do you mean?"

"Fun. Enjoyment. You know, that thing people do when they're not being brooding warriors of darkness?" You tilted your head, studying him with perceptive eyes. "You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, don't you? Everyone's safety, everyone's secrets. When do you get to just... exist?"

No one had ever asked him that. No one had ever looked at him and seen the burden he carried, the way he'd made himself into a weapon at the cost of his own happiness.

"I don't think I know how," he admitted quietly.

Your face lit up with something fierce and determined. "Then I'll have to teach you. Starting with the revolutionary concept of having absolutely no agenda whatsoever."

Despite himself, Azriel found himself smiling.

The dreams became his obsession.

Every night, he counted hours until he could see you again. You appeared like clockwork in that moonlit clearing, always with some new lesson in "having fun."

You taught him to skip stones across the stream, laughing when his attempts sent rocks plunging with military precision.

"You're thinking too hard," you said, demonstrating with a smooth motion. Then you immediately tripped over your own feet and nearly tumbled into the stream.

"Graceful," he observed, steadying you.

"Shut up," you muttered, grinning. "I'm a woman of many talents. Coordination just isn't one of them."

Watching you laugh at your own clumsiness, seeing starlight catch in your hair and make your eyes sparkle, Azriel felt something shift in his chest. Something warm and golden and terrifyingly precious.

You convinced him to weave flower crowns, your nimble fingers creating delicate circlets while his fumbled with stems.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered when you insisted he wear the crown.

"This is fun," you corrected, reaching up to adjust the flowers in his hair. "There's a difference."

Your fingers brushed his forehead as you worked. You were close enough that he could smell your sweet scent, count the freckles scattered across your nose like stars.

"There," you said, stepping back to admire your work. "Now you look like a proper fairy prince instead of a terrifying shadow lord."

"I am a terrifying shadow lord," he protested weakly.

"Not in here," you said simply. "In here, you're just Azriel. And Azriel looks very handsome in flower crowns."

The casual compliment made his shadows flutter with something like preening.

His shadows seemed to enjoy the flower petals, playing with them instead of their usual vigilant hovering. You watched with delight, occasionally reaching out to let them wind around your fingers.

"They really like you," he observed.

"I really like them too," you replied. "They're like curious little pets."

"They're extensions of my will," he said automatically. "They don't have personalities."

You shot him a look that clearly said you thought he was an idiot. "Right. And I suppose they investigate my hair because you will them to?"

He followed your gaze and realized several shadows had wound through your hair, seeming to enjoy the silky texture. He hadn't commanded that.

"That's not normal," he said.

"Maybe normal is overrated," you shrugged.

One night, you lay side by side in soft grass, pointing out constellations. The casual intimacy of it, your shoulder pressed against his, your hand occasionally brushing his arm as you gestured, was driving him slowly mad.

"There," you whispered when a star fell, catching his scarred hand and pointing it toward the light. "Make a wish."

The feel of your skin against his scars sent electricity through him. You didn't flinch, didn't pull away from the evidence of his past. Instead, your thumb traced over one of the worst scars with such tenderness it made his breath catch.

"What did you wish for?" you asked softly.

He turned his head to study your profile, noting how moonlight caught on your lips.

For the first time in centuries, he wasn't cataloguing exits or potential threats. He was simply here. Present.

Memorizing the way your lashes cast shadows on your cheeks, the small smile playing at your lips, the way your braid had come undone and spilled across the grass like silk.

When had he stopped being the shadowsinger and started being just Azriel?

"Can't tell you, or it won't come true," he said quietly.

But he could tell you.

He'd wished for this to be real, for you to be real, for some impossible way to keep you. He'd wished to always feel this strange peace that seemed to settle in his bones whenever you looked at him.

The space between you seemed to crackle with tension. He wanted to kiss you, had wanted to since that first night, but something held him back. Some instinct that this was precious, fragile, not to be rushed.

Instead, he traced the curve of your cheek with one finger, marveling when you leaned into the touch like a cat seeking warmth.

"This doesn't feel like a dream," you murmured, your breath ghosting across his palm.

"No," he agreed, voice rougher than intended. "It doesn't."

It was on the night you attempted to teach him to whittle that everything changed.

"It's supposed to be relaxing," you said, demonstrating with a piece of wood and a small knife. "Meditative."

Azriel watched your hands move with practiced ease, creating delicate curls of wood. "I don't think I'm built for relaxation."

"Everyone's built for relaxation. You just have to find the right kind." You handed him the knife and a fresh piece of wood, your fingers brushing his wrist as you did. The contact sent sparks up his arm. "Try it."

He took the tools, hyperaware of every point where your skin had touched his, the lingering warmth like a brand.

"What am I supposed to make?"

"Whatever wants to emerge," you said with that dreamy smile he'd grown to love. You shifted closer, your knee bumping against his thigh as you settled beside him. "Sometimes the wood tells you."

"The wood tells you," he repeated dryly, trying to ignore the heat radiating from where you touched him.

"Mock me all you want, but—oh!"

You'd been gesturing enthusiastically when your elbow knocked into his wing. The unexpected contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him. Wings were sensitive, intimate, and his sharp intake of breath made you freeze.

"I'm sorry," you said quickly, but your hand had landed on his forearm to steady yourself, fingers pressing against his skin. "I didn't mean to—are you hurt?"

"No," he managed, voice strained. The dual sensation of your touch on his wing and arm was making his head spin. "Wings are just... sensitive."

Understanding dawned in your eyes, followed by something that looked like hunger disguised as curiosity. "Sensitive how?"

The innocent question, delivered in that slightly breathless tone, made heat pool low in his belly.

"Sorry," you said again, but you weren't moving away. If anything, you'd leaned closer, your fascinated gaze tracking over the membranous expanse. "I just—they're beautiful. Can I...?"

You reached out tentatively, stopping just short of touching. The anticipation was exquisite torture.

"Yes," he breathed.

Your fingertips brushed the edge of his wing, feather-light, and Azriel bit back a groan. The sensation was overwhelming, part pleasure, part pain, entirely consuming.

"Like that?" you asked softly, voice gone husky.

He could only nod, not trusting his voice. You grew bolder, trailing your fingers along the sensitive membrane, and he felt his carefully constructed control beginning to fracture.

"You're trembling," you observed, wonder in your voice.

"You're touching my wings," he said roughly. "It's... intense."

"Good intense?"

Before he could answer, you leaned closer to examine the intricate patterns, your breath ghosting across his skin.

Your free hand came up to steady yourself against his chest, palm flat over his racing heart. The innocent curiosity in your expression, combined with the intimacy of touching him like this, made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams.

That's when you stumbled.

Your foot caught on something and you pitched forward. Instinct had him catching you before you could fall, his arms coming around you as his wings flared instinctively to shield you both from harm.

Time crystallized.

You were pressed against his chest, your hands fisted in his shirt, face tilted up toward his. Moonlight streamed through your disheveled hair, turning it to liquid silver, and when you looked up at him with those bright, beautiful eyes, pupils dilated, lips parted in surprise, something ancient and primal roared to life in his chest.

The mating bond didn't just snap into place.

It erupted.

The world exploded into sensation and color and rightness so overwhelming it drove him to his knees. Golden threads of light blazed between your souls, weaving together everything he was with everything you were until he couldn't tell where he ended and you began. Five centuries of emptiness, of believing himself unworthy of love, of carefully controlled loneliness, all of it shattered in an instant.

Mate. Mine. Forever.

The words weren't thoughts so much as truths written into the fabric of reality itself. His shadows went wild, streaming around you both in a protective cocoon, some part of him desperate to shield this moment from anything that might disturb it.

Distantly, he was aware that he'd pulled you both down onto the grass, that he was cradling you against him like you might disappear, that his hands were shaking with the force of restraining himself from claiming your mouth, your body, your soul.

"Azriel?" Your voice seemed to come from underwater. "What's happening?"

He tried to speak and found he couldn't. The bond was singing in his blood, demanding he tell you what you were to him, demanding he make you understand that you belonged to him now, that he would burn the world down before letting anything harm you.

But you were human. You didn't know what this meant, what had just changed between you. To you, this was still just a dream.

To him, you had just become his entire reason for existing.

"I..." He tried to form words, but his voice came out raw, broken. "You're..."

"What?" you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. Your thumb traced his cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "What's wrong?"

Wrong? Nothing was wrong.

Everything was perfect and terrifying and he was drowning in the need to kiss you, to taste you, to bury himself so deep in your soul that you'd never question who you belonged to.

"Mine," he breathed, the word torn from somewhere primal and possessive. "You're mine."

Before he could stop himself, before sanity could intervene, he crushed his mouth to yours.

You made a soft sound of surprise that turned into something hungrier when he deepened the kiss, his control finally snapping entirely.

You tasted like starlight and forever, like every good thing he'd never dared hope for. The bond blazed brighter with each touch of your tongue against his, each breathless gasp you gave when he traced the curve of your lower lip.

When he finally pulled back, lungs burning, hands fisted in your hair to keep you close, you stared up at him with dazed wonder.

"That felt..." you started, voice dreamy and confused.

"Real," he finished roughly. "It felt real because it is real."

You went very still in his arms, and when you looked at him again, there was something heartbreaking in your expression.

"Azriel," you said gently, "this isn't real."

The words hit him like a physical blow. "What?"

"This is just a dream." Your voice was soft, patient, like you were explaining something to a child. "A beautiful dream, but still just a dream. And I'm—" You took a shaky breath. "I'm dying. In the real world. I've been sick for months, and the healers can't do anything more for me."

"No." The word tore from his throat. "No, you don't understand. You're my mate. This bond between us, it's real. I can feel it."

You reached up to cup his face, and he could see tears gathering in your eyes. "I know you feel it. I feel it too. But that doesn't make it real."

"It is real," he said desperately. "You have to believe me. I'm going to find you, I'm going to save you."

"You can't save me from a dream," you whispered. "And you can't save me from dying."

"This isn't a dream," he insisted, but even as he spoke, he could feel the world beginning to fracture around them. "You're real. We're real."

"I'm dying, Azriel." The words were gentle but final. "My body is failing, and my mind is creating this beautiful fantasy because it's easier than facing the truth. You're everything I've ever wanted, everything I've ever dreamed of, but you're not real."

"I am real," he said, panic rising in his chest as the dream continued to dissolve. "Please, you have to believe me. I exist, I'm coming for you, just hold on."

But you were already fading, becoming translucent around the edges.

"This is just a dream," you said again, and this time there was peace in your voice. Acceptance. "A beautiful, impossible dream."

"No," he breathed, reaching for you as you slipped away. "Please, just tell me where you are. Tell me your name, tell me something I can use to find you."

But the last thing he saw before everything went dark was your sad, sweet smile, and the last words you spoke echoed in the silence:

"It's just a dream. Just a dream."

Azriel woke with a roar that shook the foundations of the House of Wind.

The mating bond blazed in his chest like a dying star, gold and molten and desperate. Your phantom scent still clung to his skin, jasmine and starlight and something fading, like flowers pressed between the pages of a book.

His mate was dying, and he had no idea how to find you.

His shadows writhed around him, agitated and hungry, still reaching for the ghost of your touch. They whispered of dreams and dying girls, of bonds that burned across impossible distances, and Azriel felt something cold and determined settle in his chest.

You thought he was just a dream. You thought none of it was real.

But the mating bond didn't lie. And neither did the way his shadows had responded to you, the way they'd played in your hair like they belonged there.

Somewhere in the mortal lands, his mate was dying, convinced that the love she'd found was nothing more than her mind's final gift to itself.

Azriel rose from his bed, shadows streaming around him like liquid night, and began to plan.

He would find you.

Author’s Note:

Slowly crawling my way out of writer’s block, and this little dreamscape romance with Azriel was the spark I needed. Hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it. ✨

[deansimagination]

love the slow burn!!

"Shadows and Scandal"

Chapter 7: "A Strategic Delay"

The River House was quiet when you and Azriel arrived. You followed Azriel as he led you to where Feyre and Rhysand were. They greeted you as you stepped into Rhysand's office. The shadows clung close to Azriel, tense like the rest of you.

Rhysand broke the silence first. “Thank you for coming so quickly. This needed to be discussed between us before the others got here. Lucien has been asking a lot of questions about your marriage. Not just out of curiosity, he’s suspicious. Wants proof that it’s real.”

You glanced at Azriel. His jaw tightened.

Feyre stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “Lucien has always been protective of Elain, and he’s worried she might’ve been hurt, emotionally or worse. His concerns aren’t unfounded given the circumstances.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened. “Elain is unharmed by this. I don't understand.”

Rhysand nodded. “Still, Lucien’s persistent, wants to make sure himself. The Autumn Court invited us all under the pretense of peace and alliance, but it’s really a test. A political game to push and pull at the night court's weaknesses, which right now is your unexpected union.”

You swallowed. “So we need to convince them this is genuine.”

Feyre’s gaze softened as it flicked to you. “It’s more than acting. They’ll watch every look, every touch, every hesitation. You two need to be even more believable than you were at dinner the other night.”

Azriel’s shadow curled protectively around your feet. “We’ll make sure they have no doubts.”

“Good,” Rhysand said. “Because this isn’t just about politics. If Lucien pushes too hard, it could put Elain and Y/N in a difficult position. And that’s something we want to avoid at all costs.”

You nodded, heart pounding. “What’s the plan?”

Feyre folded her arms. “We stick together. Present a united front. Avoid giving Lucien or anyone else an inch of leverage. Never let yourself be alone with him without one of us in this room.”

Azriel looked at you. “We rehearse, again and again if needed.”

You took a deep breath. “Then the next three days will be our practice.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall outside Rhysand’s office. The soft sound of voices filled the air.

Feyre straightened. “The others are here, we’ll have to pause.”

Azriel and you stood quickly, smoothing the tension from your clothes.

Rhysand gave you both a look over. “Stay here. Do not come out just yet. Wait a couple of minutes and then walk in like you were just running late.”

Azriel’s shadows flickered as he crossed his arms but nodded once. You swallowed hard and took a slow breath.

“No need to worry,” Feyre assured you softly. “You'll know when it's been long enough.”

Rhysand and Feyre stepped to the door and opened it, greeting the others as they entered the hall: Cassian, Nesta, Mor, Amren, and Elain.

Once the hallway filled with laughter and chatter, the door shut behind them, leaving you and Azriel alone in the office.

You exhaled and turned to him. “Three days of pretending... I am not sure if I'm ready for this.”

Azriel’s dark eyes softened just a little. “None of us ever really are, but we have to be.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “What if I mess up?”

He stepped closer, voice low but firm. “I’ll be there to help you."

“Yeah, but this time everyone’s watching,” you said. “Every move. Every breath.”

He nodded once. “Then we don’t give them anything to question.”

You shifted on your feet. “Right.”

Another pause.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to yours briefly. “We’ll get through it.”

That was all he said, but somehow it felt heavier than a promise. You nodded once, quietly. “Yeah. We will.”

Just then, an idea came to you, one to help ease the stress of what’s ahead.

You glanced toward the antique clock on Rhys’s desk with a smile. “I think we should wait seven minutes before we go out there.”

Azriel leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, shadows coiling lazily around his boots. “Seven? That's oddly specific.”

You nodded. “Only to make it seem like we just arrived.”

His mouth curved slightly. “So... a strategic delay?”

You smirked. “Exactly. Almost like we were playing a game."

He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “What kind of game?”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms with false innocence. “Oh, I don't know, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, a glimmer of amusement flickering behind his calm exterior. “Didn’t take you for the type to play party games.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t know you knew what it was.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. “I’ve been around Cassian long enough.”

You laughed. “That explains so much.”

He studied you in that quiet, infuriating way he always did. “You think the others would believe we got... distracted, and that's why we were late?”

“Would that be so hard to believe?” Your voice playful.

His shadows moved to curling around his ankles like smoke catching on something hot. “That depends.”

“On what?”

Azriel glanced at you, voice smooth. “On how flushed you are when we walk out.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wow. Shadowsinger’s got claws after all.”

He stepped past you toward the desk. “You started it.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you covered it with a scoff. “You’re such a tease.”

Azriel straightened, professionalism snapping back into place. “Our seven minutes are almost up.”

"Let's go give them the performance of our lives," you smiled.

As you turned toward the door, Azriel suddenly reached out and ruffled your hair, deliberately messing it up.

“Hey!” you protested, swatting his arm.

“Just making it believable,” he said, completely unrepentant. “Now you look flustered.”

You narrowed your eyes, then reached right back and tousled his hair in return, fingers tangling in the soft strands. “Now we both look flustered.”

He blinked, surprised, but not displeased. For a heartbeat, you just stood there, staring at each other with a little too much heat in the silence.

Azriel was the one who stepped back, clearing his throat. “Alright. Showtime.”

You nodded, smoothing your shirt. “Let’s go lie to everyone you love.”

And just before Azriel opened the door, his shadows curled briefly around your shoulder in a gesture that almost felt like... reassurance.

The scent of roasted garlic and honeyed lamb filled the dining room as you and Azriel stepped in, side by side, hair slightly tousled, shoulders brushing.

Feyre and Rhys had already taken their seats at the long table, and across from them sat Cassian, already halfway into his first glass of wine.

Cassian looked up as you entered, grin tugging wide. “Look who finally decided to show up. What, did the shadows slow you down?”

Azriel arched a brow, sliding into the chair beside him. “You know how dramatic they can be.”

Cassian chuckled, then turned to you. “Do you have any more scandalous stories for my game?”

Before you could answer, a slender figure glided into the room, eyes sharp as moonlight and presence heavier than steel.

Amren.

She didn’t smile as she studied you, her silver eyes flicking up and down. “So... you’re the female Azriel married.”

You managed a polite nod. “I am.”

She sipped her wine, still watching. “You don’t look terrified.”

Cassian leaned toward you with a wink. “That’s a compliment. Maybe.”

Then the sound of another chair being pulled out made you turn. A golden-haired female entered behind Nesta, with soft features and graceful steps. Elain.

She paused when she saw you. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, the image of gentleness.

Her gaze slid to yours. “Hello.”

It was said with all the warmth of frostbite.

You smiled, small and polite. “Hi.”

Azriel’s shoulders tensed beside you, but he didn’t look away from his plate. Not once.

Rhysand clinked his fork gently against his wine glass, quieting the room. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s discuss the real reason we’re all having this lovely dinner.”

Feyre took over. “The Autumn Court has extended an invitation to a formal gathering...“

Cassian groaned loudly. “My Gods, it's a ball. Just say it. That’s what it is. They're throwing a party to see if we’ll squirm in our leathers.”

Mor smirked. “And we’ll give them nothing. Right?”

Azriel spoke then, his voice calm but unreadable. “Lucien’s suspicious. He’s been asking questions about my marriage... about us.”

You felt every eye at the table shift to you. Even Elain.

Rhysand cleared his throat. “The purpose of the ball is layered. Publicly, it’s a peace offering. Privately? Lucien will use it as a chance to press us. To gauge whether the Night Court’s stability has cracks.”

Amren’s fingers tapped against her glass. “And your sudden marriage to a female no one’s ever met before would be the crack.”

“No,” Azriel said, sharp and final. “It’s not.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. Your silence beside him was part of the performance.

Feyre reached for her drink. “We will all be attending. But this time, there will be dancing, questions, and mind games. We all need to stick to the same script of information about Y/N and Azriel. Never adding more or giving too much away at a time.”

“We’ve practiced,” Azriel replied.

Cassian gave a low whistle. “Not that kind of practice, I hope.”

Azriel shot him a deadly glare.

Rhys chuckled, then turned to you. “This will be in three days. Like Feyre said, we'll all be guests of the Autumn Court. But you two will be the ones they're watching. Don’t let your guard down.”

“Are you ready?” Feyre asked you gently.

You nodded. “I can handle it.”

Dinner resumed in stiff, quiet bites. No more jokes. No more laughter. Just the weight of what was coming. Afterwards, everyone retreated to their rooms with a calm that only happened right before a storm.

You and Azriel walked down the halls, past the rooms that should’ve been empty, to his room, which was his when he stayed here.

You arched a brow. “Your room?”

“It’s the one they expect us to use,” he said simply, not meeting your eyes.

You crossed your arms. “Convenient.”

Azriel gave you a look. “Suspicion kills more than honesty.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed the door open.

It was warm, the fire already crackling inside. Shadows clung to the corners, flickering with the orange light. And, just as you feared… one bed.

You turned slowly toward him. “I swear to the Mother, if you take your shirt off without warning again, I’m sleeping on the floor.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. “Isn’t that a little dramatic?”

“You’re the one who always makes everything dramatic,” you shot back.

His mouth twitched like he was fighting off a smirk. “Then you may want to close your eyes.”

You blinked, half-horrified, half-excited. “Don't you dare.”

He started lifting it, slow and deliberate, his smirk growing wider. “Three… two…”

You turned away with a strangled noise. “Azriel!”

“You did warn me about the consequences,” he said mildly, voice too calm to be innocent. “I’m simply preparing.”

You were already halfway to the bathroom with your sleepwear bundled in your arms. “Fine. Change. But if I see any shadows trying to peek under the door...”

“They have manners,” he cut in smoothly.

You shut the door behind you. Changing took longer than it should have, mostly because you spent several minutes arguing with yourself in the mirror about whether your nightgown was too much or not enough. In the end, you told yourself it didn’t matter. It was just Azriel, who just so happened to be your husband of convenience.

You stepped out and saw he had dimmed the lamps and turned down the sheets. He was already sitting on the bed, shirtless, one knee bent as he looked through his pack for something.

He looked up when he heard the door, and froze.

The nightgown wasn’t scandalous, but it wasn’t exactly modest either. Soft fabric clung to the curves of your body, thin straps slipping slightly down your shoulder as you paused in the doorway.

Azriel didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away too quickly, as if looking again might unravel his control.

You cleared your throat, walking over to your side of the bed. "I'm sorry. This is all that I packed, thought I would be alone at night..."

You paused for a moment more, waiting for him to say something. "Your silence is speaking volumes.”

“I’m being polite,” he said stiffly.

You slid under the covers. “Huh, that’s new.”

Azriel exhaled a slow breath through his nose. “Just trying not to look like I’m thinking anything I shouldn’t.”

You turned your head toward him, studying the hard lines of his profile. “And are you?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I plead the fifth.”

You laughed, and it was that sound that finally pulled his gaze back to you, softer now but still intense, as you both settled into bed to get some rest.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you stirred. The moonlight still cast across the room. The sheets had twisted slightly, and the cool air kissed your bare arms as you blinked slowly into the dark.

And then you felt warmth, solid and close.

Azriel.

His arm was slung across your waist, hand resting lightly over your ribs. His chest was pressed to your back, the steady rise and fall of his breath brushing the base of your neck. One of his legs had tangled with yours.

You froze.

Your heart screamed at you to stay still, to not move, because this was comfortable in a way it shouldn’t be.

Azriel made a soft noise behind you, a little sigh against your skin. His fingers flexed briefly over your side.

Your breath hitched. You didn’t dare shift. Not an inch. Not when his shadows curled lazily around both of you, content and unbothered, as if they approved of this.

Eventually, sleep pulled you back under, lulled by the warmth of him, the way your body had instinctively curved into his, and the strange, grounding calm that came from being held like this.

Then the morning came too fast.

You woke up, Azriel’s arm still around you.

But now, he was awake, too. And very, very still.

Neither of you moved.

Eventually, you cleared your throat. “So.”

Azriel spoke at the same time. “We don’t talk about this.”

You blinked. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good,” he said a little too quickly.

You shifted away, slowly. “It was cold. That’s all.”

“Very cold,” Azriel agreed stiffly, already sitting up, shadows zipping away like they wanted nothing to do with the conversation.

You pulled the blankets tighter. “Just… survival instincts.”

He stood, grabbed a shirt off the chair, and nodded as seriously. “Exactly.”

You didn’t look at each other as you both got dressed for the day.

You didn’t mention the way your heart had slowed to match his in the dark. Nevertheless, you got out of bed and got ready for the day ahead.

Each morning began with taking a drop of your potion, having to go back to hiding your wings. Afterwards, you met up with Nesta, who was drilling you in dance lessons sharp enough to draw blood. Her voice was stern, movements strict. By the end, she admitted you were “passable," which felt like the highest praise.

Afternoons were spent with Mor, who dragged you through Velaris’s boutiques with a gleam in her eye. She tossed aside anything too plain and helped you find the dress. One that hugged your body just right, was the right shade of blue, and looked like it belonged to a female confident in her place beside a shadowsinger.

Evenings brought strategy meetings with the Inner Circle. You and Azriel sat close, reciting the "story of your marriage" until it was second nature with everyone listening. Rhys and Feyre asked tough questions, Cassian, of course, wanted to know who confessed first, and Elain stayed quiet the whole time.

And at night, you returned to Azriel’s room. You changed in the bathroom. He warned you before taking his shirt off. It quickly became your nightly routine.

You kept your distance in bed... well, most of the time. When you didn’t, neither of you mentioned it in the morning.

By the time the morning of the Autumn Court ball arrived, the act was second nature. And that was the part that scared you most.

[deansimagination]

Taste

Azriel x Reader

Part five of Warm Hands and New Flavors

Plot: Staying at a hotel in winter court, you and Azriel finally give in to the feelings you both have been growing.

Warning: SMUT

Other parts:

Part one: Warm Hands and New Flavors

Part two: Too Sweet

Part three: Pretty in Pink

Part four: Golden

You and Azriel were about to start getting ready for bed, but there wasn’t much to do since this was an impromptu hotel stay. Neither of you had pajamas.

“Why don’t we both shower and wash the evening off and we can go to sleep?” Azriel looked over at you, he stood in the doorway of the little room, the warm glow of the enchanted candles illuminating the beautiful lines of his face. Your eyes widened, not thinking clearly.

“Both of us?” You gestured between the two of you, your eyes almost bulging from your skull. Azriel’s head tilted back and he let out a large, genuine laugh. His hand was resting on his stomach, as he regained his breath. You had never seen him laugh like that. Your cheeks flushed after you realized he meant you would shower separately.

“Sorry, I got confused. Why don’t you go first?” You offered as his laughing subsided. Was the idea of showering with you that funny? Even though that’s not what he meant, why did he react that way?

His eyes softened as he saw how flustered you had become. “Okay I’ll go first. I’ll leave my shirt for you to sleep in. I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in that lovely, but uncomfortable, dress.” He gestured over your whole body, his eyes raking down with his hand. You swore you saw some heat in his eyes, but you chose to ignore it.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Don’t use all the hot water please” you walked over to the bed and sat down at the end, deciding to relax until he was done. Azriel walked into the bathroom and lightly shut the door behind him. You ran your fingers over the bedding, realizing how soft the duvet was. You hadn’t realized how tired you had been until this moment. You were so drained, emotionally from the interaction with your father but also physically from using your new power. Your eyes drifted closed as you tipped over, getting comfortable at the end of the bed.

~

You hadn’t realized you dozed off for a few minutes until you felt your hair being moved, the light drag of someone’s fingers on the tip of your ear. You softly hummed as your eyes opened.

“It’s your turn sweetheart” Azriel whispered, likely not wanting to startle you. You were so tired, so disoriented, that your eyes slowly drifted from his face all the way down to his toes. His hair was wet, curling close to his face. His skin looked somewhat damp, but what had your breath hitching was seeing him shirtless. So close to you. You were too tired to realize that your eyes were exploring his chest, his shoulders, your gaze tracing his tattoos across his torso. Azriel’s finger trailed down until he held your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilted your eyes back up to him. His pupils were wide, having smelled a shift in your scent, but he just urged you, “Come on.”

Azriel reached for your hands, lightly pulling you up off the bed. Once you were standing, you had officially woken up. “Okay okay, I smell. I got it. I’ll be right back out.” You turned your back on him, waving him off as you entered the bathroom. Azriel just watched you as you shut the door. You really had no idea how you were impacting him. He climbed onto one side of the bed and got under the covers. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go, especially with the thick tension hanging between you two. All he could do was wait for you to get out.

~

The bathroom door slowly opened, steam seeping out into the open space. You were in the doorway, his shirt draped over you like a night dress. Your smile was sheepish as you just looked at Azriel. His heart turned to goo at the sight of you, and he didn’t want to admit it was affecting other parts of him as well.

You tiptoed over to the bed, crawling into the other side. Only one of the candles remained on, giving the room a barely there glow, the rest of it bathed in darkness. You sighed as you were finally able to lay down, clean, and shamelessly basking in Azriel’s scent. He didn’t need to know that though.

You decided to just try and go to sleep, which proved to be a more difficult task than you anticipated. What was keeping you awake. Was it the events that happened tonight? Was it the male lying next to you? Was it the chill in your bones from the Winter Court air? You were curled up in a ball so tight, your body laced with tension.

“Y/N?” Azriel voice asked behind you, close but not quite close enough.

“Yes” you turned your body slightly to look at him, the candle still softly illuminating his face.

“I can feel you shivering” his eyes held concern as he informed you of his little observation. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed that you were keeping him awake this entire time.

“I’m so sorry” you exclaimed, fully turning around to face him, “I’m just so cold” you finished, looking down so you didn’t have to look into his eyes.

“I thought the whole point of me sleeping in this bed was to keep you warm. Come here” he wrapped his arm around your waist, dragging you to his body. His hand was so warm, his body even more so. You tensed at first, but his scent quickly calmed you down. You snuggled into his chest, causing a chuckle to reverberate on your cheek. Your stomach was doing flips, as your body was pressed against his bare skin.

“Is that better?” He asked, tilting your face up to look at him.

“So much better” you sighed, your eyes quickly looking down at his lips then back up. But of course Azriel noticed, he just chose to ignore it.

“Try your new trick on me again” he whispered, his tone husky and deep. Your heart started beating faster, probably from the proximity, or the demand he just made, but most likely both.

“Why?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you couldn’t see a reason he would want to experience that again. Azriel tucked some of your hair behind your ear, his eyes boring into your own.

“Your eyes were so beautiful when they glowed” he breathed. Gods that tasted so good. You couldn’t get enough of his compliments, and this one was like being fed your favorite foods.

“What does it taste like?” Azriel’s eyes were so dark, his face inches from yours. Your breath was mingling as his body nearly scorched yours.

“I don’t know how to describe it. It tastes like everything delicious I’ve ever eaten” you whispered, trying not to disturb the moment. You had an idea, that you had to act on fast so that you didn’t lose the small amount of courage you had. You wrapped Azriel in your golden rope, willing the truth before you asked, “Do you want to taste it?”

Azriel’s eyes widened, his hand tensing on your waist as he held you. His breath strained for a moment before he rushed out “More than anything.” It was your turn for the shock to show on your face. You were just planning on having a silly little moment, but hadn’t thought about the answer to your question. You were too stunned to speak.

Azriel’s eyes slid from yours, down to your lips before he broke the silence, “Fuck it.” His hand moved from your waist to your neck, lightly gripping.

“Your lips are exquisite, I’ve been wanting to taste them for myself since our first mission” and as the flavor of his compliment filled your mouth, Azriel smashed his lips into your own. He wasted no time, lightly licking your bottom lip to which you immediately granted him access. Your tongues danced with one another, and he lightly sucked your tongue. You could tell he tasted his compliment on your tongue, as he let out a pleasured hum.

Azriel pulled away, “Fuck that tastes good.” He was still looking at your lips, now pink and swollen from him. You reached your hands into his hair, pulling at the black curls. You don’t know what had gotten into you as you pulled his head back, exposing his neck to you. You leaned closer, kissing and sucking as you moved down his throat, Azriel groaned and pulled you somehow even closer to him.

The air was filled with the scent of both of you, so potent it could only mean one thing: your desire for one another was winning over your self control. You buried your nose into the column of his throat.

“You smell so good” you whined, which he then grabbed your hips and spun you both so he was on top of you.

“You’re one to talk, your smell so sweet, so…” he inhaled as he began licking along your throat, “you” he finished. He bit down on the curve of your neck causing you to let out a light moan.

“What do you want?” You demanded, and you knew that your eyes were flashing gold by the way he looked at you. His eyes looked between yours in awe as he hovered above you.

“Gods I could look at you all day” he exhaled, obviously in a little bit of discomfort as sweat gathered at his brow. Probably because he didn’t answer your question.

“Azriel” you pushed further and he relented, “I want you Y/N. I want to taste you. To feel you. To have you. I’ve never felt a pull to another like I do to you” he leaned his head against yours and you leaned up to kiss him.

“I want you too Az… I’ve never felt drawn or attracted to anyone like this. I’ve never even had a relationship with anyone, especially not in Hewn” you looked away, embarrassed that you were no where near as experienced as him. His eyes widened in surprise at that, which somehow made you feel more shame.

“I would be… the first?” He questioned, he brought his palm to your cheek to try and get you to look at him. You just nodded.

“Okay… are you sure you want to go further?” He wanted to ensure that you still wanted this. This wasn’t just some fling. You guys were around each other all the time, and Azriel had no intention of making this a one time thing.

“Yes. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you Azriel” your eyes were so dark, and Azriel just groaned at your comment. Fuck, he needed you.

“We’ll take it slow sweetheart. First, I need to taste more of you” he kissed you again, but quickly moved to your neck, sucking, biting, and kissing. His hand traced the hem of his shirt you were wearing, “can I take this off?” You could only nod, watching as he pulled the shirt above your head, leaving you in just your underwear. His eyes traced every curve of your body, but landed on your nipples, which hardened under his stare. You moved your hands to cover them, which he quickly grabbed before pushing them back down at your sides.

“No, let me look at how perfect you are” he whispered, leaning down as he took one of your nipples in his mouth. You gasped, your stomach turning molten at the sensation. Your hand moved up to lightly grasp his hair. His hand played with your other nipple, lightly circling and pinching before he switched between the two. You moaned crudely as he pulled off with a pop. He began kissing and licking down your belly and hips until he was between your legs. He put his thumbs under the bands of your underwear, and looked back up at you.

“Please” you breathed. And that was all he needed as he pulled them off of you. He spread your legs wide open with his hands, his eyes lightly glazing as he looked at you.

“You’re so wet, I can see you glistening even in the dark. I can’t wait to taste you” he leaned forward, and kissed at each of your thighs. You whimpered, wanting him to finally touch you. Azriel licked a stripe up your folds, then quickly wrapped his mouth around your clit and lightly sucked. Your hips bucked as you threw your head back and moaned. He began flicking his tongue and circling your nub, making your pleasure build and build and build. 

“Fuck Az that feels so good” you gasped, his tongue working even faster. He brought his fingers up as he entered one inside you. You gasped at the stretch, but when he curled his finger and stroked, your toes curled. He added another finger, still licking and sucking. Your hand was buried in his hair, as you needed something to hold onto as he brought you to your high. You came with his name on your mouth, your hips lightly rocking with your orgasm. You looked down at him, pulling his hair until his face was met with yours.

You kissed him hard, licking at the taste of yourself in his mouth, making him moan into you. You reached down to palm him through his underwear, causing him to sharply inhale. You had never had sex before, but you weren’t naive. You knew what you wanted.

“Take them off. I want all of you” you said as you lightly squeezed him. His hands quickly flew to his underwear, relieving himself of the undergarment. You spread your legs as he settled in between. Azriel brought the the tip of his cock to your folds, rubbing up and down along your clit. You were getting wetter and needier by the second.

“Please Azriel” you moaned, your arousal filling the air as his eyes dilated. Azriel wasted no time, pushing his tip into your pussy and slowly easing in. You gasped at the stretch, having never had anything this big inside you before.

“You feel so good, you’re so tight” Azriel growled, his eyes looking like they might role back into his head, but he continued to push in. It was painful as you breathed through it, but when he settled into you, you needed him to begin moving. You began rocking your hips, hoping he’d get the hint, which he did.

Azriel grabbed your hips as he began thrusting in and out of you. Your legs were wrapped around him, pulling him even closer to you. You were in such pleasure, but you nearly lost it when Az brought his fingers down to start rubbing your clit in circles. You were moaning even louder now, and he was breathing so heavily as he fucked into you.

“Azriel you’re gonna make me cum” you gasped while continued to thrust and swirl tight circles around your nub.

“Cum Y/N, I’ll cum with you” he groaned as he increased his pace. You couldn’t last long with all the stimulation you were receiving. You wrapped your hands around his shoulders as you screamed his name, him following suit and releasing thick ropes inside you.

At that moment, you felt a tight cord wrap around your ribs, tethering you to the man still inside of you. His eyes widened, as if he felt the same pull.

Azriel was your mate.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @tele86 @vern0268

[deansimagination]

Golden

Azriel x Reader

Part four of Warms Hands and New Flavors

Plot: Azriel and Reader are sent to Autumn court to obtain more information about Beron’s plans. Beron has a little surprise of his own, which forces reader to reveal a new gift. Azriel and reader are blurring more lines as they work together.

Word count: 2554

Other parts:

Part one: Warm Hands and New Flavors

Part two: Too Good

Part three: Pretty in Pink

Warnings: harsh words, desire lol

Rhysand had decided to send you and Azriel to Autumn Court. He wanted to figure out for sure what was going on. He wanted to play nice with Beron, so he asked him to host dinner to introduce his new emissary to the court. The plan was simple, Beron would have his nobles with him at dinner, which you would then make conversation with everyone and extract information.

~

Azriel had winnowed part of the way and flew the rest to get you both to Autumn Court. When you arrived, you found that they were finishing preparing for a party, which was confusing given Rhysand's plans. The servants you spoke to let him know of your arrival and guided you to your rooms. You and Azriel had rooms directly across from one another, but you thought everything was so strange. You were not planning on staying here, this was just supposed to be dinner. You were glad you had decided to dress well for dinner, since apparently you were attending a party now as well.

As the servant walked away, you and Azriel eyed each other warily as you stood by your respective doors.

"Do you know what's going on?" You fidgeted with your hands, nervous about the unexpected change of plans. Azriel walked to your door, "No, but we can go find out" he said as he held out his hand. You took it, and he led you to the ballroom.

On your way there, you spoke to a handmaid and determined that this was last minute and that you and Azriel were not the only special guests. Headed the rest of the way to the party, Azriel has his hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the palace. It gave the rest of your body goosebumps, as your attention zeroed in on his warm palm.

There was a long table at the front of the room, with a vast open space in front of it, which you assumed to be a dance floor. Your eyes tracked the faces of the guests, recognizing some from the Winter Court ball, but your eyes caught on some more particularly recognizable faces. Your steps slowed as you glanced between your father and Keir, and some of his other nightmare nobles. Your body tense underneath Azriel's hand, to which he started moving his thumb in sooth circles, effectively calming you down, just a little bit. You found your seats closer to you father and Keir. Azriel pulled your chair out for you, and you caught your father sneering, which of course Azriel noticed and glared back at him. You just smiled up at Azriel, his eyes softening as he looked back down at you. He then quietly took his seat, silently dragging it a little closer to yours.

"Let us begin eating" Beron stood up, addressing the table. He had an almost imperceptible smug look on his face at his little surprise. Your hands were shaky as you reached for your fork, causing Azriel to take hold of your other one under the table and give it a squeeze. The food itself looked extravagant, the plate covered with roasted meats and sauteed vegetables. The aroma alone was mouth-watering, but your appetite was minimal.

Everyone began eating, but you could feel your father's eyes boring into you. You picked at your food as you tried to listen to the conversation that Keir and Beron were having. Growing impatient, you decided to insert yourself.

"Beron, your court is so lovely, and this party is so tasteful! It was a bit surprising, but enjoyable nonetheless" you remarked as you raised your glass to him, other nobles following suit. Beron eyed you in what seemed like approval, but also in assessment.

"Oh, it's so nice of you to join our gathering. Especially after you dipped out of your own court" Keir sharply interjected. Keir didn't know why Rhys had pulled you from his court, but he didn't like it one bit. Your dad threw you a pointed stare at the comment.

"Oh please, I did not dip out. I have a job now. I didn't realize it was a crime to take a job and want to make a living" you laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension. Some of the nobles laughed, the main party did not, however.

"It is no crime, but your company is in bad taste" it was your father now who spoke up. His eyes held fire, but you knew his comments were based on resentment at you for leaving. You stiffened in discomfort, not happy about his comment.

*I happen to like the company I keep. But I didn't realize we were here to sold me like a teenage girl" you rolled your eyes and turned your attention to some of the nobles you recognized.

"I thought I would be meeting Beron's family, but I am happy to see you all. I did quite enjoy your company at Kalias ball" You smiled at them, voice dripping in charm. You had successfully cut Keir's and his ghoul's unpleasant conversation at the bud.

"You will. They are out doing a task I gave them" Beron pulled your attention back to him. You furrowed your brows in question.

"And what would be more important than this wonderful get together" you asked, trying to sound more curious than interrogative.

"Nothing of concern" he answered as he held your eye contact, but your mouth filled with the familiar metallic taste. You needed to question further, but didn't want to raise suspicion.

"And your wife?" You questioned further. His eyes held fire in them now as he responded, "She's in her room, she does not like these types of events." You sensed this was a sore subject, so you moved on.

"Well, I look forward to meeting your sons later.on. Perhaps even dancing with them" which was not a lie. If you could get them talking, they would be easier to pull information from than Beron.

As everyone finished their dinner, they moved on the dancing and having drinks. Beron's sons had finally arrived, and you had to pretend to have never met Eris for obvious reasons. The rest of his brother were not as charming as Eris or Lucien; you did not like being near them at all.

"Can I have your first dance" Eris asked, mischief dancing in his eyes, likely remembering your last conversation about dancing together.

"I'd be delighted" you grinned at him and took his hand as he led you to the dance floor.

"'ve been looking forward to this" Eris smiled as you stood at a respectable distance from one another, his hand on your waist, and yours on his shoulder.

"Me too, and I've been wanting to see autumn" you looked around you at the warm colors in the ballroom that matched the hues you would find as soon as you stepped out the front doors.

Eris looked at your dress, which you had picked to go with autumn.

"Well, you dressed perfectly. Your dress is almost as exquisite as you" he complimented, making you look down at your feet. He didn't make you nervous, but you didn't know what to do in the face of a compliment.

"Where were you at the start of the evening" you looked back up at him and his posture straightened.

"My father needed us to extract some information" Truth. You were silent, urging him to continue talking.

"We were below the castle. But enough about that" he looked very uncomfortable, obviously not wanting to continue thinking about whatever Beron had just made him do. Below the castle likely meant that they were getting information from a person they were either interrogating or torturing.

"Can I cut in?" Someone asked from behind you, causing Eris' eyes to widen. He quickly stood back, and the presence of someone new sent a chill up your spine. You turned your head only to make eye contact with your father. He walked around you and took Eris' place. As you began dancing, a new song started. It sounded a little ominous, which went perfectly with the situation at hand. You could feel your father's anger, disappointment, and what seemed like hurt rolling off him in waves.

"You look lovely" your father started, trying to calm the tension between you two.

"Despite the company I keep" you snapped. For some reason you could not let that go, the way he had looked at you but especially at Azriel was burned into your brain.

"You know how I feel about Rhysand and his lapdogs" your father's glare drifted across the room, which you followed, and your eyes landed on Azriel. He was watching like a hawk, and likely using his shadows to listen in as well. His shadows were dancing across his shoulder and whispering in his ears, but his eyes remained fixed on you and your father.

"Don't call them that. They're not so bad" you tried to casually deflect, but his disgust hurt your heart.

"Oh, so now you're one of his lapdogs too" he sneered, making your jaw drop slightly, but he continued, "I should have known. You always showed weakness throughout your training and even as a child. I would've hoped you'd grow out of it by now." Your eyes widened at him, sad at first but anger quickly took root. Your father has said some harsh things when he trained you, but you had no idea he felt this way about you. What was more upsetting was the lack of metal taste in your mouth. You didn't know what to say, so you did your job.

"What was going on with Beron's sons?" You asked, knowing in your gut him and Keir were involved.

"Why would I know that?" He deflected, his hand in your tensing a bit. Your mouth once again tasted like you had eaten a silver coin. Your heart filled with even more anger at his dishonesty.

You just wanted an answer and wanted to skip your usual enchanting conversation with the person in front of you.

"Tell me" You all but growled at him, baring your teeth like an animal. You imagined squeezing the truth out of him, your hands growing hot as you crushed your father's hand and shoulder in your own hands. Your father looked at you now with fear and began sputtering, "they were torturing someone from the Night Court. Someone who knows about the hidden city" his voice strained. As he spoke, his veins in his neck were popping, his face red. You kept glaring at, willing him to keep talking.

"'ll take it from here" you heard the familiar deep voice as someone lightly held your elbow.

You let your fierce grip of your father relax, letting him go. Azriel stepped between you, his hand sliding around your waist, bringing you closer to him. When your father was out of sight you asked,

"Why did you do that? I was getting good information from him" you whispered, frustrated that he interrupted.

"I know, I heard. But darling, your eyes were glowing, and your body was so tense. I needed you to stop before anyone noticed" your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Azriel's eyes held nothing but admiration.

"That's never happened before," you looked down in thought, "maybe it has something to do with my gift. I literally felt like I was squeezing the truth out of him, and he was struggling against me" you looked back up at him as you finished. He hummed at that. "Try it on me" he said, pulling you closer, likely so his body would block you from anyone's view.

"Hmmmn... tell me, what do you think of my dress" you demanded, eager to hear his answer.

As you willed him to respond, you imagine a golden rope wrapping around him and pulsing, urging him to tell you the truth. His neck grew red as he fought himself, "it's stunning, but everything on you is more than beautiful" he inhaled, almost as if he was holding his breath.

The rope left your mind, and you just looked at him stunned.

"You think so?" You asked breathily, like you couldn't believe your ears. Azriel looked at you with reverence.

"Yes, Y/N, you are the most beautiful being I've ever seen" he whispered, eyes trailing the planes of your face. Your mouth filled with the most exquisite flavor, like a dessert that nearly brought you to your knees.

"I forgot you make that face at compliments" he watched, his voice a bit husky. His pupils were the widest you'd ever seen them.

"Only yours" you couldn't help but admit. His eyes somehow darkened as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. His hand drifted from your waist, up your spine. His hand drifted to the exposed part of your dress, his fingers lightly brushing the bare skin on your back, giving you goosebumps all over.

You were aware of lines being crossed, but you honestly didn't care. Not wanting to be here anymore, you said "let's leave, we have the information we need." Your words a breathy exhale.

That was all he needed to hear.

~

Azriel carried you, flying from Autumn. The tension between you two was palpable, but the sky had opened up and began to rain, giving both of you a much needed cold shower.

"Maybe we should just stop for the night" your teeth chattered, your breath fanning his neck.

You were almost high on the smell of mist and cedar; your face turned toward his neck. The rest of you were freezing though. You had just crossed the border of Winter Court, and you were definitely feeling the chill. His arms squeezed your body closer to him.

"Yeah, we can do that" he whispered, starting to fly lower to look for somewhere to stay. After looking for about twenty minutes, Azriel spotted an inn. You both went in, surprised that the place was bustling. There were people already in line to check in before you. When it was finally your turn, Azriel spoke for you both.

"Do you have two rooms available?"

"Afraid not, we only have one more." At that, Azriel just pulled out some coins and got the info for the room. You made your way through the old inn, the place smelling very homey, like cinnamon and tea leaves. You felt at ease in this little place, and you were ready to sleep off the day. You got your room, Azriel opening the door for you to peer in. It was so cute, all the furnitures dark wood, the bedding a soft blue. Wait... your eyes caught on the bed. It was a good size, but it was just one. You looked up to Azriel, who had his eyes locked on you the whole time.

"I'll sleep on the floor" he said as he stepped into the tiny room. You rolled your eyes behind his back.

"Absolutely not. We are adults and there's space for both of us. Also, I'm scared I'll freeze to death in this court without your body heat" you giggled, even though it was the truth. He laughed at that, and you both began getting ready for bed.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria

[deansimagination]

Pretty in Pink

Plot: This is Part three of Warm Hands and New Flavors. Azriel and Reader are dancing about one another as they navigate their own confusing feelings for each other. Reader trains with Cassian and Azriel, and Azriel likes to make her blush.

Warnings: suggestiveness

Part one: Warm Hands and New Flavors

Part two: Too Sweet

Azriel was beyond frustrated, he couldn’t seem to shake you from his mind. You were just so captivating, and it bothered him to no end watching you interact with Lucian and Eris. Even though he was irritated when they would compliment you or when they would make you laugh, he couldn’t help but to pay attention to the conversation. He loved hearing you talk, and loved watching you work. Your talents were just so natural to you. Even when he was talking to Elain, he had to actively try to keep his attention on her. He knew he failed at that too because he had one year listening to Elain, but the other was trained on you. He did glance at you every now and then throughout the night, and you were very professional with the brothers as you just sat still in your chair, but he still didn’t like seeing you sitting there between them.

He truly wasn’t sure why you were getting under his skin so much, you’re very new to this court and he didn’t know you that well. Maybe you had gotten under his skin because he tried to be friendly with you, to which you pushed him away pretty coldly . Despite your cold shoulder, he still wanted to get to know you. Whatever awkwardness was happening between you wouldn’t be good, especially because you would be working together a lot extra extracting information for Rhysand.

~

Rhys had wanted you to begin training, since you would be spending most of your time in the field with either Azriel or Cassian. He thought it was important that you would be able to defend yourself were anything to happen. For some reason you failed to mention that you were trained— very well in fact. Your father was one of Keirs generals, unfortunately, but that did come to your advantage. He trained you, relentlessly. He wanted to make sure that you could protect yourself, but also that you were disciplined. He woke you up at the break of dawn to train for decades, at least as long as you were living under his roof.

Cassian was your starter and later you would spar with Azriel. Cass was supposed to show you basic fight stances, offense/defense movements, and how to wield a weapon. You wanted to see how this would play out, so you let him show you and guide you. You did learn a few things, since he fought like an Illyrian. Their fighting style was intriguing, and you could see the strength and balance in all of his movements.

“Why don’t you try a few” he encouraged, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a step back for you to start. You began your movements, mimicking Cassian’s lessons perfectly. You demonstrated his fighting stances, his offensive and defensive movements, and his posture. When you were done demonstrating all he had shown you, you looked to him.

“Where did you learn how to fight?” He grinned at you, you could see in his eyes he was impressed. You beamed back at him, happy and prideful that your years of discipline not only remained intact but also was evident.

“My father. He is one of Keirs generals. He had trained me everyday since I was able to walk and hold a sword.” You looked down at your feet at the memories, some good and some intense. He noticed your expression, approaching you slowly.

“I imagine it was hard to begin sabotaging Keir when you’ve been taught nothing but loyalty by one of his closest men” his eyes held sympathy as you looked up. You shrugged your shoulders.

“I had to do what I knew was right” you looked down at your hands, fidgeting under his stare. You hadn’t expected the goofy general to be so…. Emotionally in tune?

“I admire your resilience and your courage. It must’ve been difficult” he clapped a hand on your shoulder, and you were blushing. Not the way Azriel made you, but this felt like recognition from a colleague. Speaking of, Azriel walked into the training area right after Cassian had put his hands on your shoulder. His eyes narrowed on his hand, and looked up to your face to find that you were already looking at him. You glanced away, your already prominent blush darkening.

“Brother! I was just getting started with Y/N but it seems,” Cassian started but you cut him off, “that it must be time for sparring.” You gave Cassian a side glance, eyes full of mischief. He caught on to what you were doing, knowing that his brother was not expecting you to know how to fight. Not well at least.

“Lets get started then” Azriel replied looking between the two of you, something seeming amiss. You moved with him to the ring, and got in your fighting stances. You were going to do a little poorly this first round, so you could lower his expectations before the next one. You kept a tense posture, and moved your limbs a little too freely as you threw swings and kicks at him.

“You need to move your arms and legs with intention. And relax your spine” he advised, and you just nodded and hummed your agreement. You fixed your posture, but didn’t properly correct your punches.

“Im not going to go easy on you. I want you to learn” he said right as he crouched down and swept your legs out from underneath you. You fell flat on your back, and just looked at him as you tried to regain the breath that had been knocked from you.

“Noted” your breathily exhaled as he leaned his hand out for you to take. You took it before you changed your mind, ready to kick his ass now for real.

You both circled one another, he threw his first jab which you immediately dodged, throwing your own at his exposed side.

“Good” he remarked, making your mouth taste sweet, temporarily distracting you from him getting closer. You both threw your punches and swung kicks at one another, dodging and deflecting. Finally, he grabbed for your left wrist, and you let him. He spun you around, your back to his chest. He wrapped one arm around your neck, the other he held onto to keep your body locked… for now.

“Now what?” He asked, obviously wanting you to figure your way out. He didn’t know you had done this a million times. Your hands were free, as were your feet. You stomped on his foot, and swing a fist back at his groin. He loosened his grip, allowing your neck free. You immediately used this millisecond to push his body back, whirling on him. You charged at him using your momentum to push yourself off the ground. You put your hands at his shoulders to push yourself up even further, so you could wrap your legs around his neck. You had to use your core to twist your body, so that that your legs twisted with you, effectively bringing him to the ground.

You sat flat on your butt, your thighs wrapped around his neck as you lightly squeezed, not wanting to hurt him. He brought his hands to your thighs, trying to pull them off him, effectively giving you goosebumps but you only squeezed a little harder. He could try to pry your legs open with you squeezing harder all day, and he probably would be able to pry your legs off of him if your muscles got tired enough. But you didn’t want to waste your time doing that, and you didn’t want his hands hot on your thighs any longer, so you reached down, grabbing at his hair to pull his attention to you.

“How’s that for learning?” You smirked at him. He rolled his eyes, tapping your leg to let go, and you obliged.

“Yeah yeah, you tricked me” he smiled at you, happy that this moment wasn’t filled with tension. You got on your feet and helped him up, he almost pulled you down with how much he weighed.

“Little ol me tricked the Shadowsinger, did anyone else catch that?” You beamed, but you couldn’t even look around you, your eyes stayed locked on his hazel one’s.

“Ummm… I did” Cassian coughed out. You had forgotten he was here, and apparently so did Azriel because you both startled at his interjection. Cassian had a blush on his cheeks but a huge shit eating grin watching the two of you. He saw that you guys moved about the ring as if the two of you were dancing with one another, or like cat and mouse.

Your cheeks were flushed, having being caught in your own distraction with the Shadowsinger. You quickly took a step out of his warm space, and put your hands behind your back.

“I should head in to…” you blanked. You looked around the ring trying to find a single word to finish your sentence. You felt Azriel’s gaze on you, hot and heavy, which led you to “shower.”

They both raised their eyebrows at you in question but quickly let it go, probably confused by your sudden retreat. You turned on your heel and sped walked to your room.

~

What was Azriel doing? Why were you in his head so much. He couldn’t get the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head and neck out of his head. And he had felt your softness, but also your shifting muscles, in your legs as he tried to pull them apart to free himself from you.

He had liked your second spar together. It felt right, like you were magnets moving in tandem with one another. When he shifted, you did too. You were his mirror, his dancing partner. He also did not like the look in Cassian’s eyes, like he could see something unfolding that Azriel couldn’t.

After training a bit with his brother, he needed a shower himself. A cold one, if only to rid himself of any lingering thoughts of you. After his shower, he went to the library to find himself something to distract him, only to find his current distraction occupying his favorite couch.

“Mind if I join you?” He looked down at your form on the couch. You was wearing some soft pant/shirt set, perhaps made of a silk or satin. The cut of your shirt was scooped, and low enough to expose your clavicles, which he liked but didn’t know why. He looked up at your face to see your gaze fixed on him, making his ears warm up at being caught staring.

“Please” you only smiled, and gestured to the other side of the couch. His shadows brought him a book that he had been wanting to read as he sat down. Your legs stretched across the couch, almost reaching where he would sit.

You both sat there for awhile, reading in silence. You both missed each others gazes. He would look up from his book to look at you, and you would do the same to him. His shadows noticed, however, and decided to have some fun. They began weaving their way into your hair, making you giggle. His eyes shot up to you, only to see his shadows distracting you. His eyes sharpened as he tried to summon them back. You looked up at him, whispering softly “it’s okay, I don’t mind. I think they’re sweet.”

His eyebrows shot up, no one ever speaks about them like that. And they definitely seemed to like it because they swarmed you, tracing your skin. They traced your collarbones and lingered, just as his eyes had, and fell down to your arms and fingers. They trailed down to your thighs where they stayed. Your breath inhaled sharply, and he could tell now that the shadows were just teasing him. He summoned them more demanding this time, and they obeyed, only a few staying behind to lightly brush your cheeks like kisses. You beamed at them, having felt their affection for you.

“Do you mind if I move a little closer? My feet are freezing, and I’d like to ummm.. nudge them under your thigh?” You covered your face with your book, likely so he wouldn’t see your embarrassment. You were embarrassed, but also your toes were freezing which won over your embarrassment. He looked at your little socked feet and he laughed, “of course.” You lowered your book, and shyly smiled at him before scooting closer to him, nudging your feet under his warm thigh. You leaned back again, almost fully lying down on the couch. You both went back to reading, but before you both knew it, Azriel had absentmindedly placed a hand onto your shin, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. His movement made the rest of you shiver, which Azriel had noticed.

“Just come over here. I won’t bite… hard” he patted the space next to him, and you laughed at his comment. You sat up and scooched the rest of your body next to him. Feeling the warmth of his body radiating like a furnace. You were content sitting close to him like this, reading. Again, his hand found its way to your leg, your thigh this time. And he circled his thumb slowly, almost like this movement was for giving him comfort as well as you.

But it wasn’t comforting. You senses zeroed in on his touch, and his hand on your thigh honestly made you feel a little tingly and warm in places you didn’t want to admit to. Not as his coworker at least. You didn’t want him to notice any shift in your scent, so you stood up and politely excused yourself, even though your heart (and his shadows) tugged at you to stay there.

~

When dinnertime came around, you had to drag yourself from your room. You hadn’t trained in the weeks since you’d been here, making for some aching muscles already. You made your way down to the dining room, and found that mostly everyone was there already, just waiting on Cassian and Elain.

You saw Azriel sitting in the middle of three chairs, Feyre to his right and the seat to his left was empty. Across from him, Nesta sat with an empty chair on either side of her. Rhysand and Mor both flanked the heads of the table. You were going to sit next to Nesta and Mor, but your body tugged you toward the empty chair next to Azriel. Although you wanted to keep your distance from him, the idea of seeing him sitting next to Elain again had your stomach already turning upside down.

Azriel’s shadows buzzed about his shoulders, informing him of your approaching figure. When you reached the seat, he stood up out of his chair and pulled yours out. You sat down with a minor blush on the apples of your cheeks, and he pushed your chair into the table. He sat back down, and soon, Cassian and Elain joined the table. Dinner looked delicious, and you were excited to dig in. Massive dishes were being passed around the table to serve, but as you went to grab one from Azriel, he stopped you.

“Let me” he smiled at you, and you had to force yourself to look away from his gentle eyes. You nodded, and he served you food upon your plate. He did this with all the dishes, stacking your food high. He kept his eyes off you as he served, so you just watched him, a certain fondness in your own eyes. And the whole time, the Inner Circle was watching in both amusement and a sort of tenderness, seeing what was unfolding before their very eyes. Once everyone was served you all began to eat.

~

You had had a glass of wine. Maybe two. Perhaps even three. You didn’t know. All you knew was that you were enjoying this dinner, enjoying the food, and most of all enjoying the company. You felt your skin buzzing, and were almost certain that Azriel’s body had moved closer, feeling his warmth seeping into your skin. Feyre brought out a pie for dessert, to which Azriel volunteered to cut it up for everyone. You watched his hands and his precise movements. He was good with the knife, but you were entranced by how every movement of his fingers was made with intention. Azriel caught you though, and it made him slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t know why you were so locked on his hands, but he assumed you were probably scrutinizing his scars. When he was done serving the pie, he placed his hands into his lap, looking away from you.

The wine making your braver and bolder, you reached over and pulled his hand out. “Why do you hide your hands?” Your eyes gleamed at him, your pupils slightly larger than usual.

“Why were you staring at them?” He countered, not wanting to let his insecurities answer for him before hearing your own response. Your eyes widened and your ears reddened.

“Oh um… I think they’re beautiful” you looked down to his hand, your eyes somewhat glazed.

“Why?” Genuine curiosity was laced in his voice as he studied you, making you look back up at him.

“Your scars tell a story about your character. A story of resilience and strength,” you shrugged as if it was the most simple thing in the world, but he didn’t expect you to continue “but that’s not why I was looking at your hands.”

“Oh? And why, pray tell, were you looking at my hands Y/N?” Azriel questioned, but he was feeling hot. Your hand was still in his, and your compliment had made his heart beat a little faster. Your eyes were fixed on his hands, and your fingers had began to delicately trace his fingers.

“Your hands are just so strong and precise,” you admired as you traced a vein on the top of his hand, up to his wrist and forearm, effectively giving him goosebumps. Your eyes trailed the vein, knowing it most likely made it path into his shirt and up his bicep. Azriel was watching you, watching your eyes trail his hands and now his arm. He couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest being under your stare, under your admiration. Azriel reached for his own glass of wine when you admitted, “and you seem good with your fingers” immediately causing him to choke on his wine. The others around you were covering their mouths, trying not to embarrass you or distract you from your intimate conversation.

However, that sentence coming out of your mouth was very sobering. “Wait! That’s not what I meant!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as you brought your own hands up to hide your face.

“What did you mean?” He laughed, causing you to hide more behind your hands. Although you had thought some of those things about his hands, that’s not what you were trying to say!

“You just move very intentionally, very precise. That’s all” you sunk into your chair. Azriel had never seen your cheeks this pink. Even as he buttoned your dress up on your first mission. He remembered the beautiful flush that decorated your cheeks as he looked at your reflection that night, but it didn’t compared to the shade coloring you tonight. He decided then that you looked very good in pink. And he wanted to see it more often.

[deansimagination]

Too Good

Azriel x Reader

Plot: This is Part two of Warm Hands and New Flavors, which you kind-of need to read before this. Basically, reader can taste when people are dishonest and she is finding it really hard to remain professional with Azriel. Dinner with IC, Eris, and Lucien. I hope you all like it:)

Azriel was not happy with the way that things went last night. Things just ended so strangely. Why hadn’t you spoke to him the rest of the night? He was wondering all night and morning if he had done something to offend you that would cause you to give him what seemed like the cold shoulder. You and him had met for breakfast on your balcony of your winter court room, and everything just seemed so tense. You guys shared an almost entirely silent meal.

When you guys finished eating, it was time to go and you again gave Azriel your bag to store in his shadows.

You stood closer to him as he was getting ready to pick you up, and when he reached his hand out, you stepped forward silently. As his arms wrapped around the back of your knees and you leaned into him, he lightly gasped.

“You’re freezing Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold?” Genuine concern was laced in his voice as he scanned your body. He brought you in closer to his chest, and you had to give in to his warmth. You burrowed your face into the side of his neck, to which Azriel immediately got goosebumps because your nose felt like ice. After you were both situated, Azriel took off.

~

The entire flight was so cozy, but almost dizzying. You were not only surrounded by Azriel’s body heat, but also his scent with your face buried into his neck. The smell of night-chilled mist and cedar was absolutely intoxicating, and you knew if you looked up at him your pupils would be blown wide.

You had to shake your head to regain any semblance of control you could muster. Azriel softly landed you both on the balcony of the House of Wind, and you basically jumped away from him as if he burned you.

“Is everything okay Y/N?” Azriel took a step forward, to which you took one back. Your first thought was to say “I’m fine,” but when you were gearing up to say it, your tongue felt hot and heavy. It seemed like your body wasn’t going to allow you to lie to this male… weird. So you opted for, “I’m just a little in my head, sorry” which wasn’t a lie.

Azriel’s eyes were so soft as he looked at you. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He said as he began fidgeting with his hands.

“No. I think I just need to be alone” you tried to say as professionally as you could. You didn’t want to be mean to him or burn a bridge, you just wanted to maintain a work relationship. More so for yourself, as you didn’t want to cross a line and make him uncomfortable. However, as soon as you said those words, his face turned expressionless, almost cold. The concern that had once shone in his eyes was winked out.

“Okay, we’ll debrief with Rhys in ten minutes then. Take your bag to your room and meet me in his office” he pulled your pack out of the shadows and handed it over. You were going to say thank you, for the bag and the good mission, but he quickly turned on his heel and walked away.

~

You and Azriel sat across from Rhys’s desk, debriefing him about what you had to learned about the Autumn Court.

“ I’m surprised Eris didn’t mention anything” Rhys said as he quirked his head to the right. He seemed genuinely interested and honestly a little confused about the information you had given him.

“I’m not, we can’t seriously trust him” Azriel scoffed, disbelief and disgust shining through his voice at the mere mention of this males name. You had seen Eris before in the Hewn city but never met him. Whatever he had done must’ve been bad to get under Azriels skin like this.

“Regardless, I want to meet with him. Why don’t we have a dinner, a friendly one, and invite both Eris and Lucien?” Rhys said, posed as a question but he left no room for argument or disagreement. Azriel just rolled his eyes, irritation rolling off him in waves. You were surprised you couldn’t taste it, it was so obvious.

You were a little nervous watching this interaction unfold, especially since they seemed to be a little at odds. As your nerves were spiking, you felt something cool and featherlike brushing around your wrists and fingers. You looked down to see Azriel’s shadows, wrapping around you, almost like they were holding your hands. The light touches gave you a sort of comfort. Azriel tracked the movement, and when he looked at your face, his eyes softened a little bit.

“We will do dinner this week, and introduce Y/N as our new member of the court. She’ll be able to detect any dishonesty and engage Eris in conversation and keep him talking.” Rhysand ordered, and that was that. Soon, you’d be dining with two Autumn court princes.

~

For the dinner, Rhysand had you seated between Lucien and Eris. Azriel was seated directly across from you next to Elain. Upon the start of dinner, you and Eris had jumped right into conversation.

“I’ve seen you in the Hewn city” Eris said as he scanned your face, to which you replied,

“Well I have many friends” with a smirk in your voice. His eyes lit up, like he was excited to engage in whatever banter was about to happen.

“I can see why, you’re stunning” he remarked, his eyes studying the lines of your face. You were shocked at the honesty in his voice, since you had no metallic taste in your mouth. The compliment felt good to receive, but it didn’t taste sweet like Azriel’s compliments. You were so stunned by his forthright compliment that you didn’t notice Azriel glaring daggers into his form, already annoyed at his audacity.

“You know, I actually got to dance with some people from your court recently” you began to steer the conversation in the direction that you wanted to interrogate him about.

“Is that so?” Eris raised an eyebrow, already intrigued by whatever your were about to say.

“Yes! Azriel and I attended Kalias’s ball.” You said excitedly, genuineness in your voice. You really did enjoy yourself there, especially the company… no Y/N stop thinking about him!

“Well, in that case I wish I would’ve went. I would’ve loved to twirl you about the room” he winked at you, causing Azriel to scoff in annoyance, and you quickly shot him a glare.

“I was actually sad that you weren’t there Lucien” you exclaimed as you turned your body to angle more toward him. Lucien slowly dragged his eyes from Elaine to you, cheeks pink.

“Really?” He said, a little shocked.

“Yes!” You almost shouted. “I’ve heard so many good things about you” you leaned more toward him, a smile on your face.

Lucien turned to Feyre “Can we keep her and may I come to every dinner?” He questioned, making you all laugh. This was off to a good start, the dinner felt very light.

“No seriously! I’ve long been impressed with all that I’ve heard about your emissary roles, and obviously Feyre has shared nothing but great stories about you” you complimented which caused the tip of his ears to grow very pink. “What does your role entail now?” You pushed as you brought your wine to your lips. Azriel watched this unfold, and thought “oh, she’s good.” You weren’t exactly trying to get information from Lucien, but he could see how your methods of information extraction bled into your natural conversation. He was impressed, as he had been on your mission.

~

The dinner had gone on long enough, you finally brought up what you had brought Eris here for in the first place.

“You know, when I was painfully mourning the dance I didn’t have with you, Eris, your nobles that I did get to dance with seemed a little distraught” you said casually, to which he raised his brow.

“Really?” He questioned, a little confusion in his voice.

“Yes, they seemed very upset that Berron was recruiting soldiers from their families, or families of people they know.” You frowned, empathy shining clear in your tone. You felt especially bad for them. Berron often thought little of others, that was clear with the way he treated his people. 

“That’s odd” Rhys commented, as his brows furrowed in confusion as well. The taste of metal was potent in your mouth, but bearable. Rhys was a good actor, if you couldn’t taste his dishonesty, you would believe that he had no idea about Berrons actions. “Why is he doing that?” He continued.

“I did know about that, but I don’t know why. From what I’ve gathered, which isn’t much, I think he’s going to march against Spring” Eris answered, and he was being honest.

Feyre chimed in “Hmm, he’s a bad male but a smart one. I’m assuming he plans to expand his court while Tamlin is still doing poorly.”

“Precisely. No power will ever be enough for him.” Eris replied, a sigh of disappointment leaving his lips.

“Well, from what I heard from the Nobles, you may become High Lord more easily than you think. And by that I mean no one would oppose you replacing your father” you stated, which was the absolute truth. And with that, you steered the conversation in a less serious direction.

~

You really enjoyed yourself during dinner. You were having great conversation with everyone at the table, especially Lucian and Eris. However, you noticed that anytime, Lucien or Eris would compliment you or make you laugh, you would feel a light brush of cool air tighten around your ankle and tug. You knew that it was Azriel’s shadows. You just didn’t know why he was doing that. What irked you though was that every time it happened, Azriel wasn’t even looking at you. He always seemed engrossed in conversation with Elain, which made your stomach turn with discomfort for some reason. You would then dart your eyes in any direction but theirs.

~

Everyone had left the dinner table, but you and Azriel were cleaning up. As you guys had finished and were about to walk out of the kitchen, you asked, “Why were your shadows tugging at my ankle all night?” You couldn’t help the frustration that bled into your tone.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel seemed confused, which made you confused.

“Your shadows were tugging at my ankles all night when I was talking to Lucien and Eris” you gestured toward his shadows over his shoulders, a little irritated that he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“That wasn’t me” he shrugged, but he seemed a little unsettled that they were doing that on their own and he didn’t know about it.

“Oh. Well it was a little distracting, but we got what we needed. Eris was honest and the conversation flowed easily.” You smiled, and you couldnt help the little bit of pride you felt.

Azriel just looked at you, and his eyes drifted toward the dinner table. He stared at where you had been sitting next to the brothers for a minute before he said,

“You’re really good at what you do. Maybe too good.” And with that, he walked off. It seemed like it could almost be a compliment, but you knew it wasn’t. It didn’t taste sweet when he said it.

[deansimagination]

You know you’re desperate for fics when you start fkn writing them, smh

[deansimagination]

Warm Hands and New Flavors

Azriel x Reader Fic

Plot: Reader is a new member of Rhysands court, being extracted from the Hewn City for her unique abilities. She can taste dishonesty, like metal in her mouth. She’s sent on her first mission with Azriel to obtain information at a ball, which has her reeling as their interactions are a little more intimate than she expected. (I know GIF is a corset but walk with me please).

No warnings that I can think of. Bad writing lmao

~

You had never been on a mission with Azriel, and to be honest, you are quite nervous. You were fairly new to working with the inner circle, and didn’t want to mess anything up. Especially in front of the Shadowsinger. You knew that you were very skilled at what you did, but that didn’t stop your anxiety when thinking about showing Azriel. Rhysan had pulled you because of your talents, being both very charismatic but good at obtaining information.

You had began using your skill set against Keir in the Hewn City. Your parents were nobles of the Court of Nightmares, so you found yourself sitting at Kier’s table quite often. You were able to discuss and listen in on his plans on a regular basis, being able to detect when the people around you were being dishonest about their plans. A particular skill set that you had aside from detecting lies, was being able to extract information. You were able to ask questions and obtain information in a way that people didn’t detect. This is where your charisma came in, as an interrogation was disguised as an engaging conversation. When nobles or Kier were up to no good in the court, you were able to detect their truths and their lies and act out against them. You really only rebelled against them because you knew that they were evil. You knew that their plans were simply to divide the Night Court, when in reality you knew that the Night Court should be united. Both the court of nightmares and the rest of the court. You didn’t know what was beyond your own little world, but you would soon find out when Rhysand caught on to your antics.

As a new member of Rhysands team, you had just started learning and training. Rhysand had already sent to you on a few missions with Cassian, and had even brought you to some meetings of his own. Most of your time here in the court had been used to extract information from conversations. Whether that be in Illyria with the women that were putting up with the males, or with allies in the war room.

Now, however, Rhysand wanted you to go on a mission with Azriel to the Winter Court. Kalias was throwing a ball for people from all over Prythian. He wanted involvement from all the courts to demonstrate a union among the High Lords. Although things have been going well between the High lords, Rhysand wanted to use this as an opportunity to learn from the other courts. And by learn, he means to use his secret weapon. You.

“Are you ready to go?” Azriel asked as he stepped into your room. You glanced up and saw his blank stare, his shadows coiling tightly around his shoulders.

“Yes! How are we getting there?” you prompted. You had sat down on the bench to begin lacing up your boots. Azriel’s eyes were fixed on you and the movement of your hands as he replied.

“I’m going fly us to Dawn, and then we will use the shadows to travel the rest of the way.”

You stood up and grabbed your pack, handing it to azriel to store in the shadows. He took the bag from your hand, your hands lightly brushing together. The contact made you slightly gasp, but also blush. His hands were so warm, you had heard about Illyrian body temperature, but still hadn’t gotten used to it. You looked down at his hands and he quickly retreated, putting his hands behind his back. You both walked toward the balcony of the House of Wind, and he picked you up bridal style.

His hands were just so warm, they felt so good on your slightly chilled skin.

“Hold on tight, we’re going to be flying for awhile.” And with that, Azriel shot off toward the sky, his powerful wings beating against the wind.

~

Upon landing in the winter court, you were greeted by one of Calus’ palace attendants. They led you and Azriel to two rooms, and informed you both that they would be connected by a bathroom in the middle. You both looked at one another and shrugged, before heading into your respective rooms.

Upon entering your room, you were hit with a sudden wave of nerves. This was your first opportunity to work with Azriel. You were pretty intimidated by him, as a lot of your work that you have been doing in the Hewn City overlapped with his skill set, I mean, you were spying and extracting information which were two of his specialties. You just didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the master, or seem like you were stepping on his toes.

This was your area of expertise too though. Rhysand wanted you to converse and interact with the various people from the different courts. Especially emissaries and Nobles. He seemed to think that they would be holding onto information that may be used to the Night Courts advantage. Although Azriel is really good at obtaining information, Rhys knew that you would be able to do this instantaneously. You are good at what you did because of your ability to converse with people and interrogate while making it seem like small talk. People engaged with you and shared information, whether that be truth or lie that would be for you to detect, but they revealed information to you nonetheless.

Azriel had already given you your pack, so now you were getting ready for the ball. You had already done your hair and makeup, but you were seriously struggling with putting on your dress (this is somewhat what I’m imaging https://www.instagram.com/reel/CwiaTbTIqp0/?igsh=YnU0eW01aTI5ZzM4) Rhysand had supplied it, but he must not have thought about how you would put it on. It had a million (or more) tiny buttons going up your back, which had steam coming out of your ears at this point. You were staring over your shoulder at your back in the mirror, about ready to rip the dress to shreds, when you heard slight tapping at your bathroom door.

“Come in” you shouted, knowing only one person could be on the other side.

“Are you almost ready?” Azriel said as he opened the door. His eyes landed on you and you heard a sharp, almost undetectable exhale. You were still standing in front of the mirror, probably looking frustrated. You felt your cheeks get rosy, embarrassed by your bare back on display and the fact the he was looking at you with his full attention.

“Yes actually, but I’m seriously struggling. I’m considering actually getting into a physical altercation with Rhysand for picking this dress. I can’t close it on my own. Could you help me?” You felt so stupid for asking, and even stupider for rambling in front of him. Gods why did this man make you so nervous. You could answer that, he was so attractive and his presence alone intimidated you… in a good way you thought.

“Of course” he whispered as he walked over to you. You turned around so that you could face the mirror. Watching from the reflection as he approached your back.

“May I?” He nodded toward your dress, and you silently nodded, tracking his every movement. For your first mission, this felt very intimate. You could feel his breath at the tips of your ears, he was standing so close. But what made it feel even more intimate is when you felt his warm hands at the base of your spine. It was something about those hands, their warmth, that had you leaning into his touch and blushing. He worked slowly, being gentle with every single button along your spine. You could feel his knuckles, dragging across the fabric as he worked his way up. You couldn’t help but just watch him in the mirror, occasionally catching his eyes as he looked back up at you, which made you avert then your eyes.

“Do you want me to tie this bit at the top too?” he said as he gesture toward the straps hanging at the front of your dress.

“Yes please, I would appreciate that” you breathed. This entire interaction was leaving you reeling. You had never gotten to work with this man, and now he was helping you get dressed. He tied the string at your neck, his fingers lingering just a second too long at the base of your neck, before he pulled away and put his hands in his pockets.

“Are you ready now?” He asked, making eye contact through the reflection. Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Wait, what exactly is the plan? I’m ready, but are we doing anything specific” You asked and he shrugged. The Spymaster, Shawdowsinger, this Illyrian warrior, shrugged at you. So… no plan?

“I was just going to let you do your thing. I’m intrigued to see how you operate. And in all honesty, we are just here to gather some intel, harmlessly. We can also enjoy ourselves while we’re here. Pretty low stakes mission. And, my only job is to introduce you as a new member of our court” he explained, and you had finally turned around at this point. He somehow felt lighter than all the other times you’d encountered him, like he was looking forward to this little mission he was assigned with you. But it still set you on edge, especially how he was interested in your methods.

“Easy enough. Training wheels I guess” you sighed as you walked toward your bedroom door to exit, Azriel in tow.

~

After conversing with some nobles from the autumn court, you discovered that Byron seem to be building up an army. For what? You didn’t know. But apparently, he had been rallying troops together, recruiting from the families of his ‘subjects.’ You thought that would be some good information to relay back to Azriel and Rhys. Azriel had left you to your own antics throughout the night. He knew that people would be more willing to share information with you if he wasn’t hovering over your shoulder, but you kind of wish he had stayed by your side. You liked his presence. It brought you a set of comfort as you explored this new world of spying/Intel gathering.

You looked around the room for Azriel, but he was nowhere to be found. At least nowhere that you could find him, so you headed to the drink table and grabbed a glass of wine. You took a slow sip, enjoying the flavors as they hit your tongue. Winter Court had some good wine, the rich flavor of plums were hitting your taste buds in all the right way. Your eyes somewhat rolled back when you heard someone say,

“The wine must be really good” Azriel smirked. You couldn’t believe your eyes and your ears. Everything you had heard about Azriel was at odds with the male before you. He was playful and gentle (at least with your buttons).

“Try some” you shot back, and he reached for your glass. You gave him a look that said “I’m not sharing” so he opted for a glass on the table. Azriel took a slow drink, you watching intently as he swallowed, tracking the movement of his lips and throat. What was wrong with you and being so acutely aware of this male?

“Do you like it?” You lightly shook your head, trying to rid yourself of any weird thoughts. Azriel nodded, taking another drink.

“Find out anything interesting?” He asked, causing you to look around. You didn’t want to discuss while you were out in the open, so you simply nodded and glanced toward the rest of the ball.

“I still have more people to talk to” you sighed. You had gotten that information, that came easily. The Autumn court folks easily shared their thoughts on Byron’s movements.

“I like watching you work the room” he admitted, and his compliment brought a taste to your mouth. But not metallic. It tasted… good, which had never happened before. Usually you could only taste dishonesty but this tasted sweet like… admiration or maybe something else. Something you liked.

“Why?” You couldn’t help the furrow of your brows and your head tilt to the side, truly confused by this notion.

“I don’t know. You just naturally engage with people, and they give you information so easily, almost like they trust you. Have you sensed any dishonesty tonight?” He asked, as he took ahold of your hand and led you to the dance floor. They were playing some slower music, but loud enough to mask the conversation you were having.

“Not yet, have any lies to share Shadowsinger?” You slide one hand into his, and the other around his neck. He slid one hand around your waist, the tips of his fingers nudging at your buttons. You couldn’t get over the warmth of his hands. It was so comforting.

“Hmmm… my favorite color is red.” He said, watching you carefully. You clenched your jaw, the awful taste of metal filling your mouth.

“I shouldn’t have asked” you cringed as he let out a soft laugh at your expression.

“Are you always this dramatic?” He questioned, a smile in his tone.

“No. That just tasted especially bad.” You both giggled, but you were still thinking about why it tasted so intense. He leaned in and whispered,

“Well, here’s a truth. You look beautiful. I hope you don’t kick Rhysands ass for choosing this dress” your mouth filled with that sweetness again, and your eyes shut in enjoyment at the flavor in on your tongue.

“What is it? Why are you making that face?” He questioned, which immediately made your face hot and palms sweaty. You didn’t want to answer, but felt obligated.

“When you compliment me it tastes so good” you said shyly. You didn’t want to explain further because you had no idea what was happening. He nodded like he understood, but you didn’t even understand.

“Does that happen a lot?” He pressed.

“No, this has never happened before.” You looked down at the movement of your feet, which somehow made you misstep. Azriel quickly caught you, bringing you in closer. You don’t know what you were doing, being so unprofessional. You couldn’t be swooning for Azriel. He was your superior, and you were new to the team. You needed to get your head in the game, and show him and Rhysand why they pulled you out of Hewn City.

Your snap back to reality was perfect timing, as the song ended. You pulled away from Azriel.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some more people to extract information from.” And with that, you walked away, ready to join a new group and learn.

Azriel watched from where he stood, already delighted by seeing you work. He was impressed with your abilities, not even the lie detecting ones. He was looking forward to working with you more, and knew your skillset would bring you to work with him more often than not. Too bad you seemed to avoid him the rest of the evening, even as the ball drew to a close and you headed to your respective rooms in silence.

[deansimagination]

I am loving this story so far! Please tag me in future parts!!

"Shadows and Scandal"

Author's note: I really hope I remember to come back and write one... if not, I'm sorry. This means life got busy, but the chapter still released on time! I love y'all :))

Summary: Waking up next to Azriel turns up the tension and heat! Only complicating the lines of pretending and feeling, but soon it's time to meet the Inner Circle. You and Azriel finally get to put on the performance that you both practiced for. Can one story, a little bit of laughter, and a hand under the table convince them, or will they see right through you?

Word Count: 2485

Chapter 3: "Fresh Blood"

The morning light crept in slowly, gently rising up the walls of the bedroom. You woke up first, blinking against the soft brightness before rolling over and finding yourself nose-to-chest with him. Your breath caught as your eyes darted down, down, down. Broad shoulders, his sculpted chest rising and falling in steady sleep, his shirt was gone.

You tensed. Azriel didn’t move, though one of his arms was now loosely draped across your waist like it had just wandered there in the middle of the night. Your heart did something traitorous and fluttered. You shifted slightly, just enough to make the bed creak.

Azriel’s voice startled you, still rough with sleep. “You’re staring.”

You froze. “What? No... no I’m not,” you blurted, instantly pulling back an inch, then another, like distance might help the situation.

He cracked one eye open, amusement already tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You definitely are.”

You scowled, now fully burying your face in your pillow. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“I get hot when I sleep, so I took it off in the middle of the night."

You groaned. Azriel rolled onto his side to face you, propping his head up on one hand. His hair was slightly tousled, shadows still curling lazily around his shoulders like they hadn’t quite woken up yet.

“You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago,” he said, his voice now smug.

“I wasn’t minding, I was startled,” you grumbled.

“Oh, startled?” He reached over and tugged the pillow away from your face. “Because you were tangled around me not too long ago."

You gasped and sat up. “I was not!”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “You were. But it’s okay. I don’t mind being cuddled. I’m very popular with the pillows.”

You tossed the nearest pillow at his face. He caught it with one hand, grinning. It was the first time you’d seen him this unguarded. Which somehow made you even more flustered. You mumbled something about needing to take your potion with some tea and bolted toward the kitchen, leaving him laughing softly behind you.

You were halfway through your cup of tea when Azriel emerged from his room, fully dressed this time. His leathers were buckled in place, shadows already coiling at his heels. Your heart still hadn’t fully recovered from seeing him shirtless. Now here he was again, flying leathers, composed, and entirely unfair.

He glanced at you as he poured himself tea. “Recovered yet?” Using your own words against you.

You raised a brow. “Oh, haha, very funny.”

He gave you a grin that was all teeth. “I’ll try to keep my scandalous behavior to a minimum today, don't want them to get too many ideas.”

You muttered something under your breath and stirred your tea. “So, the Inner Circle.”

Azriel sobered almost instantly. “Right.”

You both grew quiet for a moment, the reality of what was ahead settling between you two.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked, voice quieter now. “Lying to your family?”

He looked at you, “It’s not forever. Just until things settle.”

You nodded, “Let me put on something with more coverage, and then I'll be ready to go.”

Azriel just drank his tea while you went to get ready. You settled for a simple blouse with slacks, your shawl loosely around your shoulders, and pinned your hair half-up, half-down.

You walked into the living room and sat on the couch as you put on your heels. “Do you think they’ll believe it?”

Azriel turned to you fully now, eyes roaming over your new outfit. “I think you’re easy to look at,” he said softly, like it was just a fact. “And I’m not exactly known for wearing my heart on my sleeve, so yes, they’ll believe it.”

Your breath caught, but you masked it with a smirk. “Flattery, Azriel? Bold move.”

“I figured I’d better start practicing,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face before stepping away. You deflated a little after his comment.

It's just practice. None of this is real. It's all just for show. You have to keep reminding yourself that.

You both grabbed your things and left the house. Azriel glanced at the sky. “We’ll land on a balcony on the other side of the House. Less dramatic than swooping onto the main one.”

“Smart,” you said.

He moved behind you, hands gentle at your waist as he prepared to lift you again. His grip was steady, but you could feel the hesitation of him remembering holding you last night, lingering between you. Neither of you said anything. Just like how it always was with you two. It was all just practice and for show.

With a powerful beat of his wings, the two of you were off toward the House of Wind, where a family that would be watching your every move awaited. You were also headed towards a performance that you weren’t quite sure you’d be able to pull off.

The moment your heels touched the cobbled balcony, your nerves kicked in. Azriel offered you a silent look and gently adjusted your shawl across your shoulders. It helped to hide the potion’s magic, the glamour that still shimmered softly across your back. It felt cowardly in some ways, but only Rhys, Feyre, and Azriel knew about you wanting to hide them. The others didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Not yet, it was too risky.

“We ready?” Azriel asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you muttered, though your pulse panicked.

By the time you reached the hall near the main entrance, the doors were already open. Warmth and laughter spilled out onto the hall, and inside, the Inner Circle was gathered. Cassian sprawled on a couch, Mor leaned against the bar, and Nesta was perched near a window with a drink in hand, her gaze distant.

Cassian was the first to notice. “Look who’s here!” he called out. “Az, you sly bastard! You didn’t tell us you were bringing company.”

Azriel didn’t flinch. “This is my wife, Y/N,” he said calmly.

The room stilled. Cassian blinked. “I’m sorry... your what?!”

Azriel gave a half smile, then looked at you with something that wasn’t quite affection, but enough to sell it. You stepped forward, gently linking your arm with his.

“I know it’s sudden,” you said, offering the group a diplomatic smile. “But the arrangement was made quickly. Rhys and Feyre facilitated it for political reasons. We only told them and kept things quiet while we adjusted.”

Mor’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “How convenient. When is it never political?”

Nesta said nothing. Her gaze flicked from you to Azriel, and then back to you. Her jaw was tight. Calculating.

Cassian let out a breath like he’d been punched. “Married? You? Az? This is... this is a big deal! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He looked at Rhys with betrayal. “I thought we shared everything!”

“I told you I’d explain later,” Rhys said, amused. “Now is later.”

Cassian turned back to you. “And you... What did you do to convince him? Bribe him with wine? Secrets? A new dagger?”

You laughed. “None of the above. Just... timing, I suppose.”

Cassian took a step closer, eyes narrowing slightly. Then they dipped, just briefly, to your back. You stiffened, instinctively pulling your shawl tighter. He said nothing, but you felt like he had a gut feeling something was amiss. Either way, he moved on with a grin, making you let go of a small breath you didn't know you were holding.

Meanwhile, Mor gave Azriel a look. “We’ll talk later,” she said simply, then strode off to refill her drink.

Nesta still hadn’t spoken, but then quietly said, “You’re good at hiding things Azriel.”

Your heart pounded. Azriel stepped closer beside you then, his shadows brushing your side like they were offering comfort only you could feel.

His voice was low but firm. “She’s my wife. That’s all you need to know.” That seemed to mark the end of the conversation... for now, as everyone headed to the dining hall.

The dinner table was long. Conversations overlapped in a practiced rhythm, but you felt it... the way the others kept glancing toward you and Azriel, like trying to decipher a puzzle none of them knew how to solve. Azriel never left your side, sitting close enough that your knees touched beneath the table. He kept his hand resting lightly on your thigh, a quiet signal that the performance was still ongoing. You’d almost grown used to the feel of it.

Rhys and Feyre played their part effortlessly. Feyre smiled, nudging you into the conversation with gentle encouragement, while Rhys watched everything and said little. Nesta mostly ate in silence, occasionally sipping her wine, her gaze still alternating between Azriel and you. Cassian, however, couldn’t seem to sit still.

“So,” he said, jabbing a fork in Azriel’s direction, “you get married in secret, don’t say a word, and now you’re playing the brooding newlywed while the rest of us are stuck wondering if this is some prank?”

Azriel gave him a flat look. “Would I lie about something like that?”

“I’m sitting right here,” you said, raising a brow.

Cassian gave you an unapologetic smile. “I know, I like you already. Just making sure you know what you’ve married.”

“Unfortunately,” you teased, sipping your wine, “I’ve already discovered the brooding.”

That earned a laugh from Mor and an amused twitch of Azriel’s lips. It was all going smoothly, you thought.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine like he was debating something very serious. “Alright. Since Az clearly isn’t going to entertain us with stories of this whirlwind romance…”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed. “Cassian.”

“We’ll go with something simpler.” He ignored the warning entirely, grinning. “Let’s play a game!”

You arched a brow. “What kind of game?”

“The good kind,” Cassian said. “One that reveals everyone's secrets and causes lifelong embarrassment.”

“Absolutely not,” Azriel muttered.

Cassian leaned forward on his elbows, eyes twinkling. “It’s called Tell On Your Mate. Or whoever you want. Just one story, moment, or something that the rest of us don’t know.”

“You made that up just now,” Nesta said, sipping her wine.

You looked at Azriel with concern, which he returned. Neither of you had stories to tell. If this game gets to you or Azriel’s turn, you were unsure what to even say, much less tell.

“Obviously,” Cassian replied. “But the rules are sacred. Y/N, you're up.”

You blinked. “Me? Why am I first?”

“Because you're the new one,” Nesta said from the end of the table, propping her chin on her hand, looking entirely too amused. “Fresh blood.”

“I hate this court,” Azriel grumbled.

You sighed dramatically, trying to think of something to say. “You want a story about Azriel?” Cassian nodded, looking far too pleased with his new game.

Azriel turned slowly toward you, his expression flat. “Tread carefully.”

You only patted his shoulder and gave him a small smile before whispering a soft “I’m sorry” in his ear, before you told the only story that you had of him. “Alright. Fine. Just... remember you all asked for this.”

Everyone leaned forward like they were about to watch a play, Cassian nearly falling out of his seat at his eagerness for a new Azriel story.

You turned to the group. “So. Picture this. It’s the second night after our wedding.”

The room was instantly filled with hoots and hollers, “Y/n, no…” Azriel sighed. You ignored him. This was the only story you could tell them. You have only been with him for a couple of days, and there were no other stories yet, except this one.

“Not that kind of story,” you said quickly. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Cassian let out an exaggerated sigh. “Boring already.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “We’re walking down the hallway. Everything is quiet. Awkward if you will. He opens his door, lets me go in first, very polite, and then just… stands there.”

Feyre smiled behind her glass. “That sounds about right.”

“I tell him I needed to change,” you continued, “and I swear on my life, this male goes stiff as a board. His eyes hit the floor like it’s suddenly the most important thing in the world.” Mor was already grinning.

“He goes, ‘Right! Of course! I’ll stay here!’” You mimicked his low voice with exaggerated stiffness. “Like I was going to just start undressing in front of him.”

Cassian was howling. “No way.”

“I offered to go to my room to change,” you said, laughing now yourself, “I swear I could see the light inside his head switch on. That only made it worse. He starts stammering, ‘I didn’t mean you had to!’ and ‘I wasn’t asking you to!’ and then he just shuts down, hands over his face like he’s been mortally wounded.”

Even Rhys was chuckling, sipping his wine. “Az, that might be the softest thing I’ve ever heard about you.”

“It gets better,” you said. “I came back ten minutes later and found him lying on the bed with his arms crossed over his head in shame, muttering to me, ‘Please leave me with some dignity.’”

The table erupted. Mor was dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “Cauldron, this is everything.”

Even Nesta looked faintly amused. Azriel, to his credit, didn’t try to deny it. He just slowly turned his head toward you and said flatly, “Betrayal at its finest moment.”

You grinned sweetly. “You’ll live.”

That earned another round of laughter, and despite the shade of pink dusting his ears, Azriel looked at you with something like pride or fondness. Maybe it was him plotting your demise. Hard to say.

Cassian wiped tears from his eyes. “You’ve earned your place at this table, Y/N. No question.”

You just smiled as Azriel’s hand slid over yours under the table. Even with all the laughter as everyone else told their stories, all the eyes still watching, you knew you'd played the part perfectly. But somewhere in the middle of it... the line between pretending and not pretending blurred. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been holding your breath until now. Not just because of the game, but because of all of it. The eyes... The performance...

“You didn’t have to do that.”

You turned toward him. “Tell the story?”

He nodded once.

“I wanted to,” you murmured, matching his quiet tone. “They needed a reason to laugh. And it made you seem real to them. Like you belong to someone.”

His brows ticked upward slightly, as if your words had caught him off guard. He didn’t look away. “I’ve always given myself to others, just never quite like this.”

You didn’t ask what that meant. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. So, you looked back at your plate and let the noise of the table fill in the silence.

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Tags:

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[deansimagination]

Ahhhhh made me blushh from how sweet this was

your hands are cold

from Pride and Prejudice (2005)

pair: Azriel x Reader ~ 4.8k

warnings: mysogony (not from az), risque thoughts from reader, sharing a bed ooooh, shadow violence, protective azriel

summary: Azriel would give you the shirt off his back if he knew you were cold and he's trying so so hard to make you see that

Illyrian's lived in the snowy mountains of the Night Court. Thick blankets of snow fell year-round, the sun scarcely offering a reprieve from the constant bite of wind. By the time the children were old enough to run and wield a stick the boys were thrust into training and the girls into house/camp work. Everyone grew to adapt to it, their bodies functioning at an unnaturally high temperature.

Although Azriel, Rhys, and Cassian had lived away from Illyria and the camps for multiple centuries now, they still grew overly warm during the earlier seasons. Both a curse and a blessing.

So why the hel didn't anyone tell you to bring a thicker coat?

Being the night court's newly appointed emissary, you were tasked to go to Illyria to comb over some of the issues stirring up. Specifically concerning the female's training. Surprise surprise.

Thankfully, Azriel had offered to come with. Rhys had given him a smirk, looking between the two of you but Azriel winnowed you before you could decipher what that look meant.

You now stood outside the training ring with him as Devlon and two of his croonies made up some half-assed excuses as to why they weren't prioritizing the females training.

"-we have two new mother's in the area who need the extra support." Devlon ranted, clearly exasperated that his high lord was continuing to harp on this matter.

You looked up to Azriel who was watching the pathetic male with a clenched jaw. He loosened it to say, "Have the father's help then. If they can't care for their own children then they should keep it in their pants."

You refrained from giggling but remained indifferent. Some of the people you worked with were open to your messages while others were... Devlon. And Beron, you supposed. You had to tread lightly because one misstep and they would prod at the weakness until you couldn't handle it. 

"All of our males are needed in training to ensure that they stay in shape. Those females shouldn't have spread their legs so fast." Devlon drawled.

"Surely Rhys would be willing to reenact the castration laws." You said without thinking, glaring at him. "You wouldn't mind being first on the list, would you?"

Devlon only ignored you.

Even with the ire coursing through your veins, you shivered. You were supposed to have been here for an hour max. Get in, yell at them, get out. Unsurprisingly, there was more to fix than you had assumed.

Azriel side-eyed you as you shook from the cold and held out his hand to Devlon. "Coat."

Devlon paused, glaring at the shadowsinger's scarred hand as if it held the plague. "What?"

"Give me your coat. Now."

The words sent an entirely different kind of chill through you. One that made your eyes widen at the hostile calm with which he said it. Sure, you'd heard that tone once or twice, but it never failed to impel you to stand straighter even if it wasn’t aimed for you. 

Devlon scoffed. "I'm not giving you my coat. Who do—"

Shadows crept up around Azriel's feet, climbing his tall, hard body until they amassed near the siphons at his hands, contrasting starkly with the pure white snow that fell around him. With the tendrils of darkness poised to strike, paired with the unforgiving look on Azriel's face, he made a hauntingly beautiful picture. Feyre would be distraught she hadn't been here to capture it.

Not a second further, Devlon took his coat off and placed it in the shadowsinger's waiting palm. His own hand trembling, you noted with smugness.

Azriel stayed silent as he flicked it once. Twice. Until he was certain it was free of any contamination, and then turned to you, a far softer expression pulling at his achingly handsome features. He then stepped forward and brought the coat around your shoulders, encircling you in his arms to fasten the buttons.

Time stopped and you took the chance to study him. The mussed locks of hair from running his hands through it every time Devlon opened his mouth. The smooth planes of his tanned skin. His enviably dark, long lashes framing those all-seeing hazel eyes. And his mouth... if you were a poet you would write odes about it. Both admiring and wicked.

You blushed.

"Is this alright?" he asked softly.

You slowly nodded, words stuck in your throat due to his close proximity.

His fingers brushed against your throat softly and he pulled away, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

When the argument started back up again, you found that while your upper body was warming up, your legs and feet were still at the mercy of the breeze.

Azriel looked to you again and released a heavy sigh. "We'll send healers to perform check-ups on the babes and new mothers. The other females will train as normal. And you will speak to the court's emissary with respect." He told Devlon, voice final.

"I have no idea why he has a weak female performing court check-ups." Devlon bit out, no doubt angry at having been pressed into submission and having his coat stolen.

One second you could see clearly, and the next your vision was clouded by swarming darkness. Instinctively, your hand shot out to find Azriel, fear twisting your stomach at the thought of being attacked or—

You barely had time to call out for him when the darkness vacuumed back to its origin—Azriel.

He now stood a breadth away from Devlon, shadows morphed into the shape of a hand held at the camp leader's throat.

There was no curiosity lingering in your mind as to why he was often referred to as the Angel of Death. His body was tense and forbidding, as if he had been carved from stone. Broad, claw-tipped wings spread in threat, consuming the space around him. The largest you'd witnessed.

"It'd be a shame if your windpipe was broken," his voice was colder than the wind that had picked up, "I'd think twice if you were to make another smart remark about our high lord's emissary."

They stared at each other and then Devlon's shoulder sank in defeat. The ghost hand dissipated at his throat, revealing finger-like bruising. You could only imagine the true harm his shadows could inflict if given free rein.

Devlon's eyes snapped from Azriel to you, chin dipping nearly imperceptibly before walking away, back tense as if he were preparing for an attack.

You waited until he was out of sight to speak. “Thanks for the coat?”

Azriel rolled his shoulders, eyes on the space above your head. “Sorry that it belongs to that dense misogynist; I rarely find the need to carry one around.”

You laughed, hoping to dispel the tension clinging to the air, and clutched the coat tighter to warm your hands up. “It’s summertime; how is it still snowing out here?”

“The elevation of the mountains results in colder weather year-round, no matter the season. This is considered warm.” He jerked his chin in the direction of a group of shirtless Illyrian’s training. “Cassian used to tan on days like this when we were younger.”

“Is that what he’s been doing the past week? I wandered up to the roof yesterday and caught him rubbing some oil into his legs. I never want to see him in shorts those small again.” You widened your eyes in horror. 

"Count yourself lucky. I've seen the bastard’s ass more than I have his face."

"Some would say that you should count yourself lucky then."

Azriel scoffed, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked. 

You really weren’t. Not when he was watching you with such tenderness. A cold gust of wind blew past, making your teeth chatter. Azriel didn’t waste any time in scooping you into his arms. 

“Wait,” your breath hitched, “what about Devlon’s coat?”

“We’ll burn it when we get back to The House.” 

Just as he was about to lift off, thunder cracked, causing you to peer up at the malicious looking grey clouds rolling in. Odd, considering just this morning, when you first arrived, the day had been clear and sunny.

Azriel let loose a long breath, eyes switching from you to the sky until he put you on your feet. "We'll have to wait it out."

"You've traveled in far worse conditions," you reminded, although you'd much rather stay put too.

"I'd never risk your life." He stated, voice gruff.

You had to ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. This was not the place nor time to feel flattered by Azriel's protectiveness. He was this way with all of his friends and family, after all.

"Where will we stay? I guess Devlon would let us-"

Azriel snorted. "If I spend one more minute with that shithead I might strangle him to death. Fortunately, Rhys' mom has a cabin here that we can stay in."

As if to hurry you both, the heavens opened up and peltered you with a cold sleet. You were almost instantly drenched. Azriel wasted no time in putting an arm around your back, wing stretched overhead to offer reprieve, and urged you forward through the slick mud.

Finally, you arrived at the cabin, a, small yet homey, two story house with an already roaring fire and steaming kettle on the stove. The shadows doing, you assumed. You turned to Azriel who retrieved two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with tea.

You could picture Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys as young, growing boys wandering in and out of that kitchen, hungry after long days of training. And you spotted notches in the wooden cupboards and dining furniture where playful fights or inaccurately aimed daggers managed to land.

He made his way to you, setting the mugs on the mantel, cringing as you shivered hard. "Do you mind?" he motioned to the coat you still clutched tightly at. "It will only make you colder."

You shook your head, teeth chattering, and reached to take it off when you were stopped by Azriel's hands. He peeled it off of your shoulders and down your arms and chucked it in the fire without blinking.

You couldn't help but laugh at his obvious distaste of the clothing and it's owner.

"Warm up and drink the tea; I'm going to search for some clothes that are, hopefully, untouched by mothballs."

Who would have blamed you for admiring the way his leathers fit to his bunching muscles as he made his way up the stairs?

A small part of you hoped that he wouldn't be able to find anything. From the stories you'd heard from the inner circle about missions that have gone awry in the cold, one of the ways they managed to stay warm was to share body heat.

The image of Azriel aiding you taking off your wet clothes before doing it to himself, flashed in your mind.

Ugh. You rolled your shoulders, turning towards the fire to soothe the ice settling in your bones. Yes, Azriel had been incredibly kind today by offering to join you and giving you a jacket, but that was just it. Kindness.

When you had first met Azriel, like most everyone, you fell for his devilishly handsome features and cool nature. It didn't help that he was unfathomably loyal and strong. Or tall and athletic. Or a good male with good intentions overall.

"It's just a stupid crush," you muttered to yourself as you put your palms out towards the fireplace.

"Hm?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Azriel returned to your side on silent steps. A shadow skittered over your shoulder, tickling your neck as if to laugh at you.

"We should really put a bell on you,"

"I'd prefer my enemies to not know when I'm near." Azriel held out clothes to you. "They're old but should suffice. If you'd prefer to wash-"

"That would be wonderful." The idea of a warm bath caused you to sigh with longing.

Azriel clicked his tongue, amusement lighting his eyes. "I shouldn't have even asked, huh? Come," he jerked his head to the direction of the stairs, "let's get you cleaned up."

Electricity zapped through your body at the image of sitting between Azriel's legs in the bathtub as he used a washcloth to soothe your goose-bumped riddled skin. Would he press his lips to each knob of your spine while he massaged shampoo into your hair and-

"Coming?"

Your eyes snapped to Azriel, the fog of your imagination dissipating, making you feel ridiculous. Your cheeks pinked and you nodded, following him.

The bathtub wasn't big enough to comfortably sit two people. Much less if that second person happened to be an Illyrian male.

Azriel put the dry clothes on the counter. "Do you need any help navigating things?"

"I am confident in my ability to bathe myself, thank you for your concern." You teased.

"Don't need me to get your back or anything?" he shot back, looking a lot less tense than he had when you were speaking with Devlon. In fact, he looked a lot lighter than when he was even around the inner circle.

"I think I have it all under control. Thank you again, Azriel."

Before heading out, he lingered at the doorway, looking as if he had something to say but decided not to. He then left you to your own devices, saying something about cooking something up. You stripped out of your drenched clothes and turned on the faucet, shivering when you first dipped into the water. It felt like a warm hug.

The only thing that would make it better would be if you were nestled against Azriel's tattooed chest.

No no no.

You shouldn't be feeding into your delusions. Especially while the person you were daydreaming about was the only other person in the house with you. It would only make things terribly awkward. And you didn't want to ruin anything with Azriel. Not when you were just becoming close friends.

You had been emissary to the night court for a couple of years now and while you had gotten along quickly with everyone, it had taken a while for Azriel to even speak with you one-on-one. He wasn't easily trusting, which you completely understood. But lately things had been warming up. He would make you breakfast when you were the only two up, hand-deliver the books Nesta let you borrow, even nudge your leg under the table when Cassian was making a fool of himself.

Not to mention the fact that he brought you to this camp despite it being a solo mission.

You pushed it all from your mind, not wanting to overthink things, and finished your bath.

The sweater and sweat pants Azriel supplied you with smelled faintly of him. You wondered if they had been his when he lived in this gods-awful camp.

Having found no brush or comb, you settled with running your fingers through your damp hair, wandering down to the kitchen to find Azriel at the stove, preparing what smelled like chile. He tilted his head up to look at you and fire settled low in your belly as his pupils seemed to take over his irises'.

You swallowed thickly, feeling somewhat self-conscious wearing his clothes that hung off your frame. You tugged on one of the sleeves as it slipped down your shoulder. "Hopefully there's warm water left."

The pot hissed with bubbles, shadows whisking the soup ladle out of the oblivious shadowsinger's hand to continue stirring, as Azriel scanned you from head to toe.

Judging by the amusement dancing in his eyes, you probably looked like a drowned rat. You itched to turn back into the bathroom and check yourself in the mirror.

He stepped into your space, "They're not too big?"

The clothes. You shook your head, pointing to the rolled up pant legs. "Needed some adjusting but they shouldn't cause too many problems."

"Certainly wouldn't want them to fall off," he mumbled, more to himself, the insinuation in his voice not helping in tamping down your growing feelings.

"Do I look silly or something? Why are you watching me strangely?"

"Not at all. I just thought you look... adorable." He smiled crookedly.

You realized now you had never seen a genuine smile—one that wasn't produced from dark humor—grace his face. Red splashed over your cheeks and you hurried to say, "You should probably wash up yourself. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold or anything."

After a moment of consideration all traces of pleasure were wiped from his face. You nearly swayed at the whiplash of his emotions. "There's some soup and I discovered one of Cassian's hidden stashes of wine,"

"Perfect," you offered an awkward smile.

While he bathed, you wiped down two bowls and wine glasses of grimy dust before filling them with soup and wine. You then stood by the sink, watching out the window into the night.

The storm had grown, howling winds causing the structure of the house to groan as rain continued its rhythmic drumming on the roof. A flash of lightning lit up the sky every few minutes with the accompanied roll of thunder.

Your heart raced double its time from the inane fear of how destructive nature could be.

You drained the wine in one swallow.

"Not fond of storms?"

"Shit!" you whipped around to find a fresh-faced Azriel rubbing a towel through his dark, wet hair. "When we return home I'm finding that bell."

His eyes squinted in amusement, tossing the towel onto the back of a kitchen chair. "If it helps soothe your worries, Illyria has endured worse weather than this."

"Are you sure this cabin is sound enough to withstand this weather? Considering how old it is?"

A black eyebrow rose, "Is that a jab at my age?"

Apologies began tumbling out of your mouth. Azriel only waved off the words. "Sit and let's eat. The storm will hopefully clear by tomorrow morning and we can be on our way back to Valeris."

"Were you able to reach Rhys?"

"He told us to stay put," he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth, "and that if anything is to happen to you, I will be the one to blame."

"I'm flattered he finds me so valuable."

Hazel eyes met yours for a heartbeat as he said, "You are very valuable."

Oh Cauldron. If he continued saying things like that, you wouldn't be able to keep your growing feelings from showing on your face.

You cleared your throat instead, "How much trouble do you think we'll be in because of that incinerated coat?"

The rest of the dinner was spent bonding over your hatred of Devlon. You weren't sure how Azriel survived being under the insufferable male for so long. Or all the males here, if you were honest. It helped you to understand why he was so hesitant to claim them as his people.

"How long has this cabin been unoccupied?" you inquired, taking another bite of the chile.

Azriel leaned back in his chair, considering your question. He'd been, surprisingly, open tonight. There seemed to be no trace of the ever-reserved male you encountered more often than naught. "The inner circle prefers to handle the camps during the day so we rarely find the need to stay here. Devlon uses it sometimes for meetings."

"Did each of you boys get your own rooms?"

"Boys?" a corner of his mouth kicked up, "You say that as if we're not all centuries older than you."

You stifled a chuckle, "Considering how often you three wrestle over ridiculous things like who gets the last slice of dessert, I think it's fitting."

His biceps flexed as he stretched them above his head. You felt dizzy with awe. "Whatever," he retorted playfully, "but, to answer your question, we shared the same room until it became too much of a hazard."

"Hazard?"

A faint blush crept over his tan cheeks. "When we became more interested in females than pulling pranks on one another."

Oh. You blushed in response and took a drink from your glass to hide your embarrassment.

Azriel huffed a laugh, obviously recognizing your regret of asking the question. In a considerate manner, he said, "Remember how I told you about Cassian tanning?"

"Oh gods, I won't be able to unable to get the image you offered out of my head."

"Then you'll be affronted to know that I found the oil he used."

A laugh spewed from your mouth. Azriel smiled softly at your unexpected outburst. The conversation was built on from there and your stomach hurt from how hard he managed to make you laugh.

As soon as you scraped the last bean out of your bowl, Azriel took it from you and washed it in the sink. Huh. A male who cooks and cleans? You couldn't believe your eyes. And you had to ignore the space in your heart that warmed.

Your attention was drawn to the shifting muscles in his forearms as he scrubbed the dishes. To the dark tattoos swirling around his powerful arms, practically calling you to trace them with your fingers.

"—sleep?"

You shook your head as you realized you hadn't heard him. "Sorry, what?"

A shadow tugged on your hair teasingly and he repeated, "Obviously you're tired since you can't even think straight. Let's go sleep."

He led you upstairs once more and into what you assumed was the master bedroom, with a large four poster bed, a vanity, armoire, and lace curtains that hung over the window. It looked as if it belonged to a... female.

"Was this—"

Azriel nodded, eyes softening as he took in the homemade quilt, "This was Rhys' mother's room. After difficult training or frightening storms, she would let us all fit in the bed with her as she told us stories of fearless Illyrians."

"You used to be scared of storms?"

You couldn't imagine the spymaster being afraid of anything. Even as a child.

"I was scared of many things,"

That was all he offered before attempting to stoke the fireplace and ensuring the room was warm enough. You hesitated before asking, "Is this where I'll be staying tonight?"

"We'll both be staying in here."

Your world flipped upside down.

"You're serious?"

Hazel eyes snapped to you with amusement. "The only fireplace working is the one in the living room; these logs are too wet. Not to mention the magic of this cabin isn't as strong without Rhys here."

It looked as if your idea of sharing body heat was coming to fruition. This would quite possibly be the best night of your life, so you needed to savor it as much as you could until everything went back to normal the next morning.

Your fingers shook as you pulled back the covers and slipped in. Oh gods. This was much more nerve-wracking than you'd anticipated. Yes, you seemed to get along great and you felt comfortable around him, but he was still handsome as sin and effortlessly attractive.

After Azriel was certain no logs were salvageable, he stood from his crouched position, spread his mighty wings once in to prepare for a cramped bed, then tucked them in tightly. Your eyes tracked the movement, the sconce lamps revealing the red tint running through the membranous tissue.

He walked to his side of the bed and laid down, a weary sigh leaving his lips. "The temperature will drop the later it gets, so it'd be wise if we slept closer. I don't bite."

Despite that last teasing remark, you couldn't help but feel nervous. Who wouldn't? You were only sharing a bed with one of the greatest warriors to ever live. And he was acting like it was a regular occurrence.

You tested the waters and inched close enough that your hips touched. You swallowed thickly.

He fluffed his pillow, and even yours, before resting his head and asking, "Comfy?"

Not trusting your words, you nodded, and the room was engulfed in darkness. There was nothing besides the staccato beat of rain hitting the roof and the buzzing along your skin where you were touching Azriel.

You counted sheep in your mind to calm down enough to sleep, fighting off the overbearing thoughts of the male beside you.

A peal of thunder caused you to start.

A heavy hand closed over yours, the ridges and callouses of unhealed burns pressing into your own unmarked skin. You caught your breath. "I won't let anything harm you," came Azriel's deep assurance, instantly calming your racing mind.

Two blinks later and you were sound asleep.

It was so gods-damned hot.

Having Azriel sleep beside you was like having your own personal Illyrian heater. Sweat beaded at your temple and your body felt like it was being roasted over a fire.

Obviously this sleeping-together thing would have worked a lot better if you didn't have access to the indoors or multiple blankets. The fact that you were so inclined to move away made you frown. You enjoyed sleeping so close to Azriel; he was safe, and strong... but he was going to burn you alive.

Slowly, you inched away from Azriel, closer to the edge of the bed, and pulled off the quilt, sighing at the instant relief of cool air sliding across your heated skin. You could finally—

The windows blew open, a gust of frigid wind bursting through the room. You began shivering and grabbed the corner of the quilt when a heavy arm was thrown over your stomach, tugging you into a hard body.

"Where were you going?" Azriel rasped into your ear.

This time you trembled for a different reason. "Wh-what?"

His thumb stroked over your hip, "You were trying to leave."

"It was hot," you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, he would realize what he was doing and let go of you.

"Don't go."

Hel, you wouldn't move again if a thousand Illyrians dragged you out of his protective embrace.

"Are the windows broken?" you asked.

What had caused them to slam open like that? Was this cabin deteriorating quicker than Azriel had let on? Would it hold on through the night?

You turned your head to the side to assess the damage just as the windows pulled together again. The latch clicking into place.

Squinting your eyes, you managed to spot two slithering shadows gliding along the windowsill.

"Azriel," his name came out suspiciously. Did he send his shadows to open the windows?

He hummed, the vibration of his chest reverberating through your own. "You're always so antsy around me," he admitted, "getting nervous when I start to get comfortable and changing the subject."

What else did you expect from the spymaster of the night court? Obviously he would be able to read a person's behavior.

"I didn't want to scare you off." Came your timid reply.

Azriel huffed a laugh. "Why would I be scared of the attention of a beautiful female?"

A pink flush spread across your cheeks, hidden in the dark of the room. You were never getting over this. Oh, how you wished you had your journal.

"I like you," he continued, "and I know you like me. But this game of cat and mouse has me growing anxious. I would rather like to smile at you without you diverting your eyes."

"I don't think you're scary."

"I know." He said in a cock-sure way.

You scoffed, amused. "For the record, I wasn't escaping because I was scared this time, but because your body runs at two hundred degrees."

"That's why I opened those damn windows." So that the cold would send you rushing back into his arms, you slowly realized.

You were at a loss for words.

"Say something," he asked, an imperceptible plea in his voice.

What were you supposed to say? I think you're beautiful and want to get to know you? You decided to play it safe with, "This is nice." There. That was enough to keep your heart at ease, and not make you sound desperate.

"I like you too," he tightened his hold on you, languidly nosing along your scalp, as if he were smelling you, "And I always want you here."

"In this cabin?"

In the span of two seconds, he had you on your back, limbs trapped under his own. From the scarce lighting of the cloud-covered moon, you could make out the slants and slopes of his face, the soft glimmer in those all-seeing eyes. "In my arms."

In all your day-dreaming, nothing ever compared to hearing him say those words than in real life. When his thumb brushed along your fluttering pulse, and his warm breath fanned against your face.

You swallowed thickly, "Is this a dream?"

His lips met yours, achingly slow, and oh so beautifully.

Once. Twice. He kissed you. The simple action conveying all that words could not. That he truly did like you. That you shouldn't be afraid. That he was falling with you. Falling so so so fast.

author's note: RELEASE ME! guys. i have been trapped in the writer's block hell. i'm home. if there are any mistakes or loopholes, no there aren't. i hope you all love it, pretties. (I haven't forgotten about the beautiful readers who sent me requests🥰)

[deansimagination]

This was sooooo good! I loveee the dynamic between reader and Az

🖤 the fake dating scheme 🖤

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: a scheme needs rules.

notes: didn't think so many people would be into this concept tbh. hope you keep enjoying it 🖤 ______________________________________________________________

The lock clicks, and I push open the door, waving my hand.

Fae lights flicker to life. Their warm glow spills through the small living room, soft and familiar, and I hesitate before looking over my shoulder.

The floorboards creak gently. Then shadows bleed over the threshold, whispering quietly, and my breath catches.

Azriel slowly steps through the doorway. His wings brush against the frame, and the warm golden light turns his eyes into liquid amber as they slide over the worn leather couch, the shelves spilling over with books and the dining table covered in documents.

Shadows coil gently around his wings, whispering where they meet the light.

He's never been here before. Maybe because I am too protective of my own space.

Now, he looks so out of place looming in the doorway that a giggle nearly bubbles in my throat.

Cauldron. This really is absolutely and entirely mad.

For a moment, I hesitate, my heart pounding firmly against my ribs. Then I turn quickly.

"I think we need to set some ground rules."

Azriel's eyes move away from the daggers on the coffee table, and something leaps softly into my throat when they meet mine.

Suddenly, I'm aware of how small the room is. How wide his shoulders are, how much space his towering body takes up. How the shadows curling around him are whispering, and how his amber eyes seem to track my every move.

My breath hitches softly.

Absolutely and entirely mad.

Azriel's gaze flickers over my face. Then he moves.

Shadows whisper gently over my skin, his scent washes over me, and for a second, the feeling of his hands wrapped around my ribs and his lashes fluttering against my cheeks washes over me.

The shadowsinger pushes past me and his rough skin brushes my wrist; my heart leaps into my throat, and I forcefully drag myself away from the memory.

Azriel leans against the dining table, stretching out his long legs and fixing his eyes on me. Then he dips his head lightly. "Go on."

Something swells a little in my chest, and I let out a slow breath.

Alright.

So far, so good.

Now I just need to manage this conversation without accidentally saying something that makes him want to murder me after all.

"Well." I slowly lean back against the arm of the sofa, my gaze flickering over the Spymaster's face. "How long do we plan on doing this?"

Azriel's eyes pierce mine. Then one of his brows rises lightly.

"I don't know. What was your plan after kissing the first male in sight?"

I blink.

I knew it.

This is a terrible idea. A harebrained, stupid idea that has cost me my last bit of remaining dignity, and now he's going to use every second of this insane charade to torment me for the single most ridiculous thing I have ever done in my whole life -

The corner of Azriel's lips curves, just barely.

My heart leaps high against my ribs. Then my shoulders sag.

"Oh, hilarious." I huff and cross my arms.

The ghost of a crease forms in Azriel's cheek.

"Just a little." His deep voice sounds dry, and something lodges gently in my throat when I stare back at him.

In the warm light, his eyes look strangely amused.

I blink. Then I quickly look away.

"Well. It should at least be long enough that it seems serious enough to count. To convince Mor that I really am alright." I crunch my brows softly. "But also not serious or long enough that - when we eventually break up, she won't believe me that I'm not heartbroken."

Azriel nods lightly.

"It has to last until Solstice. That's three months from now." His deep voice tinges with something that sounds very close to irritation when he adds in a low mumble: "That should prove to Cass and Rhys I'm not incapable of lasting connection."

Something dips gently in my chest in surprise, and my gaze darts up and flickers over his face.

I can't help but wonder if he's irritated by their assumption - or if maybe, they're right.

"Have you never had a relationship?"

The question is out before I can stop it. Then my heart drops, and my eyes widen.

Azriel's dark gaze rises and settles on mine, and I nearly shrink.

Oh Mother.

I'm busted.

Quickly, I blurt: "I just - well, Cass and Rhys have known you for basically your whole life, and if you say they don't think you're capable of lasting connection, that implies that they've never seen you in one before, which in turn means you never had a relationship."

One of Azriel's brows quirks.

I blink.

I'm also dead.

For a second, we stare at each other over the coffee table. Then Azriel's voice vibrates through me, deep and slow and unbelievably dry.

"You do realise that just because they have never seen me in a relationship does not mean that I have never been in one."

I blink.

Right.

"Anyway." Feeling my cheeks heat and tearing my eyes away hastily, I clear my throat. "What else?"

Just for a second, Azriel's eyes flash with that same strangely amused twinkle.

"I need you to be there for as many social occasions as possible." He straightens lightly, voice slow and steady. "Whether it's family dinner, a formal gathering or something else. That way Rhys and Cass stay off my back, and it keeps - unwanted attention away from both of us." His gaze pierces mine, and my heart leaps gently.

"Alright." I hesitate for a second, my eyes flickering over his face.

I've been thinking about the next point since I've brought up ground rules.

It's the one I'm most certain will cause him to change his mind and decide that ripping me to shreds might actually be a joyful compensation for the situation I have dragged him into.

But I know that without it, this whole scheme will blow up in our faces.

So I breathe in and and out, blurting the dreaded words with the exhale.

"We need to spend time together apart from everyone else."

Azriel's eyes sharpen in the warm light.

Just for a second, a muscle in his jaw tightens.

My heart leaps against my ribs, and I shrug softly, offering him a hesitant smile. "They're going to get suspicious if we only make a point of showing up together when people are watching."

Azriel's gaze pierces mine. It's dark, and unwavering, and I stare back, bracing myself for the inevitable.

The shadowsinger blinks slowly. Then his voice brushes over my skin, low and steady.

"Any ideas?"

Something catches softly in my throat.

Azriel just watches me. Calm, waiting.

I blink and somehow manage to pull myself together.

"I don't know, say - sleep five nights a week together?" My heart leaps high, and my eyes widen a little as I add hastily: "I- I mean act like we do. Sleep - together." I blink. "Not actually sleep together — I mean, just sleep in the same room."

Somehow, I manage to shut myself up because I can make it worse. Something is thrumming against my ribs.

Azriel's eyes are fixed on mine.

This is a terrible idea.

Truly, awful, terrible idea -

"Four nights."

My thoughts of impending doom screech to an abrupt halt, and my gaze flies up.

Azriel crosses his arms, his gaze steady and calm. He sounds strangely unbothered given what he's currently agreeing to.

"We'll have to see how our assignments line up. It'll probably be easiest if we spend most nights here, because there's nobody around to be nosy." His brow quirks lightly. But he looks only mildly irritated; maybe even a little amused when he adds: "We are going to have to spend at least a few nights at the Townhouse now and then though, so nobody gets suspicious." His eyes pierce mine, glowing in the light. Then the corner of his lips curves, just barely. "I'll take the couch."

Something under my ribs swells.

Maybe we will actually be fine.

Well. Don't push it.

"Alright." Exhaling, I nod.

For a moment, I hesitate and chew on my lip. Then I blurt softly: "How far are we going?"

The shadowsinger lightly quirks an eyebrow. His eyes are swirling amber in the warm light.

"I mean -" My gaze flickers over his face, and my throat closes gently. "I just -"

Don't know how much I can handle without bursting.

Azriel's gaze shifts and narrows in. Something closes gently around my chest when it deepens until it seems to burn through my skin. Then his low voice brushes over my skin, slow and firm.

"I don't care what you think anybody expects." His eyes pierce mine, brows drawing together gently almost like he's willing me to listen very closely. "You decide how far you are willing to go."

Suddenly, there's a small, gentle lump in my throat.

"What about you?" My voice is soft when my eyes dart over his.

The planes of Azriel's face looks like carved from marble. But his eyes are calm and steady when he returns my gaze.

"I'll just follow your lead."

I exhale, and something swells harshly under my ribs when my shoulders sink.

"Alright." I nod slowly.

Azriel's eyes glide over my face like he's making sure I mean it. Then he nods back lightly.

"Well." I breathe in and raise my brows. "We are going to have to create some kind of - illusion of intimacy. I mean, I think we can agree on the fact that we won't have to be as bold as Cassian would be, I mean, neither of us is the type for that, so it would actually be more suspicious if we were too obvious -" I exhale again and raise my head. "How about we just agree to follow what feels - natural. In the moment."

Azriel's eyes pierce mine. Then he nods once, steady and calm.

"Alright." I nod back. "I guess we will figure the rest out along the way." My lips twitch as suddenly, something is fluttering against my ribs. It feels strangely giddy.

I raise my brows. "This feels secretive enough to warrant an oath to hold us to our agreement."

I'm almost sure I can see Azriel's lips twitch. Then he rises, and my breath catches gently when, amber eyes burning into mine, he holds out his hand.

Staring up at him, I swallow softly. Then I slowly push myself to my feet and reach out.

Warm, rough skin glides against mine when I slip my palm into Azriel's. Long, calloused fingers wrap around my hand, their grip firm but strangely gentle, and my heart leaps into my throat when Azriel shakes my hand, his eyes piercing mine.

I blink. Then I slowly slip my hand out of his and grin, softly and cheekily.

"Well, now that we've settled this - I'm calling it a night." I hesitate, my eyes flickering over his face. "Are you…"

Shadows curl around Azriel's wings when he returns my stare steadily. Then he nods lightly. "I'm staying."

My heart leaps gently against my ribs.

Azriel blinks, and one of his dark eyebrows twitches. "Mor would get suspicious if I slept at the Townhouse." His gaze pierces mine, and his deep voice is slow when he adds: "Besides. To make this believable, I have to smell like you."

Something catches gently in my throat.

For a moment, we stare at each other. The spots in Azriel's eyes are shifting like stars through the sky. His shadows whisper gently against the floorboards. Then I blink and send him a soft, cheeky smile and turn around.

When I reach the doorway to the bedroom, I hesitate. Then I exhale and look over my shoulder, grinning softly even as something plucks at my heart.

 “You must think I’m an idiot.”

Azriel's eyes rise to meet mine.

For a second, we stare at each other. His iris is glowing softly in the warm light. Then he blinks, and his slow, rough voice brushes down my spine. “I don’t.”

Something swells gently against my ribs.

Azriel raises a brow.

“I mean, I do. Sometimes." His eyes pierce mine. Then the corner of his lips curves, just barely. "When you decide to just kiss somebody without actually looking at them and then rope them into pretending you’re seeing each other for example –“

My heart leaps into my throat, and my lips part incredulously.

“You offered that!”

Azriel stares at me, and slowly, the ghost of a smirk forms on his lips.

Something swells in my throat until it feels hard to breathe.

“I hate you.” My mumble is soft and grouchy. But the thrum of my heart betrays me.

Azriel's eyes are twinkling in the light as they pierce mine. Then he blinks and bows his head lightly. "Goodnight."

My breath hitches gently. Then I nod back gently.

"Goodnight."

♡

It takes me hours to fall asleep.

The knowledge that Azriel is in my flat, my small, chaotic home, makes what happened tonight real.

But somewhere between the slow, strange realisation that I don't feel half as nervous as I probably should and the sky slowly turning a lighter shade of blue, I finally drift away.

When I wake up, the sun tickles my face and the flat is quiet.

For a moment, I just bury deeper into my blanket, blinking tiredly. I can hear the gentle buzz of the city from outside my window, soft voices streaming up from the cafe in the cobblestone alley below. A gentle breeze shifts the thin curtains, brushing over my skin.

I lay still for a while longer, feeling the drowsy feeling of sleep slowly leaving my limbs and the soft weight of the sheets wrapped around my body. Then, rubbing my eyes, I slowly sit up and slide off the mattress.

My bare feet are almost soundless on the wooden floorboards when I pad over to the door, stretching lightly.

Opening it, I raise my head, and my breath catches.

Azriel is leaning against the counter. Sunlight is streaming through the window, turning his eyes into liquid gold and shining through the thin membranes of his wings. His brows are crunched lightly against the gentle glow.

He's not wearing a shirt.

Suddenly, something is thrumming under my ribs.

Azriel turns his head, and shadows whisper softly against his wings.

I didn't think he would stay.

For a quiet moment, we look at each other from across the room, like the last bits of night are slowly washing away and what we are left with is the deal we struck in the middle of the night over the coffee table.

It feels less tense than I imagined. Calmer. More steady.

I blink. Then I smile, soft and careful.

"Hey."

Azriel's eyes pierce mine. Then he slowly slides a steaming cup over the counter.

His iris looks like amber from this angle.

A slow exhale leaves me, and I feel my shoulders sink when I send him a soft, cheeky grin.

"The service."

The ghost of a crease forms in Azriel's cheek, and his eyes drag over my face.

Rubbing my eyes, I start to make my way over into the kitchen. Azriel watches me get closer. His shoulders shift, tattoos rippling gently. He looks calm, relaxed.

Like somehow, he fits into the small embrace of my home, in with the worn floorboards and the old couch and the little corner of a kitchen.

I decide not to mull on that last thought.

With a sigh, I pull myself up onto the smooth wooden counter, rubbing my eyes softly before picking up the cup. The scent of herbs rises into my nose, and my lids flutter gently when I breathe it in softly.

Silence settles over the kitchen. I don't know if I'm simply still too tired to care, but it feels warm and comfortable, like the sunlight falling onto the floorboards.

Azriel is blinking into the warm rays. The golden sheen causes his skin to glow and dips his eyes into amber. A dark strand of hair is curving over his forehead.

Fighting the strange sudden urge to brush it back, I wrap my fingers around the warm cup and blink sleepily. Shadows whisper, soft and gentle, lapping at the floorboards.

After a few sips of tea, my body starts to wake.

Leaning my temple against the cabinet, I hesitate, my eyes on the side of Azriel's face. Then I start softly: "Are you still -"

His head turns, and I lose my thread of thought for a breath when his golden eyes meet mine. There are dark spots dancing in his iris.

I blink before mumbling gently: "Are we still doing this?"

Azriel's gaze pierces mine, steady and unreadable. Then his deep voice brushes over my skin, low and calm.

"Have you changed your mind?"

I shake my head softly from side to side.

The shadowsinger dips his head lightly, and one of his brows rises. "Then we're doing this."

I exhale and nod, my shoulders straightening gently.

"Alright."

Azriel's gaze pierces mine, and the dark spots in his iris shift, strangely akin to a twinkle.

A rapid, loud knock against the front door makes me jump, nearly spilling my tea.

"What the -"

The door flies open before I can even finish my sentence, and a tall blonde figure sweeps over the threshold.

"I cannot believe you -"

My heart leaps high.

Mor's gaze finds mine. She stops abruptly, and my breath gets stuck in my throat.

For a second, the Blonde looks stunned. Her lips are parted lightly, brows raised. Her gaze slowly drags back and forth between me and the male beside me.

Azriel's eyebrows quirks.

Quickly, I slide off the counter. My feet hit the ground, and Mor slowly blinks.

"Alright… Finding both of you here is admittedly not what I expected, though, looking back, an obvious assumption… but at least this way I don't have to have this conversation twice." She clears her throat and straightens, raising her brows. "What do you two have to say for yourselves?"

I blink and swallow. Then I smile sheepishly. "Tea?"

Mor narrows her eyes.

"Nice try. I might come back to that in a second. Now spill it. What is this, why don't I know about it, how long has this been going on?!"

My heart leaps against my throat, and my mind blanks.

Brilliant.

All this talk yesterday and we really forgot the simple point of coming up with a story.

Bollocks.

Somewhere behind me, Azriel huffs.

"It's none of your business." His deep voice sounds lazy and a little dry.

Mor crunches her brows like he's just made the most preposterous statement and snorts.

"I'm both of your best friend. Of course it is my business!"

My shoulders stiffen.

We really should have thought about this. This is bad. This is really, really -

There's a shift in the air behind me. Then something brushes against my shoulder.

Shadows whisper against my ankles, and my breath catches when a rough palm presses against my lower back in a featherlight, steadying touch for nothing but a second.

Mor's eyes narrow in. I feel myself sink back almost instinctively, into the towering presence behind me, trying to suppress the urge to wince as I wait for her to call our bluff -

I don't know what Mor sees. But the Blonde exhales and rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Fine... Just tell me how it happened!" Her eyes find mine again, starting to twinkle, and my heart tumbles against my ribs.

"I don't know." I lightly raise my shoulders, smiling weakly. "It just - did."

Well, at least that's not a lie.

Mor huffs and crosses her arms. But her lips curve slowly, and I risk a quick glance over my shoulder.

My heart leaps into my throat.

Azriel is so close that his chest lightly brushes against my shoulder. His wings are looming, relaxed against his back, his hand resting on the counter behind me, just close enough I can feel the tips of his fingers graze my hip.

It's not flashy. No show of closeness.

He's just there. Towering over me, quiet, calm. Steadying. Like it's natural for him to be right where he is now, close enough that I can feel his breath against my hair and his presence in my back.

It feels real.

Blinking, I tear my eyes away again and meet Mor's. She's still staring at us, her eyes narrowed. But that strange twinkle is slowly spreading through her iris. Then she huffs.

"Fine. Be secretive." Her voice sounds almost grudgingly amused when she adds in a mumble: "It suits you."

Azriel's lips twitch.

Exhaling dramatically, Mor raises her hands. "Alright, I won't ask." Her eyes are twinkling with mischief when they meet mine. "But you owe me breakfast for not telling me."

Something like relief swells under my ribs, and I exhale. "Fair."

Mor beams.

"Well, then; get dressed, I'm not taking you out like this!" She raises her brows at Azriel. "I'd say you're welcome to join, but knowing you, you've got somewhere to be."

I look up over my shoulder, and Azriel looks down at me. His eyes are piercing, steady.

My heart leaps gently at the silent question in his gaze, and I send him a soft nod.

Azriel's lips curve just the slightest bit. Then he says, gaze never leaving mine: "Rhys is waiting for me."

I blink, feeling my brows crunch gently when my gaze flickers over his face.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I wonder if it's the truth. And if it is - why he stuck around instead of leaving.

Mor pointedly clears her throat.

My heart leaps against my ribs, and quickly, I tear my eyes away from Azriel's.

The Blonde grins, then she raises her brows at the Spymaster. "Alright, well, off you go then."

The shadowsinger huffs, then he pushes off the counter, and my breath catches when his chest presses lightly against my shoulder.

"I'll see you later." His deep voice brushes over my skin, low and quiet like the words are meant to seem only for me. My eyes rise to meet his, and Azriel's gaze pierces mine, calm and steady.

Something swells gently against my ribs, and I nod lightly.

Rough skin brushes my hand. My breath catches in my throat, and for just a heartbeat, Azriel's scarred fingers slide between mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. Then his hand slips away, and he is swallowed by shadows.

part I part II

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers

@icey--stars @ailyr92 @xadenswhore

@sttvrdustt @thalia-as-blog @navyblue-eternity

@florencemtrash @kksbookstuff @messageforthesmallestman

@myfatbottomedgirls @laurenslover864 @xinsonyax

@fxckmiup @bestlessonslearnt @balufy

@sheblogs @i-am-infinite @wickedshadowsinger

@gretavankleep37 @extro2603 @thelov3lybookworm

@brekkershadowsinger @hoeforthefictional @historygeekqueen

@a-court-of-milkandhoney @lilah-asteria

[deansimagination]

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Warning: NSFW, cunnilingus, somnophilia

Summary: reader has recently started training but has started to have some crazy dreams about Az. Unbeknownst to reader, she is pushing her dreams into Azriel’s because she’s his mate. He does not have self control to say the least to deny her what she wants.

~

Recently, you had been having very vivid dreams. Vivid in the sense that you had been waking up feeling disoriented and like everything that happened in your sleep had actually occurred in real life. Especially the sensations. You felt everything, smelled everything, tasted everything. It wasn’t that your dreams were particularly dull prior to this new development, but they had never made you feel such things.

It seemed to have started a couple weeks ago. You had been working with Rhysand and the inner circle as an emissary between the Night Courts and the other courts in Prythian for a few decades now. Although you had been living with them for quite some time, you had never quite taken to any sort of training. However, when Nesta approached you a few weeks ago and asked if you would like to join her and the other priestesses, you gave her a reluctant “Sure….”

You really liked Nesta, and wanted to support her in her pursuit of doing something meaningful for these women, and for herself. You could see that her plans were already having a positive effect on her experience here in the Night Court, and they were healing some part of herself that you knew needed attention. So, although you felt that training had absolutely no pertinence to your job, you wanted to support a friend.

Which brings you to the start of this whole mess.

~2 weeks ago~

You had arrived 20 minutes early to the training ground, mostly due to pure nerves. Nesta helped you obtain some Illyrian leathers, which she promised would be comfortable to train in. She lied, because although they kept you warm as you stood outside, they did feel a pretty tight.

You didn’t want to just stand around as you waited for everyone to arrive, so you just started stretching your muscles. It had been quite awhile since you invested any real time in developing your physique, but at least you knew to stretch before doing anything extraneous. You thought this training might be good, just in case one day push came to shove you could at least defend yourself. However, you hadn’t really exercised because you were busy with court relations and were always traveling, and you also happened to love your body…. A lot. If there was one think you knew, it was that you were always confident in yourself, mind and body, which helped in all your work endeavors.

Now you weren’t so sure. You felt completely out of your element. This isn’t something you could maneuver yourself out of with your quick wit or an intelligent argument. You had to face this head on. As your anxiety was getting ready to fester, you were pulled out of your thoughts by a cool dark wisp brushing your ankles and wrists, which you quickly recognized as Azriels shadows. You turned your body around to see where he was, only to find him watching you with his arms crossed.

“Nice of you to join us” he smirked at the end of his sentence, almost sounding amused. You and Azriel had a good relationship, although you didn’t get to spend much time with him due to your travels. You did like him though, you guys had a similar sense of humor, liked a lot of the same books, could have very interesting discussions, and you both seemed to have a similar competitive streak.

“I thought it was finally time that I learn how to kick your ass physically since I’m getting tired of cards” you said as you crossed your arm, giving him a little raise of your brow.

“I think you’re in for a rude awakening, Sweetheart. I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to kick my ass… Physically of course, ” Azriel smiled as he took a few steps closer to you “you’re here early.”

“I was eager to start learning” you lied. He did not need to know about your nerves, although you guessed that his shadows had already alerted him of your fast heart beat and sweat gathering in your palms. He was about to say something when you heard a group of voices approaching, thankfully saving you from whatever embarrassing thing he was about to say.

Cassian, Nesta, and a fairly big group of her new trainees came into view. You were excited for these women but scared for yourself, so you prayed to the Mother that you would give yourself the same encouragement you were inclined to give total strangers.

(A Few Hours Later)

You were panting and sweating like you had been running for years. You had not expected the intensity that the morning held. You started with some strength building exercises, then moved on to some simple fighting movements. Azriel and Cassian had decided to do a simple demonstration for the group. But, as the sun had risen, the temperature increased significantly, which led to Cassian and Azriel shedding their leathers. Although you were trying to focus on the hand and foot movements of the two males in front of you, your eyes kept drifting to the sculpted chest of Azriel. You had never looked at Az in that way, although you found him very attractive. But now you couldn’t help how your eyes hungrily trailed the sweat beading from his neck, down his chest, quickly falling down a sculpted v into his leathers. Your mouth had suddenly run dry, and you licked your lips, very distracted by the sight in front of you. And, your distraction was apparently very noticeable.

“Y/N, I’ve been saying your name for a few seconds now. Seems like something has gotten your attention” Nesta quirked her lips, amusement clear in her eyes.

“No no… I’m just focused on the, um, lesson” you could feel the blush heating your cheats. Great, even you didn’t believe that horseshit.

“Well, I’m sorry to distract you since the demonstration is over. I just wanted to ask how you’re liking the training” Nesta asked, thankfully letting your little ogle session go.

“I like it, and it seems like I need it. It’s very challenging, which I thought I would hate but I actually enjoy” you told her truthfully. She gave you a genuine smile and fully faced you.

“I’m so glad! So you’ll continue coming” she stated, not leaving room for argument. You just smiled and nodded, happy that she seemed happy. Nesta looked over your shoulder, smirking to herself and quickly told you she’d see you later. You were about to reach for her when you heard a very recognizable deep voice.

“So, are you ready to kick my ass?” Azriel mused, challenge dancing in his eyes. He was still shirtless, his tattoos proving to easily (very easily) distract you for a second. This didn’t go unnoticed, as you looked back into Azriels eyes, and found them zeroed in on you.

“One day Shadowsinger” you tried to remain cool, but again felt heat on your face. You quickly turned around and rushed away from the training ground.

~Present~

Which brings you to now, and your vivid dreams. After feeling some sort of way toward Azriel during training, you were having some intense dreams about him, which only seemed to get worse as you continued to go to training.

In the last two weeks, you went to training every single day. You continued getting stronger and developing your skill, but when you were training you always had lingering thoughts of Azriel. You could always feel his eyes burning into you as he watched your train, sometimes coming to correct your form and give you advice. When he did correct your form, he would place his hands on you, which would almost always cause you to take a sharp intake of breath. It was like he was sending electricity through your veins every time he did it. And why did he always have to be shirtless? You’re sure he knows what he’s doing, but you would never confront him about it.

Your attraction for him was growing more and more, which was causing your dreams to be relentless. The first few nights has been innocent enough. Kindof. You were dreaming of him training you, shirtless of course, one-on-one. He was always so close to you, you could feel the warmth of his skin as he demonstrated what to do. You could smell cedar and mist and salt as he would step into your space.

That was the innocent start.

When he had started to correct your form and breathe his suggestions far too close to your ear, the dreams took a turn. In the dreams, he was still training you, but now he was getting closer and more confident. When he would correct your form, he would come up behind you and change the position of your arms. His hands would linger, slowly drifting down your sides down to your hips, where he would tighten his grip, then let go. When he would give you advice, he would come up behind you, his lips brushing over your ear as he whispered to you, his hand resting on your torso just under your breasts, holding your body securely to his. Your breath would hitch and you would turn your face away from his voice, giving him access. He would dip his head and run his nose along the crane of your neck, surely smelling the not so subtle shift in your scent. He would begin peppering kisses to your sensitive skin as his hand would begin to travel south.

He would make quick work with the ties on your leathers, and his hands would drift into the fabric of your pants. He would push your panties to the side and feel exactly how excited he was making you feel.

“You’re so wet sweetheart.” He would state.

“Azriel please” you would breathe out, to which he always responded, “Tell me exactly what you want to me to do to you.”

But you always woke up after that.

Azriels POV

Y/N coming to training was proving to be an incredibly difficult feat. Although I enjoyed spending time with her when she was back home from her emissary trips, it made keeping my little secret hard.

In all honesty, the bond had snapped for me several months ago. Although I had always felt an attraction to her, I was shocked when the golden thread laced my soul to hers, but just because I didn’t feel like Id had enough time with her. We always enjoyed each others company; she made me laugh and always drove me crazy when we would get into little debates, card games, or anything that had to do with competition. She had a fire in her eyes that I’m sure mirrored my own, her competitive nature always drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

Now that she was training, my self control was beginning to become loose. I had to see her moving about the training ground in her tight leathers, which did everything for her figure. And when I saw she needed correction, I had to be the one to do the correcting. I could not bother to think about anyone else putting their hands on her body.

Seeing her at training, however, was not the most difficult part. It was her dreams. She had no idea of the bond that was connecting us to one another, so she had no idea that she was pushing her dreams into my own every night. I knew they weren’t my own, they were always from her point of view, and they started immediately after our first training when I had seen her hooded eyes after seeing Cassian and I demonstrate.

She made waking up extremely difficult, I never wanted to leave her dreams. Where I was confident and she wanted me openly. Especially hearing her call my name, feeling her skin beneath my fingers, the scent of her breaching my senses. She is so perfect, and I want her so badly. Although I struggle with letting her find this golden thread in her own time, I pray to the Mother that she never stops training. I only get to feel her when I sleep, but the temporary bliss is worth the disorientation when I wake up.

~

We had successfully gotten through another day of training, which had involved some one on on time with Y/N. I was teaching her new moves and sparring with her, but I noticed she was pulling her punches.

“Stop pulling your punches Y/N” I instructed. She scoffed and shook her head, but the next punch she threw was, again, pulled. I quickly grabbed both her wrists and pulled her swiftly into my space. She looked startled and placed her hands on my chest out of reflex. She was glaring into my eyes as I looked down at her, but I only smirked.

“If you want to kick my ass one day, I need you to put your strength into your swings.” Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she looked from eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes. We were standing entirely too close for what I would consider appropriate when I train the priestesses. But I couldn’t help it, Y/N is my beautiful mate and it was my instinct to want her body as close to mine as possible.

“Okay” she whispered, and the rest of training she heeded my advice. Although I wish she hadn’t, just so could correct her and breathe her in just a few more minutes.

~

I had already fallen asleep after doing some paperwork for Rhysand and having dinner with the Inner Circle, which had involved a lot of catching lingering stares and averted gazes from Y/N. I was in the beginning of her dream when one of my shadows began tugging at my hand to wake me up.

“What?” I whisper-yelled, upset that they had interrupted this time with Y/N. They continued to tug on my hand, dragging me out of my bed.

Theh brought me straight to Y/N’s door, urging me to step inside. I knew she was asleep because I had my (her) dream interrupted by my shadows. I twisted the door handle softly, being careful not to make too much noise. I quickly found her form on her bed, her hands gripping the sheets. The shadows continued to guide me until was I standing over her bed. I raised my eyebrow at them to ask why they brought me here but they just whispered “Yours.” But i understood more after Y/N called, “Azriel!”

My heart leaped into my throat and I immediately felt myself stiffen. I felt so wrong standing over her in her bedroom without her knowing, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away now that I was here. This woman really would be the death of my self control. As I was going through my moral dilemma, she gasped again “Az please,” lust evident in her voice. I reached my hand down and brushed my knuckles along her cheek, wanting to feel her skin. She lifted her chin as I ran my fingers along her jaw, entranced by her reaction. She whispered my name again, but I responded “Sweetheart” not exactly whispering. I could feel the timber in my voice as my own lust was consuming me. I could smell how aroused she was, and knew she wanted me, badly.

At the sound of my voice, her eyes barely fluttered open. She was not even half awake, she seemed to think she was still in her dream

She reached for my hand on her jaw, pulling me down to sit on the bed. Her pupils were so wide, almost black. I knew what she wanted and needed, but also knew she was still in her dreamland. She pulled my hand close to her mouth now that was sitting, using her fingers to bend mine so that my index and middle fingers were pointing out. She brought my fingers into her mouth and sucked them, her eyes drifting closed. I let out a sharp breath of air, watching her push my fingers to the back of her throat. I wasn’t sure what to do now, as she sucked, but she pulled my fingers out with a pop. She guided my hand down under her covers, and placed my hand over her pussy, her eyes still closed, as she whispered “Please Azriel.”

Although this seemed to be a bit of a gray area for us, Y/N being my mate (unknowingly), and her damn near asleep begging me to help her as she gripped my hand. But I just can’t help myself. With my other hand I lifted the covers and crawled in. I was already in my underwear having been woken up myself. I maneuvered myself so that I was completely under the covers, my shoulders slotted between her legs. I nudged her knees wide, so they would lie flat on the bed as she bared herself to me. She smelled so good, and she was already wearing no underwear, I had to lean forward and taste.

I ran a stripe up through her folds, already getting a tase of her wetness. She moaned loudly which only encouraged me. I began to circle her clit with my tongue when she shoved her hand into my hair. I started sucking, while entering my index finger into her pussy. I started moving in and out and she started rocking her hips into my mouth.

“Oh Az, I’m gonna cum” she moaned as she rocked her hips faster. I added another finger and started flicking my tongue faster. All I could do was moan back, vibrating her clit in my mouth.

Y/N pov

You came with a loud and crude moan, startling you out of the in between of your wet dream and real life. You had never cum so hard in all your life, but were shocked when you realized there was a head of hair gripped in your hand. You lifted the cover only to find your dream male (literally), eyes boring in yours, his chin glistening with the moonlight now hitting his face. You put your fingers under his chin, guiding him up to you. He followed, quickly settling his body over yours.

“Are you real?” You whispered. You didn’t know if this was real, it felt more real than any dream you had about him, and you were already previously dreaming.

“Yes, baby” he answered, looking to the side as if in shame. You brought his face back to yours, “why did you come here?”

“Because you called out to me” he breathed leaning his forehead on yours. You had never felt such intimacy, especially from someone you desired so desperately.

“How did you know?” You felt something glimmering in your chest, which you thought had something to do with an answer to that question.

“Y/N, your soul calls out to mine, your body calls out to mine, your desires call out to mine. Your dreams infiltrate my slumber Your thoughts fill my head. Your feelings have taken root in my heart” He searched your eyes frantically, looking for something. You felt your chest crack open, a golden thread weaving itself to male on top of you. You suddenly felt a wave of love, want, and need, all which didn’t belong to you. You gasped, eyes wide as you took in Azriel. You weaved your hand behind his head and brought his face down to yours, kissing him deeply. He kissed you hungrily, moving his lips against yours almost as competitively as you two played games. You didn’t want to fight for dominance, you were His and He was yours, equal in every way.

“Azriel” you gasped, tugging his hair back. He looked at you, seeming worried that he had crossed some line (that line has been crossed king).

“You’re my mate” you smiled so wide, tears springing from your eyes. He smiled down at you, relieved it was nothing bad. He nodded, kissing the tears that gathered on your face. You were filled with such joy, you and Azriel had always clicked so well, with undeniable chemistry. You trusted Him completely, he made you laugh, made you think, made you feel. You felt so blessed.

“How am I supposed to kick my mates ass in the ring for real?” You pushed his shoulder, and he let out a loud laugh, his face falling into your shoulder.

“I know other ways we can compete physically, but I’m not sure if there will be any losers” he winked and now it was your turn to laugh.

The end

[deansimagination]

what a good read— just beautiful writing

Heyy!! Could I request a Azriel x witch reader. Like Blackbeak clan (I’m reading the TOG series & loving Manon & the 13 rn) & maybe she’s like another spy or one of Amren’s friends from another world and he doesn’t trust her at first but she ends up helping the IC with koschei or something n he finds himself more interested in her

Touch Me and Bleed- Azriel x fem!witch reader (oneshot)

Summary: A Blackbeak witch, loyal to a distant queen and bound by blood and war, crosses into Prythian to hunt a death god. Azriel doesn’t trust her—but when shadows meet iron, loyalty and hatred blur into something far more dangerous.

A/N: This was a very exciting thing to write!! Thank you so much anon for requesting such an interesting idea. I left it with an open end and may or may not write a second part (depends on how much you guys will want it) but now, this is a oneshot. I hope you enjoy it🫶

Warnings: violence, blood, angst, some sprinkle of fluff? open ending (happy-ish?)

See masterlist

The rift pulsed against the quiet stone at the edge of Velaris, its shifting light painting faces with harsh, unnatural shadows. The Inner Circle stood close, watching.

Azriel arrived last, moving like a shadow melting into the crowd. His wings folded behind him, but the restless stir beneath his skin told a different story--unease, suspicion, something like anger.

Koschei had been creating more headaches for everyone in the past few weeks--his dark influence seeping into the mortal realms, twisting the dead into unholy servants and corrupting the very fabric of the Shadowlands. Villages near the border reported disappearances, strange creatures prowling at night, and whispers of a power growing beyond control. The Inner Circle knew time was running out. If Koschei wasn’t stopped soon, the entire realm would drown in his rising tide of death and chaos.

That is exactly why Amren had proposed to call in one of her "otherworldly strange" friends (Cassian's words). Of course, Rhysand and Feyre wouldn't allow anyone in without a proper briefing about them. Amren had insisted that there is no one better suited for this than her apparent friend, Y/N.

And Amren didn't shy away from giving all the essential informations about her to them.

Y/N Blackbeak. An Ironteeth witch--Azriel still couldn't understand how does one have sharp iron teeth and claws--part of the Blackbeak coven. Or was. Apparently, there used to be three different covens which were later on all united together with the Crochans under one queen. Manon Blackbeak. This great shift had happened during a huge war that they were all in.

Y/N is very loyal to her "sisters" and even more so to her queen. That part Azriel understood. Rhysand held his loyalty the same way: earned in blood, kept through sacrifice. But this witch didn’t come from their courts, their histories. She belonged to a different world entirely.

She was known for being one of the most ruthless among them. A hunter. A killer. Not gifted with elegant magic, but with precision, instinct, and a taste for blood. Her body was a weapon--iron teeth, iron nails, every strike calculated. Countless deaths were tied to her name, most of them earned in silence.

She had tracked monsters across war-torn mountains in her world. Killed gods, if the stories were true. But what made her dangerous now wasn’t myth--it was knowledge.

She had seen Koschei before. Fought things he made. Abominations born of rot and death-magic. And she’d survived. More than that--she remembered. She knew how he moved, how he hid pieces of himself. She knew the scent of his work. The feel of it in the earth, in the bodies he left behind.

“She doesn’t use shadows or spells,” Amren had told them. “She doesn’t need to. She finds things that don’t want to be found. And when she does, she ends them.”

After the death of "The Thirteen", she took the place of Asterin Blackbeak as the new second-in-command to queen Manon. Her "Wyvern" (whatever creature that is, Azriel still hasn't understood that part either) is the largest and most ruthless-just like her apparently.

"And what exactly happens when she walks in here? Do we just you know- greet her like a normal guest or-"

"Just because she is from another world and a witch, doesn't mean that she is an abnormal creature, Cassian." Amren hissed back, cutting off Cassians curiosity.

Azriel's head snapped back up, coming back to reality, his shadows whispering faintly at the edge of his senses like they’d felt something shift in the air. He narrowed his eyes toward the glowing rift, watching the edges throb and flicker--unsettled, like the veil between worlds was starting to tear.

"In any case, I believe she is very unique. I mean I know that your friends have all been quite unique but with the way you described this specific friend has me very interested. I mean, an ironteeth witch? drinks men's blood? wish I could do that sometimes. And I'm sure I'm not the only one excited, right Nesta?" Mor winked at the female beside her who only gave a small nod.

“She’s close,” Amren muttered, fingers moving in sharp, precise patterns as she worked the ancient sigils surrounding the portal. They pulsed faintly beneath her hand, reacting to her touch like blood answering a heartbeat. “The rift is thinning.”

“Great,” Cassian said, rolling his shoulders. “Because nothing says ‘safe and sane’ like summoning a death-witch with a wyvern from another dimension into Velaris.”

Feyre arched a brow. “You’re the one who wanted to spar with her, remember?”

Cassian threw her a grin. “I said I might spar with her. If she doesn’t bite.”

“She probably will,” Mor added brightly, brushing a curl over her shoulder. “Amren made her sound like a feral bat crossed with a blade.”

Amren didn’t look up. “She’s more refined than that.”

“Sure,” Rhysand drawled, his tone easy but his stance alert, shadows curled near his boots. “Refined in the way a storm is refined. Or a plague.”

“She’s not here to impress any of you,” Amren snapped, her eyes flicking briefly to Rhys. “She’s here because Koschei is getting smarter. Bolder. And she’s one of the only people who’s fought the things he leaves behind and walked away.”

Azriel said nothing, but his jaw tightened. That was the part that stuck with him—the walking away. He’d seen what Koschei’s creations did to people. The kind of twisted, broken things they left behind. You didn’t just walk away from that unless you were something worse.

Nesta finally spoke, quiet but firm. “And what happens if she’s not what you think she is?”

Amren didn’t flinch. “Then you kill her.”

A long silence settled after that.

Mor blinked. “Wow. Casual.”

Feyre stepped forward slightly. “Let’s assume she’s not a threat.”

“We don’t assume,” Azriel said, voice low. “We watch.”

Rhys nodded once in agreement. “The moment she steps through, we gauge her. Carefully. No grand welcomes.”

“She won’t expect one,” Amren said, almost amused. “She hates this kind of thing. Told me once that ‘warm greetings are for weak hearts.’”

Cassian whistled. “What a ray of sunshine.”

Azriel tuned them out after that. The voices blurred at the edges as his attention zeroed back in on the portal. It was changing now--deepening, folding in on itself, the color shifting from silver to blood-red, then back again. Whatever lay on the other side was moving closer.

His shadows recoiled. Not from fear--no, they didn’t fear. But they recognized what was coming through. A presence that wasn’t born of this realm. A presence used to war and silence and blood.

Azriel’s hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger.

And then--

The rift pulsed once, hard.

The air thinned.

The ground vibrated.

And something stepped through.

The pulse echoed like a drumbeat in Azriel’s bones.

The portal split open with a hiss--no thunder, no blaze of magic. Just a tearing sound, like skin peeling from flesh. The air went sharp with the scent of iron.

And then she stepped through.

Boots first. Blood-crusted, weather-worn. A slow, deliberate step. Then another.

Her leathers were torn at the seams in places, dark with dried blood and soot. Her iron nails caught the lamplight--glinting like small, wicked blades. Her eyes were pale gold, colder than ice, older than winter, and her mouth--Gods, those teeth--flashed in a quiet sneer as she looked them all over.

Behind her, the creature emerged.

Azriel had seen many beasts in his life. He’d fought through battlefields soaked in gore. But the thing that slithered half-formed from the fading rift, a massive wyvern, its wings frayed at the edges, claws curled into the stone, was not a beast. It was a weapon. A dying one, perhaps, flickering and insubstantial in this realm, but no less terrifying.

It let out a low, guttural noise--like a growl, like grief--and folded its wings as it took position at her back.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Then Y/N Blackbeak tilted her head, eyeing the group like she was picking which one she’d kill first if she had to.

Her voice, when it came, was rough like gravel. “This is Velaris?”

Cassian blinked. “I was expecting more screaming.”

“I’m disappointed too,” she said flatly.

Mor let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief. “Charming.”

Rhysand stepped forward, calm but cautious. “You must be Y/N.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Depends. Who’s asking?”

Rhys inclined his head. “High Lord of the Night Court.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to Feyre, then to Amren. The only one she seemed to acknowledge was Amren, who gave her the faintest nod.

Azriel watched her every movement. The way she stood--not like a diplomat, not like a soldier. Like a predator. Relaxed but alert. Ready to rip out a throat if needed.

He didn’t trust her. Not even a little.

But damn if he didn’t believe the stories.

“So,” she said after a beat, iron nails glinting as she flexed her fingers. “Which one of you is going to point me to Koschei’s rot?”

Azriel’s voice was out before he thought to stop it. Cold. Controlled.

“That depends. Are you here to help… or hunt?”

Y/N turned to face him fully for the first time.

And smiled.

There was no warmth in it. Only teeth.

“Why not both?”

Rhysand’s expression didn’t shift, but Feyre stepped closer, the edge in her voice barely masked.

“And what exactly do you want in return for this help?”

Y/N’s head tilted slightly, as if she were listening for something only she could hear. Her wyvern gave a low growl in response--its translucent shape pulsing faintly behind her like it barely existed in this realm at all.

“I want nothing,” Y/N said, voice flat. “No gold. No favor. No alliance.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you here?”

“I owe a debt,” she replied, finally looking away from Rhysand to glance at Amren. “To her. She saved my life once. This repays it.”

A beat passed.

Cassian’s brow shot up. “Wait--what?” He looked between them. “When the hell did that happen?”

Amren didn’t even glance his way. She waved a small, dismissive hand like swatting a fly. “None of your business, brute.”

The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable. Even Mor’s smile had vanished.

Azriel’s shadows stirred at his shoulders, quiet but tense. He didn’t take his eyes off Y/N, not because he thought she would strike, but because he could tell she could. Her posture hadn’t changed, but her presence filled the entire courtyard like a second sky pressing down on them.

Nesta, beside him, said nothing either. But when he glanced her way-

It startled him.

Not fear in her eyes. Not suspicion.

Admiration.

A subtle tilt to her chin. A slight parting of her lips. The faintest crease in her brow like something about the witch had unraveled a knot she hadn’t realized she carried.

Azriel had never seen Nesta look at anyone like that- not even Feyre. Not even Cassian.

It pulled at something in his chest, something he refused to name.

Then Amren stepped forward.

“As I told you, Rhys,” she said, casually brushing nonexistent dust off her tunic, “I would never bring someone here I didn’t trust.”

She gave the High Lord a pointed look.

“Well- actually, she only trusts me,” Amren added with a sharp smile. “And I trust her. Which should be enough.”

Rhysand exhaled slowly. He gave her a long, unreadable look. Then a single nod. Barely perceptible, but permission all the same.

That was when Feyre cleared her throat, wrapping her arms around herself like the temperature had dropped a few degrees. “Right,” she said, voice brisk, steady. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

Y/N said nothing. She didn’t smile. Didn’t thank them.

She just turned toward the House.

And the wyvern followed.

The doors to the House of Wind shut behind them with a soft thud, the sound echoing through the wide, vaulted chamber. It was quiet in a way only high places could be: thick with power, history, and something more fragile beneath.

Y/N walked with the same quiet dominance she’d arrived with. She didn’t gawk at the vaulted ceilings or the glowing lights that flickered overhead. She didn’t ask questions or offer comments. Her wyvern trailed a few steps behind, its form wavering, too large for the space and too ghostly to care.

Rhysand led the way, flanked by Feyre. Neither said a word as they entered the informal war room, but every step radiated the tension of two rulers trying not to snap the moment a guest said the wrong thing.

Cassian leaned against the long table in the center, trying too hard to look casual. Mor took her usual seat, legs crossed, eyes glittering with a mix of curiosity and calculation. Nesta moved silently to a shadowed corner, where she could observe everything without being in the middle of it.

Azriel didn’t sit. He remained standing, hands behind his back, shadows curling faintly around his boots. Watching.

Y/N didn’t sit either.

She stood at the far end of the room, her back straight, eyes scanning the windows like she was mapping exit routes.

Feyre spoke first. “Amren says you’ve seen Koschei’s work. What exactly did you encounter?”

Y/N’s response came without hesitation. “Plague-spirits. Hollowed corpses. Men turned inside out, walking on bones they didn’t grow with. Magic that smells like rot and sounds like begging.”

Mor blinked. “Sounds delightful.”

Y/N ignored her. “It was worse near rivers. He favors places that border things—life and death, land and water, flesh and memory. Thresholds.”

“That lines up with what we’ve seen,” Rhys said, glancing at Feyre, then back at Y/N. “And you’re sure what you saw is the same as what’s happening here?”

“I know his scent,” Y/N said simply. “You don’t forget that kind of rot.”

The room went quiet again.

“Why didn’t you kill him in your world?” Azriel asked, voice low.

She turned her head toward him. Not hostile. Not cold. Just… empty. Like the question was too simple for the weight it carried.

“Because he left before I could. Slipped through one of the last cracks between our worlds. I followed him.” A pause. “Eventually.”

“So this is a hunt,” Rhysand said, folding his arms.

Y/N didn’t answer. Just glanced at Amren.

Amren, lounging in her chair like none of this mattered in the slightest, rolled her eyes. “She’s not here for revenge or power plays, Rhys. I already told you.”

“Yes,” Rhys said quietly, “but it’s different hearing it from her.”

Y/N’s lip curled. “I am not your subject. I do not kneel to your throne.”

Feyre bristled, but Rhysand just nodded once. “Good. Then we’ll speak plainly.”

Azriel watched the exchange unfold in silence, but every word pressed at him like a blade against skin. He didn’t like her tone. Didn’t like her indifference. But something about it, the calm detachment, the bluntness, it rang true. She wasn’t playing them. If anything, she was already halfway out the door.

Nesta leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, eyes still fixed on Y/N. “You don’t care what happens to this world.”

“No,” Y/N said. “But I care what happens to Amren. And if she’s staying in this realm, then it’s in my interest to make sure it doesn’t turn into Koschei’s personal graveyard.”

Cassian let out a soft breath. “She saved your life?”

Y/N’s head tilted slightly. “She pulled me out of a god’s mouth. You don’t forget that.”

Cassian blinked. “Holy- wait, an actual god’s-”

“None of your business,” Amren said, sharp as a blade. Her expression didn’t waver. “Let it go.”

Silence again.

Azriel’s gaze drifted--not to the witch, but to Nesta.

There was that same look in her eyes. Admiration, yes--but also a flicker of something like recognition. Like she’d found something of herself reflected in the Ironteeth woman standing so calmly across the room.

Nesta didn’t mask it. Her jaw was tight, but her eyes were clear. Like she'd been waiting for someone to say the things Y/N had just said and mean them.

It unsettled him.

Not because he didn’t understand it.

Because he did.

Then Amren rose, smoothing down her tunic with a quick flick of her hand. “As I said, Rhysand,” she said, her voice taking on that ageless, steel-edged quality that still made the room hold its breath, “I wouldn’t bring someone into this court if I didn’t trust her.”

She turned to face him fully. “Well- she doesn’t trust any of you. Only me. But the sentiment stands.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Feyre cleared her throat, glancing at Rhys before offering the smallest of smiles. “Right. Well then… let’s go in, shall we?”

That was when Y/N finally stepped forward, calm and deliberate. She didn’t wait to be offered a seat- just took one, dragging the chair slightly apart from the others as if claiming neutral ground. From her small, worn satchel, she pulled out a thickly folded map. She spread it across the table in one sharp motion, weighing the corners down with nothing but her iron-cool presence.

It was a detailed map of Prythian, far more detailed than any Azriel had expected. But what caught everyone's eye weren’t the borders or mountains- they were the markings. Circles in black ink. Crossed-out towns. Arrows pointing to rivers, forests, patches of nothingness. Strange notations in a language none of them recognized.

"Amren was kind enough to have this sent to Erilea, my world, a few days prior so that I could get a good analysis and idea of what world I'm dealing with. I prefer to know what kind of battlefield I’m stepping onto before I start bleeding.”

Cassian let out a soft grunt that might’ve been impressed. Feyre leaned forward, brows drawn tight.

But before anyone could speak, Y/N turned her head and looked directly at Azriel--unflinching, sharp-eyed. Then, without a word, she raised both hands, slow and deliberate. The iron claws that had glinted moments before shimmered once, then retracted beneath her skin, leaving behind plain, clean nails.

She held his gaze as her jaw shifted with a soft click. When she parted her lips again, the iron teeth were gone, no fangs, no metal gleam. Just the unnerving stillness of a predator who had momentarily sheathed her weapons.

A show of restraint. Or a warning.

Azriel wasn’t sure which.

But it silenced the edge in him just a little. Not harmless. Never that. But perhaps… something else. Something controlled. His shadows recoiled and settled, just barely.

Then her voice cut through the quiet.

“I’m not staying long,” Y/N said. “Manon expects me to be back within forty-eight hours by our time. That translates to approximately three days here, give or take the way time bends between realms. Though I would say Erilea and Prythian are quite close. Hence the short time difference."

“You’re really just here to leave again?” Feyre asked, a mix of surprise and wariness.

“I’m not a diplomat. I don’t do tea and chatter. I was sent to deal with Koschei, nothing more.”

Azriel hated it, how direct she was. Hated how something in him respected it, too. No games. No fawning. Just teeth and strategy.

Rhysand finally spoke, his voice low. “And what have you learned about his movements so far?”

Y/N leaned over the map, tapping one of the circles in the north. “Koschei doesn’t spread like war. He spreads like sickness. Slow. Precise. Rotting the foundation of whatever he touches until it crumbles from within.”

She moved her finger down the map. “He doesn’t take cities. He takes people. A village falls quiet, and by the time you notice it’s gone, the surrounding land is already turning.”

She pointed to a forest near the border. “This was your first disappearance, yes? And this-” she tapped an area far west, “is where your scouts found bones that didn’t match any native species.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How the hell did she know that?

Cassian stepped forward now, tone sharpening. “So. What’s the plan?”

Y/N straightened. “The plan is to split into three teams. Exactly two per group. Koschei moves through mirrors-reflections, still water, glass--and he splits his attention. We need to do the same. Three fronts, three targets, three strikes.”

She looked around the room. “I’m leaving it to you to decide who goes with whom. I’m unfamiliar with your strengths, your tempers, and your… alliances.” Her eyes flicked to Mor, then Azriel, then Nesta.

“I assume your rulers,” she added, glancing at Feyre and Rhys, “will remain here to maintain court stability.”

Feyre opened her mouth to protest, but Rhys lifted a hand. “She’s right.”

Feyre scowled but said nothing more.

Y/N rolled the map to a smaller region now, tapping three points in a triangle. “These are the weak spots. I believe he’s testing them—probes, leaks, trying to open small rifts. We need to hit all three before he gets a foothold.”

“The groups will need a balance of flight, magic, and brute strength,” she continued. “One to track. One to strike. One to watch the shadows.”

Azriel felt her eyes flick briefly to him at the last one, but she didn’t linger.

Nesta, still watching from the edge of the room, finally spoke. “He’s drawing people in with promises, isn’t he? Not just killing--corrupting. Offering them something they want.”

Y/N’s expression shifted for the first time. Almost… approving.

“Exactly,” she said, tapping once on the table. “That’s how he breaks them. Promises them their lost lovers, their children, their second chances.”

She turned her head and pointed across the table. “Honestly, I’m starting to really like her.”

Nesta didn’t respond. But her mouth twitched.

And Azriel—

Well. He’d never admit it aloud. But he didn’t hate the sound of that either.

Then Mor clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Right, then. Who goes with whom?”

Cassian clapped his hands as well, eyes flicking around the room like he already knew how this would go. “Alright, we’ll need to be quick about this. I say we move at first light tomorrow.”

Amren snorted. “First light. Of course.”

Cassian leaned in, arms crossed over the table. “I’ll go with Nesta.” His tone left no room for argument. Nesta didn’t flinch. Didn’t smirk or roll her eyes. She only nodded, sharp and sure.

“Mor and I will take the eastern flank,” Amren said, like the matter had been settled long before anyone else had opened their mouths. Mor raised a brow but didn’t argue. She merely winked and added, “You’re lucky I like danger.”

That left Azriel.

And her.

Y/N was still standing beside the table, gaze down on the map, not watching the others as much as sensing them. When her head lifted, her eyes met Azriel’s again--dark, quiet, measuring.

Rhys glanced at them both, something unreadable in his face. “That leaves Azriel and Y/N.”

Of course it does, Azriel thought.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

Cassian’s brow twitched. “You two gonna be alright playing nice together?”

Y/N turned slightly, her arms folding across her chest. “I don’t need nice. I need effective.”

Azriel’s voice came quiet, colder than he meant. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

He saw it, barely, but it was there. A flicker of amusement behind her gaze. As if something about his retort pleased her.

She looked back down to the map. “Our target is here,” she said, pointing to the most remote of the three points: deep forest bordering one of the lesser-traveled mountain ranges.

Azriel knew it well. Dark, damp, prone to heavy fog and worse things hiding in it.

Perfect.

She tapped the ink with a clawless finger. “This was the first place I smelled his work. It’s old, but still warm. We’ll go there first.”

“And if he’s already moved?” Feyre asked.

“Then we follow the rot.” Her words were flat. Practical.

There was silence for a beat too long. Then Rhys nodded once. “We move at dawn. You all have until then to prepare.”

The meeting broke apart slowly. Chairs scraping, boots scuffing against stone. Azriel lingered at the edge, eyes still on the map. He could feel her beside him-- still, quiet, like the eye of a storm waiting to shift.

Nesta passed him as she left, but she paused only long enough to glance once back at Y/N.

Admiration. Clear and open. Azriel had seen Nesta sneer, seen her freeze people out with a look, but this was the first time he’d seen her… intrigued. Her mouth pulled into something faint. Respect, maybe.

And for some godsdamned reason, that unsettled him more than anything else.

Y/N spoke softly, without turning. “You don’t trust me.”

Azriel didn’t respond. Not right away. His shadows flickered, tense and restless.

“I don’t need you to,” she added, “but if we’re walking into something that’s already watching, I’d prefer we don’t bite at each other’s heels.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I don’t trust easily.”

“Neither do I.” She finally looked at him again. “But I’ll watch your back, Shadowsinger. You don’t have to like it, but it’s true.”

Azriel studied her, his jaw tight. Everything about her was sharp. Edged. But something about her steadiness, her refusal to flinch or flatter, scraped against the part of him that recognized survival.

Maybe not trust.

But understanding.

“I’ll see you at dawn,” he said finally, and walked away.

Behind him, he thought he heard her say, quiet as a whisper, “Try not to be late.”

Velaris didn’t seem quite as bad as she’d expected.

When Amren had mentioned it was part of the Night Court, Y/N had pictured something darker. Bleaker. A city crawling with shadows and dripping with pompous fae magic. But now, as the sun began to bleed gold into the sky and the breeze carried the scent of sea salt and distant pine, she found herself… tolerating it.

Maybe even liking it. A little.

She stood on the narrow stone balcony just outside the guest chambers they’d given her, already dressed for the road, boots laced tight, leathers snug. She hadn’t slept, not that she needed to. Her arms were folded as she leaned against the railing, fingers tapping absently with normal, unarmed nails. Below, Velaris still slumbered, lanterns casting soft glows across misted rooftops, the city slow to wake.

Above, circling sluggishly against the pale sky, her wyvern drifted in lazy, slow arcs.

“Firkhan,” she murmured.

He didn’t respond, not with words. He never had. But his shadow passed overhead, his translucent wings shimmering like heat waves, a ghost of the beast he’d once been. In this world, he was weaker—his body flickering at the edges like smoke caught in wind. The magic here resisted him. Or maybe he simply didn't belong.

None of us do, she thought.

Firkhan let out a low, rumbling screech that had no business sounding so mournful.

Y/N exhaled through her nose, eyes scanning the horizon.

It had been a long time since she’d stood still like this.

The war back in Erilea had carved her open and left iron in the cracks. She could still hear the shrieks of the Valg, the clash of blades against darkened armor, the hiss of Maeve’s shadows as they crumbled under fire. She remembered standing beside her sisters—her real sisters—when the skies rained blood. She remembered the silence after.

The silence that came when the Thirteen fell.

She hadn't asked for Asterin’s place. She hadn’t even wanted it. But Manon had given it to her anyway. Just looked her in the eye one night after the dust settled and said, “It’s yours now.”

And that had been that.

Manon never needed to explain herself. Y/N had only bowed once and borne the weight ever since. And she’d worn it like armor.

It was Amren who had broken that stillness.

A letter. Sealed in blood and old magic, slipped through the rift by means Y/N hadn’t asked about. The words had been few. No begging. No threats. Just a reminder:

"You owe me."

She did. Amren had pulled her from the mouth of a god...literally. Not during the war, but long before it, in the ruins of a temple swallowed by something old and hungry. Not out of kindness, but out of something older. Something sharp and mutual. They’d looked at each other across a pool of blood and ancient bones and understood one another without speaking a word.

They were both creatures carved from hard places, bound more by debt than affection. But it had been enough. Still was.

So when the next message came—a name she recognized, a darkness she thought she’d buried—she didn’t hesitate.

Koschei.

Of all the cursed gods and rotting immortals, he was the one that lingered. The one she hadn’t finished.

Manon hadn’t argued when she asked to go. Just stared at her for a long time before saying, “Two days. Then you return.”

Two days, Y/N repeated silently.

Firkhan screeched again, drawing her attention skyward.

And then—

A voice behind her. Rough, quiet, unmistakable:

“You’re up early.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn immediately. She didn’t need to. That voice was etched into her mind now--low and razor-edged, like something dragged over stone. Y/N slowly turned her head, casting a sideways glance to where he stood just outside the balcony doors.

Azriel.

The infamous spymaster of the Night Court. Cloaked in shadow even when he wasn’t calling on them, quiet as death, and about as warm. She’d done her research, of course. Amren hadn’t sent her in blind, Y/N had asked for details. Files. Observations. Whatever the Night Court had been willing to share, she’d devoured it.

And Azriel… was the one she’d paid the most attention to.

Not because she feared him, but because she understood him.

He moved like someone who had once been caged. Who still wore the scent of blood under his leathers, even if the rest of them had grown soft on peace and pretty skies.

She met his eyes now, unbothered. “We’re supposed to be out in twenty minutes. I assumed punctuality was something your court still valued.”

His lip twitched, maybe irritation, maybe amusement. “It is. I wasn’t expecting you to be ready before sunrise.”

She turned her head back toward the view. “I didn’t sleep.”

He stepped forward, coming to stand beside her. A brief moment of silence passed as they both watched the wyvern circling above.

“That’s… your wyvern?” Azriel asked eventually, nodding toward the faint shimmer in the sky.

“Firkhan,” she said simply.

He waited, clearly expecting more.

“He’s not meant for this world,” she added after a beat. “Too much fae magic in the air. Too much softness. It's like trying to keep a blade sharp in a pool of silk.”

Azriel’s brow ticked up at that, faint amusement flickering in his gaze. “We don’t have creatures like him in this realm.”

“I know,” she said. “Closest you’ve got are the Illyrians and the Peregryns in the Dawn Court.”

That earned her a sharper look. He leaned his forearms on the balcony railing, the shadows around him twitching slightly in what might have been surprise.

“You’ve done your research,” he said.

Y/N smiled. Tight, without humor. “Wouldn’t you, if you were walking into a court of fae strangers with enough power to burn cities?”

His silence was answer enough.

She let her gaze drift toward him for a moment longer before adding, “And besides, if I’m going to kill alongside someone, I prefer to know whether they’ll be useful or deadweight.”

Azriel’s mouth twitched again, but he said nothing.

Not yet.

A scream shattered the morning quiet.

Both their heads snapped down toward the street below, just in time to see Cassian scrambling backward behind a thoroughly unamused Nesta. The General was pointing toward the cobblestones in front of the townhouse where a very large, very real wyvern had landed, folding its shimmering wings with calculated menace. Firkhan’s golden eyes locked on Cassian like he was a meal. Or a nuisance.

Possibly both.

Y/N let out a small, rare smirk. “Looks like someone found breakfast.”

And with that, she pushed off the balcony railing and strode back inside, her steps light but unhurried. Azriel followed silently, a shadow at her heels.

They had a war to plan.

By the time they stepped outside, the others had gathered in the courtyard, surrounding the wyvern with varying degrees of wariness and awe.

“He's massive,” Mor said, eyes wide, chin tilted up as she took in the full wingspan. “Like, bigger than a Illyrian war-drake. And shinier. What do you feed him?”

“Illyrians,” Y/N replied without missing a beat.

Cassian let out a scandalized noise. “I knew it.”

“He’s joking,” Feyre added with a half-smile, though it sounded more like a question than a reassurance.

“Am I?” Y/N murmured.

Rhysand’s gaze slid over Firkhan with an assessing sharpness. “He looks like he’s holding together better than I expected, considering the dimensional rift.”

“He’s managing,” Y/N said. “Barely. It’s a miracle he survived the crossing.”

“He’s... beautiful,” Feyre offered, still watching Firkhan as if she was trying to sketch him in her head.

Nesta, standing closer now, spoke softly. “Can I pet him?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want to pet a wyvern?”

Nesta shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten anyone yet.”

From the side, Amren clicked her tongue. “He still might.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh and nodded. “Be my guest. He likes boldness.”

Nesta stepped closer, hand extended, slow but sure. Firkhan lowered his massive head, sniffing her fingers, his breath warm and metallic. For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then—he nudged her hand gently.

“He’s called Firkhan,” Y/N said, watching closely. “He’s been with me since before the final war in my world. Saved my life more times than I can count.”

Nesta’s hand moved along the wyvern’s scaled snout. “He’s… calmer than I thought.”

“He likes you,” Y/N replied, surprised at the truth in her own words. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve got steel in you. Rage. Will. Maybe even a little magic that doesn’t play by the rules of this world.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked to hers. “Magic, huh?”

Y/N gave a small smirk. “You seem like you have a little witch within you too, Nesta Archeron.”

Nesta gave a dry laugh. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing someone’s called me.”

A low, possessive sound cut through the moment.

Cassian stepped between them, gently but deliberately, inserting himself between Nesta and Firkhan...and Y/N by extension. “That’s enough fun for the morning,” he muttered, not quite glaring.

Y/N merely raised her brows. “Protective, aren’t you?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Cassian, I’m fine.”

“You say that now. Wait until he decides you look like lunch.”

Firkhan let out a chuff of breath, clearly unimpressed.

Y/N chuckled and stepped back. “He’s already chosen. You’re the one who keeps acting like prey.”

Before Cassian could reply, Rhysand clapped his hands, voice cutting through the morning fog. “Final checks. If you’re flying, make sure you’re not forgetting anything. Azriel, you’ve got maps. Cassian, try not to start another screaming match with a creature three times your size.”

“Ha ha,” Cassian muttered.

As everyone scattered to gather gear and double-check weapons, Y/N tilted her head toward Nesta. “Come,” she said, gesturing for her to walk alongside Firkhan. “I want to show him someone who isn’t terrified of their own power.”

They moved in silence for a few paces, Nesta still stroking the wyvern’s jaw, until Y/N added quietly, “There’s strength in softness too, you know.”

Nesta’s hand stilled. “You sound like Feyre.”

“I sound like someone who’s lost too many sisters,” Y/N replied. “Hold tight to the ones still breathing.”

Nesta didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

A breath later, Cassian was back, looming beside them with his hand brushing Nesta’s elbow. “We ready?” he asked.

Y/N gave him a slow nod. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

With one last look at Firkhan, she turned on her heel and strode toward Azriel, who stood waiting with a folded map in his hand and that unreadable expression in his eyes.

Let the hunt begin.

Y/N snatched the map from Azriel’s hand before he could so much as blink.

A collective pause rippled through the group at the sharp sound of paper being pulled taut. She didn’t bother looking at him. Her voice rang out, clear, cutting through the morning air like a blade.

“Now, listen up.”

The conversation and casual banter died instantly. Even Firkhan, coiled on the rooftop like a silent, glimmering sentinel, went still.

They all gathered closer around her. Illyrians, High Fae, and the strange quiet creature that was Amren. Y/N didn’t care what court they were from. What power they wielded. She only cared that they listened.

“As I said,” she continued, spreading the map across the stone garden table with a sweep of her hand, “we’re splitting into three groups of two. Each one will target a different pressure point. Koschei doesn’t leave openings. But like all things that rot, he seeps.”

She tapped her claw-not iron yet, but sharp nonetheless-against the eastern coastline of Prythian.

“Amren. Mor. You’re headed to the tidal cliffs along the Sidra’s curve. We believe one of Koschei’s old mirror-anchors lies buried there, used to siphon spirit energy from the ocean’s pull. If we’re right, breaking it will sever a part of his reach.”

Amren gave a faint smile. “I’ve always liked smashing mirrors.”

Mor only smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s just hope it’s not cursed.”

Y/N ignored them, turning to the next mark: near the border of the human lands, deep in the ruins of an old battlefield.

“Cassian. Nesta. You’re heading to the Forgotten Vale. The blood magic he’s been using, it’s rooted there. That place remembers the dead. There’s something in the soil Koschei is feeding from. You’ll need to burn it clean.”

Nesta’s chin dipped in acknowledgment. Cassian gave a grunt that could have been agreement or displeasure, likely both.

Y/N circled her finger over a third spot, one nearly forgotten in the dense wilds west of Velaris.

“And Azriel and I will be heading into the Wildmere. There's an old forest there, twisted by his influence. His shadows have grown bolder, breeding in the dark. If he’s hiding his heart, the core of his power, it’ll be there. Azriel can track what others miss. I’ll know when we’re close.”

She looked up at last, scanning their faces.

“No one is to speak of this beyond this moment. Koschei has ears in the cracks of reality. This plan doesn’t get whispered about. Not even to your mates.”

Rhysand’s mouth twitched at that. Feyre, wisely, said nothing.

“Any objections?”

There was a beat of silence. Cassian opened his mouth.

Y/N didn’t even look up. Her voice was cold and firm. “No arguments.”

Cassian blinked, about to protest. “I wasn’t even- ”

“No.”

Cassian shut his mouth. Mor snorted. Azriel might’ve smiled, but if he did, it was gone in an instant.

Y/N rolled the map closed with a snap and tucked it back into her satchel.

“Well then,” she said, straightening. “Now that that’s settled- ”

Her eyes gleamed. The wind stirred behind her, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Let’s go kill a god, shall we?”

“Have you ever killed a god before?”

Azriel’s voice broke the morning silence as they walked toward the far side of the garden. Y/N didn’t look at him. Instead, her nails tapped lightly against her thigh, a small, knowing smirk playing at her lips.

“Why? Are you scared?” she asked without turning.

He chuckled softly, a dry edge to his words. “You act like that’s something you do every day.”

She sighed, the weight of a grim past settling in her tone. “No, I haven’t. But an ally of ours did. She killed every god in our universe. She’s now a queen, and they call her the Godskiller.”

Azriel’s guarded expression shifted as curiosity sparked in his eyes. “A queen called Godskiller? That’s not a title you hear every day.”

Y/N met his gaze steadily. “She earned it.”

They reached the clearing where the rift shimmered faintly. Azriel’s eyes dropped to Firkhan, the wyvern pacing with a restless grace.

“Is this thing coming with us too?” he asked, nodding toward the great creature.

Y/N corrected him smoothly. “His name is Firkhan. And yes, he’s coming. I don’t trust your High Lord and Lady one bit. Besides, Firkhan’s senses and ability to circle high above will give us an edge. He can smell death and rot, things even your shadows might miss.”

Azriel considered her words and nodded. “Fair enough.”

Y/N softened her voice and gave a quiet command. “Firkhan, come closer.”

The wyvern’s immense form swooped down beside her, shimmering faintly--still somewhat translucent in this realm.

Azriel glanced back at the pulsing rift. “Ready?”

She nodded once. Azriel inhaled deeply, the familiar shadowy mist beginning to gather around them. With a swift motion, he winnowed them away, the world blurring and folding as shadows swallowed their forms—carrying them instantly to the other side.

The world reassembled around them in fragments of shadow and cold.

Azriel’s boots hit soft earth, damp with rot. A canopy of gnarled, twisted trees loomed above, their blackened branches clawing at the morning sky. The air here felt… wrong. Thicker. Alive, almost buzzing faintly beneath his skin.

This was Wildmere. Or what it had become.

He scanned the surrounding glade, one hand instinctively brushing the hilt of Truth-Teller. The shadows slithered closer to his heels, nervous.

Beside him, Y/N landed with feline ease, already surveying the tree line. Her iron boots didn’t make a sound on the mossy ground.

"Charming," Azriel muttered.

“Better than what I imagined,” she replied flatly, adjusting a strap across her chest that held her curved blade. “I thought it'd reek more.”

“It will,” he said, eyes narrowing on the shifting darkness between the trees. “Give it time.”

A beat of silence. A low, reverberating thrum drifted through the earth like a pulse.

“Let’s move,” Azriel said, stepping forward.

“Wait.”

He turned just enough to glance back at her.

Y/N lifted her chin toward the sky. Then she murmured a string of guttural syllables, words Azriel couldn’t place. Not ancient Fae. Not anything he’d heard before.

High above, a shadow detached from the clouds.

Firkhan.

The wyvern gave a low shriek, answering her call, before rising higher and disappearing into the canopy overhead: circling, watching.

Azriel arched a brow. “That an Ironteeth spell?”

She smirked faintly, brushing past him. “Just a language. One your kind never bothered to learn.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “What’d you tell him?”

“To hunt. To scream if anything smells like rot or fear.”

Azriel fell into step beside her. “And what do we do in the meantime?”

She glanced sideways, expression unreadable. “We walk into a haunted forest ruled by a half-dead god, of course.”

He huffed a soft laugh, surprised by it.

They moved forward, deeper into the Wildmere. And above them, Firkhan circled silently, a predator beneath the rising sun.

They walked in silence for nearly an hour.

The deeper they moved into the forest, the more the light changed. It wasn’t just the thick canopy blocking out the sun, it was the shadows themselves. They clung to bark and roots like oil. And even the wind sounded… wrong. Too soft. Too deliberate. As if the forest was listening.

Azriel had tracked monsters before. He knew the scent of darkness, of unnatural magic. But here, in Wildmere, everything reeked of rot and memory. Of something old, curdled with patience.

Beside him, Y/N didn’t speak. She moved like she belonged here, her steps precise but unhurried, hand never far from the hilt of her blade. Her wyvern, though mostly out of sight, cried out occasionally above the trees--long, distant shrieks that echoed like warnings.

He cast her a glance. “You’ve been quiet.”

Her gaze didn’t shift. “You’ve been brooding.”

Azriel let out a quiet huff. “That’s just my face.”

That earned him the ghost of a smirk. Barely.

He tilted his head. “You don’t seem bothered by this place.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she said simply, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

“Than a forest poisoned by a death god?”

“Have you ever walked through a battlefield of broken gods and still-breathing corpses?” she asked, voice low. “This is peaceful compared to that.”

Azriel didn’t respond. Mostly because he didn’t doubt her. And partly because the way she said it didn’t sound like a boast. Just fact.

Still--he couldn’t help it.

“Why did Manon send you?” he asked quietly. “Not that I’m doubting your skill. But you don’t strike me as someone who gets sent. You strike me as someone who chooses.”

She slowed, just slightly, and he almost regretted the question.

“She didn’t send me,” Y/N said after a moment. “Amren called in a debt. Manon allowed it.”

Azriel studied her profile, the way her jaw tensed when she spoke Amren’s name. “You don’t like being in anyone’s debt.”

“No,” she said. “And I repay them quickly.”

Another cry from above. Firkhan, a low snarl this time--long and deliberate.

Both of them stopped.

Azriel’s shadows rose instantly, curling around his shoulders like smoke. His siphons flared with silent readiness. Beside him, Y/N’s hand had already gone to her weapon.

“East,” she said softly. “Something’s moving.”

He listened. There--just beyond the curve of a withered tree, something shuffled through the underbrush.

Azriel didn’t draw Truth-Teller. Not yet.

Instead, he turned toward her. “You ready?”

Y/N’s eyes glittered. “You tell me, Spymaster. Have you ever killed a god before?”

Azriel allowed a slow smile. “Not yet.”

They moved together, soundless and sharp. Into the dark.

And Wildmere waited.

Azriel's senses were on high alert as they ventured deeper into the Wildmere. The air grew heavier, thick with an unnatural stillness that made every step feel deliberate. The trees, twisted and gnarled, seemed to lean in closer, their bark slick with a strange, iridescent sheen.

"Do you feel that?" Y/N's voice broke the silence, low and cautious.

Azriel nodded, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade. "Something's not right."

Without warning, the ground beneath their feet trembled. Azriel's shadows recoiled, sensing the disturbance before he could fully comprehend it. The trees around them began to shift, their trunks bending unnaturally, roots uprooting and twisting in the air like serpents.

"Stay close," Azriel ordered, his voice firm.

But Y/N was already moving, her eyes scanning the shifting landscape. "It's the forest," she said, her tone a mix of awe and wariness. "Koschei's magic is warping it."

Azriel watched as the forest seemed to breathe, the trees pulsating with an eerie rhythm. The air grew colder, and a low hum resonated from deep within the ground.

"We need to find the source," Azriel said, determination setting in.

Y/N nodded, her expression hardening. "Agreed. But we must tread carefully. This place is alive with his influence."

They moved cautiously, the forest around them shifting and changing with every step. The path ahead was unclear, obscured by the ever-changing landscape. Azriel's shadows flickered nervously, reacting to the unnatural magic permeating the air.

As they pressed forward, the trees began to close in, their branches intertwining above, blocking out the light. The air grew thick with a palpable sense of dread.

"We're close," Y/N murmured, her eyes narrowing as she scanned their surroundings.

Azriel felt it too--a presence, ancient and malevolent, watching them from the depths of the forest. He tightened his grip on his blade, ready for whatever lay ahead.

But for now, they could only move forward, deeper into the heart of Wildmere, where Koschei's magic twisted reality itself.

"The deeper we will go, the worse it will get."

Azriel didn't look at her as he led the way, shadows curling around him like arrows, ready to be sent out whenever he commands them to. "How do you know that?"

Y/N only followed him, shifting her clean nails for iron ones "It seems like you know nothing about this place, Shadowsinger, the Wildmere was not always like this. It’s not just forest--it’s memory. What you see here? Twisted bark, blackened moss, silence that’s too loud? This place remembers what it used to be. And Koschei is feeding on that pain."

Azriel’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look back, but his steps slowed slightly. "Memories don’t kill people."

"They do, when a god gives them teeth," she murmured. "You’ll see soon enough. This entire forest is a grieving thing. You walk long enough, it’ll show you what it’s lost. What you’ve lost. Then it’ll ask for a price."

Azriel didn’t respond at first. Shadows slithered along his shoulders, shifting uneasily at her words. But after a pause, he finally said, "And what did it show you?"

Y/N gave a low chuckle--hollow and without humor. "Nothing yet. But it will. The forest always finds a way in."

They walked in silence after that, the mist growing thicker around them, the trees leaning in just slightly more than they had a moment before.

Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and a low, mournful wail echoed through the forest. Azriel's shadows recoiled, sensing the disturbance before he could fully comprehend it. Y/N's hand instinctively went to her blade, her posture alert.

From the depths of the forest, a figure emerged: a massive, spectral stag, its form translucent and shimmering with an ethereal glow. Its antlers were adorned with chains of sorrowful faces, each one contorted in silent screams. The creature's eyes, hollow and endless, locked onto them.

Y/N's voice was a whisper, barely audible. "The Forest's Grief."

Azriel's gaze remained fixed on the apparition. "What is it?"

"A manifestation of the Wildmere's sorrow," she replied. "A guardian of lost souls. It feeds on despair and regret."

The stag took a step forward, and the ground beneath them seemed to pulse with each movement. The air grew colder, and the wailing intensified, as if the very forest was mourning.

"We can't kill it," Y/N said, her voice steady despite the growing dread. "We must offer it something, an acknowledgment of its pain."

Azriel's mind raced. What could they offer a creature born of sorrow? What could appease a being that thrived on despair?

The White Stag’s antlers cracked the air like thunder, pure magic slamming into the ground at their feet. Azriel flew back with the force of it, wings snapping wide to steady himself before he hit a gnarled tree trunk. The bark hissed where the Stag’s power had touched it, blackened, rotting.

Y/N stood her ground.

Not because she was unmoved.

Because she was thinking.

Its eyes burned with a light too ancient to belong to this world. Azriel’s shadows shrieked in his head, tangled around his arms and throat like they were trying to drag him away from it. From her.

“It wants something,” he growled, stepping forward, siphons flaring.

Y/N’s iron nails gleamed as she bared her teeth. “No shit.”

Another blast surged toward them. Azriel dove in front of her on instinct, shield raised from his siphons, but the magic slipped through, not touching flesh, but memories. His knees buckled.

A flash, his training pit. Then Elain, eyes wide with something unreadable. Then the Blood Rite, Rhys’s body limp in a river of red.

Gone.

Azriel gasped.

“Azriel.” Y/N grabbed his arm, grounding him. “It’s not attacking the body, it’s taking.”

He staggered upright. “Taking what?”

“Weight. Pain. Regret.” She turned toward the beast, blade now in hand, her iron claws retracted. Not her nails, her steel, that curved obsidian blade she'd claimed from the barrows of her world. “It doesn’t want blood. It wants burden.”

The Stag’s eyes flicked to her, then him. Waiting.

Azriel’s heart pounded. “So give it something.”

“I don’t- ” She hesitated. For a breath. “It’s not a trade. It’s a toll. It wants what we carry.”

Azriel clenched his fists. “I’m not offering it my damn memories.”

Y/N stepped forward, still not lifting her sword. “What if we offer it something false?”

“It’ll know.”

The White Stag stomped once. The ground split open just behind them, roots writhing like serpents. A scream tore from the soil, as if the forest itself was in pain.

“You’re right,” she hissed, glancing back. “We can’t outsmart it.”

The air changed then. Sharp. Electric. The stag charged.

Azriel lunged forward, wings snapping out. “Move!”

But Y/N didn’t run. She pivoted, blade slicing the air, not toward the creature, but downward, across her own palm.

Blood met steel.

Magic pulsed, raw and bright.

“Old gods don’t want lies,” she snarled. “They want truth.”

She threw the blood at its hooves.

The White Stag froze, the spray hitting the ground in front of it, blood soaking the roots. The earth went still.

Azriel stared.

The stag lowered its head.

And stepped aside.

Breathing hard, Y/N turned to him. “We have ten seconds. Run.”

They did.

The woods twisted behind them, the stag’s magic lashing at their heels like wind made of bones. Branches grabbed, thorns sliced, shadows pulled at them, but they made it through.

By the time they stumbled out of the cursed clearing, sweat-slicked and gasping, Azriel’s siphons were flickering low.

Y/N collapsed to one knee, gripping her still-bleeding palm.

Azriel dropped beside her, eyes scanning her face. “You alright?”

She exhaled a slow breath. “That thing fed on grief. If I had offered it any more, I wouldn’t have walked out.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter. Protective. Watchful.

“Next time,” he said, voice quiet, “warn me when a mythical forest god might try to eat my soul.”

Y/N’s laugh was hoarse. But real.

“No promises, Shadowsinger.”

Then, as if just realising what he was seeing, Azriel looked at her palm in surprise, "You have blue blood? How- how is that possible?"

Y/N glanced at her palm, still glowing faintly under the streak of cobalt. She arched a brow.

“I don’t know, Spymaster. Maybe because I’m secretly made of frost and moonlight. Or perhaps it’s just a fashion statement in my world.”

Azriel didn’t so much as blink at the sarcasm.

She sighed and flexed her fingers, watching the blood thicken, already beginning to seal. “I’m an Ironteeth witch. We all bleed blue. Has something to do with how we were made. Something ancient. Unnatural, some say.”

He looked vaguely unsettled by that. His eyes dipped again to the wound--only to find the blood already drying, the torn skin knitting back together.

“That was… fast,” he muttered. “My wounds take at least two days to heal. Even with my shadows.”

She scoffed, rising to her feet. “Maybe that’s because I’m not a Fae.”

Behind her, she heard the sound of his wings folding in as he followed, close but never too close. “You got something wrong, at last,” Azriel said, his voice lighter than before. “I’m not a Fae. I’m an Illyrian.”

That gave her pause. She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him in her periphery. “Is there a difference?”

He shrugged. “Illyrians are winged warriors. Fae in general aren’t born with wings. Or this,” he added, tapping a siphon. “We’re something... rougher. Less polished.”

Y/N kept walking but filed that away.

Why he was explaining it to her, she didn’t know. Why she cared to listen, she knew even less.

But the forest was growing darker around them. The trees closer together, their roots rising like gnarled veins through the soil. Firkhan circled above, a pale, faint shape against the thickening clouds.

She could still feel the residue of the stag’s magic trailing behind them, something old and heavy pressing against her spine like a ghost they hadn’t fully outrun.

“We’ll need to stop soon,” she muttered. “Even I can’t see what’s waiting in that dark.”

Azriel merely nodded, his shadows already fanning out ahead of them like scouts.

And still...still, Y/N found herself glancing at him again. At the siphons, the wings, the strange shadows that whispered things she couldn’t understand.

Not Fae. Not human. Not like anything she’d ever known.

Maybe she wasn’t the only weapon born in the dark.

They had found a small clearing, the air thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. The trees here were spaced just enough to allow a semblance of comfort. Y/N dropped her pack, her senses still alert, scanning the surroundings.

"Seems as good a place as any," she muttered, settling down and beginning to unpack.

Azriel nodded, his gaze lingering on the shadows between the trees. "Stay vigilant."

Just as they began to relax, the ground beneath them trembled. A low, guttural growl resonated from the depths of the forest. Before they could react, the earth split open before them, revealing a massive, serpentine creature with scales that shimmered like obsidian.

Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its maw dripped with venomous saliva. The creature hissed, its tongue flicking out, tasting the air.

Y/N stood, her expression hardening. "An Ironfang Basilisk," she said, her voice steady. "Rare, territorial, and deadly."

Azriel's wings twitched, ready for combat. "Can we fight it?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not unless you want to end up petrified. We need to outwit it."

The basilisk advanced, its massive body coiling and uncoiling with terrifying speed. Y/N's hand went to her belt, drawing her obsidian blade. "Get ready," she whispered.

Azriel's shadows flared, forming a protective barrier around them. "On your mark."

With a swift motion, Y/N hurled a handful of enchanted dust into the air, creating a blinding flash. The basilisk recoiled, momentarily disoriented. Seizing the opportunity, Azriel winnowed behind the creature, striking at its exposed flank.

The basilisk howled in pain, thrashing wildly. Y/N darted forward, her blade flashing as she targeted the creature's eyes. Another strike, and the basilisk let out a deafening screech, its body convulsing before it collapsed, lifeless.

Breathing heavily, Y/N wiped the blood from her blade. "That was too close."

Azriel nodded, his expression grim. "We can't afford to be caught off guard again."

They gathered their belongings, moving deeper into the Wildmere, aware that more dangers lurked in the shadows.

The forest pressed in around them, thick and suffocating, but the small clearing they found was enough to catch their breath--for now. Y/N didn’t dare let them linger longer than thirty minutes. The Wildmere was too dangerous, too unpredictable.

Azriel kept his senses sharp, shadows coiling around him like watchful serpents. He glanced at her as she settled against a gnarled tree root, clearly still on edge despite the brief reprieve.

“Firkhan,” she murmured.

Azriel’s head snapped upward, just as a flicker of movement slipped through the dense branches above. Then, like a ghost wreathed in moonlight, the wyvern descended--Firkhan’s translucent scales shimmering faintly in the dim light, his nearly invisible form momentarily solidifying. His golden eyes caught the glimmers of shadow and leaf, glowing softly.

Y/N leaned against him, her voice low and certain. “Firkhan says he’s sensed something… great. Something close. It’s why we’re here—the heart.”

Azriel watched the creature with quiet awe, the way it moved so effortlessly between worlds, half-seen, half-spirit. He wondered what this beast actually looks like back in his world. His gaze shifted back to Y/N, and something about the way she steadied herself in this hostile place made him respect her even more.

They sat in a tense silence for a few moments before Azriel’s curiosity overcame the quiet.

“So,” he started carefully, “how did you come to know so much about this place? This ‘heart’ we’re searching for?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with faint amusement. “Let’s just say I’ve had more than my share of dark forests and shadows. I’m sort of a spymaster too, born into war and betrayal. I come from a world where the gods are dead, and their shadows still haunt the earth.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed. “Your world... it’s different from ours.”

She nodded slowly, eyes distant as if recalling a lifetime in a single glance. “Very different. It’s a place where gods once ruled openly, but they were all killed--we have Aelin to thank for that.”

Azriel had no idea who this Aelin was but from the sound of it, she seemed to be quite the powerhouse.

Y/N then looked back at him. "Koschei has been slowly but surely infecting our world too and even though I had fought some of his creations, now I see how much more of a great threat he is in your world."

Azriel nodded his head, then, a question struck his mind. "You said Amren had saved you from a god's mouth. How and when did that happen? How do you even know Amren?"

Y/N smiled. Not a cold or cruel smile, but a real, nostalgic smile as she replied "Yes. It was a very long time ago and honestly, I would rather not speak of it. As for Amren, well, she doesn't just know me. She knows my sisters and my queen, Manon too. It's why Manon even allowed me to come here in the first place, because she trusts her and knew that if Amren calls, it's a serious issue because there is nothing Amren can't handle."

Azriel smirked slightly as his eyes drifted to Firkhan, watching the giant beast lay its enormous wing over Y/N. He hesitated, then found himself sharing a piece of his own story, the weight of his loyalty pressing on his chest. “My High Lord, Rhysand--he’s more than just a ruler to me as well. He’s fierce, loyal, relentless. We’ve fought wars, endured betrayals. He’s the reason I fight… why I keep moving forward.”

Y/N gave a small, approving nod, as if recognizing a familiar kind of pain. “Loyalty’s a rare currency in my world too. Trust is harder to earn than blood. Manon’s trust is the only thing keeping me grounded, reminding me there’s more than just survival.”

The forest around them seemed to close in, the shadows thickening as the conversation took a more personal turn. Their voices dropped lower, sharing fragments of childhoods marked by loss, hardship, and resilience.

“I grew up among shadows,” Y/N said softly, “raised to be a weapon, a spy. Not for glory, but to survive. It’s a hard life, but it teaches you to see what others miss.”

Azriel nodded, feeling the weight of those words. “I was born to serve in the shadows too. But my shadows aren’t just weapons—they’re pieces of me. I use them to protect, to hunt. Rhysand gave me purpose beyond the darkness.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “And what about your world? Prythian… it’s beautiful, but scarred. What keeps you fighting, if not loyalty?”

Azriel considered that. “Hope. For a future where the shadows don’t own us. Where people can live without fear. Rhysand believes in that future. I do too.”

Y/N smiled faintly, a rare softness crossing her features. “Hope is a dangerous thing. But maybe it’s what keeps the strongest alive.”

Azriel caught the subtle change in her expression--something almost like longing, buried beneath years of hard edges.

But then, Y/N chuckled slowly, "No wonder I knew the Night court would be the most troubled the moment I received the map from Amren."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. "And did you look into the other courts?"

"Of course I did. What kind of an idiot would go into a foreign world without researching everything from there? Personally, I would love to visit the Summer court for a much needed vacation but obviously that won't be happening so..." Y/N sighed rolling her eyes "It hurts my ego to says this but, I am slightly jealous of your world for having these nice courts. Even though I bet they are all posh and pampered."

Azriel couldn't hide his smile as he replied, "Well, if you do ever come back, just make sure to stay far from Autumn. You don't want to mess with them."

Y/N raised a challenging eyebrow. "Oh? and why is that?"

Azriel’s lips twitched into a small smirk. “They’re… complicated. The Autumn Court has its own rules and its own kind of darkness. Subtle, but dangerous. Like a web that traps the unwary.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Sounds like my kind of place.”

He studied her for a moment, intrigued by how easily she adapted, how she seemed to carry the weight of two worlds without breaking. “You make it sound like you belong everywhere and nowhere at once.”

She met his gaze steadily. “Maybe I do. Or maybe I’m just a survivor.”

They fell into a thoughtful silence, the sounds of the forest pressing in around them--shadows shifting, leaves whispering in the faint breeze.

Azriel finally broke the quiet, “So, what exactly are we looking for in this heart of Koschei’s power? What does it even look like?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Something ancient. Something that pulses with his corruption. Maybe a source of his influence. Destroying it might weaken him... or maybe even kill him. Honestly? I have never killed a god before either so this is a first for me too."

Then, she shook her head, sighing in frustration. "I should have asked Aelin for some tips, how on earth does one even kill a god?"

Azriel leaned forward, very intrigued. "Who is Aelin exactly? is she that Godskiller queen you mentioned last night?"

Y/N looked at him and just nodded, seemingly not trusting him at all to give any important information.

Fair enough. Azriel has been doing the same anyway.

The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths and fragile understanding. But Y/N was quick to break the spell.

“Enough,” she said abruptly, rising to her feet, voice firm. Firkhan, as if already knowing his job, snuggled to Y/N one last time before flying back up.

Azriel watched her for a beat longer, curiosity sparking anew. She was more than the witch he thought he’d met. Something about her unsettled and intrigued him in equal measure.

He stood, shadows coiling like eager serpents around his fingers. “Ready?”

She nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. Together, they moved deeper into the Wildmere, stepping quietly into the thickening dark.

The trees grew stranger the deeper they walked—twisting into near-impossible shapes, branches bending down like fingers to scrape at their shoulders. The air turned dense, humming like a living thing. Firkhan circled silently above, his massive form barely visible except when moonlight slipped across the translucent shimmer of his wings.

Y/N felt it before she saw it.

A shift in the world’s breath. A stillness too complete. Even the shadows underfoot recoiled, Azriel’s included.

“Something’s wrong,” she murmured.

Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter. “You feel it too?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, her steps slowed as they entered a clearing.

At first, it looked… harmless. A meadow nestled between craggy hills, dotted with faintly glowing mushrooms and blanketed in tall, silver-bladed grass. Too quiet. Too still.

Then-

A mirror rose from the ground.

Seven feet tall. No frame. No stand. Just a hovering pane of glimmering glass, and the faint shimmer of a thousand reflections dancing across its surface, not theirs. Strangers. Dead things. Nightmares.

Azriel stepped slightly in front of her. “Is that…?”

But Y/N had already stopped. Her jaw set.

“The Mirror of Maw,” she said flatly.

“You know what it is?”

“It’s not from your world. Or mine. It was pulled through a rift, I think. I’ve only seen a drawing. They say it shows your deepest fear… and then tries to break you with it.”

Azriel’s wings shifted. “Break you how?”

As if in answer, the glass rippled, and his mother’s face appeared, beaten and bloodied. Behind her, two Illyrian boys, children, chained to stone.

Azriel staggered back a step, inhaling sharply.

Y/N didn’t flinch. She knew it was coming.

Then the glass turned again, this time to her.

Not Manon. Not Asterin. Not even the Valg.

Her reflection turned into her own face—wild-eyed, monstrous, fully shifted. Alone. Blood-soaked. Surrounded by the fallen bodies of her coven. Her sisters. Manon. All dead. By her hand.

She blinked.

Azriel hissed, “We need to destroy it.”

“No,” she said immediately. “If we do, it’ll shatter outward. The shards will reflect us infinitely and... trap us.”

He turned his head sharply. “Then what?”

“We have to walk past it.”

Azriel stared. “Seriously?”

Y/N shifted her nails into long, gleaming iron claws. “Don’t look into it. Not directly. Don’t let it know you’re afraid.”

Azriel’s wings flexed, his face pale. “It already knows.”

“Then pretend.” She took a step forward.

The ground beneath them twisted, pulling them in different directions. Illusions bloomed, not just in the mirror, but in the air, hovering projections of past sins and private nightmares. The air sang with the sound of screams not their own.

Azriel clenched his jaw and followed, shadows thick around him, muttering, “What kind of god builds things like this?”

“The kind that never wanted to die,” she whispered.

They moved forward. Step by step.

Each footfall brought a new vision. Azriel gritted his teeth against a sight of his brothers drowning in tar. Y/N fought against a phantom image of Manon turning her back on her.

But then-

The mirror lashed out.

Not with glass, but with reflection. It warped into a massive beast of pure light and shadow, built from every fear it had shown them. It struck like a viper.

Y/N lunged with a snarl, dodging the strike and raking iron claws across its neck. The illusion beast didn’t bleed. It cracked like glass, shrieked like a violin.

Azriel shouted her name, his shadows tangled with the form, but they passed through.

“Don’t fight it like a warrior,” Y/N shouted. “Fight it like it’s a lie.”

Azriel paused, narrowed his eyes, then did the unthinkable.

He closed them.

And drove his knife into his own thigh.

The pain was real. Grounding.

The creature paused.

Y/N followed his lead, slicing her palm with her iron claws, letting the blue blood spill onto the grass. Her breath steadied.

“We are real,” she growled. “You’re not.”

The mirror-beast began to shake.

Then, it shattered in a silent implosion, collapsing into a pool of starlight, then into nothing at all.

Y/N and Azriel stood in the silence, panting, bleeding.

She smirked faintly. “Creative. I’ll give the bastard that.”

Azriel wiped his blade, glancing down at her hand. “Blue blood again.”

She raised a brow. “And you didn’t faint this time.”

He gave a breathless chuckle. “Progress.”

But they both knew, the forest was watching.

And the next trial was already waiting.

By the time the next challenge came, they were ready for it.

After the Mirror of Maw, neither Y/N nor Azriel had let their guard down again. Every step through Wildmere became a calculated risk. They learned quickly that brute strength wouldn’t be enough. This place demanded wit, patience, and endurance.

One moment, they found themselves navigating a river that whispered their greatest regrets in voices not their own—a siren-like hallucination that tried to lure them beneath its surface with promises of absolution. Another time, they were stalked by phantom duplicates of themselves, twisted versions that mirrored every move seconds before they made it—forcing them to fight with instinct instead of thought.

Once, they even found themselves in a grove where time reversed for everything but them—fruit rotting and unrotting on the branch, rain falling upward, Firkhan caught in a loop above them until Y/N used a sliver of her iron blade to slash the air and break the loop’s hold.

But none of it was enough to bring them closer to the heart.

They’d pushed through challenge after challenge, but the twisted forest still swallowed the path ahead in shadows. And worse—Firkhan hadn’t smelled anything yet. No pulse of dark magic, no sulfur, no blood-thick scent of Koschei.

The wyvern had descended three times, enormous wings stirring the trees like thunder. Each time, he’d only blinked those golden eyes and shook his head once before vanishing back into the sky, invisible against the dark clouds.

And now—

“I’m way past the time Manon had assigned for me.”

Y/N’s voice came low, clipped, frustration curling in every syllable as she leaned against Firkhan’s warm side. The wyvern lay curled in a hollow of moss and stone, his translucent wings tucked close to his body like an exhausted sentinel. His presence was the only steady thing left in the wild.

Azriel stood a few feet away, checking the perimeter, his shadows flicking with agitation.

“She’ll understand,” he said eventually.

Y/N scoffed. “You don’t know her.”

“No,” he said, turning slightly. “But I know what it’s like to feel like you’re failing someone who trusted you.”

That shut her up. For a breath.

Then- “We’re going in circles, Azriel. This place, this whole cursed forest, is playing with us.”

His jaw clenched. “And we keep playing back. That’s the job.”

“Is it?” She pushed off Firkhan’s side, iron nails catching the moonlight. “Because I didn’t come here to get toyed with by a dead god’s leavings. I came here to destroy something.”

“So did I,” he said, voice sharp now. “But stomping around like you’re going to slice your way through a thousand-year-old maze of magic isn’t going to get us there any faster.”

She met his stare. “What would you rather I do? Sit here and braid flowers into Firkhan’s mane while we wait for Koschei to start breathing down your High Lord’s neck?”

His wings flared slightly behind him. “I’m saying you’re not the only one who wants to end this.”

They stood like that for a moment—breathing hard, not from exertion, but from restraint.

Y/N turned away first. Ran a hand through her hair. “I just... I don’t fail. I can’t afford to.”

Azriel’s voice came softer. “You think I can?”

She looked at him then. Really looked.

His face wasn’t unreadable this time. The tension in his jaw. The shadows pulled close to his shoulders like a shield. He was just as tired. Just as haunted.

A long silence passed between them.

Then, Y/N sighed, letting her claws retract.

She leaned back against Firkhan, whose massive head nudged her gently, a low rumble of reassurance vibrating through the stone beneath them.

Azriel sat down beside her a moment later, silent.

Neither of them spoke again for a long while.

Only the forest did--breathing, pulsing, watching. Waiting.

And somewhere beyond it all… the heart still beat.

Waiting to be found.

Y/N turned her head to him. "You seem frustrated."

Azriel sighed letting out an angry growl "I have been trying to reach Rhysands mind, to talk to him, talk to anyone at this point, but it hasn't been working and I don't understand why."

Y/N looked straight ahead. "It won't work, so don't tire yourself out."

Azriel looked at her in confusion. "And why is that?"

Y/N didn't look at him at first. She simply leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as the low hum of Firkhan’s breathing rumbled behind them like distant thunder.

Then she said, voice level, “Because Wildmere was designed to be a prison. Not just for creatures or for gods, but for anything that might try to enter or leave without permission. Communication magic, winnowing, tracking, it all dies here. Gets eaten by the forest.”

Azriel stared at her. “You knew?”

She gave a small shrug, iron nails lightly tracing the ridges of her palm. “I suspected. The way the air feels… it’s thicker. Charged. Whatever magic was used to curse this place is ancient and primal. Older than either of our worlds can probably remember.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that earlier?”

Now she looked at him, her gaze flat and unapologetic. “What would you have done? Turned back? Panicked? Told Rhys to call it off?” A pause. “We’ve made it this far. Would knowing you couldn’t call home have changed how you fought through the last three trials?”

Azriel opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Because no,it wouldn’t have. Not really.

“I’ve survived in places where even thoughts aren’t safe,” she continued. “You adapt. You stop relying on help that isn’t coming. You move forward.”

A beat of silence.

“You really don’t trust anyone, do you?” he said, not accusing,just observing.

Y/N gave a soft huff that might’ve been a laugh. “Trust is expensive. I spend it rarely.”

Azriel looked away, shadows curling tighter around him as if shielding him from something unsaid.

Firkhan snorted, shifting beside them, his massive head lowering into the moss.

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” she added after a moment, more quietly. “I just didn’t see the point of wasting breath on something neither of us can change.”

Azriel finally nodded, slow and grim. “Then I won’t waste breath on it either.”

They both sat in silence again, the moment heavier now, not angry, just worn. Both aware of how alone they truly were in this cursed, forsaken place.

Finally, Y/N murmured, almost to herself, “If he really buried his heart here… then he meant for no one to ever leave with it.”

Azriel’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Then we’ll make him regret underestimating us.”

Y/N’s smirk was faint, but there. “Damn right, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel didn't know where this came from but it seemed like his mouth didn't listen to his brain as he blurted out "Do you have a mate?"

Y/N looked at him, wide-eyed, and then bursted out laughing.

Azriel was confused. "What?"

Still chuckling, Y/N looked at him once more. "We are witches. We don't have any mates."

Now it was Azriel whose eyes widened. "What- I mean...how? Doesn't everyone have a mate?"

Firkhan’s head lifted slightly, golden eyes glinting in the dark. He let out a low rumble that raised the hair on their arms.

Y/N stood, brushing moss from her trousers. “Enough talk. Time’s up.”

So she didn't like this one. Maybe this was too intimate of a matter for her. Or maybe she thought he didn't need to know this information.

Azriel didn't push, he rose beside her. “Let’s move.”

And once again, the forest swallowed them whole.

Suddenly, Y/N stopped and turned around to look at Azriel, eyes wide, as if she just realized something.

Azriel's brow lifted in suspicion. "What?"

Y/N, opened her mouth, eyes lost somewhere else as if she wasn't even talking to him.

Suddenly, Y/N stopped mid-step and spun around to face Azriel, her eyes wide, too wide. Not with fear, but realization.

Azriel’s brows furrowed, instantly alert. “What?”

But Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her gaze wasn’t even focused on him. It was distant, like she wasn’t seeing the twisted forest around them but something deeper, some hidden truth unfurling at last.

Her lips parted, and when she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “We’re being played.”

Azriel blinked. “What do you mean?”

She began pacing in a small circle, muttering mostly to herself. “We’ve been moving through challenge after challenge: endless, brutal. And they haven’t lessened. Not once. If anything, they’ve become more unpredictable. More desperate. But what if…”

Azriel stepped closer, shadows crawling silently across the ground. “Y/N.”

She looked up sharply, something wild and sharp behind her eyes. “What if the heart isn’t a place?”

Azriel stared at her. “Explain.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, gathering her thoughts, the pieces slotting together. “Koschei’s power is rooted in rot, decay, illusions. We assumed the heart was hidden deep within the Wildmere, that all this--the challenges, the madness--was just a wall we had to break through. But what if that’s the lie?”

Azriel tilted his head. “You think the heart is… everywhere?”

“No,” she said slowly, her voice gaining certainty, “I think the heart is within the challenges. Part of them. A piece hidden in every test, every horror we’ve faced. It’s like we’ve been walking through pieces of his soul.”

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, processing. “That’s why it’s been getting stronger, more chaotic. We’ve been stepping closer each time, not geographically, but… spiritually.”

“Exactly.” Y/N looked around at the ancient trees, the corrupted mist, the way the earth pulsed subtly beneath them. “This forest, it is him. It listens. It watches. We’re not searching for a location. We’re awakening it.”

Azriel let that settle for a moment. “Then what do we do next?”

She turned in a slow circle, iron nails flexing. “We speak directly to it.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “Koschei?”

Y/N smirked darkly. “Oh, he’s listening. Has been from the start. I say… we stop playing by his rules.”

Then she raised her voice, sharp and clear, her tone cutting through the forest like a blade:

“I know what you are. And I’m done dancing for you.”

Azriel’s grin was slow, dark, and full of promise. “Now that sounds like a plan.”

From the trees above, a low vibration answered--something old and furious, stirred at last.

And as if Koschei had been waiting for this realization all along, the scenery shifted, pulling Y/N and Azriel into somewhere else entirely.

The forest screamed.

Not with sound,but with movement. The trees began to shift.

Azriel had seen countless battles, had faced terrors that would break the spine of any ordinary warrior,but nothing had prepared him for this. For the way the earth itself groaned beneath their boots, how roots curled like skeletal fingers to drag them under, how the sky had turned a deep, bruised violet above their heads.

They had found the heart.

Or… it had found them.

Firkhan roared from above, his massive body circling violently in the sky, wings slicing through the thickening clouds. The wyvern’s translucent body was flickering between visible and invisible, the magic in the air distorting even him.

Azriel’s shadows lashed out, trying to scout ahead, but they shrieked back into him,blinded, confused.

Y/N stood beside him, her eyes blazing silver. Her iron claws were already out, gleaming. “It’s here,” she breathed. “He knows.”

And then-

The forest exploded.

Not with fire. Not with weapons. But with bodies. They came from the trees. Not beasts, not soldiers. Specters. Hollow things made of bark and blood, faces frozen in silent screams. They didn’t speak. They didn’t breathe. They simply lunged.

Azriel met the first with a flash of his blades, shadows curling up around his arms like a second skin. He fought silently, efficiently, but even he felt the press of chaos. Every time one was cut down, another took its place. They didn’t bleed. They didn’t die easily.

Beside him, Y/N fought like a creature out of myth. Her claws shredded through the phantoms, her movements fast, brutal. And when one got too close, she snapped with her iron teeth, tearing through bark like it was wet paper. But for each one she felled, more came.

"This is endless!" Azriel snarled, kicking a phantom back into a tree, only for it to melt into mist and reform again.

“They’re not meant to be beaten,” Y/N hissed, spinning and driving her claws into one of the specters. “They’re meant to wear us down.”

A blast of dark magic burst from a tree’s core ahead. The bark cracked and peeled back, revealing the heart. Not a heart of flesh—but a pulsing core of black and gold light. It glowed like molten metal, rhythmically beating in the trunk of a tree that stretched impossibly high.

Y/N’s eyes locked onto it. “That’s it.”

But then, the air grew cold. So cold, even Azriel’s Illyrian blood shuddered.

Koschei.

His presence slid over them like a serpent winding around a neck. He didn’t appear physically--just a voice, low and ancient, curling through the trees.

“You are too late. The forest is mine.”

Y/N staggered, clutching her temple as his voice clawed through her mind. Azriel grabbed her, pulling her behind him with one arm while shadows leapt to shield them.

“I’ve got you,” he growled.

“No,” she rasped, pushing away from him, blood now dripping from her nose. “We need to end it. Now.”

She stumbled forward,right into the path of one of the phantoms. It slammed its twisted arm across her ribs and threw her into a tree.

“Y/N!”

Azriel moved before he could think, slicing through two specters and diving toward her. She was curled at the base of the tree, blood blooming from her side, gasping through clenched teeth.

He dropped to his knees beside her, shadows wrapping around them both. “Don’t move. Don’t- ”

“It’s cracked,” she hissed. “My ribs- ”

Azriel didn’t let her finish. His hands pressed to her sides, shadows curling protectively. “Stay down. I’ll hold them off.”

“You don’t have time- ” she gasped.

But Azriel had already stood, wings flaring wide, blades glowing with shadows that roared to life.

The sky above them split, Firkhan descending like death on wings.

And still, the heart pulsed.

Still, Koschei whispered.

Still, the battle raged.

And somewhere in that madness, Azriel made a promise, not aloud, but in the marrow of his bones.

She would not fall here.

Not in his watch. Not in Koschei’s cursed forest.

Not when he had anything left to give.

Azriel’s wings unfurled fully, casting long, looming shadows over the shattered ground beneath them. Firkhan roared above, his distorted, flickering form cutting through the bruised sky like a living thunderstorm. The phantoms surged closer, an endless tide of twisted bark and blood, their silent screams a chorus of despair.

Azriel’s blades sang through the air, shadows coiling like serpents with every strike. He moved with lethal grace, a dark storm in human form, but even he knew brute force alone wouldn’t shatter this nightmare. The heart, pulsing with molten black and gold, throbbed in the center of the ancient tree, a beacon and a curse. It wasn’t just power, it was the very soul of Koschei’s corruption.

Y/N’s breaths came shallow and ragged at his side, blood darkening her iron claws and the forest floor beneath her. Azriel’s sharp gaze flickered between her and the heart, determination hardening his jaw. I have to end this. For both of us.

The specters pressed in tighter, relentless as the dark tide. Azriel’s shadows whipped out, forming a swirling barrier that absorbed phantom claws and bark-like shards, buying precious seconds. He knelt beside Y/N briefly, fingers brushing her cheek with a tenderness that belied the fury in his eyes.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, voice steady but fierce. “I’ll end this. I promise.”

She managed a weak nod, her silver eyes flashing once more with that fierce, untamed light. You always do, they seemed to say.

Azriel surged to his feet, wings beating the heavy, cursed air. He pushed forward, moving as close to the heart as he dared, the twisted bark of the tree pulsing beneath his fingertips. The core radiated an unbearable heat, not warmth, but something corrosive, devouring from within.

Koschei’s voice slithered through the trees again, low and venomous, “Foolish shadow. You think you can grasp what is eternal? What I have bound in blood and bone?”

Azriel ignored the whispers, focusing every fiber of his being on the heart. He reached deep into the shadow realm, calling to the ancient power of his bloodline, the shadows that were more than darkness, but living essence, sharp as blades and deep as night.

With a roar that shook the forest, Azriel’s blades ignited in spectral shadows, glowing with a fierce light that cut through the murk and decay. He struck the heart, first once, then twice, each blow sending waves of black and gold rippling outward.

The forest screamed in agony.

The phantoms faltered, howling in silent rage as their source was wounded. But the heart fought back, tendrils of shadow and rot lashing out, trying to bind Azriel in eternal darkness.

He faltered for a moment, pain biting deep as the corruption tried to seep into his soul. But Azriel’s resolve only sharpened, this was not just a battle of strength, but will.

Summoning every shred of shadow and steel, he drove both blades deep into the core, channeling his fury and hope. The heart shattered in a cascade of molten shards, exploding into a storm of blinding light and shadow.

The forest convulsed, roots recoiling, the corrupted mist dissipating like smoke on a wind long overdue.

Koschei’s voice broke, fractured and fading, “This isn't the end, shadowsinger...”

Azriel stood panting, wings folding back slowly, the oppressive weight lifting from the air. Around them, the twisted trees began to straighten, the pulsating heartbeat of corruption silenced at last.

Y/N groaned softly beside him, pain etched deep but the fire in her eyes undiminished.

Azriel knelt, reaching for her again, a tired but triumphant smile tugging at his lips.

“We did it,” he said quietly, voice thick with exhaustion and relief. “It’s over.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the forest breathed free.

And Azriel, shadowed and scarred but unbroken, swore he’d never let darkness claim them again.

Azriel sank to his knees beside Y/N, his breath heavy but steady despite the toll the battle had taken. The pulsating black-and-gold heart was no more, but the wounds it left behind were still fresh, both on the land and on them. Y/N’s breaths were shallow, each one a sharp stab of pain radiating from her cracked ribs and the blood staining her side.

He shifted his cloak gently, carefully trying not to jostle her too much. Shadows coiled around his hands, soft and cool, weaving delicate threads of healing energy. It was a power Azriel had kept mostly for defense, but now, with grim determination, he called upon it to mend what the heart’s corruption had broken.

“Hold still,” he murmured, voice low and firm. The shadows pressed against Y/N’s skin, knitting flesh and bone together like a masterful seamstress, sealing cracks in her ribs and staunching the bleeding. The pain didn’t vanish instantly--far from it--but it dulled, becoming a dull ache beneath the magic’s careful touch.

Y/N’s silver eyes flickered open, meeting his with a spark of gratitude mingled with exhaustion. “You… you always come through,” she rasped.

Azriel gave a tired, crooked smile. “I’m not done yet. You’re too important to lose.”

He eased her into his arms, careful and protective, letting his wings envelop them both like a shadowed sanctuary. The forest around them was already beginning to heal, corrupted leaves wilting and new green buds pushing through the undergrowth, nature reclaiming what had been twisted.

“We need to get out of here,” Azriel said quietly. “Stay with me. I’ll carry you.”

Y/N nodded, eyes fluttering closed as the healing shadows continued their work, easing the sharpness in her chest.

Azriel rose, wings spreading wide to shield them from any lingering threats. His steps were steady but swift, moving through the forest with the grace of a predator, the shadows parting before him like a living cloak.

Every heartbeat was a reminder--this victory was hard-won, but survival meant moving forward. And he would carry Y/N through whatever came next.

As the forest’s twisted grip loosened behind them, Azriel’s resolve hardened. He wouldn’t just survive--he’d make sure the darkness they’d faced never rose again.

Once they were out, Azriel winnowed them back. The familiar air of the House of Wind wrapping around him like a balm after the suffocating, corrupted forest. He carried Y/N carefully in his arms, her weight lighter than he expected, though the bloodstains on her side told a harsher truth. The others were gathered in the main hall, the tension in the room thick—like the air before a storm.

Mor and Amren stood near the tall windows, exchanging hurried words. Nesta and Cassian leaned against the hearth, faces drawn and exhausted. Rhys and Feyre were by the stairs, eyes sharp, concern etched deep.

The moment they entered, voices rose in a chorus.

“You took so long,” Cassian’s voice was rough but relieved.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to him. “How long?”

Cassian’s grim smile faltered. “Five entire days.”

Feyre stood up from the couch, coming closer to Azriel. "We've all been trying to reach you but we couldn't get an answer."

Azriel sighed, "It was the damn forest, the air in the, it's magic, I couldn't reach any of you either because of that."

A murmur rippled through the room. Y/N stirred slightly, getting down but still leaning against Azriel for support. He stiffened but didn’t pull away.

Rhys narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. “You’re injured. Are you alright?”

Y/N’s silver eyes flickered open. “I’m fine,” she said, voice steady but faint.

She looked at Amren and asked, “When can you open the portal again? I need to go back home.”

The room quieted at her words.

Azriel’s mouth opened, then blurted out before he could stop himself: “Do you really?”

Everyone turned, surprised by his tone.

He cleared his throat, voice rough. “I mean, you are injured after all.”

Y/N gave a small, wry smile. “Manon will be both worried and pissed. She already is. I’m way past the assigned time. I bet they all think I’m dead by now.”

Amren’s eyes glinted. “Give me a few hours.”

Y/N nodded, easing down onto the couch Feyre offered. Azriel never left her side, standing like a silent guardian.

Tea was brought, warm and fragrant, a sharp contrast to the cold metal taste of battle still lingering in his mouth.

The group settled, the fire crackling softly as they began to recount what had transpired in their separate quests. Mor and Amren spoke of the tidal cliffs, how the mirror-anchor shimmered beneath the waves, how the ocean roared with a power Koschei had tried to steal. Nesta and Cassian told of the Forgotten Vale’s haunted soil, the blood magic that bled from the earth itself, and how fire had cleansed the curse—though at a heavy cost.

Azriel’s mind wandered, watching Y/N carefully as she sipped her tea, the faintest flicker of pain crossing her face when she moved too sharply. He remembered the forest’s pulse, the way the heart had throbbed like a living wound beneath the bark, and the relentless onslaught of phantoms that had threatened to tear them apart. He thought of the shadows he’d summoned, not just to fight but to heal, to hold her together when the world had tried to unravel her.

In the quiet moments between their words, Azriel’s thoughts circled around a single, stubborn truth: they had survived, but the cost was far from over. The forest’s corruption was gone, but Koschei’s reach remained—fractured, yes, but dangerous.

"So, I guess my debt to Amren is paid at last."

And Y/N was leaving.

Azriel shouldn't care, after all, she did come here for the mission in the first place. But.... the moments they shared, the conversations they had....Azriel couldn't ignore that. His interest, his curiosity kept rising when he looked at her. She was everything and more that they said about her, yes. But she was also so different. He still had so many questions, so many conversations that he wanted to have with her.

Amren returned then, sharp-eyed and satisfied. “Alright, it’s ready.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose. Relief, maybe. Or weariness. Or regret.

They all followed her into the garden behind the House, bathed in the violet hue of the setting sun. The Sidra shimmered below, and the distant wind caught in the high pines.

Firkhan was waiting, perched like a statue of obsidian and smoke on the cliff edge. The wyvern’s translucent wings had returned to full visibility, glittering faintly in the fading light. He huffed once as Y/N approached, nuzzling her side gently--carefully--where she was still bruised. She placed a hand against his snout, murmuring something in her own language. Something old and sacred.

Y/N exhaled through her nose. Relief, maybe. Or weariness. Or regret.

Cassian, arms crossed but expression oddly soft, offered a nod. “You ever want to visit again, I’ll save you a sparring spot.”

Y/N smirked, the silver in her eyes brightening. “Only if you promise not to cry when I flatten you.”

Nesta arched a brow. “She’s serious.”

“I believe her,” Cassian muttered, half to himself.

Feyre stepped forward next. “Thank you, for what you did. What you gave. It wasn’t your war, but you fought like it was.”

Y/N inclined her head. “It became my war the moment I stepped into that forest.”

Rhys gave a small, approving smile. “And you walked out of it.”

“Barely,” Azriel murmured under his breath, but she heard it.

Amren was last. She held out a small, shining obsidian coin- an anchor token, Azriel recognized. Rare, dangerous, used for long-distance magical travel when gates were unstable.

“Send my regards to Manon,” Amren said. “Tell her I haven’t forgotten that bottle of blackfire she owes me.”

Y/N’s grin returned, sharp and wild. “She’ll pretend she has. But I’ll make sure she doesn’t.”

Amren gave a snort and turned, already bored with sentiment.

Y/N ran her hand along Firkhan’s scales once more, then turned to Azriel. The others, sensing something in the air, quietly stepped back. Shadows deepened in the corners of the garden.

He hadn’t moved.

“You’ll be alright?” he asked, voice low.

“I’ve survived worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

A pause. Her silver gaze met his. “I’ll be alright,” she said again, gentler this time.

Azriel nodded, but his jaw was clenched. There were still a thousand questions clawing in his throat. Not about war. Not about magic. About her.

She studied him for a long moment. “You could visit, you know.”

He blinked. “I- what?”

Y/N shrugged one shoulder, casual and not at all casual. “We’ve got plenty of cursed forests too. Would make you feel right at home.”

His mouth lifted in the barest smile. “And a brooding spymaster with too many shadows won’t draw attention?”

“I think we’d survive the scandal.”

Another silence, but not uncomfortable.

Then she looked to the sky. “Firkhan’s ready. And… they’ve waited long enough.”

Azriel’s hand twitched at his side. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t stop her.

But gods, he wanted to.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, one last time.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder.

His shadows curled around his boots, uncertain.

“I meant what I said. Back in the forest. I wasn’t going to let you fall.”

Something flickered in her gaze. “I know.”

And then she stepped away. Climbed onto Firkhan’s back with the ease of a queen mounting a throne. No crown. No farewell.

Just fire in her blood and steel in her spine.

Firkhan launched into the air with a blast of wind and light, his wings cutting through the violet dusk as they entered the portal and vanished completely.

Azriel watched until they were gone.

Until the stars blinked open, silent and still.

And still he stood there.

Because the thing he wouldn’t say--the truth clawing quietly beneath his skin--was that he hadn’t expected to care.

Not for the shadows she had walked through.

Not for the strength behind her teeth.

Not for the ghost of her laughter when no one was listening.

But he did.

And now she was gone.

She came into my world like a storm with no warning. And left just as fast. But storms leave marks behind. And something tells me… this isn’t the end of our story. Not yet.

[deansimagination]

oh my gosh this broke my heart, but in a tragically beautiful way😭

MARBLE ARCH | AZRIEL

SYN. a guide for idiots who are pining after someone who wishes not to be pined.

CW. she/her. fem!reader. angst. make sure you read part one before starting this one <3. mature content. yearning in a the most toxic way. angst. one sided/unrequited love. something unexpected happens. az is a prick but he comes to his senses later. fwb situation. 2.7k. not edited or revised. if you see mistakes look away. minors dni.

NOTE. this part is going to be a little bit longer since i think i can drag it out to a part three but i hate odd numbers so badly. reblogs are appreciated. comments are cute but begging for another part stresses me out. yes, there will be a part three. be patient!

PART ONE

The Winter Solstice was slowly coming to an end. The activities were endless but you kept your distance. Not after the whole mess Azriel had started. You barely glanced at him, keeping your distance from everyone and only interacting when asked too.

All of it was a distraction from the pain you felt in your heart. You were rejected in a sense that left you broken and embarrassed for even having feelings for someone who didn’t feel the same.

You sat at the table with Gwyn and Nesta. Picking at the fruits on your plate, you had no interest in having any interactions with anyone. Wanting to run off and hide. Anything to get rid of this feeling.

“Nice necklace.” You murmur to Gwyn, tilting your head to inspect it. You watch her look over at you, a blush appearing on her cheeks.

“Clotho said it was an anonymous person.” She replies, showing you the rose charm in a deeper light. But you knew it was from. You helped him pick it out with the intention he would give it to you.

You nod, ignoring the way Azriel’s eyes burned at the back of my head. “It suits you.” You murmur, eating a grape as you give her a smile. Trying to sound convincing before excusing yourself from the table.

“Nice necklace?” Azriel meets you in your room. Throwing a pillow at the back of your head. You watch it bounce off back onto your bed as you sigh.

“You can speak. I’m not permitting you from doing so,” he continues, keeping his distance. “You’ve ignored me for a week. Isn’t that enough for you to get over the last conversation we had?”

“With all good reason.” You shrug him off, sitting down on your bed.

“I’ve been staying away from Elain. Taking Rhysands word and yours. Isn’t that enough?” He continues, stepping closer to you before he takes a seat next to you.

He nudges you, trying to get your attention focused on him. He hated it when you ignored him, it made him feel worthless.

He whispers your name, the shadows murmuring your name seconds later—anything to get your attention. “If you have it in your heart to forgive me.”

“You insulted me,” you murmur, looking down at your slippers. The black jewels glistening against the light coming from the curtains in your room. “You compared me to her with the intent of breaking me.”

Azriel sighs, rubbing his face with one of his hands. Trying his hardest not to throw out excuses to cover up the mistake he had made. He didn’t understand that his words had power—a power that made your world stop just for his to keep turning.

“I was letting you down easy. We can’t keep going like this. It’s one sided.” He glances at you, studying the way your brows knit in disbelief or was it disgust? He wouldn’t blame you if you were disgusted with his actions, you were a woman with standards after all. A high fae woman with standards at that.

“One sided?”

He locked eyes with you. Ready to admit that he knew you love him. He knew all along and let it carry on. He knew it was wrong, letting you carry on and thinking you’d have him fully and wholly. He takes your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze.

“I know,” he whispers, taking his free hand cupping the side of your face. The touch was lost as it didn’t hold any warmth as it did in the past. “I know that you love me in ways I can’t replicate.”

It was as if comets struck Velaris. Your world stopped its unconscious orbit. Your hand slips out of his delicate grip that was now scorching to the touch. “No.”

He takes your hand again, this time dragging it across his chest to where his heart starts to beat at a soft rhythm. A rhythm you dearly missed. “I took note of the way your heart would beat anytime I would touch you. Be near you. When I would kiss you with the intent of just laying you down for the night. Not with the intent of loving you,” he murmurs truthfully. He looks you over, his fingers squeezing your own. “I knew for years. The yearning you had for me. I should have put a stop to us seeing each other knowing that it was destroying you.”

You break away from his touch. Looking away with embarrassment, utter embarrassment. It was as if you were a teenager again, getting called out for having feelings you had no control over. You wanted to cry, to hide, but you knew it would be no use. Azriel would find you even if that meant crawling through the depths of hell to find you first.

The shadows withdraw from him, swirling up your arm like cold icicles. Their whispers are full of worry, a worry that you’d do something brash. You scooted away from him, the shadows retreating back to their master as you wipe the tears that threatened to spill from your waterline. “You let me make a fool of myself. I was giving you my all and you knew that.”

Azriel swallowed, not wanting to back down. The way your voice was broken and small made him wince at the pain he brought forth upon you. An idiot he was for letting it get this far. For not telling you that he knew you were loving him in a way he wasn’t allowed to see himself doing back at you.

“It was wrong of me to let you live on like this. I should have told you sooner to save us both from the consequences. A sorry won’t cut it and I know that.” He murmurs, standing up from his place.

“Did you even think to change your mind before Elain came into the picture? Did you even think that one day a bond would snap in place for us? We have spent the last four centuries together. You’d think that would amount to something.” Your voice trembled with desperation, you didn’t want him to lie but right now a lie would save you from the feeling of having your heart torn out.

He says your name in one breath. Looking up briefly before thinking of what to say. “If the cauldron wanted us to be together. We would have already been mates.”

“It takes time!” You say a little too loudly but you were far past the point of caring. “It takes time damn it!” your voice quivered with disbelief in a soft whisper.

“Time that I don’t have! I’m not going to sit around and wait for something that won’t happen and neither should you! I am not worth being waited on!” He counters, stepping closer towards you. He knocked the wind out of you and you were certain you were going to pass out from the way he looked.

“You are worth being waited on! Can’t you see that!” You murmur, looking up at him. “You’re chasing someone who has a mate. A mate who desperately wants her attention and is giving that attention elsewhere.”

“Don’t say that about her,” his brows furrowed, he was ready to defend Elain with every ounce he had. “She didn’t ask to be one of us.”

You scoffed. Looking away, growing sick and tired of the back and forth. “No but she didn’t ask you to seduce her into nearly kissing her and she was going to let you do it! I was there—“ you shut up before finishing that sentence. Stepping away from him. You knew way more than he would like for you too.

“You were watching me?” Azriel uttered in pure disbelief, staring at you with a look you hadn’t seen before. “You mean to tell me that you watched Elain and I?”

You desperately pick at the skin of your nails, trying your hardest not to shrug it off, but this was a big deal—a big deal to Azriel. “I was but it wasn’t my fault that I saw you two. Just like how Rhysand saw you nearly kiss her!”

He squeezes his eyes shut, a long drawn out “fuck” reaches your ears. “You’re jealous.”

You scoff, looking away from him with a sloppy pout on your face. “No. I'm concerned. I’m not jealous.”

“Unbelievable,” he says under his breath, he turns around and heads for the door. “Can’t you see that I don’t love you the way you love me?”

You look at him before looking away. “I know,” you whisper with a shrug. “I know, okay?” You repeat again, plopping down on the cushioned chest.

“Then why haven’t you decided to give up?” He asks, standing there inches from the door. He no longer looks over at you, his eyes trained on the dresser in your room. The carved tree he had commissioned someone to do full of your jewelry. A gift he had gotten you years ago for the Winter Solstice but now he could barely look at it. He could barely stand the sight of it and how it was full of the things you loved.

“Because I hope that a bond will snap in place, Azriel,” you look down at your slippers, trying your hardest to come up with a good reason for him to leave you alone. “I can feel it.”

“You feel nothing but hope. You cannot force these things to happen,” he watches you stand from the chest. Regretting the way his voice rose with such intensity but by the mother, he was exhausted. Spent on a topic that shouldn’t even have started. You and him were only friends. Friends that had sex. Friends that helped each other. You were just his friend in the end. No attachments were meant to be formed. He kept his end of the bargain but you slowly had to fall in love with him.

He steps over to you, gripping both of your arms. “Even if a mating bond were to snap in place for the both of us. It wouldn’t be the match I want.”

You study him, the way his eyes held nothing but the truth. The shadows drew the two of you together, whispering to him before disappearing behind you. He had no reason to lie, his grip getting stronger. “You sound just like Elain.” You murmur in disbelief. You free yourself from his grip, a steady hand cupping his face.

He tries to pull away but you hold him there. You stare into his eyes, trying to decipher anything else he was feeling. Your free hand played with his scarred fingers, ignoring the way he tried to move away from you.

A strange sensation started to build up, the tension became unbearably suffocating. A strange friction in the space of your room felt like electricity crackling and popping. “Azriel,” You murmur in disbelief feeling something ripple down the bond between you and Azriel. A ripple that tugged the mental hold hard and strong. You pull away from him, clutching your chest.

He pulls away, stumbling back a bit. “Impossible,” he groans, rubbing his face. “There is no way this could be happening.”

Your face twisted into a deep sadness, a deep frown on your face to the way your eyes held nothing but an emotion he couldn’t recognize. It startled Azriel, he felt your pain, the heartbreak, the rejection. He felt a fragment of you but it felt as if he felt all of you.

A mate bond forged out of spite. A mate bond he is rejecting. He felt the tug but he didn’t tug back. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want you. He didn’t need you.

Before you could even say a word, he winnows out of your room, shadows linger before fading away. You stand there, staring at where he stood. You were at a loss, not sure what to do, what to say.

You weren’t sure how long you were standing there when Rhysand entered your room. You didn’t acknowledge him, still keeping your eyes on the spot Azriel had been standing in hours ago. Your brother may be the high lord and his duties were important, he didn’t have time to check on you constantly as he’d like. But Rhys was concerned about your behavior this past week.

“I felt a shift earlier. Mind explaining what happened?” He finally asked, squinting down at you. He takes note of the drained look on your face. He says your name with an ounce of authority. He wasn’t asking as your brother but as your high lord.

“A shift?” You shrug, finally moving from the spot you had been standing in. You retreat to the cushioned chest, finally taking a seat.

“I don’t have an ounce of time for games, sister. There was a shift,” he looks at you, taking a spot up against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a sigh through his nose. Your ears twitched at the sound, he was either annoyed or pissed. There was no in between when it came to your brother. “Did you do something?”

“No!”

Rhys went wide eyed at the way your shout riddled the whole room. Causing some of the drawers in the large dresser to come open. “Is this your way of saying you need someone else to talk to you? Mor perhaps? Amren? Nesta?” He starts listing off names. You shook them off. “Feyre? If you need me to grab her so you can tell her—“

“If someone rejects a mate bond what does that mean for the other person?” You cut him off, looking at your palms.

“With whom?”

You look over at your brother, tears forming in your eyes. You weren’t afraid but you were afraid of the wrath—his wrath. “Azriel.” You whisper, looking anywhere but at him now.

“Oh, how the fates are cruel to you, dear sister,” he sighed, pushing himself off of the wall. He makes his way over to you, making room for himself before pulling you into a one sided hug. He strokes the top of your head, letting you cry into him just like those tears when you were a child. He closes his eyes, sighing to himself. “He has his sights on someone else.”

You sniffle, not caring if your snot got on his shirt. “Elain,” Your voice is muffled but it was loud enough for him to hear. He squeezes you even harder in response, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I already know.”

Rhys held onto you before you started to grow annoyed with his questions. Kicking him out of your room was the only good feeling you had experienced for the whole day. But Rhys didn’t care, as long as you were smiling was all that it mattered.

With some well deserved support and words of encouragement, Rhysand made it your goal to try to speak to Azriel away from prying ears. So before you went to bed you came up with a plan to have a word with Azriel no matter how excruciating it would be.

It was past midnight, not a soul awake as Azriel entered your room making sure to tread silently. He stood at the side of your bed, watching the way your chest rose and fell.

You were wearing a lilac night slip, it was your favorite color, a color he liked best on you. He leans a little closer to you, taking in the soft hint of the perfumed lotions you always wore before heading to bed. His hand desperately travels up the navel of your stomach, the opening of the garment exposing your skin to him. Just enough for him to feel you in a way that was tender.

His eyes were trained on your face, making sure you didn’t wake to him being an intruder. His hands stopped just before he reached your breasts, he closed his eyes, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he forcefully lifted his hand away from your body. The shadows swirled around him in excitement, begging for him to wake you. To apologize—to admit he was wrong.

His lips brush against the corner of your brow, planting a soft kiss there before his lips traveled down your cheek, planting an even softer kiss. He pulls away, holding in a breath as he covers you up. His scent of arousal was heavy in the air and he was thankful you were a heavy sleeper.

He drags a finger down your face, his eyes studying your body. “I can’t.” He whispers sadly before disappearing.

[deansimagination]

One of my favorite things I’ve read in awhile!!!

Returning from a Mission

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/her pronouns used)

Word Count: 8.4k (I'm so sorry it's long, I couldn't stop myself)

Summary: Y/n has made it through three days away from her mate, exploring more about each other when they're finally reunited.

Warning/Notes: Aghgh, thank you all for the kind responses to my first fic, this is part 2, hopefully it does the first one justice! This one is definitely more on the mature side, so read with caution. Thanks for any feedback!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s back arched, cool, soft lips pressing against either cheek before slowly traveling down her throat. Teeth nipping and biting just so, her body moving of its own accord as the shadowsinger looms over her. His scarred hand flat next to her head, the other softly cradling the space connecting her neck and jaw. 

His deep hazel gaze soaking her in as her hands roam his bare chest, tracing the outline of his tattoos, doing the best to memorize every inch of him. Her limbs seemed to have a mind of their own, following the dips and curves of his muscles with smooth precision.

His wings flared as she accidentally grazed too close to the base of one of them. Her hands moving to the muscles of his back, pulling him more snug against her body. A gasp sounding throughout the room as she felt his hard length press into her through his leathers. She didn’t know if the sound had come from her or him.

She held her breath as the hand that cupped her, so, so softly began its descent. Tender touches along her collarbone, dipping to her breast where her nipples tried desperately to escape from the confines of her bralette. 

She flashed her teeth at her mate as his fingers ghosted ever so slightly over them, teasing her cruelly before skipping over them entirely and traveling along her stomach leaving goosebumps in their wake.  

A small chuckle came from him, “Patience, my love.” He cooed, tone making it evident that he was enjoying making her squirm, making her lose her mind.

Two could play that game. Without missing a beat, she cupped him through his leathers, a hiss escaping the shadowsinger as she leaned up, catching his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping softly. Elation flowing through her as he allowed her to take the reins. Continuing to palm him through his pants, she slowly coaxed his mouth with hers, kissing him leisurely, her tongue caressing along his, not dominating, but chalk-full of undisguised need. 

Her eyes flutter close in ecstasy, as long as she had this, had him, she could die happy, of that she was sure.

His skin was hot, and calloused beneath her fingers, likely from years of fighting, and it dragged along hers in all the right places as they continued to consume each other, quickly running out of breath the longer they refused to separate.

With the air in their lungs becoming increasingly more scarce, Azriel’s lips briefly left hers, trailing small, open-mouthed kisses down the length of her neck, between her breasts, and down to her navel. Each kiss more frantic, as if he was losing control over his actions, a leash pulled taught, ready to snap at any moment. 

He murmured the same word, “Beautiful”, after each pass of his lips over her skin. Her heart grew in size at the sentiment. He didn’t even seem aware that he was speaking, the word sealed between the two of them. She wanted to tell him that he was beautiful, too, that no one compared– but the words wouldn’t come out, her brain seeming to restart at each new kiss along her body.

His wings cocooned them, shielding them from the outside world entirely. Biting her lip, she allowed herself to wonder what it would feel like to touch them, to caress them softly. It never took Azriel more than a few simple touches to leave her a big gooey mess– and she had heard that Illyrian wings were very sensitive. 

Gods, even just the thought of being able to make him feel half as good as he made her feel had her body arching off the bed. 

His pants weren’t even off and he somehow had her more turned-on than she had ever been in her life. She knew if he dipped one of his hands down, touching her where she wanted him so badly to, he would feel exactly what he did to her.

He smiled into the kiss, flashing his canines, her lips brushing against them. It was a wicked kind of smile, one that promised pleasure, and maybe even a tiny bit of pain. This male definitely knew what he did to her. 

Y/n wanted to devour that look, wanted to capture it and keep it in a jar by her bedside. It was hers, hers, hers, chanting in the background of her mind, bouncing around chaotically as if trying to remind her of something.

“Focus on me, pretty,” Az whispered, his thumb quickly brushing along her bottom lip. The nickname set her body ablaze, her toes curling and her lips automatically sucking his thumb in, before quickly releasing the digit with a loud ‘pop’.

His eyes promised pleasure as he kissed her lips once more, tongues tangling together in a brief, but intense meeting.

Then he was moving, his body slowly lowering towards her legs, large hands peeling them apart, allowing for a perfectly Azriel-sized space. 

She held her breath, anticipation clawing at her from deep within.

 Now hovering over her clothed sex, he placed intentional nips and kisses along her inner thighs, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that turned her into a whimpering mess. A moan escaping his lips at her taste. She hoped he’d leave marks, that she would have something, anything, to remind her of this moment.

God. 

This male was a God, and she had somehow been blessed with the fortune of being able to love him, kiss him–

“Y/n.”

The world around her blurred, Azriel’s lips leaving her body entirely. A small noise of frustration slipping from between her lips. She just needed him to keep kissing her, to finally touch her where she needed him.

“Y/n–” 

She shook her head, hands clasping desperately onto his fading figure. She just needed a moment longer, just a quick–

Azriel disappeared completely, the darkness blooming into the blinding light of day. 

Y/n blinked up at her new-found enemy. Scowl seeming permanent as the face of someone she had once called a friend flooded her eyesight.

Nesta Archeron.

How dare she wake her up during one of the best dreams she’d ever had the pleasure of living through?

Revenge would need to be had, but maybe later. Perhaps, if she could convince the oldest Archeron to leave, she may be able to fall back into a fitful sleep filled with loving touches from her mate.

Nesta chuckled as her friend continued scowling at her, knowing exactly what she had done. 

“You’re going to be late for training, pretty,” she cooed, not missing how the girl’s cheeks flamed a color so bright, Nesta wasn’t sure it could be called red. 

Y/n groaned. Hauling a pillow over her face, blocking the sun and her friend from view entirely. Just one more–

“Nope,” Nesta plucked the pillow out of her hands, and tossed it across the room, then she yanked Y/n’s blanket to the bottom of the bed. Goosebumps running along her legs and arms at the sudden loss of warmth. 

Letting out a less than lady-like noise, she bolted upright, hands instinctively covering her chest where Azriel’s shadow usually sleeps. Caressing the small tendril in a ‘good morning’ gesture. It lazily roamed up her neck and to her cheek, staying nestled there, its own version of a good morning.

The little shadow always seemed to know what she needed, the comfort she had sought only able to be alleviated by something so closely related to her mate. She had an ever-present burning sensation in her chest since he had left, the burning only growing hotter the longer he was away. The coolness of the shadow always dimmed the uncomfortable feeling, she had no doubt that was why the little guy had decided that her chest would make the best pillow.

Nesta shook her head, “You are worse than Nyx when it comes to getting out of bed in the morning, I swear,” 

Y/n couldn’t really argue with that, she definitely did give the young heir a run for his money. But, she honestly couldn’t figure out why all of the fae in this household thought the only acceptable time to train was at the ass crack of dawn. Y/n wasn’t even a full person until at least ten in the morning, and three coffees deep.

“Training is no fun without Az,” she pouted.

Her friend gave her a bland look, “Based on the scent you’re giving off, you don’t need any more fun this morning.” Crimson splashed across her cheeks, Az’s shadow doing its best to hide the coloring, but also blinding Y/n in the process.

She heard Nesta mutter something about overprotective bats before holding up a book for her to see, “Here’s that romance book Gwyn and I were telling you about the other day, thought you might want to read it to get some inspiration.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Y/n knew the term ‘romance’ was putting it lightly, the copper-haired fae and Nesta Archeron were not known for their tame interests in literature.

But, Y/n had very little experience in the romance department, and had wanted some encouragement in the form of males written by women, so she’d asked the two fae about their favorite books, both coming to the conclusion that this was the best book to start with.

Flipping through a few pages, her eyes flashing wide at a few descriptions, what in the cauldron was an illyrian nipple twist? If this was considered tame, she couldn’t wait to upgrade to the books that turned Nesta into a blushing mess. 

“Thank you,” she spoke, Azriel’s shadow trailing along the page she had flipped to. She wondered if his shadow would relay her reading materials to their master, she silently hoped they would. She knew she wanted Azriel, well, everyone pretty much knew that, she wasn’t exactly subtle, but it was one of those topics that she had always felt weird bringing up.

She knew Azriel would be understanding and perfect, he would say all the right things, do everything in his power to make her comfortable, but she wanted to be enough for him without him having to guide her through it. She wanted to be the girl she was in her dreams, daring and alluring. She wanted to be everything that Azriel deserved.

Y/n gasped, the book slipping from her fingertips as she felt a pull deep from within her chest, hand flying to the warming spot, a smile lighting her face. She hadn’t dared to pull on the bond, worried about distracting him while he was on a mission, no matter how safe Rhys had told her it was. But, feeling him tug on it, she realized, in that moment, she never wanted him to stop.

Nope.

She could not go down that road, at least not yet. They knew each other well enough, she supposed. But, accepting a mating bond meant so many different things. It meant allowing another person the key to her very being, a twenty-four/seven whole-center access card to her soul. She had no doubts that she would get there with Azriel, in fact, she was quite sure she would be there soon, but– Azriel had said he’d wait, wait for her to be ready, and she didn’t want to risk messing this up. She wanted to give their relationship the proper time to bloom and flower into the beautiful gift from the Mother that it was.

 So, she tucked the piece of information away into the safest corner of her mind, making sure to harvest and nurture it tenderly, keeping it in the same condition she had found it.

Nesta rolled her eyes as Y/n lost herself to her thoughts, muttering under her breath about the oddity that she was– a girl who was so clearly smitten with her mate it put Feyre and Rhys to shame. 

Snapping her fingers, a common need when addressing her, Nesta reminded her to hurry and get to training, mentioning something about Cassian not going easy on her just because she was distracted.

Despite wanting nothing other than falling back into her glorious dreams and realizations, she padded her way to her armoire, pulling training leathers and a strap of fabric for her hair out. 

She had made it three days without her mate, surely she could make it through two hours of training.

Afterall, Azriel was coming home today, and she needed something to pass the time until she was in his arms once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n had missed Azriel desperately the past three days. 

Somehow she had convinced herself that it would be okay, that it’d be hard, but ultimately achievable. She had thought that because they hadn’t accepted the bond fully, that maybe his absence wouldn’t affect her as much. 

Oh, boy, had she been so agonizingly wrong.

As soon as he left her that day in the House of Wind, a faux floor had emptied her heart straight into a chasm unaccessible to her. She physically felt like she was missing something, like a part of her had cut itself loose and vanished without a trace.

When she had poked Rhys for more information about mating bonds, he had enlightened her that it wouldn’t make a difference if they had accepted the bond yet or not. Apparently spending more time together, opening up more and accepting each other, had slowly begun stretching and kneading their bond into the shape it was meant to be. According to Rhys, the mating bond was more than just the acceptance, but also the work and love that each person gave to it, their commitment the foundation. She wondered if that was why some bonds didn’t work out, if somehow a fae could ignore the intoxicating pull that always brought her to Azriel, her worry about his happiness and safety two of her closest friends.

She hadn’t had a chance to ask anymore questions, though. Cassian had come barreling in, effectively ending the conversation when he told Rhys he was needed for a ‘little accident’, that definitely wasn’t his fault, but also required ‘immediate assistance’ from the High Lord.

Suppressing a smile, Y/n watched the two males closely. It warmed her heart to see them interact in such a warm way, knowing that they were that way with Azriel, too. She didn’t know much about Azriel’s past, he had told her bits and pieces, but she hadn’t wanted to pry, so she takes what little information he allows her the honor of knowing. 

But, seeing him have Rhys and Cassian as brothers, it made her so happy for him. He deserved every ounce of happiness this world could offer, and she was glad to see he had found a small piece of the world that was just his, she couldn’t help but blush, wondering if she was now a part of that small corner. She certainly hoped so, and would be praying to the Mother tonight to get in her good graces, she’d rather be safe than sorry when it came to her and the shadowsinger’s fate. 

After speaking with Rhys, and dutifully ignoring the lingering smell of smoke and what smelt an awful lot like burnt bread, Y/n found herself in the library, looming over a text about herbal remedies and medicinal means of healing poison effects. She thought keeping her mind busy would help pass the hours before her mate finally arrived home. 

She hadn’t wanted to let the loss take over her life, so she had tried to maintain being a helpful member of the Inner Circle the past few days. Between going to meetings with Rhys and Feyre, the latter insisting on going to an art show in the Rainbow afterwards, staying out late with Mor, reading during the day with Nesta, and doing a few wine tastings with Amren she had hardly had a moment to think about that feeling fighting so desperately to take over her. 

Not to mention the torture sessions that Cassian referred to as ‘training’, that she attended daily. She shivered at the memory, the commander had definitely not gone easy on her as his mate mentioned.

Even at night the Mother had seemed to bless her. Sure, some may think it torturous to have hot dreams about their mate and not be able to act on them, but to her they were as close to reality as they’d come.

She was a glutton, the only way to satiate her?

Hot dreams about Azriel.

Y/n was grateful, truly, not a single member of her family had let her drown, she just wished Azriel hadn’t had to suffer alone. She would make sure she made it up to him, for as long as he’d let her.

It wasn’t until close to evening, Y/n eyes feeling as if they would start bleeding any moment, that she began feeling the ever-present burning sensation in her chest begin to lull, as if the tension was beginning to lessen. That must mean–

He’ll be home soon, Rhys’s voice swam through her mind.

Y/n startled at the intrusion, still not entirely used to the High Lords abilities. He had been helping her with her mental shields the past few days, whenever either of them had a free moment, and she had managed to keep them solid, but her shields against his daemati abilities never really stood a chance.

Nevertheless, butterflies erupted within her belly, her nerves hitting their peak. She quickly closed the book she had been numbingly reading the past few hours, making sure to note the page and paragraph so she could return to it later, before heading to the bookshelf where it lived, returning it just as she had found it. Clotho– or gods forbid, Gwyn– were two people she did not want to be on the wrong side of.

 Taking a deep breath, her hands placed haphazardly on two of the shelves in front of her, she tried to calm her scrambling thoughts. What would she say? Did she hug him? Would she have to let go? Did he want to spend the rest of the night with her, the way she wanted to spend it with him? Did his family have first dibs? Would she have to stand aside and find the patience to allow all of his family to greet him and hug her before she did?

“You are my family.” A cool voice whispered in her ear from behind. “My most important family member, one could argue.” His lips grazing her ear, his voice a melody she hadn’t been able to replicate in her head.

Y/n froze, her eyes closing on instinct. 

She hadn’t even heard him enter, had been so caught up in her worry that she hadn’t felt that last bit of tension completely deflate within her chest, replaced with a glowing warmth and a feeling of such fullness– she could feel the tear that leaks down her cheek. 

She felt whole again. The missing piece clicking into place with no more than a soft, loving tug from his end. 

His hands ghosted up the sides of her arms, the heat radiating off of him all too consuming. Has he always smelt so good? Surely a male who had been traveling for hours straight, after a three day long mission, would smell… not amazing? His night-chilled air and cedar scent enveloped her, but there was something else, something sweet and intoxicating, something that made her want to devour his very being. Something that made her want to be devoured.

His hands still traveled along her body, touching her, just barely, everywhere he could from where he stood behind her, as if to reassure himself that she was here, that she was okay. She couldn’t stop her head from falling back against his chest as his euphoric touch reached the base of her neck and into her hair. Her fingers reached up behind her to trail along his cheek, feeling the slight stubble that had grown.

She watched as the shadow that had kept her company the past few days reunited with all of the other shadows. The little guy slithering from her wrist to Azriel’s, at least a dozen others wrapping around her body with their phantom touches almost as intoxicating as the shadowsinger’s slow menstrations of her body. 

She hummed as he placed a small, affectionate kiss just behind her ear. His arms now caging her in around the bookshelf she shamelessly gripped with one hand. Her breathing uneven as she whispered, “I missed you,” the hand grounding her to this world, moving from his jaw down the length of his arm, only stopping when their fingers touched. Her hand covered his as she laced their fingers together, relishing in the pulse she could feel fluttering along her soft skin.

“I missed you, too,” His words were low, a kiss placed on her shoulder, as he leaned his head against hers.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, her pressed against the bookshelves, his chest flush with her back, hands laced, and just existing together. It could have been one minute or ten, either way, she didn’t care. This moment was the most relaxed either of them had been in three days.

“Will you– I need to see you,” he begged, his ragged voice a symphony in her ears. How was every part of this man sexy?

Slowly, she turned around their eyes meeting for the first time in three days, and Y/n didn’t quite know what it was about her mate’s eyes, but every anxiety that had shoved itself inside her mind the past seventy-two hours evaporated. Poof, gone with a meeting of eyes, a panty-melting gaze, beautiful golden orbs drinking in the sight of her as if she were a masterpiece he needed to memorize.

Then his eyes flicked down to her lips. A brief movement, one she would have missed had she not been ogling this man like a piece of meat. She found both of her hands cradling his cheeks, now, her thumbs aimlessly brushing along the bones, basking in his attention being fully on her. 

“How did you sleep the past few nights?” He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes that caused the narrowing of her own.

Her suspicion didn’t stop the heat that was surely clawing its way up her throat and to her cheeks, remembering her nights–

A gasp sounding throughout the room as she felt his hard length press into her through his leathers. 

“Focus on me, pretty,”

Azriel’s nose dragged along her neck, a rumble coming from him as he inhaled her scent, her quickly growing arousal all too noticeable. She gasped as he licked a stripe up her throat, a quick, open-mouth kiss being left in its wake. Her body arched into his, feeling him in a way she’d only ever dreamed of before, and oh boy, they did not do him justice. 

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” She murmured absently, her body delighted by his touches, not missing the way his shadows wrapped themselves throughout her hair, writhing around her legs, arms, and stomach. Their cool essence off-setting the blazing fire building within her.

He chuckled, that breathtaking grin taking over his features, “your sleep, my love?”

“Oh–” Her fingers clutching his leathers, now, holding him flush against her, refusing even a breath of space, “It would have been better if you were next to me, holding me.” 

For Cauldron’s sake, the cord between her mouth and her brain had been severed somewhere in between Azriel’s teeth grazing that sweet spot on her neck, that drove her wild, and where his hands roamed the length of her back.

He seemed to startle at the admission, neither of them expecting such an honest answer.

His smile brightened to a level that put the sun to shame. The area between his brows crinkling slightly, his eyes twinkling like a small boy being given the best gift for Solstice. 

“I see,” he cooed.

“That’s all you have to say?” She gawked, he still had something brewing beneath his gaze, something that promised nothing but trouble.

His eyes softened in a way that was only meant for her, a gift that only she got to witness. The pad of his thumb traced the few freckles that sat along her nose and jaw, “If you would allow it,” he began softly, his eyes tracking the movement of her mouth once more. Her tongue flicking out absently, wetting her bottom lip. “Perhaps we could remedy that tonight.”

“Azriel,” she feigned shock, her hand flying to cover her growing smile, “Are you asking me to sleep with you?” 

It was moments like these that Y/n wished she were an artist like Feyre, watching a warm, pink color tint the Spymaster of the Night Court’s cheeks left her itching to memorize the sight, to put brush to canvas and paint the rare sight. 

He sputtered a few times, not coming up with a coherent response, before she put him out of his misery, “I would love to sleep with you, shadowsinger,” offering him a small smile, followed by a suggestive wink.

Azriel’s eyes pierced into hers, his hazel eyes so dark they appeared black with desire. His mouth only a space away, she tried to connect their lips, but her mate stepped away, keeping his hands on her to insure her steady feet.

A whine came from her lips at the loss of contact, she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him, so why would he pull away?

Taking a shaky breath, he spoke, “I have to go debrief with Rhys real quick. I wanted to see you first. And, if–” He paused, his hands returning to his sides, running through his hair roughly, “If we start–” He couldn’t even seem to say the words without fear of losing all control. There was only a small– okay, a big– part of her that felt undiluted pride at the way her mate fell to pieces in her presence. “I can feel how much you want this, want me, and believe me– that feeling is mutual, but once we start I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop without you telling me to do so.”

She bristled at the thought, causing him to give her a look as if to say, You see the problem?

She nodded her head in understanding, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would tell him to blow Rhys’s debrief off and fuck her senseless, but that was absolutely not going to work. So, instead she clamped her mouth shut, clasping her hands behind her back and quelching that all-consuming desire deep within.

It was in that moment, free of his electrifying touch, that she realized just how tired her mate looked. He had slight bags under his eyes, his skin pale and slightly gaunt. 

Y/n cursed silently.

He must be exhausted, he had flown to the Mortal Lands and back, completed his mission, she could only imagine what that entailed physically. Not to mention the mental and emotional strain she knew he had to have been going through. She had had such unrelenting support, but her mate had had to go through it all on his own, how could she be selfish in a moment like this?

.She needed her mate, but first, she needed to make sure he was safe and comfortable. She wanted to take care of him the way he always took care of her.

“When you’re finished–could we take a bath?”

His head whipped up so quickly, she worried he may get whip-lash, his hands reaching for her before thinking better and dropping them an inch from her skin.

His eyes were wide, liquid hazel burning into hers. They seemed to ask a question he didn’t want to put into words, together?

Nodding, a small smile forming on her face.

“Of course,” his voice gruff, taking a step back. He shook his head slightly, doing his best to hide his own smile and–was that another blush? Had she made the Spymaster of the Night Court blush twice in one night, no, in five minutes? She was on a roll, taking notes mentally so she could continue to make him blush for years to come.

He took two steps towards her, seeming to hold a leash on himself as he kissed her head, his hands tense as he held them tight to his sides. She didn’t see him raise his eyes to the roof, praying to every God that existed to lend him their strength, for the Mother, Fate, and anyone else listening to give him the patience to sit through an hour of debrief with Rhys, while his kind, smart, beautiful mate waited to take a bath with him. 

Cauldron-save him now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n tried to keep herself busy while she waited for her mate.

It only took a few minutes to collect the items she wanted accessible during their bath. Some of her lavender and lemon soap, along with a view of her favorite body washes, she had never actually bathed with another person, so she didn’t know the protocol.

Was she supposed to strip down and wait for him in the bath, or on the bed? Did he want to strip her himself? Would they strip separately while eating eachother alive with their eyes?

She groaned, falling back onto his massive bed, her friendly shadow trying to soothe her anxiety as she cursed her inexperience. She wished she’d spent today reading up on how to take care of her mate instead of about medicinal herbs that cleared fungal infections and skin irritation.

Y/n had managed to secure a few of Nesta’s favorite books to bribe the House of Wind with, the sentient House still a mystery to her. She didn’t need to understand how it worked, though, because the House was more than happy to fill and keep the bath hot, while leaving fluffy white towels and robes for the two.

She was pulling the pins from her hair, allowing it to fall down her back and running her hands through it when she heard the door click-open. The best kind of nerves swarming her belly.

Without waiting a moment longer, she left the bathroom, stopping abruptly when she entered the main bedroom. 

Azriel was already looking at her, his eyes alight with the same emotion he had left her with three days ago. She could place it now, knew what that look meant, but she still needed to hear it from him, have him say those three words to her, before she let them free in her mind, her heart. 

Seeming to understand her thoughts, he closed the distance between them in three long strides. His hands cupping her cheeks as he placed his mouth on hers, kissing her with feral passion. There was nothing sweet or gentle about the kiss, his tongue swept over her top lip once, then twice, his hand grasping her hair, tilting her lips up, a whimper escaping her, as his tongue took the opportunity to dive in. His tongue tangled with hers, the fight for dominance only lasting a few moments before he won. 

He kissed, and kissed, and kissed her. Capturing the sounds coming from her with his lips and breathing them into his soul. 

Once breathing became difficult, Azriel always seemed to know when she needed a moment, he pulled his warm lips from hers, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as his forehead fell against hers. 

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for three days straight.” He admitted, his gaze never wavering from hers. “It was incredibly distracting,”

“Let me make it up to you,” She murmured, clasping his hand and dragging him into the bathroom.

A wicked smirk flirted with his mouth, “Oh, believe me, love, I have some ideas.”

Her cheeks heated as they both stopped before the tub, facing each other, so close their toes kissed. 

Looking into his eyes, they shined with understanding and trust, he looked at her in a way that let her know she was in charge, that he would follow her lead, no matter what. 

Slowly, so achingly slow, she began to unbuckle his leathers, a slight tremble in her hands as she tried to remain calm. 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she breathed, afraid that speaking the words any higher would make them even more terrifying.

“Follow your instincts, pretty, there’s nothing you can do that I won’t love, won’t cherish.” 

Y/n head whipped up, her eyes clashing with his, her fingers still deftly removing his leathers, thankful her mate had taken it upon himself to remove his own weapons. 

“What did you call me?” She asked incredulously, that wildly suspicious look coming back to his face. 

Running his nose along hers, smirk dancing along his face, he spoke with a devilish tone, “Whatever do you mean, pretty?”

“Oh my gods,” He helped her remove the shirt beneath his leathers as she finally freed him from his confines, his pants going next. “You’ve only ever called me that in–” Snapping her mouth closed, she cut off her words, crimson splashing along her cheeks.

“In your what?,” he cooed, “May I?” A nod toward your body. 

Somehow having this conversation made the moment less awkward, and more endearing as he helped remove her shirt, her pants going quickly after as his eyes took on a heavy sheen, trailing slowly over her black lace undergarments, picked out with Mor, specially for him. 

“My dreams,” she panted as Azriel met her eyes once more, a question in his eyes as he eyed her breasts hungrily. Unclasping her bra, she allowed the fabric to fall between them.

He hummed, his eyes drinking in the beautiful sight before him, her peaked nipples calling his name. “Interesting, isn’t it?” his fingers trailing down her arm, clasping their hands together as they both stared at one another in nothing but their underwear. “How vivid those dreams were…” 

Oh. Oh, Gods. 

Did that mean–

“You sent them?” She screeched, a full, uncontrolled laugh escaping from him.

In one clean motion, his shadows helped remove the last of both of their clothing, his muscled arms sweeping her up and sitting them both down in the tub before she had a chance to ogle him. 

“I couldn’t have my precious mate having nightmares while I was away could I?” The sincerity in his voice warmed her heart, he had sent them not only because he was missing her, but because he hadn’t wanted her to suffer while he was away. How had she gotten so lucky with this male?

“I don’t understand, though. I thought your side of the bond was closed, I couldn’t feel you at all.” 

Y/n took the moment to grab some of her shampoo, gesturing for Azriel to turn around, helping guide his head to her chest as he faced the opposite direction. Slowly, carefully she cupped water into her hands, wetting his hair before lathering the soap softly into his scalp. The big-bad illyrian warrior letting out a string of soft noises as she continued her ministrations. 

“It was, most of the time. During the days when I was… indisposed, it made it easier to focus. But, when I settled for the night, I – I wanted to make sure that you were doing okay, so I opened it.” He spoke softly, tracing some kind of symbol absently along her legs as they sat on either side of him.

“The first night, I missed you so much, that at first it was just my imagination, my desires,” she couldn’t see him, but could hear his voice catch ever slightly, “I told myself that I would open the bond just for a moment, just to make sure that you were okay, that you were safe. My instincts haven’t exactly been efficient lately, not when it comes to you.” He muttered the last part more to himself than her. 

She thanked one of his shadows as it pushed the conditioner closer to her, ensuring she wouldn’t have to move to access it. Washing the soap out of his hair, once, and then twice, she coated his ends in the conditioner, placing a kiss atop his head, a silent plea for him to continue.

She could listen to his voice for hours.

“I didn’t quite realize my lack of control when it comes to you until that moment. Once I opened the bond, I couldn’t bring myself to close it until the next morning. And I sat awake for hours, waiting for you to fall asleep, but no matter how long I waited, you never did.”

She remembered that first night, she had thought she felt a shift in the bond but had chalked it up to being so far away from her mate, unsure of the new feelings happening within her chest. She hadn’t been able to sleep, tossing and turning in her bed for hours, she had eventually given up and drifted her way to Az’s room, stealing one of his shirts to sleep in so she could engulf herself in his scent. It was the only thing that helped lull her into sleep.

“I wanted to make sure you were well rested, I knew Cassian was going to drag you out of bed soon, and that you’d hate every minute of it.” His eyes rolling to the top of his head, locking with hers. A sweet, intimate smile shared between the two.

“So you sent your thoughts, your–desires, down the bond to me.” She finished for him, watching the muscles in his back strain as he sat up, his membranous wings flicking bits of water off of them. 

Turning to face her, he grabbed a bottle of soap, and held his hand out, asking permission. Wanting nothing more than to be closer to him, she allowed him to take her arms and pull her closer, rubbing her skin with the lavender scented product. Slow movements that had her reeling, soft breaths leaving her in a flurry. 

“Thank you,” she spoke softly, both of them knowing she meant the dreams more than his careful washing of her, though that was just as perfect. “They were the best parts of my day, getting to touch you, see you, hear your voice,” their eyes holding each other stare magnetically, his long, scarred fingers intricately following along her skin, not leaving a single spot unexplored. “It was the only thing that dulled the ache, that stopped the overpowering uncomfortableness that settled in my bones the moment you left.”

He seemed to let out a sigh of relief, as if only her confirmation could settle the small thought in the back of his head that worried he had pushed too far, given too much of himself when you weren’t ready. 

Y/n couldn’t help herself, she wanted to reassure him that she wanted him, indescribably so. Climbing into his lap, the water and suds sloshing over the rim of the tub as she adjusted on top of him, his large hands holding her hips so she could sit comfortably. Her breasts laying against his bare chest, the feeling of every glorious inch of him utterly euphoric.

“Is this your soap?” he asked, amusement evident in his words. 

Y/n felt her cheeks heat. She had hoped he wouldn’t notice, but she supposed that was stupid. He was the Spymaster of the Night Court, noticing the small things is quite literally his job. 

 Did she know that Azriel has his own soap? Of course. Did that make a difference to her? Not even a little. So what if she wanted him to smell like her, surely lavender and lemon-zest smelt good on everybody, it’s not her fault that she felt this all-consuming need to claim him in every way. Not to mention she was sure that simply being around him would take far too long to integrate her smell back onto him, she needed to give it a boost. Hence, the soaps. 

She wouldn’t apologize, merely offering him a shrug, allowing him to see all of her through their bond. 

Arms tightening around her, holding him more solidly against him, he said, “I love you, Y/n.” The air in her lungs caught somewhere in her throat, her head shaking slowly, trying her best to digest the words, to absorb them into her skin, her very being. 

“I don’t expect anything from you, I just thought you should know–”

“I love you, too.” She sighed, a weight removed from her shoulders as the words passed her lips. Her hands cradling his face as a tear slid past, his eyes closing as he loosened a breath. She tried to chase his tears with her thumbs, ultimately deciding to kiss them away, catching as many as she could in the process.

“I never– never thought I would have this, someone to love, to appreciate wholly, a mate that, somehow, against all my faults could love me back.” He whispered, his voice cracking.

Y/n shushed him, holding him to her, afraid that any space between them would pop the bubble they’d built. Her gaze collided with his, “You are perfect to me, Azriel. We still have so much to learn about each other, but gods, everything that I do know, is perfect. Not perfect in a way that makes me want to put you under glass and keep you away from sunlight, but in a way that is so unconditionally you. Your ‘faults’,” she hated the word, even as it passed her lips, “Are what make you who you are, they’re what make you distinct from everyone else, and I am so grateful to be able to call you mine.” 

Azriel swiftly lifted the two of them from the bath, holding her in his arms bridal style as he padded toward the bedroom, both of them naked and covered in suds. 

She wasn’t sure where the towels were, didn’t particularly care as Azriel deposited her onto the bed, standing straight as he drank in her entire body. His wings only made him look bigger as the moonlight cast on him through the window. 

“Az,” she panted, “Please,”

Smirking, he finally moved, his hands gripping either of her knees, “Is this okay?” he asked, arousal from both of them already mixing and coating the room. 

She nodded, words stuck on the tip of her tongue, her body jolting as he slid to his knees, careful not to let his wings touch the floor. Without warning he pulled her forward, pulling her to the edge of the bed, her toes curling as his warm breath met the inside of her thighs.

“I need your words, pretty,” if she hadn’t been so lost in her own arousal, waiting on bated breath for him to finally close the distance between them, she would have realized that they were picking up where they’d left off. He was on his knees before her, finally breaching that last line between them, love showing in both of their gazes, their actions. 

And, there would be no waking up, this was really happening. She felt herself tighten at the thought, Azriel’s gaze narrowing to the singular movement. 

“Fuck,” he barked, leaving a trail of kisses up her thigh, saliva connecting them all as he breathed her in. He sucked and nibbled on her thighs, no doubt leaving them full of hickies. 

She wanted him to mark her, she wanted to see the evidence of him all over her tomorrow morning.

“Please, Az, please touch me.” Her hand moved of its own accord, slowly massaging her breasts, needing any kind of friction as her mate took his time tasting her skin. 

Azriel didn’t need anything else, that tight tether finally seeming to break.

Thank the gods, she thought.

Azriel let out a near animalistic growl when his lips finally came to hover over her sex, his tongue wetting his lips, eyes staring at her as if she could be his last meal and he’d be able to die happy.

“You’re the perfect one, pretty, gonna make you feel so good,” Y/n moaned loudly, not caring that there were other fae living in this house, when his tongue finally met her center. He groaned, his hands gripping her hips and holding her down, keeping her from rutting against his face. 

The languid flicks of his tongue nothing short of torture as he took his time tasting, nipping, and licking at her center. His tongue splayin flat against her throbbing clit, suckling her wetness as she slowly lost her mind.

His ministrations didn’t stop, not as she tried to buck her hips, or when she grabbed onto his hair, trying to find anything to keep her from falling through the veils of the universe.

She lost all sense of herself when he inserted a finger inside her, pumping in once, twice, and then curling right around her core. Moans were falling from her mouth in troves, unable to control any noises coming out of her. 

He added a second figure, the noise of his licks and pumping mixing together in one of the most erotic sounds she had ever had the pleasure of hearing. “You taste devine, my love, might just have to eat you for breakfast every morning.”

His fingers moved in and out of her quickly, his tongue still attacking her small nub as he devoured her whole. She could feel herself lifting, the bed beneath her disappearing from her senses almost entirely, the world zoned into the man feasting on her, a high traveling so quickly to her, she knew she had no choice but to allow it to take over. 

“That’s it, beautiful, let go for me, let me taste all of you.”

Azriel moaned loudly as he tasted her wetness, her body exploding in a burst of pleasure so intense, a small scream left her lips involuntarily. She tried catching her breath as he continued his tortuous motions, coaxing her down from her high slowly, the vertigo slowly dying down as he continued to work her body smoothly.

Slowly, so utterly slowly, he removed his fingers from her, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His pupils blown wide, her slick shining on his lips and jaw, he looked like a God with his hair pulled in every direction from her death-grip. And, when Azriel lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking all of her juices off, careful not to miss a drip, his eyes never leaving hers, she could feel her arousal spike again.

Her legs were jelly, there was no way she’d be able to move, thankfully, Azriel seemed to understand as he met her on the bed, his body leaning over hers, body covered in a glorious sheen of sweat, his tattoos glistening in all their glory. 

His lips met hers, softly, cupping her cheek. She could taste herself on him, the mix of her arousal and his mouth making her moan. “I love you,” she whispered, as his kisses trailed down her throat, sucking lightly, leaving nips and love bites behind. 

“I love you, too,” he said back, pouring all of that love through their bond, his lips meeting hers once more. 

She gasped as she felt his length press against her leg, skin on skin making her shiver with anticipation. 

Azriel was well-endowed to say the least. Not a lick of imagination needed as she felt herself ogling him, she reached down, trying to keep her wits about her despite his loving caresses. 

She wanted to make him feel as good as he had just made her, a feeling so intense, she had no doubt the mating bond had enhanced it– the connection, the intimacy. He hissed out a breath as she wrapped her small hand around his length, her hand not even large enough to wrap entirely around his member. That didn’t stop her though, if anything it encouraged her. 

Meeting his gaze, bringing their lips together once more, she gathered some of her own slickness up, mixing it with the precum pouring from his tip, she used it as lubrication and slowly, tortuously began pumping him in her hand.

His breath hitched, his eyes closing tightly, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip. She couldn’t help but use her other hand to trace the tattoos on his chest, matching her strokes and eliciting small, undeniable whimpers from the beautiful specimen of a male. 

“You–” the catch in his low voice, the sexiest sound she’d ever had the pleasure of hearing, “are going to be the death of me.”

She tutted, stroking him harder, faster, “We can’t have that, now can we, pretty,” His eyes shot to hers, a full-body shutter coming over him as he came, his cum covering her hand and stomach in the most beautiful piece of art he’d ever seen.

She continued to coo, to slowly help him come down, as he had her, surprise rolling through her when his cock  remained semi- hard despite just experiencing one of the most euphoric orgasms he had ever had.

It was her turn to flash a wicked smile as he folded into her, his head falling into the crook of her neck, taking just a moment to catch his breath, gather his bearings. “Who would have known all it took to send the shadowsinger spiraling would be to call him pretty,” she mused, utter adoration in her tone, and maybe, just a tad bit, of teasing. 

He groaned, “Rhys and Cassian can never find out.”

She laughed, his fingers shadowing along her arms, as they caught their breath, neither of them willing to part from each other, despite the mess they’d made. 

A few silent minutes passed, before y/n made to move herself, not making it far before her mate caught hold of her arm, dragging her back towards him and tucking her into his arms, her body heating with desire as he nuzzled against her, flicking her hardened nipples. He was already hard as steel, once more.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty? I believe I still owe you six days filled with just the two of us.” Wicked delight dancing behind his eyes, a promise that she couldn’t wait to fulfill.

Their eyes never straying, an understanding washing over them both, they had more than six days, they had forever.

[deansimagination]

the endinh… so what if i cry and throw up?😭

i hate that i love you

reader x azriel | they were once best friends and almost something more, but now they are enemies with a burning, unresolved desire—they promised to never cross the line that they drew, but one night it’s all it takes to forget that promise.

warnings: suggestive language, smut & curse words.

words: 5.7k

a/n: i decided to try something different, it was my first time writing something like this, so, i hope i did well.

masterlist

hate—a feeling of intense animosity, aversion, or disgust toward something or someone.

the perfect definition to describe the relationship with the person you hate most in this world.

the male known throughout the entire territorial expanse of prythian.

the male known by many names and titles.

the male that many fear but that you have to restrain yourself from punching every time you see him.

the male that irritates you as easily as he snaps his fingers and that makes your blood boil like water in a kettle.

azriel.

the infamous shadowsinger.

the relentless spymaster of the night court.

one of the most famous illyria's bastards.

who else could it be? 

everyone who knew you, or had heard whispers of your name, knew that you and azriel were opposites of each other.

where one was, the other could not be.

and if you both happened to be together in the same space, screams, insults, and fists were to be expected. 

it was rare the moments when you two went from verbal to physical but never impossible.

the members of the inner circle—rhysand, cassian, morrigan and amren—were witnesses to such a fact.

in fact, the first three had been the witnesses to the downfall of your relationship with azriel, because yes, you weren't always enemies.

no, you had been friends—best friends—in times that were now unknown, that were now covered by a fog between reality and imagination. 

you and azriel had hated each other for so long now, that your family wasn’t really sure if there was ever a time where you two had actually got along. 

four hundred years had passed.

four hundred years of pure hatred, resentment, anger and brutal animosity.

and to this day, none of them had any idea of what had happened between you—not even a clue of what might have happened, much less a theory of what really happened.

you had been inseparable. your relationship had been the envy of many who wished the same—a loyalty, trust, respect and affection like no other.

cassian and rhysand went as far as to make bets on when the two of you would finally give in, put your stubbornness aside and assume your feelings for each other.

the three friends were absolutely certain that you were destined for each other and that there was no way you would not end up together. 

but it seems that fate had other plans.

from one day to the next, just a few hours apart, in a matter of a second, everything changed. 

the sparkle in your eyes that was reserved only for azriel faded, and the smile that azriel had unlocked from his coldness and indifference meant only for you, disappeared.

over the years, the inner circle tried to reconcile you, hoping that you could put the past where it belonged and start over.

several plans were put into action, one attempt after another, but always without success.

it came very close to the desired result on many occasions, but it simply never happened.

despite everything, all the conversations, all the attempts, the two of you were never able to forget whatever had happened.

you and him would never be the same again.

and so, the inner circle stopped trying. 

but things were different now. 

everything had changed after the fall of amarantha and the liberation of prythian from her clutches.

new people had entered your lives, new alliances had been formed, and a rebuilding of a new world had begun.

but those weren’t the only changes that had occurred.

your relationship with azriel had also changed—much to your displeasure and surprise.

after all, you were no longer just enemies bound by a past.

you were now bound for the rest of your lives by a golden thread around your hearts that extended to the heart of the other.

mates. 

funny how fate works, huh?

••• 

the living room was quiet, except for the sound of the cups of tea. 

and of course, the screams coming from upstairs—your screams and azriel’s.

rhysand sipped from his teacup, sitting next to feyre who was swirling the spoon to mix honey into her tea with cassian in front of him eating a cookie while nesta tried to read a book.

rhysand sighed and ran a hand over his face, “it’s going to be a long night.”

feyre looked between cassian and rhysand, placing her teacup on the small coffee table to take a freshly baked cookie from the platter, “what exactly happened?” 

cassian answered her, his beard slightly stained with cookie crumbs. “they’re arguing about the mission. they both had different ideas about how to act and the mission ended up failing, now they blame each other.”

“you shouldn’t have sent them together,” nesta said, closing her book and holding it in her lap. 

“i know, but i had no choice, they were the only ones qualified for this mission.” rhysand defended himself, taking another sip of his tea.

before any of them could speak again, the sound of a door closing and locking echoed throughout the house, making the contents of the cups rattle. 

a minute of silence followed, all eyes fixed on the ceiling of the living room as if waiting for something.

“it seems like it’s over,” feyre whispered, as if afraid of breaking the peace that had been offered to them.

a peace that didn’t last long, because soon after they heard loud knocks on the door, followed by the calling of your name. 

“here we go again,” cassian said, biting his cookie.

••• 

firm, loud knocks sounded on your bedroom door, followed by a voice full of frustration and anger “let me in.” 

it was an order, you could tell by his tone, which only made you even more irritated.

“fuck you,” you replied back, as you finished unpacking your backpack and putting your clothes in their proper drawers.

the mission had been a fiasco and the last thing you wanted now was to continue this argument that seemed to have no end.

your blood was already boiling hot, a little push and things would be taking a very different direction. 

he knocked harder on the door, the wood creaking with the action. if that wasn’t proof of how angry he was too, his next response was.

“open the fucking door.”

“no.”

a firm and low whisper of your name escaped between his lips as a form of warning “i will barge through this door if you don’t open it right now.” 

you scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes at him even though he couldn't see you, “i'm sorry, i don't remember asking you anything.”

you didn't need your fae hearing to hear the growl he gave, you could feel his temper rising right through the door. 

he stopped knocking and you heard him turn the doorknob in hopes of opening the door, which brought a smirk to your face.

“idiot,” you whispered, your eyes on the t-shirt you were folding.

“i heard that,” a particularly loud knock landed on the door, which only caused your smirk to widen even more.

“good, that’s a sign that your old age isn’t catching up with you.”

a second whisper of your name reached your ears and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes a second time. 

“go bother someone else,” you said, your voice a little louder than usual, a sign that your patience was starting to wear thin.

“you're my mate. you're enough for now.” 

you stopped your movements and closed your eyes.

mate.

that word.

that damned, damned, damned word. 

such a small word but that it was enough to awaken the bond.

and just like that, all of your walls were down and you and azriel were one.

there was no line where you began and he ended.

the bond was strong enough to make you feel things that took all your willpower to keep from happening. 

but there were times you just couldn't resist to act on it, and this moment, was one of those times.

you left the rest of your clothes unfolded and headed towards the door before turning the key and unlocking it.

you could only hope that you were only opening the door to your bedroom for the male and not the doors to your heart. 

as you returned to your previous position, grabbing all the unfolded clothes and discarding it on the desk chair, the door to your bedroom opened.

azriel swung the door open, stepping inside the bedroom before shutting it behind him.

he leaned against it, bringing his arms to cross over his chest. his eyes darkened at the sight of you.

you were, now, standing at the foot of your bed, in just a pair of black lacy panties and a t-shirt that was about two inches down your belly button.

his expression softened slightly, making his anger falter for a second before, “when i tell you to do something, you do it. it's not a request.”

you had to bite your tongue to keep you from snapping at him. 

you knew he was talking about the mission—again—and you, at this point, were more than fed up with that talk, so, you weren't going to continue to fuel that discussion. 

you turned to him, your eyes meeting his, “excuse me? say that again and my hand will be on your face faster than you can pronounce the word ‘mommy’.” 

azriel pushed himself off the door and walked towards you, he now wore a smirk on his face caused by your words. 

“go ahead, love. i won’t stop you,” he said, his tone dripping with that arrogant confidence of his, “even though you’re just all talk, you and i both know you don’t have the guts to lay a finger on me.”

the corners of your lips rose, and you studied him as he got closer and closer to you, his eyes sliding over your figure.

you took advantage of his brief moment of distraction to stretch your arm behind you towards the bag before grabbing your favorite object, the one that could describe you in the best way—brilliant and lethal.

one moment the male's eyes were on your legs, and then they were on the blade of the dagger that was now pressed against the skin of his neck, the cold material contrasting with his warm skin.

"are you sure about that, shadowsinger?" your smirk remained intact as you studied his reaction.

your smirk turned into a full grin, a hint of amusement in your eyes, “what’s wrong, baby? cat got your tongue?”

just like your smirk, azriel's also changed, his eyes taking on the same amusement as yours and when he took a step back, you took a step forward.

“you don’t look very threatening right now, love.” his hand found your hip, but somehow, to his surprise, you didn't push it away.

he took the chance to slide his hand under your small shirt to rest in the same place as before, but with his scarred hand now touching your soft skin.

“i’m not your ‘love’.” you said, the tip of your dagger pressing a little harder against his skin.

as a reflex, azriel lifted his chin to give you better access, his smile still in place, “you almost had me, love. but you are definitely giving me ‘bad girl on the outside but sweet girl on the inside’ sort of vibes.” 

you couldn't help but laugh, your eyes now shining with amusement at your banter “do you want to know what kind of vibes you give me?”

you continued to walk in sync, one step back and another forward until the male's back hit the wall, him resting his back against the surface at the same time his hand gave your hip a light squeeze.

“hm, do tell me, love.”

you leaned forward, just enough so that your chests were a few inches from touching and your voice lowered two tenths, your tone now low and sensual “small dick vibes.”

his smirk fell from his face, he clenched his jaw and his hand on your hip pulled you to stand closer to him while his free hand reached up slowly to wrap around your hand that was still holding the dagger against his skin “care to repeat that, love?”

you took another step towards him, your smirk never faltering for a second, “small dick vibes.”

he looked at you with a sharp gaze before his face turned into a smug expression, a grin forming on his lips as he tugged you closer to him and his voice dropping to almost a whisper, “hm, you want to find out just how big it is?”

his smile grew when this time, it was your smile that disappeared and something unknown shone in your eyes.

suddenly, your breathing become heavier and your heartbeat faster.

the mating bond playing its role in perfection at the worst of times.

“no. . . ” you managed to say after a long moment of silence in which you just stared into his hazel eyes.

azriel’s hand let go of your hand that was holding the sparkling object and reached out to touch you, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and then fitting it on your neck.

“your lips say no, but your body says a different answer.”

you snapped out of the trance you were in, all reactions due to his proximity, before pushing him against the wall and shaking his hands off you, “get off me.” 

he let you push him against the wall, placing his hands at his sides for support. a hint of irritation invaded his eyes while maintaining eye contact with you the entire time.

“are you going to use that dagger then, love? or are you just going to use your pretty little hands instead?”

when you didn’t respond back, his grin grew and he tilted his head down so his eyes were level with yours, and he spoke softly, in a tone of arrogance and sensuality, “or maybe you just want to use your pretty little mouth.”

the room was invaded by a loud noise as the palm of your hand made contact with his skin, causing his head to spin completely to the side with the impact.

“asshole,” you said, your voice almost a shout, as you watched his cheek turn red from your hard slap. 

he kept his head turned to the side for a moment as the room fell silent before slowly turning it back to you. 

his gaze was hard and his voice sharp when he spoke next, “gods, i fucking hate you,” he said before crashing his lips in yours.

•••

once again, all eyes were on the living room ceiling.

the family members were trying to detect any any sounding—a scream, a slap, furniture breaking, anything.

but they don't nothing.

complete silence.

slowly they lowered their hands to look at each others. 

“it's. . .quiet,” feyre said.

“that's. . .unusual, and concerning.” rhysand added, looking at cassian. 

“what do you think they're doing upstairs?” cassian asked, looking between the three of them.

“honestly,” nesta said, opening her book again and starting to read “probably killing each other.” 

•••

azriel’s hand slide to the back of your neck before gripping it firmly and pulling you against him, capturing your lips in a hard, demanding kiss, desperate to shut you up.

you didn’t waste a second in kissing him back, your hand dropping the dagger at your feet to find his face. 

his hand on your neck joined his free hand and both slid down to your ass, squeezing it for a moment, before sliding to the back of your thighs and lifting you off the ground.

your legs encircled his waist, a gesture that felt so natural, as if they had always belonged there.

azriel reversed your positions, now pressing you against the wall. he deepened the kiss, his hands returning to your ass holding you in place and drawing a gasp from you.

in turn, your hands left his face and traveled to his shoulders, your fists closing around the fabric of his shirt and pulling it up.

the male grinned at your action and broke the kiss, his lips an inch apart as he spoke with his breath against your face “do you want me that bad, love?”

“shut the fuck up,” you demanded, not wasting time in crashing your lips against his once more.

but soon enough, azriel was pulling back again, “just admit it. admit it, you’re that desperate for me.”

he seriously needed to start reading the room better because this was definitely not the time to be with this lameness.

you grabbed his jaw, your hand pulling him closer to you, “azriel,” your tone was almost lethal, leaving no room for argument, “you either shut up and fuck me or you leave.”

 he went still for a moment, his breathing heavy with his eyes roaming your eyes and lips. 

“you’re so irritating,” he pulled off the wall and soon, your back hit the mattress, and azriel moved to hover over you, his hands on either side of your head.

“good choice,” you said, grabbing his neck and kissing him hungrily.

he bent his legs and spread them so that your legs would also spread apart with the movement, the back of your thighs resting against his and his knees on each side of your hips.

he rose up on his knees, breaking the kiss and bringing his hands to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging it impatiently, “this needs to come off.”

“then what the hell are you waiting for?” you asked, looking up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

his eyes darkened and without any warning, he grabbed in the middle of your shirt and ripped it off of you in a swift and precise move. he threw what was left of it to the floor before he looked down at you, his gaze drinking you in.

“gods, you’re beautiful.”

“i know.”

he chuckled at your words, and removed his t-shirt as well. he leaned down again, and pressed his lips against your neck, finding your pulse point, leaving wet kisses as he traced a path to your collarbone. 

his lips continued its path, reaching your bare chest. he buried his head between your breasts before moving to one of your breasts and closing his mouth around your nipple. 

you closed your eyes in response, a soft moan escaping your lips as you arched your back off the mattress.

he turned his attention to your other breast, aiming to elicit the same response from you again, and when you did and he was satisfied, he lifted his head to look at you.

he kept his eyes on yours as he lowered his lips against your skin to place one last kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

azriel rose up on his knees again and once again, studied you for a long moment, “you’re a sight to behold,” he murmured, his scarred hands caressing the bare skin of your thighs.

“i know,” you repeated, breathlessly.

he laughed, and lowered himself against you, kissing your neck, and leaning to whisper in your ear “you’re so cocky, love.” 

he nuzzled his nose against your neck, just below your ear, biting that sensitive part gently and eliciting another moan from you.

your hand traveled to the back of his head and when you found his hair, you tugged on it, “honest,” you corrected him.

he let out a moan of pleasure, and he turned to look at you, “honest,” he said, and his lips began to place kisses again towards your chest, but this time going lower and lower.

you let go of his hair and brought your hand to the top of his head to pat it softly, “good boy.”

he growled at your words, his eyes finding yours again and his hand gripping your thigh in annoyance, “don’t call me that.”

your smirk returned, and when azriel saw the mischief in your eyes, he knew you weren’t going to let go of that, and how right he was. you lifted your torso on your forearms, and repeated “good boy.”

he turned his head to bite the inside of your thigh before letting out a low growl again, “say that again and i’ll turn you into a goddamn mess.”

your hand returned to the top of his head and your fingers slid through his silky hair before gripping his strands in a clenched fist, “good. . .boy.”

he growled again, and lowered his head to place one last kiss on your stomach, before grabbing your legs, lifting them from his thighs and spinning you around on the bed.

with you now lying on your stomach, the male’s hand landed on your ass with a firm smack before gripping your hips and pulling you against him, placing you on your hands and knees.

“hold on tight, love. you’re in for it now.” he warned, before starting to undo the ties of his pants. you hid your smile in your arm, and waited for him to get rid of his clothes, missing his skin when he got up from the bed to do so before returning.

an unexpected moan escaped you when you felt his bare skin on yours.

azriel's hands found the fabric of your lacy panties and just like your t-shirt, in a matter of seconds, they were ripped on the floor.

“those were my favorite pair, you idiot.”

azriel smirked and placed a kiss on your lower back, before gently smacking your ass again.

“i’ll buy you new ones, love, don’t worry.”

“you better. fucking asshole.” you muttered but not low enough to stop him from hearing, your face turned behind to look at him over your shoulder. 

azriel placed his hands on your hips again and pulled you against him once more.

one hand now rested on your lower back, while the other grabbed his member and brought it to your entrance. 

he brushed against your folds, causing your toes to curl, “look at you, all ready for me.” 

you rolled your eyes at him, causing him to chuckle and giving your ass another smack “watch the attitude, love. you’re not in a position to sass me.”

“or what?”

azriel grinned before pushing forward and entering you in one long and deep thrust and the room was filled with your moans mixing.

azriel closed his eyes and let his head fall back, a string of curses escaping from his lips. 

your hands gripped the sheet, and you bit your lower lip to stop yourself from following the same path as azriel and letting out a bunch of profanities.

giving you a moment to adjust, azriel’s hands caressed the skin of your lower back and ass, running them up and down in soft circles.

“you're okay?” azriel surprised himself with the question but didn't take it back. his eyes were focused on the back of your head. 

“going soft on me, shadowsinger?” you asked, your eyes open and a cocky smirk on your face.

“never,” he said, his hand landing on your ass a third time before he started moving his hips gently and slowly at first.

your moans began to mix with azriel's as he increased his pace. 

was all he could hear, your moans and how fast and heavy your breathing was.

he didn't need to hear your heartbeat to know that it was beating just as wildly as his, just like he didn’t need you to tell him that this didn’t feel like a regular sexual encounter. 

he knew perfectly well that you were feeling much more than just that, and so was he.

it was as if your senses were even more heightened during this moment, everything was more intense, deep and alive—the mating bond doing its part. 

azriel couldn't help but think about the words his brothers had said earlier and how right they were—nothing could compare to being with your mate, there was no comparison that could be made. 

“this doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice breaking him from his thoughts.

azriel groaned, both in pleasure and irritation. he couldn't agree with your statement, because he didn't know if he could continue to remain indifferent to you, and to be honest, he didn't know if he wanted to continue that way. 

his brain screamed one thing while his heart screamed another. 

“we’ll see about that,” he said simply, increasing the pace of his thrusts, letting the little irritation he felt guided him. 

the change in pace caused your moans to increase in pitch, your body going forward with each thrust. 

“you’re such an asshole,” you said with a heavy breathing, one that matched with azriel’s.

“and you’re infuriating.” he shot back.

“jerk,”

“brat,”

“bitch,”

at your name call, azriel had to blink his eyes several times to make sure he hadn't just imagined that, that those words had actually come out of your mouth and been directed at him. 

“excuse me?” he asked, his hip movements never giving in. 

“i said. . .bitch,” you repeated, clearly you had no problem repeating your insults directed at him but on the other hand, why would you? 

azriel didn't scare you and you were definitely not afraid of him, in fact you didn't even have any reason to be.

despite your many arguments, exchanged insults and sometimes slaps, punches and knees, you would never be able to seriously hurt each other. 

and not just because the bond didn't allow it but because you were physically incapable of such a thing—and you both knew it, even if you'd never admit it.

azriel couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, you calling him 'bitch' was just too funny. 

one hand remained on your hip while the other slid up your bare back, reaching the length of your hair and wrapping it around his hand before pulling, making you arch your back and lift your head. 

the moan you let out sent a shiver down azriel's spine, causing the hairs on his arms to stand up, “is that so?”

the pace of his movements accelerated, his thrusts now stronger but still deep, making you feel every inch that came out and went back in. 

“who’s the bitch now?” he asked as he continued his brutal—but very welcoming by you—pace.

“you, you’re my bitch, shadowsinger,” you managed, your moans being temporarily replaced by a big, heartily laugh.

azriel was glad you found that funny because he didn’t. 

his hand left your hip and went to the middle of your back. azriel pushed you down, your chest now against the mattress, changing the angle of your hips. 

the change of angle allowed azriel to go deeper, making you feel every inch of his length and thickness. 

your mouth fell into the shape of an 'o', and you lowered your head between your arms. for a few minutes all that could be heard were your moans, your inability to form words causing amusement in the male behind you. 

“what’s wrong, love? cat got your tongue?” he said, using the same words you used against him moments before.

“fuck you,”

“i already am, love.” he said, bringing his hand to the curve of your ass.

“fucking asshole,” you murmured. 

“language,” azriel’s grin widened, his expression becoming more cocky.

the sound of skin against skin, along with the muffled sounds of moans and heavy breathing filled the room, blurring the windows and the mirror above the dresser.

“i hate you,” you replied, stretching your arms out in front of you on the mattress and tilting your head back a little when you felt azriel tugging lightly on your hair. 

“the feeling is mutual, love,” the male replied with his smile still intact, his hand releasing your hair and coming to rest on your lower back. 

shortly after, your breathing became heavier and heavier as that sweet sensation grew in your cores. 

you raised yourself up on your arms, starting to move your hips in sync with azriel's, the movements meeting in the middle. 

“don’t stop,” you said softly, but your tone carried an order.

both of your moans grew louder, your release getting closer. 

azriel used his hands to squeeze your ass, a gesture that caused you to clench around him and which provoked azriel to deliver a particularly strong and deep thrust.

together, with a loud moan and a deep growl, you and azriel achieved your release. 

the male continued his movements, getting you both through it until there was nothing left. 

you collapsed on top of the bed with the male following right after you, your entire body now against the mattress and his body on top of yours.

azriel’s chest was against your back, his arms came to wrap around your neck and shoulders keeping you encaged between him and the mattress.

his forehead rested your shoulder blades while yours rested on his muscular arms.

you were both silent for a long moment, as you worked on catching your breaths and calming your hearts that were still beating like crazy. 

after a few minutes, you raised your head and placed wet kisses on his biceps. 

as you traced a path on his arms, azriel spoke, his voice quiet and slightly still out of breath, “i missed this.”

your movements faltered, and you looked into the empty for a few seconds before allowing yourself to say, “yes, i missed this too,” a beat of silence and then, “but you’re still an asshole,” you said, your breathing almost back to normal.

“hm, have you noticed that you insult me a lot? is it because i’m illyirian?” azriel asked, half serious, half joking. 

“what?” you asked in surprise, turning your head to the side to meet his face, “no, of course not. i insult you because you irritate me and because rhysand said that insulting is much healthier than hitting you.” 

azriel laughed, a genuine smile replacing his smirk of before.

“but i’m serious, azriel,” you kept your eyes on his, “i don’t care if you're illyrian. i never saw you as anything other than the male you are, not even as a bastard. you never were one, at least not in my eyes.” 

azriel remained quiet, his smile slowly disappearing from his face in contemplation of your words. he couldn't hide his surprise, after your disagreement, this was the nicest thing you had said to him in all those centuries.

his heart tightened in his chest, and he sighed, lowering his head towards your shoulder and placing a kiss before looking you in the eyes again and whispering a small 'thank you'. 

you nodded and turned your head forward, running your hands through your hair as the male watched you for a moment before lifting himself off of you, taking all of his weight off. 

carefully, he pulled out and with a hand on your hip, he turned you to lie down on the bed, your back against the mattress with the softness of the sheets caressing your skin.

azriel parted your legs and kept his eyes on you for a second longer than necessary before lowering himself. 

he settled between your thighs, pushing in again until he was completely buried inside of you before bringing his forearms to rest on each side of your head.

as he looked at you, his gaze now holded something different, something unknown to not only him but to you too.

his hands found your hair, meddling with it, until his thumb found the skin of your forehead and softly caressed it.

you looked up at him, studying him with the same intensity he was, wrapping your legs around his waist, with one ankle over the other—as if to make sure he couldn't escape. 

azriel lowered his head, his nose brushing against yours, one, two, three times before he whispered very lowly, “i hate you.” 

in turn, your hands found the skin of his back, until they went down and found the beginning of his wings, caressing them tenderly.

you watched azriel's eyes being invaded by pleasure and felt his skin heating up.

“i hate you,” you said back, in a soft whisper that could only be meant for his ears and not the world.

your tones of voice were now loaded with different feelings and with different meanings.

it was now your tones that made clear what your words did not. 

all the words that were not spoken, all the thoughts that were not revealed and all the feelings that remained hidden, were sealed by a kiss.

a kiss that old books and stories could only describe as a kiss of true love.

•••

the sun was already peeking through the curtains, the light of a new morning warming the room and hitting the male who was still sleeping peacefully next to you.

with your head resting on his bicep, you looked at his sleeping face while your hand slid through his black curls, gently pulling them back.

you sighed. four hundred years had to pass before you could be back in his arms but still, after last night, you couldn't forget the past.

no matter how hard you tried, those events would always be in the back of your mind.

your hand fell to his face, tracing the line of his jaw before settling on his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin.

you could feel the bond swimming through your veins, telling you that this was where you belonged, that this was where you always belonged.

but your brain screamed at you to run away.

you took a deep breath, and your hand slid to his lips, caressing his lower lip, ignoring the burning you felt in your eyes. 

unable to hold it in any longer, you closed your eyes and gently brushed your nose against his chin, feeling your heart tighten more and more—with longing and pain. 

“i hate that i love you,” you whispered. 

you let yourself stay in his arms, savoring his touch and his smell for a few more seconds before lifting his arm from your waist and getting out of bed. 

grabbing your clothes, you tiptoed to the door before quietly opening it and entering the hallway, but not without looking back at the male sleeping in your bed one last time. 

with a heavy chest, you left the room and closed the door. 

and you didn’t allow yourself to look back.

a/n: thank you for reading!

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjnalvarez @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley @mahiiis-world

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because i couldn't find your blog.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[deansimagination]

absolutely loved this— what an interesting storyline

Nightmares (Azriel X Reader)

Your nightmares are caused by something Azriel did in the past.

Word Count: 1800

            You found yourself alone in the library a lot, covered by your favorite blanket with a good book in your hand. Sometimes you spent time in the library just for the sake of reading, sometimes it was to spend time with Nesta, but some nights, like these, it was to escape your nightmares.

            The embers of the forgotten fired ebbed across the room, and you set down your book, watching. You loved your life here, the house gave you everything you needed, you trained with Cassian, painted with Feyre, read with Nesta, and even went dancing with Mor. You ate good food and felt safe, for one of the first times in your life.

            Guilt ate away at your stomach as you thought about Azriel, his dark eyes and smile he reserved just for you. You had tried your hardest to get close to the male, and some weeks were better than others. Your feelings were always so conflicted around him, on one hand, you were drawn to his quiet stature, the calmness that seemed to radiate from him comforted you, but when you were asleep, you saw him in your nightmares.

            As you watched the dying embers, the memory of your first encounter with Azriel came back to you.

*

You were running from the Autumn Court, with no money to your name and no clothes but the ones on your back. One minute you were running, and the next, you were colliding with a large figure, which knocked you to the ground.

            You had recognized him as the shadow singer from the night court, and the way his eyes pierced yours, wings tensed as if he was about to take off, was a sight you would never forget. He had grabbed you then, and after hours of flying, you were thrown into a dungeon under a mountain, in the night court.

            You were cold, terrified but knew that even if you escaped, your home was gone, up in flames, and your family….your family was gone too. After only hours, you had lost the will to escape, and after days of no food and water, you finally saw Azriel again.

            He had the high lord behind him, his face was blank, void of emotion. “Well, hi there.” Rhysand stands in the corner as Azriel shuts the door, his arms find his chest as he crosses them. Although Rhysand was the one speaking, your eyes could not look away from the figure before you, his large wings, large stature and the dagger he casually flicked around in his hand.

            “We just have some questions for you, then maybe we can let you go.” Rhysand gave you a smirk, nodding to Azriel who moved forward. You cowered back, your back hitting the damp wall. You looked around, for anything to save you, but all that was at your disposal a few chains and bloodstained walls.

            “Please.” You whispered, hands shaking as you looked between Rhysand and Azriel. “I’ll tell you anything.”

            You felt talons scrape against your mental shields, and your eyes widened at the high lord. “Please no-“ You fought to maintain your shield, something your father had taught you to do, but the exhaustion from your lack of sleep and weakness from no food was catching up to you.

            “What do you have to hide?” Rhys voice echoed around your mind, and you shook your head fervently. You looked to Azriel again, and his eyes bore into yours, no trace of humanity to be found. You only saw evil, a male who would torture, a male who belonged in the night court.

            Then, Rhys entered your mind, taking down your shields with no issue. He flipped through your memories as if they were a book, you fell to your knees, hands pressing to your temples in agony. Then it was over. Rhysand knew it all, Beron’s execution of your family due to the secrets they knew about the Autumn high court- secrets that Rhysand would eventually need you for.

            It had taken you a couple of months to trust Rhysand after that, but getting to know Feyre, his cousin Morrigan, and his brother Cassian really helped. But the nightmares remained, most of them focused on Azriel.

            You closed your book, watching the final ember die out and not flicker back to life. You collected yourself, taking a deep breath and making the walk back to your quarters. You could see the sun rising in the window and you sighed, knowing that it would be a long day of training with little to no sleep.

*

            “Is there something wrong?” Azriel asks you, you two are circling the mat since Cassian wasn’t able to train with you today.

            “Of course.” You try to smile at him, but you know it doesn’t meet your eyes.

            “Are you sleeping alright?” Azriel lowers his fist, his face filling with concern. You look into his eyes as he nears you, they are filled with emotion, but you can’t tell which ones.  

            “Not really.” You admit, putting your fists down as well. “I keep having these nightmares, they won’t stop.”

            “I’m sorry.” Az’s hand twitches towards yours but goes back down to his side. “I…I have them too, you know.”

            You sit down to stretch, and Azriel follows suit. The sun is beaming today, and Azriel is wearing a shirt that is clinging to every inch of his torso. You can’t help but watch the muscles shift in his arms as he stretches it above his head, the lines of his tricep deepening as he reaches over. You blink a few times and realize that he’s speaking.

            “I’m sorry, what did you say?” You stammer, quickly getting into a stretch of your own. Azriel smile grows, and he looks away.

            “I was just saying that whenever I have nightmares, usually flying helps.” He mused, stretching the other arm. “But I guess you don’t really have that option, not having wings and everything.”

            “Are you teasing me?” You scoffed, and he shrugged, looking back at you with a cheeky grin on his face, a grin that he reserved just for you. You looked down yourself, and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He drove you crazy. “Maybe I’ll just have to find you when I have my next nightmare and take you up on that offer.”

            “I would love that.” Az whispers but then clears his throat. “ I mean, I would love to help you out, with the nightmares, I mean.”

            You smile at him, and he stands up, offering out his hand. You take it, feeling the butterflies in your stomach as he helps you up. “I have a book that’s calling my name, I’ll be in the library if you want to read with me.”

            He nods, letting go of your hand hesitantly, and you leave him to go inside.

*

            You’re in the dungeon, you could feel the damp walls under your hands, the slippery floor under your feet, and you can see a dark figure, surrounded by shadow. You press your back to the wall as far as it can go as the figure walks closer. Your hands are suddenly locked above your head, and your feet are chained to the floor.

            Azriel comes back into view, his dark eyes void of emotion, this is not the male you know. “Azriel, please- it’s me.” You beg, fighting against the chains. “Azriel please, please don’t do this.”

            He takes slow, cautious steps towards you, flipping truth-teller in his hand. He cocks his head to the side, holding up the knife is a slow movement, as if trying to figure out where to start. “Az, we’re friends, please.”

            “Actually, Y/N.” He whispers, and his eyes turn from blue to black. “We’re not.”

*

            Someone is shaking you awake, you can feel the hoarseness of your throat because of your screaming. You open your eyes, immediately finding familiar blue ones. A cry leaves your lips as you sit up on the bed, back hitting the headboard.

            “Please, please don’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes, Azriel stares at you. Where was his blade? He was just holding it. You look around, realizing slowly that you’re in your room, and that this is Azriel.

            He just stares at you, an expression on his face that you don’t recognize. He’s sitting on the edge of your bed. You take deep breaths, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession as you two stare at each other. “It was just a nightmare.” Azriel whispers, and you nod your head. “You were shouting my name.”

            “I’m sorry for waking you.” You turn to look at the clock at your bedside, it was before dawn.

            Azriel stares at you a moment longer, then runs his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Why were you shouting my name?”

            “I don’t know.” You whisper, but you both knew it was a lie. The room was warm, and you felt a weird sense of dread fill your chest.

            “Your nightmares, what are they about?” Azriel whispers, his hands clenching into fists.

            “I don’t remember.” You lie again, and he groans, putting his head into his hands. The room was silent, the only sound was the feeling of your heartbeat in your ears.  

            He stands then, heading towards the door and reaching towards the handle. Despite your recent fear, you didn’t want him to leave, but you could see the hurt, the agony, written on his face as clear as day. “Please don’t go.” You whisper, pulling the covers off so you can follow him.

            He shakes his head, eyes closing for a second then reopening, pinned on yours. “Your nightmares, this whole time, the reason you haven’t been able to get a good night sleep, the reason you can’t eat some days- they are because of me?”

            You shake your head and open your mouth to speak, but the tears that fill your eyes are a clear indication. He reaches his hand towards his pocket, and you can’t help but back up, remembering him reaching for truth-teller in his dreams. His hand freezes again, and you can’t help the guilt from coursing through you.

            He finishes reaching into his pocket, slowly grasping something and tossing it on the bed. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, then leaves.

            Tears stream down your face as you hear the footsteps echoing down the hall. You climb back into bed, resting your back against the headboard and your head against your knees. You spot the object on the bed out of the corner of your eye,

            You reached for it and slowly opened the box. It was a necklace, and in the pendant in the middle was a pair of wings. You lifted the necklace up, running a finger over the chain, and you realized a note was in the box.

            “Your own wings, Love A”