mischiefmanagers

[mischiefmanagers]

A doe, A deer - A female deer

being the youngest archeron sister often meant that you were the forgotten one, no one ever saw you, until he did.

Azriel x Archeron!OC

CW: mdi 18+, selective mutism, ableims?, depecitons of illness and hearing loss, depictions of violence (animal hunting), depictions of poverty, canon character deaths, vomiting, panic attacks. not beta read!

word count: 4,259

authors note: so i have severe writers block when it comes to the whole ASOIAF universe but i reread acotar recently and suddenly got motivation to write

Masterlist | series masterlist | next part

Daphne Archeron had never known the luxury of money, like her sisters had. And though Feyre would say that her experience was brief, she still spent the majority of her childhood in riches, where daphne had spent it in rags.

Though the age gap was small between as four sisters, no more than three years between them each, it seemed the three years between her birth and Feyre changed a lot for the Archeron family. And by the time Daphne was five, the constantly dwindling funds had finally run out. The home she had always known to be empty, with less and less furniture as the days went by became repossessed a small hovel became there home.

A home which quickly became filled with illness and daphne and her mother caught typhus.

And illness which killed her mother and changed Daphne’s life.

It was odd how she could scarcely remember a time before her illness, and yet she fondly looked back on the few memories she had.

She knew her siblings had a difficult relationship with their mother, and yet her mother seemed to care deeply for her youngest child.

Peprahs it was because she was the spiting image of her mother, according to Nesta at least. Or that she was the calmest child, she never cried or threw tantrums. Or perhaps it was that she was content following her mother around and doing as she said, something she seemed to do now to each of her sisters instead.

She remembered in blurry memories when her and her mother got sick. How in the small hovel, on there one bed, the mother and daughter suffered side by side, with no money for a healer and simply having to rely on the efforts of three children and a man who mourned his wife and daughter before they had even passed. \

She had been beside her self when her mother passed, and though she hadn’t died, she herself had never truly recovered.

Her hearing was damaged, and though she could hear, she had to focus and spent most of her time reading lips more than actually listening.

Her body was sickly, and quick to catch any illness going around the village.

And to her sisters, that meant forever treating her like a child.

Things only got worse for her after debt collectors came two years into there life of poverty.

She remembered how her sisters had stood there and watched as there fathers legs was shattered and he was beaten. And she a girl of eight was the one to spring into action, grabbing a knife and throwing into the head of the man beating her father.

She remembered the gasps, the shocked looks of her sisters, and the even more shocked look of the men as they took her in, there faces going from smirks as they took in a small child defending her father, to a look of horror as another knife sliced through the air.

The men had run out shortly after and Daphne was left to scream and cry in horror at what she had done, as she watch the mans body dropped to the floor and the others fled, fearing the small child, who had started to fear herself.

After that day, Daphne refused to speak. A stray word her or there, a perhaps a gasp or hum. But nothing more.  

As time passed Daphne began to see herself only has a burden, often being forgotten unless she was incredibly ill or her sisters needed her to end a dispute.

She knew her family struggled more so that they should, how Feyre had been forced to hunt to feed and provide for the family, with her kills and selling their fathers wood carvings. She saw as her sisters hounded Feyre for money over helping her out or getting jobs to provide for the family. All whilst Feyre was forced to spend any money on medicines for her.

She saw the pitying eyes her sisters sent her, pity struggling to hide the contempt they all felt.

And though she had tried to help, by hunting with Feyre, even though it was quickly forbidden after Nesta found out. She would get a job, but who would hire a sickly, mute girl with no education or skills?

She was frustrated, unable to help and yet the biggest burden. Ruled by her sisters and treated like a child.

She had never been rebellious, never had the want to be and yet today, she found her self in the forest, with the will to make up for being the burden that she was, hoping to do so by finding dinner for her family.

And though she had only been a handful of time with Feyre before Nesta forbade her from taking you, and had little skill with an bow and arrow, her only skill was that of the throwing single dagger and several kitchen knives her family possessed.

She found herself sat in a tree, a dagger in hand as well and the kitchen knives strapped to a tunic she had stolen from Feyre.

She had looked and searched for close to an hour before she saw a deer, and found herself sat in a tree, as she watched the deer slowly approach with unsure movements. It reminded her of herself almost. With its doe eyes and reddish fur. It was young, clearly lost as it looked around for something or someone.

Her dagger trembled in her hand.

She willed it to move but to no avail.

The more she looked at the doe the more she saw herself.

With there shared amber eyes and brown hair, the does faced seemed to merge into her own. A face she shared with her mother. A face that haunted her every time she fell asleep in the very bed her mother died in whilst holding her.

But the doe was like any other doe she supposed. Yet it seemed like a complete mirror of herself.

Her hand shook as she tried to force herself to throw the dagger.

The deer looked up, eyeing her curiously. No fear in its eyes, as it eyed her and her hand lowered.

And a sigh of defeat left her mouth.

Perhaps a rabbit would be easier or at least be less likely to look like her.

The deer lowered its head, all sense of curiosity lost on it as it began to sniff for food in a bush.

She watched the deer, taking some comfort in how calm it seemed to be, though that calm lasted only moments as a wolf, a wolf far too large, and eyes to human pounced upon the deer tearing at its neck out.

The dagger in her hand suddenly spring from her hand landing clear in the wolf’s neck.

Blood trickling down its neck, the wolf made no effort to move or continue its feats on the deer.

It simply looked at her, and she could have sworn a look of relief flooded its features.

She jumped down from the tree, her ankle rolling as she did so.

But her mind was to occupied in reaching for one of her knifes and landed a killing blow directly into the wolf’s heart, and then another into the deer’s.

Tears feel from her eyes as she looked over the deer and wolf, realisation at what she ha done, and how it felt far to easy despite her earlier trepidation.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, a gentle touch she knew belonged to Feyre.

“Daphne” she mumbled, “are you okay?”

She simply nodded, as she always did, and reached to pull the daggers from the animals’ chests.

“did you do this?” Feyre asked, taking in the giant wolf.

Daphne nodded before pointing to the tree and twisting the dagger in her hand, answering the unsaid question of how.  

Concern flooded Feyre’s features as she assessed the state of her youngest sister, and the tears that filled her eyes, despite the clear effort the rest of her face was making to remain calm.

“Why were you out here?” Feyre continued to question; despite knowing she wouldn’t get a response.

Daphne looked down shame flooding her. Thoughts of not being good enough, of always being in the wrong even when she was trying to help. For somehow messing up what would be an otherwise successful hunt.

Tears dropped from her eyes once more. She hadn’t moved since Feyre approached her. Still sat in the same position as before as Feyre continued to ask questions.

She watched as Feyre bound the doe’s legs and skinned the wolf.

She watched as Feyre handed her the fur and threw the doe over her own shoulders. And watched as Feyre sent her a glance with every cough falling from Daphne’s mouth, seeing her concerned glances and small shakes of her head.

Her breaths were heavy, the cold air affecting her already weak lungs, and her steps were slow as they finally approached there home.

Their small little hovel with two rooms for the five of them, was always crowded and despite the two singular windows the entire house had there was always a chilled draft.

The chill of the outside was not much colder than that of inside the hovel.

A lack of fire beings it’s cause, and single log left inside the fire place despite freye asking nesta too cut more wood.

She was greeted quickly by Elain wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

Elaine and her were the closest of the sisters, with the same interests and similar personalities the two rarely argued. Though for daphne, arguments usual consisted of her being lectured and daphne storming out in response.

The sisters argued as they lectured feyre on the wolf and Daphne’s involvement in the hunt.

Elain sat rubbing Daphne’s shoulders gently to warm her up, and handing her a hot mug of tea to soothe her throat.

The sisters always seemed to argue, whether it be about money or food or any little thing. But what they argued most was daphne.

Shocking seeing as both Nesta and Feyre seemed to only tolerate her and ignored her unless she was extremely sick.

Elain too, despite being the closest of the sisters, found herself ignoring daphne more so than late, and spent more and more time with Nesta.

It was a funny thing really, seeing as they always fretted over her, treating her little more than a child.

But everything she did caused an argument. Such as going hunting with Feyre, getting more sick form hunting with feyre, from Elain allowing her to help her garden, or Nesta asking her to sew her some new clothes form the scraps of the old worn-out ones.

Everything one of them did for her, caused an argument with another.

Daphne was their sickly younger sister. That’s all she was and even when she tried to help it caused an argument.

Words were always said in front of her and rarely to her. 

She couldn’t help but think that if she could talk, something she begged daily to be able to, that they wouldn’t ignore her so much.

But they seemed to treat her mutism as self imposed, as if it didn’t pain daphne that she physically couldn’t. that the idea of speaking scared her and the few words she could ralrey speak pained her so and caused her to to be physically sick.

She hated not being able to communicate but her sisters seemed to think it was entirely her fault that she didn’t.

Elain at least put up with it, finding her a good ear for listening to her endless rants. Or a helpful hand when cooking and gardening.

But they still didn’t ask her questions unless it was in the form of an interrogation. Such as Feyre in the woods.

She had given up years ago when she realised no matter how hard her eyes portrayed her feelings, her sisters where happy to talk and laugh and argue without so much as sparing her a glance.

They hadn’t even bothered to teach her to read. They knew she couldn’t. she hadn’t even started her schooling when they lost their fortune, and yet it never occurred to them that teaching her to read could solve the communication issue.

She had thought that perhaps if she proved herself, her potential that they would bother. Though deep down she knew it wouldn’t change a thing.

But known the less she went into the woods, to prove herself, to show she wasn’t just sick, that she had willpower, ability. But not only to prove herself but to also thank them. she felt bad for all the money spent on you, all the times she had been bed bound, unable to help at all and leaving them to sleep on the floor as moving her was to risky.

But it all failed.

All it caused was arguing and Feyre sending you a worrying glance as she looked over the wolf. And the fear of it being fae and what they might mean for there family.

Days passed, and daphne grew sick again. With her lungs constricted, her head feverish and limb aching. She had been in and out of consciousness for days now. The days passed in a blur, the only moments she truly came to were when medicine was forced down her throat or a new towel was pressed to her head.

She was sure she would have stayed in the bed for weeks had the front door not been slammed open and a roar sounded through the hovel.

Weakly she walked out of the shared bedroom and came face to face with some sort of fae beast growling words at her sisters, her sisters spoke to quietly for her to hear but before she knew it feyre was leaving with the beast and her screams for her to stay refusing to leave her mouth. She was powerless to stop it, to weak to even move from the door frame let alone stop her sister form being kidnapped by the fae beast. And even if she could it seemed that as the door closed a haze a magic was sent out and the sudden scene of a so-called aunt Ripley sending for Feyre to help her in her sickness appeared in her brain. Had she not fainted after it happened, she was sure she would have believed it, but dreams of a growling beats taking Feyre away haunted her dreams.

As the months passed , Elain and their father seemed content to believe the glamour the fae had cast and the seeming coincidence of regaining there fortune, neither Daphne or Nesta believed it.

She hated this new life, the life without Feyre. And the seemingly picture-perfect front her family created.

Her life became filled with tutors and healers and the balls filled with preening men all ever for a quite wife they never have to speak to.

Her life seemed duller than it did, and even more lonely.

Her sisters now ignored her completely, her father was no to busy for he. With Her sisters spending more time doing their own thing, with Nesta always alone and refusing to speak to anyone. Elain found herself engaged to a future lord, a man you had grown to hate despite only meeting him three times.

And daphne found herself quiet the scholar, egar to learn, and found herself drawn more and more to the history of Pythian, of the war and the fae courts.

A year passed since Feyre was taken and though she had returned for a week before swiftly leaving again, it felt like everything had changed since she left.

she felt as if she was on the side lines looking in on her family.

Even more so after their father had left to go to the continent.

Elain had grown distant, only wishing to spend time with her when it came to her garden.

And Nesta had secluded herself in her room, refusing company from all.

Daphne was forced to chaperone her sister and watch her life become what elain always wished.

Perhaps it was selfish to wish for attention, or at least the same level as she received in the past.

But now it seemed the better she got the less attention she received. She now got the level of freedom she had long desired and yet it seemed a waste without her sisters there to experience it with her.

But at least she now had the opportunity to have friends. Or at least friends in the form of Leon, one of the footmen in her family’s employ.

He had been kind since the moment she meet him, egar to spend time with her.  

And though at first it was simply kind smiles facial expressions to communicate, he slowly taught her sign language. Having grown up with a sister who was hearing impaired, it allowed him the chance to talk to her. And for the first time she felt heard.

He was a small comfort in her dull life.

Suddenly it was march, time passed in the blink of an eye.

Something had shifted in the last few months; the estate grew quieter, and the trees seemed to murmur.

The sky felt greyer and snow colder.

The wall felt thin, with more cracks than ever, fog creeped from it and a sense of danger, ‘more so than before was emoting from it.

She had started to take walks near the wall daily. A sense of need to be close to Feyre overcame her. She wasn’t sure why, she never saw anyone near the wall.

That was until she stumbled into him.

Possibly the most handsome person you had ever seen. His eyes caught yours and they seemed to enchant her, the striking hazel colour distracting you from the obvious giant bat like wings sprouting from his back. But she didn’t mind, his eyes were beautiful…he was beautiful perhaps the most beautiful creature ever.

And his hands were on her waist.

Holding her after she stumble into him.

her waist.

“Are you okay?” he spoke softly, his yes tracing over her. He seemed to look at her with a sense of family. Though she was sure she had never once seen him before.

she nodded her head, her eyes looking down to were he still held her waste.

“your Daphne right?” he asked carefully.

Daphne looked up startled, shocked that he knew her name, and started racking her mind for memories of his face.

“i-“ the words, sounding more like a gasp left her mouth, as she willed yourself to speak.

And she might of mustered up a few words had Feyre not suddenly appeared.

“Daphne?” she breathed. Looking her up and down, “what are you doing this close to the wall?”

The males hands left her waist as he moved aside and allowed Feyre to hug her.

she hugged her back, but her face was perplexed as she took her in. she was different.

She seemed to glow, and her skin was soft and clear. Far more so than ever before and her ears… they were pointed.

She was fae.

Confusion adorned her face and a worried smile filled hers.

“don’t be scared” she seemed to beg.

she shook your head, moving to hug her once more.

she tired to talk, to ask her if she was okay, to ask her what had happened but the her mouth filled with bile, and the words seemed to leave her mind the more she tried to speak.

She seemed relived at the hug, moving her hand to stroke her hair, “you look well.” She spoke, as she took in her rosy cheeks and more filled out figure.

Daphne nodded. Her attention still fully on Feyre and confusion in her eyes as she tried to figure out what happened to her.

“I know you must be confused, and ill explain once were at the estate but-“ she was cut of by the sudden appearance of two more fae males.

Both with the same wings as the male she had bumped into.

“Daphne… this is Cassian and Rhysand” she said pointing to the two males, before turning “and the male Daphne bumped into, that’s Azriel” she spoke looking at her carefully as the two males introduced themselves and shook her hand.

A small nervous smile toyed on Daphne’s mouth.

she looked to Azriel, taking him in and reaching her hand out to shake his, as the others had done to her.

He seemed shocked at the action, his hands moving slowly to take hers.

As if he was scared to touch her, scared that they would taint her somehow.

They were rough, more so than the others, and covered in scars.

But her eyes didn’t linger, nor did she flinch as she was sure he expected her too. Instead she shook it and smiled. Her cheeks filling with a light blush as he focused her attention on her.

She turned to face her sister, the blush still prominent on her face and her minding releasing at how handsome Azriel, well how all the males seemed but more so him.

And the male she knew as Rhysand seemed to smirk as he looked at her, as if he could read the very thoughts she was thinking in her head.

She hugged slightly at the smirk, a nervous feeling washing over her as she took in the three strangers and the sudden change to Feyres appearance.

She pointed towards the direction of the estate, focusing her gaze on feyre as she did so.

“Should we get going then?” Feyre questioned, seemingly to sense her sisters nerves.

The walk was slow, the faes content to walk at a leisurely pace, though daphne was sure it had something to do with her and the coughs her small body was emitting.

By the time they reached the estate, feyre seemed to have grown nervous, her hand gripping daphne’s and her palm growing sweaty.

Daphne rubbed her hand in comfort though it seemed to do little as Feyre pulled her back hastily the estate came into view.

“Can you clear out the staff?” she questioned “they can’t see us, it will cause to many issues”

She nodded, giving feyre a hug before she departed.

She was grateful Leon was working that day, he took her at her word when she signed his and the others need to leave.

The once lively state was now empty bar the four sisters and three fae males.

She received harsh glares from nesta at their unwelcome guest.

And as words were spoken, and feyre spoke of the need to use the house as a meeting point, the glares grew harsher. As if whatever impending conflict was Daphne’s fault.

Dinner was no better, harsh words and arguments between the sisters sounded. Even more so when Daphne had run to get stools for the two winged males.

She was silent, as always.

But somehow sitting next to Azriel filled her with confidence she hadn’t ever had.

“Can you really fly?” she whispered, her voice rough from years of not being used.

And though her sisters gasped and nesta sent her another glare. Azriel simply smiled and spoke “yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind”

Daphne smiled, her mouth speaking before she could even process that she had talked “that’s very beautiful” she said “ I have always wondered what it would be like to fly” she mused, “is it ever scary?” she spoke making eye contact with Feyre who gave her an encouraging smile, though her eyes were still shocked at your words.

It was probably the most words she had ever said, as even before she stopped talking, she was never a chatty child.  

“sometimes” Azriel said, with Cassian nodding in agreement, as Azriel continued “if you are caught in a storm, if the current drops. But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before were out of swaddling”

Daphne nodded, her mouth filling with bile and a stuttered almost gasp left her mouth in the stead of words.

She swallowed roughly, her face flushing as she realised everyone’s attention was on her.

And then it struck her, she had spoken.

In the past it had never been more than one word, and it was always mumbled and nearly in audible, and often followed quickly with vomiting.

She willed herself to not vomit, but as Nesta went to say something, she was sure would be aimed at her sudden ability to speak.

She rose and ran to the bathroom and let it all out.

She cried and cried afterwards, in shock and shame.

It was how it always happened, the shame she felt afterwards, as if she wasn’t allowed to speak, as if speaking would cause something bad to happen. And it was a feeling that followed her for the remainder of her sister visit.

And even after they had all left it didn’t go away.

It seemed to haunt her, even more so after she got sick once more.

But this time it was different.

She had been bed bound for months on end.

Memories were all in a haze and she couldn’t tell night from day.

she hadn’t woken in days and yet the next time she woke, she was being tugged out of a cauldron full of freezing water.

To be added to taglist

taglist @fuckingsimp4azriel

[mischiefmanagers]

Silk Girl ; Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian x Reader.

here is the warnings I have for you : this is like. totally inspired by Silk Girl, written by Nicci Harris. There will be power imbalances, and yes, the main character (who is supposed to be you) will probably be disliked by most of y'all sorryz. but the worms took over my brain and I couldn't stop myself from writing this yesterday. I blacked out and before I knew it I had hit the note app word limit. so.

warnings : power imbalances. The reader is essentially... going to be with the three batboys, and the batboys will have to leave their partners for her.. so. yeah. controversial homewrecker !!!! booo! lol. anyway. if that's not your shit, move on! there will be smut eventually, though they're gonna have 2 work up to it. also, Prythian is a bit different here ; not everyone can birth the High Lord's babies. so every once in a while, a real pearl like our reader is Born. Those are called Silk Girls. Born perfectly to carry those babies to completion. okay, if there is more to warn you about, I will let you know! go on and read now, friend! If you're still interested after this train wreck of an intro. not proofread. we burn like sinners.

part 2

As Prythian's first Silk Girl born in centuries, you were revered. Special. loved beyond what the words could ever portray ; and if they could, it would be a lust-filled affair, a cruel trick of the tongue.

For you were not loved for the person that you were. but simply for what you could be. what you meant, for Prythian.

After your birth, a few more of your class were born. You were their divine beginning, and them, the ending.

Not many of them had survived the many winters. The cruelty, or the wars.

Only a handful of you were left. And only a few fully cherried into maturity ; Lacy, Star, Aurora, Orchid, Celeste and Rose.

Your sisters, in their own way. Lacy and Star had never molded with the rest of you — strange girls, odd beings. They had always been ruled by nature rather than your teachers and staffing. Once of maturity, once they had woken up, blood drawn across their silky sheets, they'd fled for their homes.

You wish you could send letters. But you're not allowed to write — or to read. Foolish of you to hope you could accomplish anything but bear a baby.

still, you wonder if their home is good. if the same parents who sold their names and their bodies to the prythian high lords even remembered that Lacy had straight white hair, or that Star had always had eyes filled with her namesake. You wonder if they are loved, even in secret.

It is better than to not. That's what Orchid tells you. Although you're the oldest at twenty-three years, Orchid had always seemed - acted - like the eldest sister amongst the last few of you. She allows you to hope and to dream.

Today, there are no dreams.

Today, you come face to face with the reality that you are a Silk Girl, born with the purpose of carrying the baby of the next High Fae Lord and Lady. You are sure that magic would allow it if it wanted to — to let anyone, and everyone, bear those children.

But alas, that is not the reality of Prythian. Only a select few born out of pure luck have the health, the body proportions to birth winged babies, or those of shifters.

The Selection is a process you are prepared for your entire life.

Yes, the people love you. And you are treated as something so very precious it's dizzying at times. But there are days where you are put through such physically and mentally draining things that you wonder (again) if any of it will really matter in the end.

You've had it hammered in you ; your purpose is to carry life. to make children.

and despite this, none that you will ever make will ever truly be yours. simply a weapon you will have to bring to life, and then relinquish into the hands of self-destructive High Lords.

So yes, today, you're nervous. Orchid holds your hand secretly under the table at breakfast. The maids notice, but they don't stop you like they would usually. Touch is forbidden, within the ranks of Silk Girls, but none are cruel enough to refuse you this tiny sliver of comfort knowing what your faith will be.

When you get dressed after eating your daily oatmeal and fruits, you're gently slid into a nice, silky white dress. pearls are hung around your neck, and jewels are fitted to your fingers and wrists. Too noisy. You've always preferred the comfort of sheer night dresses and simple silk gowns that are undisturbed by a mountain of riches.

Orchid is dressed in oranges. She originates from the autumn court, and has the auburn, almost reddish hair and a skin as pale as the insides of the peel of an orange to prove this fact. She's fuller in some parts than you are. The silk dress looks better on her, rather than on you. But you've always been self-critical. She hopes Eris chooses her, today. He's shown interest in her before, but you're not sure he's any less cruel than his father, so you don't dare speak about her choice, or question her. As a silk girl, it is not your place to question anyone.

Aurora is dressed in greens and yellows and oranges and cyans. Beautiful, and fitting. She was always the one who brought the sun to the room. When you are separated, you will surely miss her and that huge smile she wears on her face like a second nature hammered into her like their role in this society.

Celeste doesn't come out of her room. When the mistress goes to look for her, they find an empty bed, and an opened window with flapping lacy curtains. You're sure she's gone for the forest, where she finds herself orbiting most days. But you bite your tongue until it bleeds when they ask if you might know where she would go to hide from the guards that surround your every step.

You're not sure why. You're not a rebellious Silk Girl. You know what happens to the Lying Little Silk Girls. But not saying anything does not mean lying. You hang onto the technicality as the mistress angrily stomps towards the biggest guard she can spot in the moment.

Rose, the youngest of your class of Silk Girls this year, at only eighteen years, is dressed in devilish pinks and soft ones. Like her namesake, she had always belonged to spring. You hope for her that Tamlin will be kind, but you know better. The word is that he does not use his human form anymore.

No matter, though. You, as elites of the fae, are trained to take whatever is given to you.

Then again, you're not sure he will be conscious enough to show up to the selection today.

A crowd of priestesses and fanatics are gathered outside the castle you enter — the castle in the day court, the only peaceful ground selected since the last war with Hybern.

The selection is truly, at the end of everything you've been through, underwhelming, and quite crude. You look back down the line, down to the little girl first thrust into the arms of a random priestess, and you wonder if you should have ran.

There are five seats, which quickly become four, when the mistress orders them to take the one designed for Celeste away.

You sit, patient and demure, waiting for everything to unfold.

And unfold, they do.

Rhysand is a trickster. You don't wonder about this. Don't linger on this thought longer than you should. You simply know. Trickster of Amarantha. The High Lord who made Prythian a fool for centuries, pretending to be an evil, conniving man. Hiding a fortress, a city so well grown it was staggering to discover it.

And yet, tonight, as his turn comes to greet you, you detect no trick in the way he inclines his head, and stares at you with those sparkling, effeverscent purple eyes, always kind when he is obligated to look you over physically.

Never straying, never lingering more than he should.

His wife, his High Lady, stands behind him, and she holds her stomach as though you've stolen the life that belonged in there. She looks saddened, so you attempt a smile. She doesn't notice.

"My Lady," You say, when another smile appears to go ignored. "I appreciate you coming to meet me. I have heard great things about you." Your mistress blinks alive in your mind's eyes, and she sneers at you. So you fix your eyes on Rhysand again, willing the image of your angry teacher to go away as quick as possible, lest you get punished for your foolish tongue. "All of you, of course."

"Thank you," Rhys responds smoothly. His hand lingers in the air for a moment, for his wife, no doubt, but Feyre does not take it. She simply stares at you, eyes full of... you're not sure what this emotion is, actually. you're used to the fanatical stares, to the ones full of emotion, the ones in which they are already trying to make up what the baby will look like in their heads.

"Feyre, darling, why don't you go meet Silk Girl Rose? Perhaps you can help her.. redirect her choice."

You don't mean to, but a small gasp makes it out of you. To speak so frankly — you'd never have to courage to. Feyre inclines her head sharply, and steps away from you, giving you no chance to warn her against doing such a thing.

A moment later, Rhysand plucks a stray lint off of his precious suit, still watching, still observing.

"Have you made a choice, High Lord?"

"Have you?" His answer is unpracticed, but no less clear, as though he's surprised even himself with the question.

"I was raised an unbiased Silk Girl," You explain. "I had no birth court. My powers do not lend themselves to any of them, either."

His head tilts to the side, examining the face before him, sharp and soft all at once. He wonders if perhaps any of it is unnatural. How pretty you are would make any normal humans wet themselves, no doubt.

"I would say you do look like you belong to winter."

Humming gently, you rock back and forth gently. A bad habit no one had straightened out of you quite yet. "Why do you assume so?"

"The females are pretty, over there. Dashingly so."

"You flatter me?" It's a question, rather than the teasing remark it had originaly been taught you to be.

Rhysand's purple eyes flicker. He turns his head towards Feyre, who, with her arms crossed, is speaking quite animatedly with Rose. Rose is flushed, but not in the way of romance like you're taught to detect. This flush is beneath the eyes, and around the neck. She is overwhelmed.

Perhaps Rhysand can see something you cannot, because a moment later, Feyre's shoulders loosen, and she walks off towards Orchid without needing an intervention from her husband.

"Pardon me."

"It is quite alright. Most of the High Lord's wives do not attend the selection. Then again," You drift off a little bit, lips firming together into a thin line. "It is different, with... Her being the High Lady."

"I do not mean to torture her in this way."

It is your turn to tilt your head at him. His eyes crinkle a little bit at the corner. From his height, you're sure you look a bit too small — despite being average amongst your sisters. A good balance between everything. That's what you are. You are not short, neither tall. But Rhysand is over six and a half foot tall, maybe seven if you're being generous. Beside him, you feel a little bit like the insignificant child you once were.

"I'm not sure that it is my place to discuss such matters, High Lord."

"Rhysand, please."

"High Lord." You quip, like a little bird, automatically. It's a hiccup — a knee jerk reaction more than a willingly said title. "Unless you are to be my companion, I am not allowed to use such names to address you."

"Would you like that, then?"

You blink. "Pardon?"

"Coming home with me."

"All of you present good opportunities. It would be unfair for me to show preferences for any courts."

"But you are free to choose the Court you desire most between those betting on you."

"It is.. possible, yes." You say carefully. Slowly. You even let your eyes wander towards your teacher, who stands with the guards. She's already staring at you. She looks unhappy with the awkward stance you're taking, and with the amount of time you are providing this particular High Lord.

Rolling your words over in your mouth seven times, you try to pick your words carefully. It is greedy and selfish to even assume multiple High Lords would pick her. "But, again, High Lord, I am unbiased. I will go to the people who desire me most."

He sighs, his eyes going a little bit sharper as he spares a glance towards Feyre, who seems to be chatting with Helion, who is also standing with Orchid. It soothes you a little to see Orchid safe.

"Feyre is kind."

"I know." You say. Careful, again. Tiptoeing an invisible line.

His eyes focus on you. The attention of the specific High Lord is paralyzing.

"She means no harm. Quite the opposite, actually."

You nod, because you're not sure where he's going with this.

"When — " He catches himself. "If, you come home with us. I do promise impeccable care."

"That is all I can ask for — until the babe is born."

"And after." He says, off-handedly.

"After?" you ask, confused. Most Silk Girls, after having a few heirs, were freed. It was a contractual exchange, afterall. But it wasn't unheard of Silk Girls settling down amongst the high ranks of the High Lord's court and inner circles, or simply staying as a faithful pet for the couple, or a maid, and a nanny.

"Whatever you wish to do. I will provide for. It is the least I can do for you — after you've given me all I've ever wanted."

You blink at him emptily. Surely he must have been fibbing. He must have been trying to rail you into a deal with him.

"Legacy?"

"A family." He says, and your head mistakes this as vulnerability.

"High Lord.."

"Will you think about the offer?" He extends a hand. Touching is forbidden. This doesn't escape you. This rule is taught rigorously at the Silk Girl academy.

Controlled by some unnamed power, though, you slide your hand into his, and nod silently.

"Words, Silk Girl."

"Yes, High Lord. I will think of it."

A course of electricity ravages your veins, and you find yourself seizing for a moment, eyes wide as you look into his. A distinct tingle grows on your right thigh, concentrated higher than you care to ever explore on your own.

Before another word can escape you, before you can curse outwourdly the sudden tingles between your thighs, Rhysand's hand leaves yours, and he's walking back towards his wife.

After you've met everyone, and had time to socialize with every High Lord and Lady, The Selection begins. Naturally, as you are the oldest, you will go last. You get to see where your sisters end up, which soothes you a little bit.

Orchid sits beside you on her own throne made up of dark oak, and she's smiling, as though she already knows something you don't.

Rose is first. She comes up to the front of the dais, where the mistress is standing happily, extending a wrinkled old hand towards the soft, gentle Rose.

"Rose, Eighteen years of age. Ripe and beautiful as a blooming flower."

The High Lords mutter between themselves indistinctly. The crowd behind the ribbons and curtains all but blabber away. Rhysand and Feyre stand together, and Helion stands nearby, as well as the High Lord of Winter, with his wife.

"Let's see tonight's claims for Rose." Magic roils through the room, sickening and heavy, the kind that makes your nose wrinkle a little bit, and makes your right thigh tingle with pain.

Beside Rose, A green light materializes, aswell as a red one.

Spring, and Autumn. Respectively.

You spare a look at Orchid. Her smile falters. It is not a secret that High Lords will sometimes pick multiple Silk Girls, to be safe, but..

You already know what you would do. So it does not surprise you, when Rose lifts her head, looks to Eris in the crowd, and says, soft and clear, 'I accept the Autumn Court's claim.'

Your palms feel sweaty, suddenly, and no amount of rubbing them against the marble of your throne seems to be fixing it.

Orchid, besides you, lets out a shuddering breath.

Aurora is next, giving us no time to mourn, or celebrate the answer to Rose's claim. Rose is escorted to her new master, and the two leave, arm intertwined, towards the main doors of the castle, followed by plenty of guards both from your Academy and the Autumn Court.

"Aurora, twenty one years of age, Eager to please, and quite beautiful." The mistress says gently.

The court remains quiet, this time. Aurora's light brown hair swirls as lights of all colors direct towards her.

Yellow, for Summer.

Green, for Spring.

Blue, for Winter.

Three claims seems lucky. But she deserves it. A smile blooms on her face, more beautiful than you've ever seen it be.

The next words she says, though, render you a bit confused. "I accept the Spring Court's claim." As she says those words, her voice wavers. Not in an unhappy way.

Orchid and you share a look.

Representatives of the Spring Court that came down for Tamlin escort your sister out of the ball room. You wonder if you'll ever see her again in this state.

Time seems to slow, as Mistress gestures for Orchid to get up.

"Orchid, beautiful, kind, and responsible. Soft as snow." Mistress looks at her with so much love it sickens you a little bit. Orchid had always been her favorite. But you don't hold it against her, or Mistress. That would be childish.

"Let's see the claims."

Orchid blinks rapidly, not missing a beat as she smiles and extends her hands.

Brown, for Day, appears brilliantly upon her palm.

In the other, blue appears, too. For Winter Court.

But it does not end there. Green appears. and Red. And Yellow.

You don't miss the lack of the purple in all of their claims.

Seeing as Autumn and Spring have already left with their claims, the balls of lights belonging to the Courts flicker, and dissipate away.

Orchid smiles a little bit. You can visibly see her hold back a sob. She's confused, but happy. Betrayed. But happy, despite it, that others have also seen her potential.

She licks her lips, and looks up at the rapidly thinning crowd. "I accept the.."

She wavers. But then, her eyes find Feyre. And then Helion. "I accept the Day Court's claim."

Helion makes a small cheer, and then just smiles so huge that it makes your heart soar. You know she will be treated well there. And you are happy for it.

You both find each other's eyes as she's led away from you. You can only hope you'll see those bright, hopeful eyes again. In the meantime, you will keep wondering as she has taught you in secret.

"And our last Silk Girl." Mistress calls. You step up, and your legs feel shaky. You feel less like yourself as you step forward and face the High Lords that are left.

Summer. Winter. Night. Dawn.

Rhysand holds onto a drink as he winks at you over the rim of it.

"Twenty three years of age. Impeccably trained. Our most treasured girl."

A few whispers can be heard. The crowd is agitated, behind all of the High Lords.

"The face of Prythian's savior."

You swallow thickly, and try a smile. It comes out shaky.

"Let's see the claims."

It takes seconds for the balls of light to come alive.

Purple.

Blue.

and Pink.

The pink sets your heart galloping. The Dawn Court had shown no interest in ever owning a Silk Girl before today.

You look to the High Lord and his beloved. He had been kind. Both of them. It had not been from a place of want, that they had reached out, but rather from a place of need.

Afterall, fae or not, biology was biology. Two males could not make an heir.

You know this is the right thing to do. But you think of Rhysand — and his promise.

Freedom, and the funds to do as you wish.

Selfish. Greedy.

But you wonder. You think of Orchid. Of Aurora. Of Celeste and Lacy and Star. Of Rose.

Tonight had been proof that this was a game better played selfishly.

"I—" Your throat seizes. You're not sure why. The words refuse to come out.

You let out a long breath, and you feel that faint tingle on your thigh again, the heartbeat pulsing in your ribcage.

"I accept the Night Court's claim."

[mischiefmanagers]

Shadows Between Us

** Photo found on Pinterest but could not find original creator *

Tropes: Slowburn, Brothers best friend, fated mates

Note: This is my first post, please be kind <3

Summary: Y/N’s world shatters when the mating bond snaps into place with Azriel, her brother Cassian’s best friend, and the one person who doesn’t want her.

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Y/N’s fingers hovered over the last strap of her Illyrian training leathers, the leather stiff and worn from years of use. Her reflection in the ornate mirror stared back at her, a hollow version of the confident warrior she once believed herself to be. Her chest tightened as she smoothed the dark fabric. This armor protected her from the elements—but not from him.

Azriel.

The name echoed in her mind, a haunting melody she couldn’t escape. The bond between them was a cruel twist of fate, tying her to someone who didn’t want her. Not like that. Not like a mate.

Her brother, Cassian, was oblivious to the turmoil. She could hear his booming laughter from down the hall, sparring with Nesta in their private suite. Her brother’s bond with Nesta was vibrant and undeniable, like the sun blazing in the sky. Theirs was a bond that had been welcomed, nurtured. Nothing like hers.

“Are you ready?” Nesta’s voice broke through her thoughts. She leaned against the doorway, her sharp features softened by genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” Y/N lied, tightening her armor. “Just another day of training.”

Nesta crossed her arms, skeptical as always. “You don’t have to put yourself through this. If Azriel is going to act like a blind, ungrateful idiot, that’s on him.”

Y/N flinched but didn’t let her expression falter. Nesta had seen too much already, had heard the muffled sobs Y/N tried to hide. It was Nesta, after all, who had been scouring ancient libraries for a way to break the mating bond.

“What if there’s no way to break it?” Y/N had asked one desperate night.

“There’s always a way,” Nesta had replied firmly, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Even if I have to tear it from the Cauldron’s hands myself.”

Nesta’s fierce determination was both a balm and a knife. Y/N wanted to believe her, but the bond’s presence was constant, unyielding, like a second heartbeat she couldn’t escape.

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Azriel’s indifference wasn’t new, but it hadn’t always been this unbearable. For years, he had been polite, distant, a quiet presence in her life. That changed the night the bond snapped into place. She had felt it instantly, the overwhelming connection that pulled her toward him like gravity. She thought it would be the start of something beautiful.

It wasn’t.

The memory of that night was etched into her mind:

“I didn’t ask for this,” Azriel had said, his voice a low growl. Shadows curled around him protectively as he paced the room. “This bond—it’s a mistake.”

Cassian had been livid. “How dare you?” he had roared, fists clenched. “She’s your mate. You’re supposed to protect her, cherish her—”

“I didn’t ask for her,” Azriel had interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “And I don’t want her.”

Y/N had been listening from the shadows, her heart shattering with every word. She had fled before either of them noticed her.

That night had marked the beginning of her descent into a quiet, agonizing heartbreak. Azriel didn’t want her. And now, he barely looked at her unless duty required it.

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The training grounds were alive with the sounds of sparring and laughter when Y/N arrived. Cassian greeted her with a grin, his wings flaring dramatically as he held up his practice sword. Nesta sat on the sidelines, her sharp gaze keeping an eye on everything, especially Y/N.

And then there was Azriel.

He leaned against a stone pillar, his hazel eyes scanning the room. His shadows curled lazily around him, an ever-present reminder of his power. When his gaze landed on Y/N, his expression didn’t change, but she felt the weight of his stare.

“Late again,” Cassian teased, tossing her a wooden sword. “Better be ready. Nesta’s been waiting to knock you on your ass.”

“Like that’s new,” Y/N shot back, forcing a smile.

Azriel said nothing, his shadows whispering secrets she wasn’t privy to. He didn’t look at her again, not as she stepped into the sparring ring with Nesta or as she exchanged blow after blow with her sister-in-law. But she felt him watching all the same, a phantom touch that set her on edge.

“Keep your guard up,” Nesta barked, her blade coming down in a swift arc.

Y/N blocked it, her muscles straining. “I’m trying!”

“Try harder,” Nesta said, her voice sharp but not unkind. She feinted left and landed a glancing blow to Y/N’s ribs. “You’re distracted.”

“Am not,” Y/N muttered, even as her mind screamed at her to stop lying.

“You’re predictable,” Nesta continued, stepping back. “And predictable gets you killed.”

Cassian clapped from the sidelines. “That’s my mate. Brutally honest and brutally effective.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but smiled faintly, her gaze flickering to Y/N. “You need to focus, or—”

“I’ve got it,” Y/N snapped, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Let’s go again.”

But even as they resumed, her movements were sluggish, her thoughts fractured. Azriel’s presence was suffocating, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken. When the session ended, Y/N barely waited for Cassian’s critique before heading toward the showers.

“Y/N.”

His voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned to find Azriel standing a few feet away, his shadows coiling around his boots.

“What?” she said, her tone sharper than intended.

He hesitated, his expression unreadable. “We need to talk.”

Her heart twisted painfully, but she forced herself to stand tall. “About?”

“The bond,” he said, his voice low. “I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her throat tightening. “I already know how you feel.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “You don’t.”

“Don’t I?” she snapped, stepping closer. “You don’t want me. You don’t want this bond. What else is there to say?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone.

“It is,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’ve made it perfectly clear.”

His shadows stilled, wrapping tightly around him as if to shield him from her words. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” she lied, her voice breaking. “Except maybe honesty. But I guess that’s too much to ask.”

She turned and walked away, ignoring the pain that threatened to consume her.

That night, Y/N lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her room. The bond pulsed faintly, a reminder that no matter how far she ran, she could never escape him. But the tears didn’t come. She was empty, her heart a hollow shell.

In the darkness, she made a decision: If Azriel didn’t want the bond, she wouldn’t force him to accept it.

Even if it killed her.

[mischiefmanagers]

ghost in the wind — part one

summary: all your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. so why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to prythian?

warnings: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

a/n: thank you for reading!! this is the first instalment of this mini-series that i literally got the idea for two days ago lol. it'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! unfortunately i'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but i'll likely repost the ones i have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them)

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[mischiefmanagers]

My Sweetheart, Your Nightmare.

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Summary: Having noticed that Elain clings to Azriel, Feyre mentions she thinks Azriel and Elain would be good together. Questions why the mother didn’t make them mates. Rhysand quickly lets her in on an important piece of information.

“‘Why not make them mates?” Feyre states as she witnesses her sister and Azriel down in the garden.

Rhysands eyes widen at his mates brazen comment and goes to interject but before he can she continues on.

“They look perfectly matched do they not? Two beautiful and caring people. Three sisters for three brothers just make sense?” Feyre says sounding upset.

“Feyre darling. It appears I’ve left out some pretty important information about this family. It’s my fault really, she’s been out doing my messy work for the night court this whole time. Keeping all the other threats at bay and …immobilizing them so Azriel has less work on his plate.” Rhysand rambles.

“What? I’m not following Rhys?” Feyre questions.

Rhysand sighs but goes to explain further.

“Azriel is only doing as I have asked in looking after Elain. He already has a mate Feyre. One he is very committed to. A female that you most certainly never want to hear the words you just spoke about your sister and him. She- “ a throat clears from behind them.

“SHE, is right here Rhysand.” A sultry voice states.

Rhysands eyes widen in what Feyre can only see as fear.

“Y/N! You are home! Oh Azriel is going to be thrilled, let me just go get him for you.” Rhysand quickly goes to grab Feyre and tries to leave but y/n has other plans.

Magic surges across the room and Feyres feet feel stuck to the floor. She turns her head to look at Rhysand and notices he is in the same predicament.

“Dammit” Rhysand whispers more to himself.

“Ah ah ah, Rhysie. That’s no way to greet your favorite sister in law. You haven’t even introduced me to your mate yet.”

Feyre turns to actually get a good look at the female that has somehow over powered the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Ashen white hair, icy eyes, taller than most fae females, and she has a beautiful silhouette that filled out a pair of black leathers quite nicely, Feyre thought. Cauldron boil her, this female was gorgeous.

Before Feyre could find anymore of your perfections Rhysand interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Think less loudly Feyre Darling, I’m starting to become jealous.” Rhysand deadpans.

Feyre blushes and immediately looks down to her feet.

“You know I have that affect on most fae Rhysie. Don’t be a sour puss.” Y/n smugly states.

Y/n descends upon them and actually goes to bow before Feyre.

“It is an honor to officially meet you my High Lady. My name is y/n, assassin of the Night Court. Mate and wife of Azriel.” Y/N proudly states.

“I-it’s lovely to finally meet you y/n.” Feyre stutters out.

This female infront of Feyre is terrifying and ethereal. Feyre already knows she is lethal and all thoughts she had prior of how Elain and Azriel were perfectly matched go straight out the window. She can see it now…why the cauldron makes the pairings it does.

Y/N stands to her full height but all playfulness she exuded before is gone.

“I know you did not know of my existence until just now…so for that reason alone I’ll let your comments slide. But Azriel is MY mate and the saying ‘if I can’t have them, then no one can’ is very much the saying I live by when it comes to him.”

Feyre can only nod her head dumbfounded.

A second later shadows envelope the room. More lively than Feyre has ever seen them.

Azriel soon enters with a confused Elain in tow.

When Azriel lays his eyes on y/n, Feyre can quite literally see the tension leave his body.

“Sweetheart.” Azriel speaks so softly. He rushes to y/n and envelopes her in a hug that looks like it would hurt.

“Hi love.” Y/n whispers back just as soft and leans her forehead against his.

It’s an intimate moment that everyone else in the room feel like they are intruding on.

But one moment the feared shadowsinger and his mate were there…and the next gone.

Rhysand releases a breath that he had been holding.

“Well that was y/n. She’s half high fae and half witch. The people of Prythian call her Nightmare because fae parents tell their children if you don’t behave she’ll come in the night while you are sleeping and take you to her dungeon. Which isn’t totally untrue…it’s just criminals and murderers that she takes to her dungeon. You won’t see her or Azriel again until maybe two or three months from now .” Rhysand states.

“What? Where will they be?” Elain finally speaks.

After witnessing all she just had she can’t say she’s not a bit disappointed. It was obvious what you were to Azriel.

“Oh they are going to pick up their children from Azriels mom’s cottage and spend the rest of their time at their home.” Rhysand throws out casually.

“THEY HAVE CHILDREN? Rhysand what else have you conveniently left out?!” Feyre berates.

“….well I think that’s it honestly. OH they have a pet wolf who is very protective of the children. Also my niece and nephews, they enjoy tormenting people in different ways than their parents…mental manipulation. Just lock your mind up real tight around them. God I love them and proud they are all daemati like me but they once convinced me I had a thing for Beron for over a week until y/n realized what they were doing and made them release my mind.” Rhysand annoyedly admits.

Elain and Feyre can only stare at him in shock. He simply shrugs his shoulders like it was normal and walks off.

Elain breaks the silence and turns to Feyre. “I think y/n is going to end up being best friends with Nesta.” the two break out in giggles and they honestly can’t wait to see that unfold.

[mischiefmanagers]

Slow Burn

After a mission in Illyria, you find yourself drugged with some sort of aphrodisiacal breeding tonic. With Azriel seemingly interested in Elain, who can keep you from enduring a torturous night of pain?

WC: 5k

Warnings: Smut, piv, oral (female receiving), dubcon (i guess due to the drug but consent is given), sex pollen, slight angst but mostly fluffy smut

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics! I do not do taglists anymore.

Wildfire (Eris)

Burning. An intense burning flowed through your veins, radiating from your form and making your pulse hammer under your skin. Your entire body pulsed with the movement of your blood. Sweat accumulated on your forehead, and your vision blurred slightly as you became more and more lightheaded.

"Can you hear me?" Madja asked.

You nodded, but it felt like it took everything in you to move your head up and down. She placed a small damp towel on your forehead when you began squirming.

Immediately, her strong hands held your wrists down to the bed. "Stay still, young one."

Tears lined your eyes in frustration. You needed -- you needed...

What on earth did you need? What was happening to you?

"Madja-" you started, breaking off with a gasp at a sudden pain in your abdomen. "Am I dying?"

She scoffed. "No. Not as long as any of your friends can help it."

"What's happening to me?"

She stroked your hair back, and you couldn't help the way your stomach knotted at the action. It had to be bad if she was showing this much sensitivity.

"You were drugged. At the Illyrian camps, one of the males must have slipped you a strong tonic."

You tried to think back to all who you had interacted with, but your mind was fuzzy, brain unable to focus with the ripple of electricity buzzing under your skin.

A tear broke free and rolled down your cheek despite your attempts to hold it in. You felt so uncomfortable, so uneasy, the pain steadily rising...

"Madja." A strong, very male voice broke through the haze.

Rhys. He was here, and he would make sure you survived. He always did.

But it was silent. You could barely see the way his eyebrows knitted together in concern and concentration as he spoke mind to mind with Madja. You reached trembling fingers out toward him, but he stood completely still, not faltering at your rasping breaths or pleas.

"Rhys..." you breathed out.

He swallowed harshly, and then he was breaking his conversation with Madja and turning his piercing violet eyes to you. They cut through the haze around your mind and vision, wrapping your attention entirely around him.

Still, he said nothing. Only nodded slightly in that graceful way of his before backing out of the room swiftly.

A whimper left your throat at his absence, a foreign feeling of betrayal burying deep in your chest at his loss of safety and protection. And then you were twisting with pain once again. Madja was quick to step back to your side. She delicately dabbed at your sweat-soaked skin, and you put whatever energy you had into focusing on your breathing.

"It is a breeding tonic."

The ringing in your ears quieted at her explanation, and you listened to your heart beat faster and faster as you waited for her to explain. Your skin tingled with discomfort and a need to do something.

"Illyrians often use it on unwilling females. It seems one may have wanted revenge. Or an immoral night of pleasure. Possibly both."

You swallowed, trying to soothe your dry throat to no avail. "Why does it hurt?"

A sigh, and then she was rewetting the fabric. Her attention cast downward, but you still felt her voice wash over you as she spoke. "Your only antidote is in what they would take from you. The pain makes it more likely for the females to give in."

The only sound in the room came from the water in the bucket by your bedside and your raspy breaths.

Who did this to you? Who would do this to you? Wretched, disgusting, fucking animals, all of them.

"Rhysand had put you under, and I have kept you unconscious with sleep aids until this point but your body is burning through them too quickly. Is there anyone we can ask to treat you?" Madja asked, the damp fabric dabbing at the beaded sweat on your skin.

Treat you. As if they would be feeding you medicine, monitoring your symptoms and heart rate. No. Madja wasn't asking if there was someone who could check your temperature and put you to bed. She was asking if there was someone who could appease your body and take you to bed.

There wasn't. Even if you felt comfortable enough asking one of your best friends, they were all happily mated or in relationships. Rhysand had Feyre, Cassian had Nesta, and Azriel... he had Elain.

Your mind drifted to the strong shadowsinger, picturing the moment you had seen him last. In the training circle, his leathers had long been stripped and the muscles rippling under tan skin had been addictive to watch. His chest heaved with each controlled breath, sweat dripping down his chest, lower, lower, lower, until the small beads dip under his waistband, led by the small trail of hair and contracting muscles pointing directly downward toward his--

A cramp ravaged your abdomen so suddenly and viciously that you audibly cried out, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and sliding down your temples.

Azriel. The male who had proved you wrong when you had trusted no one. The one who came to your rescue when the priestess temple was invaded. The one who trained you to be lethal and vicious and better than you proved yourself to be on your latest mission.

You would always want him. But he always seemed to want someone else.

Muffled sounds in the hall distracted you briefly, but the cramps, nausea, dizziness, fever, lethargy, it all left you feeling dreadful and delirious, your mind far away from the present moment.

You pushed the damp cloth away with little energy, gritting out through clenched teeth, "There is no one."

Madja sighed, her facial expression stern in your blurry gaze.

When she stood, she dumped the towel into the bowl of water, patting her hands dry on her clothing. "Would you like me to ask for someone to be chosen for you--"

"A stranger? No."

This wasn't just a one-night-stand. You felt small and weak and vulnerable. You didn't know what you were going to say or do. There was no way you wanted to be in this situation with someone you didn't trust. Good male or not, you would feel uncomfortable and exposed with no ability to defend yourself.

"Without treatment, your temperature will rise to dangerous levels. The pain will increase. You will be left to suffer overnight until your body burns away the drug. You will be delirious and will beg for it to end. I have seen the effects of such a drug; it is not pretty."

You would not endure the unpredictable touch of a stranger and you would not force your friends into a difficult position. One they, and their mates, were unlikely to forgive you for.

You licked your dry lips, voice catching as you asked, "Autumn... Eris or Lucien?"

Madja showed no judgement as she nodded. "I will have Rhys send a letter."

Then her hand dropped from your body, the sound of her footsteps fading away as the ringing in your ears increased. Burning, burning, burning. You needed an ice bath, to jump in the Sidra, to peel the skin from your bones, reach inside of yourself and quell the ache.

Small sobs left your mouth.

You heard shouting. An outraged "Eris?" and shuffling of feet. You weren't sure if your hearing was going in and out or if the voices were fluctuating.

It was not difficult to recognize Rhysand's stern voice echoing through the house and disrupting your muddled state, his position as High Lord a declaration in his tone. "This is not up to you."

"He will take advantage-"

"She is asking for him."

"Let me talk to her." The voice was quieter. Muffled and hard to make out. "If she still wishes for him after, then that will be her choice."

Quiet. Only the ringing. Your pulse as it beat, beat, beat in your head. The sweat and tears slowly dripping from your skin. The tremble in your limbs.

And then a knock.

You did not answer, you could not answer. But it was as if this was known, because the door inched open slowly anyway, revealing deep hazel eyes and the broad frame of Azriel.

A whimper escaped at the sight of him, your body reacting to his presence. It was not abnormal for you to preen in his presence, to admire his beauty and long for something more. But this was heightened. Your abdomen knotted up at his concerned expression and strong hands reaching out to you hesitantly.

He sat slowly next to you, fingers just barely brushing the sheets of the bed you laid upon. You whined, only inches away from his touch.

"Sweetheart..." Azriel mumbled under his breath, looking you over with worry.

The sound of his deep voice nearly made your eyes roll back, shivers trailing down your already trembling form. You wanted that voice to whisper in your ear, his hot breath fanning along your neck and cheek as he claimed you.

"Azriel," you gasped. In any other moment, if you were coherent, you would have been embarrassed at the need in your own voice. You sounded absolutely debauched.

"I'm here." His fingers moved quicker than your blurry vision could track, and suddenly they were on your skin. A breath whooshed from your chest as strong capable hands caressed your face, thumbs stroking at the heated skin with reverence and fear.

"Gods, you're burning up."

You focused on his eyes, dizziness making all other surroundings blend into the background. You wanted him so desperately. You wanted him to move those hands down, gliding across your neck down to your sweat-slicked chest, grasping at your breasts and your hips and your ass...

His hands were gone as he spoke sternly. "You need water. You're dehydrated and feverish."

As he poured water into a glass, you could have sworn you heard him mumble something about a "stubborn female," but your mind was already spinning and you felt on the brink of delirium. You were half convinced Azriel wasn't even really there.

"Drink."

Cold water poured slowly into your mouth and down your throat. You greedily swallowed it, trying to reach up with your hands to grasp the glass and send more flowing down. Azriel shushed you instead, stroking the skin of your arm with his free hand as a way of telling you he's got you.

When the glass was empty and the internal fire ravaging your body dimmed only slightly, Azriel skimmed your form, fingers fidgeting with inaction.

"Who drugged you?"

His voice was lethal, and it sent a pang of pleasure to your core. You held back a whine. "I don't know."

"I'll kill them for what they were planning to do. For what they did."

You couldn't respond. It felt like you were being stabbed, skinned alive, split open. Your skin burned and your abdomen ached. Each limb weighed a thousand pounds and your tongue felt like lead in your mouth.

And the anger in his tone only amplified your agony. His fury was palpable and as easily as you imagined him taking you gently and lovingly, you pictured his harshness and ragged edges as he instead pinned you down and ravished you. Your body suddenly ached for bruises and bites and possession.

It was getting worse. This was so much worse than when you first woke.

Tears flooded your eyes as your head swiveled to the side, noticing the darkness still shadowing the sky. There would be hours more of this. Hours of torture and pain.

"You need to go," you breathed out. "You're making it worse."

"Let me help you."

His words were short but confident. Both a demand and plea, although you knew deep down it was a question. He would do nothing without your consent.

Frustration built inside your chest. You so badly wanted to say yes, your lungs ached to scream it. But there in the back of your mind was Elain. Bright and beautiful and holding the desire of the male beside you.

You could not withstand having him for one night only to be thrown away after. Eris or Lucien would be preferred.

"I can't," you choked out, a tormented cry catching in your throat as you spoke the words you so badly didn't want to.

Instead of taking the chair next to your bed once again, Azriel crouched by your side, trying to be eye-level with you. He swallowed harshly, eyes moving across your face and studying you with a pained look that rivaled your own.

His mouth opened then closed, as if trying to hold down his arguments. Finally, he said, "I will not hurt you. I will be respectful and gentle and thorough--"

"It is Elain!"

The words flew from your chest with a desperation. A release you needed to let go, a way to get him to stop talking, a plea to stop making your pain worse.

Azriel only shook his head, though. "I do not understand."

"I will not--" you took a breath trying to stay focused. "I will not lie with a male who wishes me to be someone else."

"Someone else," he repeated.

At the silence permeating the room, the only sound coming from your labored breaths, Azriel mumbled, "You stubborn, stubborn female."

Hands cupped your face again and your own gained enough strength to hold onto his wrists. Despite your words, you could not bear for his touch to leave your skin again. He looked desperate and hungry as he brought your face toward his own and looked into your eyes.

"There is no one and there will never be anyone I wish to be with who is not you."

Nails dug into the skin of his wrists. Thighs clenched and eyelashes fluttered.

"I have been in love with you for ages. You are courageous and perfect and exasperatingly maddening."

His lips inched closer.

"When I heard you were injured in Illyria, I nearly tore this house apart to get to you... And when I heard the issue, I wanted to kill all of the soldiers and any other males near you."

You shivered, mesmerized.

"Don't make me keep watching you in pain."

Then quietly, a temptation. "Just say the word, and I will make it all stop."

Lips brushing against your own, just barely. Enough to make you whimper without satiating any of the fire beneath your skin. "I will give you anything."

"Please," you begged.

Azriel only continued to tease and hold back. Thumb stroking your cheek and lips still hovering, touching and fleeting along your own. "Not that word."

But you couldn't think. Your mind felt like it was in a blender, spinning and spinning with nothing to focus on but those hazel eyes and those words. His shocking words of admiration. You did not know anything but him -- his touch and his eyes and his voice...

"Azriel..."

His large hand stroked your sweaty hair back from your face. "Yes, sweet girl?"

Yes. His word echoed in your head. Yes, yes, yes, you wanted him so badly.

"Yes," you whispered against his lips, feeling hypnotized by his presence.

Just that one word. As the last syllable left your lips, his own were pressing down. You immediately trembled against him, into him, moaning into his mouth. You were completely drawn in, a spell overtaking your mind and body. The feel of him was addicting.

Powering through the weight of your limbs, you dragged your hands into his hair, gripping and tugging, greedily trying to take all that you could. You needed help, you needed more.

Azriel pushed your shoulders back at your insistence. The panicked noise that left you had him immediately leaning back in, standing to hover over you and move closer into the bed. You wanted him in the bed, in you, absolutely everywhere. Fingers clasped into the hem of his pants, but he did not let you get far, stopping your fumbling hands.

"Patience," he spoke against you, moving his lips to your neck and soothing the sting under your skin there. "I'll make you feel better."

The feeling of his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck had you moaning in relief. "I need more."

Azriel’s fingers slid from your face to your chest, and you arched into him. They explored and teased, moving down your side and underneath you until his hand rested firmly beneath your shirt, palm flat against your warm skin. You used the hand as a platform, arching against it and toward his body. He accepted you greedily, leaning down to trail his lips further down your neck and to your chest, the fabric lifted to give him access. You could feel the arousal pooling in your underwear, soaking you, and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped your throat as his teeth bit down on your right breast lightly.

Tilting your head, you watched the veins in his hand as he grasped you, the muscles in his back tensing with his movements.

Your hands snuck between the both of you, fingers still shaking, and found their way to his abs, pressing into his sculpted skin and moving downward. Before you could reach the waistband of his sweatpants again, his scarred hands engulfed your own, pinning them above your head.

"What did I say, sweetheart?"

You whined, arching into him both seeking his touch and begging to be released.

"You're torturing me."

“What do you need? I want you to say it."

The pang of annoyance that made an appearance at his teasing was overtaken by need, a cramp stabbing through you.

"You, you, I've always -- I need you-" you rushed out.

You wanted to yell at him to hurry and do something, because you swore you would internally combust if he didn’t give you more. But your voice was exhausted, and your words caught in your throat, as his strong hands released your wrists and moved underneath your pants to finger the elastic of your underwear. You lifted your hips eagerly to help him pull them both down, your own fingers now gripping the pillow beneath you.

“Such a pretty girl,” Azriel breathed out as he moved lower, lips beginning to tease the inside of your thighs. Your hips bucked at the feeling, tears of frustration nearly spilling over.

His hands caressed the remaining untouched skin, moving up and down your legs before one strong hand rested on your stomach and another began to explore your center. His thumb brought the slickness from your core up to your clit and back down again, spreading your lips for his view as if he were there solely to admire you. His hazel eyes were heavy with lust as he watched his own fingers explore your body. A protest was on your tongue when his middle finger slowly prodded and breached your entrance, filling you swiftly.

You nearly jumped at the intrusion, reaching down with limited strength to grip the strong forearm resting on your abdomen. Azriel briefly glanced up to make sure you were okay before continuing with his movements, slowly thrusting his finger in and out of you.

His lips retraced their previous pattern on your thighs, only this time edging closer to your core. Distracted by the movement of his mouth, you let out a yelp of surprise as Azriel added a second finger.

“You okay?” He asked against your thigh, voice husky. His lust-filled eyes met yours through his dark eyelashes and you nearly moaned at the sight of him laying between your legs, cunt tightening and pulsing at the view.

You nodded desperately, head falling back as his large fingers stretched you out, rhythmically curling against the spot inside you that made you see stars. Your vision swam even more than before, and you thought you might pass out.

You were gushing around him, your wetness coating the inside of your thighs. The pleasure he was bringing you was going straight to your head, and you felt like you were on cloud nine. You were unsure how he was making you feel this good with only his fingers, unable to question if it was due to his own skill or because of the drug in your veins. You stopped caring immediately when he suddenly licked lightly over your clit, placing a gentle kiss there before sucking lightly.

You gasped at the feeling and out of nowhere your walls were clamping down on his fingers, pulsing around them sporadically, and you were gripping his arm tight enough to bruise, the muscles underneath your fingertips flexing.

Vision gone black, you came down heavily, feet kicking at Azriel weakly in an attempt to gift you some relief. His tongue lapped at you like he was begging for more time to savor your taste, but with your insistence, he acquiesced.

Azriel had barely pulled away before he was placing the two fingers that had been inside of you into his mouth, trying to appease his need to get more of your taste.

You nearly came again at the sight.

The fabric of your clothes was suffocating, and at your attempts to pull at them, Azriel immediately moved to free you from the restrictions.

His hands replaced the clothing immediately, once again feeling the bare area that had been sanctioned off to him for so long. Large hands groped your breasts, tongue tasting your sweat-salty skin.

“Az, please.”

He released you, although it looked like it took an effort. “I’ve got you.”

Leaving one last kiss on your sternum in between your breasts, he sat back, hooking his thumbs under the band of his pants. Your anxiety steadily rose at the action, your current state making you wary. Were his words spoken under pressure? Will he still want you tomorrow?

He immediately sensed the change in your body language, eyes meeting your own. “I can keep-”

“No,” you blurted out, desperate to have more of him. “I’m okay.” You tried to push his lengthy history out of your mind, the history that included both Mor and Elain, before it created more of an ache in your chest.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want. I stop when you say.”

“Okay,” you breathed out.

He gave you a small smile, leaning forward to kiss your lips gently. While he was distracting you with the feel of his mouth on your own, his tongue beginning to explore yours, he slowly reached with one hand and pulled his sweatpants down and off, leaving you both completely nude in the bed.

His hand returned to stroke up your burning skin, following a path to your breast and back down to your core, feeling to ensure you were still soaked before moving any further. At the assurance, he grabbed ahold of his cock, guiding it to your cunt and dragging it through your folds. The wetness made him groan, and you released a gasp into his mouth at the feeling of him. Your fingers gripped his biceps and he moved his forearms up to cage your head, grabbing your own hands along the way, leaning over you and covering you fully with his body as his fingers intertwined with your own.

His bright eyes questioned you one last time, giving you an out, no questions asked.

“Please, I need you. I want you,” is all you said, barely a whisper, but he heard it. Then, he was pushing forward.

The head of his cock breached your entrance, and you whimpered at the intrusion. You didn’t get a good look at it, but now you wished you would have because he was big. You figured he would be from his heightened power, strength, and overall large stature, but he felt even bigger than you imagined. Your fingers gripped his own harshly, holding onto him both to ground your anxieties and in hopes he’d keep going.

Azriel entered you slowly, his thickness stretching and stretching you until you felt only a deep sting, your breath catching in your throat. He was quick to soothe you, whispering quiet praises into your ear, telling you that you were being so good, that you were taking his cock better than anyone ever had, that you felt so good wrapped around him.

It felt as if it took forever for him to fully enter you, but at last he hit your cervix, sending a pained squeak out of you. You weren't even sure if he had fit all of himself into you.

“So good, sweetheart. Doing so good for me.”

He pulled out nearly all the way before slowly re-entering you, the drag of his cock against your walls sending fireworks flying across your vision.

“Oh my gods.”

The burning under your skin cooled with each movement, the cramping in your abdomen turning into pleasure. His hips moved freely into you, his pelvis grazing your clit with each surge forward.

"That good? My sweet girl feeling better on my cock?"

Your eyes rolled back at the words, pain ebbing into pleasure, the sting of the stretch and the trembling in your bones fading away in favor of a heavenly feeling spreading through you.

"You're huge, Az-"

"I'm yours, sweetheart."

His lips hovered over your own, your noses brushing against each other's as he moved into you. The feeling was so overwhelming, the fluidity in which you became one, and you found yourself removing your hands from his, wrapping your arms around him and instead clutching his back, mindful of the wings hovering around the two of you.

You clung to him, and you could hear the whimper that escaped you as he began to move faster, his muscles moving underneath your fingertips.

“Cauldron, you feel like heaven.”

You couldn’t even respond. Your nerves tingled with pleasure, your mind still hazy from the drugs, and tears blurred your vision from how good you felt. You gasped, listening to his own groans, the sounds you made as you connected, and the movement of your bodies against the sheets. Your brain was gone, replaced by complete bliss as he entered you over and over and over again.

Azriel recognized the glossed over eyes, the incoherent whimpers and moans, the way you couldn’t seem to get out a thought. Your fingers drew him in closer, massaging his back and arms while his own hands explored your body, trailing from your calves to your face. His palm cupped your jaw, his hand moving until his fingers were tangled in your hair.

“Gorgeous girl. Want you to let go and take what I give you. Let me make you feel better." His gaze faltered from your own as he moved his thumb from where he was stroking your cheek to move down against your clit, bringing some of your wetness up toward it before moving at a deliberately gentle and teasing pace.

Your toes pointed, body tensing to the point of pain, and hips attempting to raise off the bed. Azriel only held your hip down, forcing you to absorb what he offered. “That’s it, come on. Want to feel you around me. Want to watch you come undone.”

His thumb brought you higher and higher, his giant cock moving through your walls like he was made solely to pleasure you. Tears finally fell over and down the sides of your face, dripping onto the sheets below as you nearly let out a scream.

Then you unraveled. Legs shaking, fingers grabbing onto anything, cunt clamping down onto his cock as if he was going to leave you, fluttering and pulsating until you only saw white behind your eyes and felt the burning hot waves of an orgasm shoot through your veins, traveling up your back and straight to your brain.

Then it suddenly felt like you had been shoved underwater, the embrace of the cool liquid soothing your skin, your heartbeat, any pain that had been coursing through you.

You were floating, completely at peace as your high dwindled back down.

When the feeling passed, you could hear Azriel faintly grunting but your hearing was still submerged, ears ringing from your high.

The warm feeling of his spend filling you up soothed whatever was left of the ache in your body, like a primal medication with immediate effects. Then your vision was back, and Azriel's head was hanging forward, hair dangling into your face as he watched himself pull out of you.

You let out a noise of discontent as he removed himself, but he was quick to try to appease you with a kiss to your lips, his fingers busy pulling his pants back on.

When he pulled back, you were breathless. The effects of the drug were gone only to be replaced by the addictive male in front of you.

"Better?"

Nodding, you reached for his fingers. "I don't know what to say or where to start. Thank you."

The love in his eyes was obvious, and you wondered how you had missed his eyes on you this whole time. How long had he looked at you like this?

"You don't have to thank me."

You brought him back down to you, ready to finally rest under his strong and protective arms. A conversation long in the making ready to be had in the morning.

He kissed you once, twice, before pulling back.

"You do have to explain why you asked for Eris, though."

[mischiefmanagers]

hi!! can you write Azriel x reader (established mates) where reader is worried Azriel only wants to be with her because they're mates but in reality he's been in love with her for centuries but thought he didn't deserve her or something like that. maybe angsty at first because she's kinda avoiding him but with happy ending please and thanks :')

is it love, or just the fear of loneliness?

azriel x reader

summary: Is Azriel’s love for you born from only the mating bond that he was always so desperate for—or was his love always there, hidden beneath the surface? As doubts rise, only he can reveal the truth.

You were on your second refill when you realized Rhys and Cassian had drunk the rest of the bottles themselves.

“I mean,” the High Lord started, already laughing at his story. “I mean—”

“What do you mean, Rhys?” Feyre asked, watching her mate stomach the influence of the wine.

“I mean,” he tried yet again, but his laughter kept interrupting.

Cassian was chuckling as he eyed him with half-closed eyes. “Finish the sentence, brother.”

“I’m trying,” he laughed, now looking at you. Then to Azriel at your side, whose face lay freely joyful.

“I mean, do you remember,” he asked Cassian, “how all Azriel could talk about was having a mate?”

You could feel through the bond the quiet embarrassment of your mate.

But they didn’t, so Cass continued. “Oh—yes. He was desperate.”

“I want a mate? When will I find a mate? Where is she?” Cassian imitated with a stupid voice.

Feyre’s little giggle wasn’t half of the hysterical roars of the Illyrians. However, Az, instead of laughing, gave you a quick shy glance.

Rhysand had a hand on his stomach as he continued laughing with no end. Feyre gave you and Azriel an apologetic look. “Rhys, you are very drunk, my love.”

But Rhys’s eyes widened with a thought. “Do you remember—do you remember when Azriel got drunk?”

Cassian's grin only grew. “Oh, gods. It got even worse.”

“I want a maaaaate,” Rhys drawled, his imitating voice even worse than Cass’s. “Where is sheeeee?”

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to catch Azriel’s eyes. When he didn’t let you meet his gaze, you shifted your attention to your ring, instinctively rolling it. 

“Alright, that’s enough for tonight,” Feyre said softly when Rhys tried to gulp down another glass of wine.

“What do you mean? We're just getting started,” Cass said, then turned to you. “Y/N, you don’t know how much we owe you.”

“Yeah,” Rhys nodded. “I don’t think I could’ve listened to one more hour of Azriel begging for a mate.”

At least now, Azriel was smiling faintly, as if remembering. As if grateful.

But something in your chest… pained.

You suddenly felt it difficult to get air into your lungs, as if you were falling from great heights. 

He was desperate for a mate.

You never let your mind linger there for too long, it always hurt too much. You were scared of what you might grow to believe if you looked at the puzzle pieces for too long.

Desperate.

“I think I’m going to sleep.” The words spilled out before you could muster a believable tone. “Good night,” you said as you rose, not daring to look back at your mate’s face as you headed to your room.

Trying to make no noise, you slowly closed the door of your room and leaned your back on it.

The questions in your head were far too swift for you to dodge them.

What if that was all you were to Azriel? His mate?

Did he only want you because of the bond?

Because he finally found what he was desperate to find? Not necessarily love—but a mate.

‘He was desperate.’

You and Azriel had known each other for many years, and Azriel had barely noticed your existence.

You even believed he avoided you.

He never spoke to you, never looked at you for too long… until the bond snapped for you both at the same time.

And then, and only then, had you found the bravery to get to know him, even asking him out yourself.

Then, and only then, had he started to grow interested in you.

Everything… everything was just because of the mating bond.

A light knock sounded, startling you enough to take a step away from the door.

“It’s me,” the voice said. Azriel’s voice.

Not now. Not now.

You quickly wiped the tears from your face and took a deep breath.

You found that worried look on your mate when you opened the door, and it made it an effort not to cry again.

“The party is over?” you asked, trying to sound somewhat calm.

“I… I’m here to see if you are alright.”

You made yourself breathe before you fainted. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You left,” he said as he came inside the room. “You seemed… sad.”

You closed the door and watched as he silently awaited your answer. It didn’t come.

Azriel took a step, leaving no safe space between you. One deep breath and your skin would brush his.

“Tell me, love. What is it?”

You shook your head.

“Is it… is it about what they said? About me?”

You didn’t say anything. But you didn’t shake your head either, so he took that as a yes.

There was something wary in his eyes as he asked, “About the mate thing?”

You felt dizzy, like you were falling from a cliff.

You had to hold on to somehting.

You tentatively took his index finger between your fingers, making him look down at where your hands joined. A faint smile bloomed on his worried face. “Are you mad at me about it?”

“No,” you murmured. “Not mad.”

“Then?” he urged, moving his other hand to cup your cheek. “You… you feel so quiet on the other side of the bond… I can almost not feel you at all.”

You met his eyes, saying sorry over and over through the sad colors on yours.

“I just,” you breathed. “I just thought about what they said, that you were desperate. And it made me think if maybe… if maybe you only wanted me because I am your mate. Not because—” You had to look away from his face. “You love me.”

Azriel’s long moment of silence was torture, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else.

At last, he spoke. “Y/N, look at me. Please. Look at me, my love.”

You did, even when you felt another tear slipping down your cheek. He gently wiped it away.

“I love you. I need you to know that. I love you more than anything in this world. And I don’t love you because you are my mate.” More tears rolled down, yet these were not sad. “I’ve loved you long before I knew you were my mate.”

Your mouth opened partly at his confession, yet you didn’t know what to say.

He understood your confusion and further explained. “I did, Y/N. For so long, I loved you from a distance. From the moment I first met you, and you spoke—not to me, but… just hearing your sweet voice, I realized I was going to fall for you.”

“What?” you whispered low enough you weren’t sure he had even heard you.

But maybe he did, for he nodded, caressing your cheek with heartbreaking softness. “I thought you would never like me back.”

“But- I thought you disliked me, Azriel.”

His brows furrowed and his hand fell from your face. “Why would you ever think that?”

“Because,” you said. “You never spoke to me. You didn’t even look in my direction. And when you did speak to me, all you said was one word, nothing more.”

A sheepish smile appeared on his face. “Well, I was… shy around you. It wasn’t easy to talk to you, or to stare too long without making a fool of myself, so I tried to avoid both.”

You tried to take in his words, finding it very difficult to digest this new reality.

He had been in love with you… and you hadn’t even noticed.

“Y/N,” he spoke, seriousness lacing his words. “That ring,” he gestured with his chin, and you looked down at the golden band with a diamond on your finger. “I…”

“You what?”

“This is embarrassing,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I bought that ring the very first day I met you.”

You were pinned in place, failing to even breathe or blink.

“What?” It seemed like the only word you knew.

“It’s both romantic and psychotic, I know,” he smiled.

You inhaled deeply, meeting his gaze. “You knew? You truly knew it was…”

“You?” he finished. “Yes.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in his words. Azriel pulled you gently into his arms as you let the warmth of him embrace you.

It was no more than a whisper, yet you heard him murmur against your temple, “From the very first moment, I knew, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, finally accepting the fall.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

a/n: what is this thing with your titles being a question, lidia? mmmm, 🤷‍♀️. anyway, hope you like this one, thanks for the request. and have a wonderfull 2025!!

[mischiefmanagers]

Unapologetically Selfish

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, fluff, gaslighting(?) not proofread bc author is lazy

Word Count: 2334

Summary: When both of your jobs have your time with each other limited, Azriel makes the decision to keep you all to himself. Content to let his family think he'd finally lost his mind but an accidental meeting has the IC realizing Azriel truly does have a secret mate.

─── ♡ ───

Cassian was…concerned, to say the least. 

He fully believed Azriel was loosing his god damned mind and with each passing day this assumption only worsened. 

It all started three years ago, Azriel becoming almost scarce from time to time. With no explanation other than vague answers. It didn’t happen a lot and Cassian respected his brother needed his space some time, it wasn’t unusual for the Spymaster to slink off in the shadows. But then after a year his disappearance’s become nearly constant. 

Cassian and Rhysand finally cornered their brother after they demanded he show up for a monthly family dinner, the whole inner circle was getting concerned and decided that the two Illyrians were the best equipped to deal with this. 

Azriel had blankly looked at his brothers a small furrow in his brow as he sat through their interrogation. He hadn’t even realized he had been gone that much to be frank. Just… after meeting you? He wanted to spend every second of the day by your side, the mating bond simply not enough for how deeply he felt for you. 

After realizing the worry he was causing his family he pursed his lips and quite reluctantly told his brothers that he had found his mate. 

The look on the High Lord and General of the Night Court was absolutely priceless, their mouths hanging open as a stunned expression took over their usually stoic faces. 

Not even five minutes later the whole family knew, everyone pestering him for information like when they would get to meet you, what your name was, what did you do, how did you meet, where have you been this entire time. 

“Wait!” Feyre said as Mor had opened another bottle of wine and started excitedly pouring everyone a glass. “Is that why you asked Rhysand for a few months off?” 

The whole Inner Circle froze at Azriel’s simple nod. They all knew the implications of what that meant and Cassian was the first to speak. “You had a mating ceremony and none of us knew?” His voice thick with emotion. 

Azriel struggled with his next words. His heart a lump in his throat. He was never a talkative male, especially not about his feelings. 

“I-“ 

The truth was he was an incredibly selfish bastard. Of course he wanted his family to meet you, you were the most radiant person he ever had the pleasure of breathing next to and that was precisely the problem. He wanted you all to himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He said clearing his throat. “Would you like to meet her?” The house erupted with enthusiastic yes’s as his words seemed to smooth over the transgression. 

Eight months after that conversation, and after 6 canceled dinners 2 rescheduled lunches and just a straight up no show for drinks, The Night Court decided Azriel was…delusional. 

Of course they came to this conclusion delicately and most definitely amongst themselves after long and heated conversations.

Once again Rhysand and Cassian were sent to talk with the elusive spymaster and why he would make up such a lie. 

Azriel just refused their nonsense once again. He had told them the truth and it was their fault they didn’t believe it. He had barely seen you these last couple months as you had been working on the Continent and he had other tasks assigned to him. He told his brothers this and they just gave each other a look, one he simply ignored. 

Soon…the teasing started. Once the Inner Circle realized Azriel was doubling down on his ‘delusions’ Cassian promptly started joking about the fake wife and mate Azriel had. A few offhand comments here and there that become more and more frequent, of course Nesta and the rest of their family told him to shut up, but for Cassian it came from a place of love. 

He had tried talking to his brother, tried helping him through this. Cassian’s mind spinning, he truly thought Azriel had finally cracked, that his dearest brother was so alone he had made up an imaginary mate just to prove something. 

So his teasing was his last ditch effort, the final playing card to hopefully get Azriel to just admit he lied, than Cassian would take him out for drinks and be his shoulder to cry on for whatever issue that was obviously going on. 

Except it didn’t work. Azriel just grew more and more distant, if he wasn’t working he was simply…elsewhere. The last time Azriel ever made an effort to be around his family was when he suddenly up and decided to move out of the House of Wind, throwing a small house party for a beautiful cottage he purchased along the coast. 

Rhysand had to force Azriel to come to family dinners, in which sometimes the Spymaster simply never showed up and when he did his mind seemed distant and detached. 

Everyone was getting increasingly worried, especially Cassian. Azriel was incredibly important to him and although Cassian would never admit this, he felt responsible for him. Sometimes his brother didn’t know how to take care of himself, especially emotionally and whenever that happened The General had always been there, happily helping him whenever he could, making sure his heart and mind were protected, fighting off Azriel’s demons when he couldn’t do it himself. 

And he had never seen his brother so…aloof, distant and he had never thought his mental health would have gotten so bad he had made up a mate. So finally, Cassian and Rhys decided it was time for an intervention. 

———

Azriel.. for the life of him could not wait for his brothers to get out of his house. 

He loved them dearly and he knew he had been acting stranger and stranger these last few years, he knew his family thought he was certifiably insane and that great Shadowsinger of the fearsome Night Court had finally snapped and of course he cared, he knew that his actions had his brothers spinning and Nesta’s newly revealed pregnancy didn’t help Cassian’s grey hairs, and he had tried countless times to explain to them that he wasn’t insane, that you were real and beautiful and had utterly and completely captured his heart. 

But without the proof, his brothers simply didn’t believe him. Azriel wanted you to meet his family, gods did he want you too. But his time with you was becoming more and more rare. 

If you weren’t on the Continent you were with Thesan and if you weren’t with Thesan you were with Helion, leading all sorts of medical discoveries he simply could not comprehend no matter how hard he tried, this new medical project you were taking on meant that he hadn’t seen you in months, his body and heart ached for you and he truly had never felt such longing in his life. His brother’s insisting that he was insane certainly wasn’t helping his heartache.  

“I…” Cassian swallowed. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore Az.” He whispered finally and Azriel truly felt the guilt he had been burying down hit him as if he had been struck at the look on his brother’s face. 

He opened his mouth to say something but ultimately couldn’t find the words as Cassian left his home office, his footsteps echoing the utter doom and gloom he felt not only at your disappearance but at the raging guilt he felt for putting everyone in this situation in the first place. 

“Please…Just talk to us Az-“ Rhys started but he put his hand up. “Just, Go..please, we can talk about this later.” Azriel pleaded and Rhysand must’ve seen the look on his face so he pursed his lips and followed the General out of his brother’s home. 

———

You couldn’t wait to get home not only to the house you’d built together but to your mate. Every fiber of your being ached for him, and it physically hurt to be away from him for so long. 

So finally you had announced to your team and your dearest friend Thesan you were taking a well deserved break and decided to surprise your mate. 

You desperately needed to see him, hold him, breathe him in. Your soul was raging for the distance to finally be closed and so you planned a surprise trip, so you shut off the bond to him, which had sent him into a wild panic but you soothed it temporarily saying you were busy and needed to focus. But really you knew you couldn’t hide the excitement at finally arriving home, your chest was alight with nerves as you opened the door to your house, your fingers nervously playing with your hair as you couldn’t stop the giddy smile from erupting across your face. 

This was space was yours. For the first time you had not just a house but a home, and a lot of your tension eased at finally stepping into the carefully curated space you and Azriel had created. You could smell him everywhere, and it insantly made your frayed nerves ease, your body already relaxing at just finally being home.

It had been six long months without touching him, seeing him, with only fleeting reassurance and love sent down the bond and you needed him. Now. 

You were so excited you didn’t see the tall and bulky Illyrian warrior standing in your hallway staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You crashed into a hard wall of muscle in your haste to get to your mate and immediately pulled back. 

“Your…not Azriel.” You stated, looking him up and down with a small frown etched on your face, something primal recoiling at the thought of another male in your house.

“Neither are you?” The male stated his voice with a slight edge, eyes wary as he looked you up and down, as if you were a threat. His fingers twitching and you immediately pulled away from him noticing his dangerous expression. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here? I think the question is what the hell are you doing in my house.” You asked stepping another few paces away from him but still crossing your arms over your chest as you looked him up and down. He wore red siphons on his hands and his long brown hair had a few greys all tied together in a low bun. Cassian, then you assumed.

“Wait..I’m sorry what?” The male sputtered, his vicious stance immediately softening into one of shock. You didn’t notice the High Lord standing behind him with an equal look of surprise as their brains finally processed the information. Their brother hadn’t cracked, he had been telling the truth about all of it. The traveling, the courtship, that he was in fact married and mated. 

Shadows twisted in the corner before scurrying off down the hall and in just a few seconds you were being tugged into a warm chest and spun around as scarred hands possessively held your waist. You giggled at the touch, the bond in your chest thrummed with light as peace finally settled in your bones. Home you were finally home. He set you down and you leaned up pulling his face close to yours as you peppered him with kisses. Gods you had missed him so much. He smiled softly at your touch shadows almost completely engulfing you as they too missed you. 

“Hey, Hello? We’re still here.” Cassian snapped his fingers to get your attention and Azriel growled darkly at the intrusion. You had been gone for six months you were his not his family’s. It wasn’t just a want that made him grip you even tighter at the thought of his family taking away your time with their endless interrogation no, no it was a need that thrummed throughout the fiber of his being. He needed to mark you up and hold you close and worship every single inch of skin on your body. He needed to completely immerse himself into you. 

Rhysand must have seen the look on his face or heard something in his mind because he gently gripped Cassian’s shoulders. “If you neither of you show up to breakfast tomorrow we will hunt you down or simply show up here.” It was said in a playful tone but Azriel understood the threat behind it, he was going to have to finally introduce you whether he liked it or not and with a simple wave of agreement from Azriel the two males winnowed away and he pressed himself further against you. Breathing in your scent all his stress and worry melting away as he did. The bond had been pulled so taut with the distance it had ached with the worst pain possible. 

“I missed you.” You breathed out softly, he grunted in agreement. “Let me take you far away from here and show you how much I missed you.” He whispered as he pressed soft kisses down the side of your neck, you giggled and his heart beat faster at the noise. “You are not getting of that easy again Spymaster.” You spoke with another laugh. His hands tightened even further on your hips with frustration, one of them sliding up to tangle in your hair as he kissed you, his tongue sliding in your lips claiming your’s with a deep desire that settled in his bones. You’d leave again soon and now he’d have to share your limited time with someone else. He tugged at your bottom lip possessively at the thought and lifted you in his arms your legs straddling as his waist as he walked you to your bedroom to show you exactly how much you were his. 

————— 

The Inner Circle anxiously awaited The General and High Lord’s arrival, waiting on any news of Azriel’s mental health when they finally winnowed in. Shocked grins overtaking their expressions. There was a beat of silence before Cassian spoke up. “You’ll never guess what the actual fuck just happened.” 

[mischiefmanagers]

Love Heals

a/n: a request for some angsty hurt/comfort! (my fav)

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: language, canon-typical violence (torture/kidnapping), trauma-induced anxiety/flashbacks

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: Your first solo mission goes terribly wrong after you failed to heed Azriel's warnings. That doesn't stop him from saving you, and it certainly doesn't stop him from caring for you in the aftermath. You're convinced you don't deserve him, but that doesn't stop you from wanting him.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

“Tell me you aren’t actually going.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a breath before replying, “It’s not your decision, Azriel.”

He grabbed your wrist, yanking you to a halt. The faelights in the hall flickered around you, casting his face in shadow. His irritatingly beautiful face, that normally had warm hazel eyes and soft smiles directed at you. Now, his eyes were icy, and his face was pulled into a hard scowl, and you found yourself wanting to be anywhere but there. You pulled your wrist away, anger flaring in your chest. “I have to pack,” you huffed, turning back around to continue toward your room.

“You cannot be that stupid.”

The audacity of this male. A sarcastic laugh fell from your lips. “Well, you were the one who trained me.”

“Y/N,” Azriel growled.

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the twitching of his wings and his fists clenched tight at his sides. He was always so composed, so calm, that it was jarring to see him like this. He was brimming with tension and anger. Half of you wanted to comfort him, to calm him down, but the other half of you couldn’t fathom why he was the one who was angry right now. “I’m not letting you take this from me,” you told him quietly.

“You aren’t ready.”

“Like I wasn’t ready for reconnaissance in Autumn?” You threw back, your voice echoing down the hall. “Or in Spring? Or a trip to Hewn City?” Your own anger was quickly bubbling to the surface, blurring out your feelings for the male and solidifying your decision to go on this mission.

Azriel’s mouth fell shut, a flicker of surprise, and then guilt, crossing his face.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “I know about those. I know you are the one that told Rhys I couldn’t handle it. But this time, Rhys came to me, and I said yes. You don’t get to decide this time.” It wasn’t entirely truthful, but you wanted your words to stick. You wanted him to feel guilty, to regret keeping you from the field. 

You had been training for a year, and while you had started later than the others, you would like to think you had proved yourself. You had proved yourself. Azriel wouldn’t have agreed to train you as a spy if you hadn’t, but now he wanted to be difficult, to delay your transition into the field without any real explanation, and you were tired of it.

“It’s too dangerous,” he tried again, voice quieter but still hard with anger.

“Everything we do is dangerous,” you said, exasperation making your voice heavy. “It’s our job. It’s what I signed up for. You made sure I knew that on day one.”

“It’s an Illyrian rebel camp, and you are going in alone—”

“I’m not going inside the camp,” you cut him off. “I’m spying. The whole point is to stay undetected, like you trained me.”

“You are just a priestess.”

His words made your heart drop, a buried insecurity once again unearthed. “Right,” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because that’s all I’ll ever be to you, isn’t it? The broken and bloody priestess you carried out of Cesere.”

The regret was clear on his face as he said softly, “I didn’t mean that.”

An ache spread from your core to your bones as his words rang through your head. The two of you had grown undeniably close over the last year. You knew that your feelings were morphing into much more complicated ones for the shadowsinger, and you had convinced yourself that he might see you in the same way—or, at the very least, he respected you as a friend and as a spy. 

Everytime he touched you, or even spoke to you, a swarm of butterflies erupted inside you. Now, those butterflies were dead, and lying heavy in your stomach.

Something akin to desperation pulled taught in your chest, making your breath falter, but you ignored the strange feeling and you swallowed your hurt. “You did,” you said quietly. It had been a long time since you worried that Azriel still saw you as the pitiful priestess in distress, but now those worries were back ten-fold, they were confirmed, and you felt sick.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” you bit out. “I’m going on this mission.”

~ ~ ~

You lost track of how many drops of water had dripped against the stone beneath you. You were fighting to stay awake, but you couldn’t remember when you stopped counting. The steady dripping was like a sword against stone at this point, after spending endless hours tied up in this cave, with the drops and the skittering of rodents the only sounds to keep you company.

You tried to refocus on the dripping again, but the light echoing of every drop was like an anvil against your head. The rhythm of the drops seemed to be off too, as if they were competing with one another to fall. You dragged your gaze up to your wrist hung over your head, rough rope rubbing the skin raw, and a trail of blood trickling down your arm, onto your shoulder, and likely onto the stone below. The competing drops, most likely.

Azriel was right. You were just a priestess, who decided she wanted to play spy, and ran headfirst into danger to impress her High Lord. Rhys had tried to dissuade you from the mission, too, which you failed to share with Azriel. Rhys had asked you a research question, and when you probed him for more information, you pushed him to send you on this mission until he acquiesced. Convinced him that your knowledge of Illyrian culture and folklore (an embarrassing and inexplicable research obsession you garnered after Azriel rescued you) made you the best person to go on this mission, next to an actual Illyrian. You were tiny, and would be able to slip in and out of places with ease, and you would be able to recognize any abnormal practices in the camp. You would know where to hide, when to move, how to stay hidden and collect the intel Rhys needed.

You weren’t sure how they found you. You had barely stepped a foot inside their territory, only just finding your first scouting position, when a male plowed into you from your perch in a pine tree, knocking you flat on your back into the snow. Two more males had materialized from the shadows, and dragged you through the bitter cold snow until you reached this cave, deep in the Illyrian Steppes. 

You were freezing by the time you reached the cave, and your body was shivering relentlessly from the damp and cold clothes plastered to your body. What you would do for those clothes now, as you hung from your arms, your chest and legs bare, save for the scrap of underwear they had left intact. You hoped you died before they removed it.

You were certain your leg was broken—shattered, most likely. You had lost feeling in it awhile ago, but you had no way of truly knowing how much time had passed. Your head was pounding, and it felt like sand was sloshing around inside it with every movement you made. Your body was painted with dried and fresh blood, thanks to the fresh cuts they added every so often.

This was the longest they had left you alone. Every second that passed by filled you with more trepidation. You kept waiting for them to cross another line, to finally finish you off, to realize you weren’t going to tell them anything and to just get rid of you.

Your body was so heavy. You had long ago given up on holding yourself up, to try to alleviate the pressure of the ropes on your wrists. Your ankles were bound too, and your toes barely grazed the stone beneath you as you slowly swayed back and forth. 

You flinched as something brushed against your ankle, a chill instantly going up your spine. Mother only knew what was in these caves, what was waiting to feast on your carcass.

Your vision started to swim again, the rocks before you tilting as consciousness finally abandoned you.

~ ~ ~

You awoke in a panic, your body all too aware that someone was there, and they were touching you. Adrenaline took over your body as you thrashed and screamed, refusing to just lie there and make it easy for them.

Hands cupped your cheeks, and your eyes snapped shut as their fingers slipped through the mixture of tears and blood on your skin. “Sweetheart,” the male said, and the breath whooshed from your lungs. You knew that voice.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s Azriel.”

“No,” you sobbed, refusing to give into whatever cruel hallucination your mind had cooked up. They must have drugged you while you were unconscious, pumped you full of Mother only knew what.

He brushed the hair from your face, and your mind was screaming at you to give in, to let yourself have this final moment of peace, with the male you loved and would never get to see again. Your fear was too powerful, though, your last shred of hope that you could survive this too potent.

Another set of hands were at your wrist, their touch like acid in your wounds. You screamed as they pulled at you, the rope rubbing against your raw wrists. You were so desperate, desperate to do anything to make them leave you alone. Your screams turned to sobs, and suddenly your body was falling forward, and your arm fell to your side. The male caught you before you could hit the ground, your body going limp against his. He smelled like cedar, and salt, and for a moment you found yourself relaxing in the comforting scent.

Your other arm soon fell to your side too, and your hands burned as the blood rushed back into your fingers. “Y/N,” he murmured, brushing your hair back gently. “Open your eyes. Please.”

A comforting warmth flooded your chest, and your eyes slowly fluttered open. A blurry Azriel was holding you up, his face mere inches from yours. A heavy fabric was draped over your shoulders, making you flinch away from whoever stood behind you, but that only pushed you further into the other male’s arms.

“It’s okay,” he cooed. “It's just Cassian. You’re freezing, love.”

You hadn’t noticed the shivers racking your body until then. Black wisps brushed your face and neck, and their familiar touch made you crumple.

“Azriel?” you sobbed, body limp in his arms as you looked up at him.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes. It’s me. You’re safe now, I promise.”

He pulled the cape Cassian had draped over you around your shoulders, effectively covering your bare body.

A million things were rushing through your head, a million things you wanted to tell him, but all that you could get out was a sobbed, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, voice firm.

“I should have listened—”

Azriel shushed you, his finger gently stroking your face. “Stop. This wasn’t your fault,” he repeated softly.

Panic seized you as you realized you were just sitting here, waiting for those males to come back. “Those males—”

“Rhys has them,” Cassian answered, his voice dangerously low. “We’ll take care of them.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened. “Take her home,” he told Cassian, voice dipped in lethal rage. You immediately tensed. “Madja is waiting.”

“No,” Cassian said, and relief flooded you. As much you trusted Cassian, you couldn’t fathom another male touching you, carrying you all the way back to Velaris. Azriel was…He was the exception. His touch made you feel whole, and safe. He was your anchor. But the thought of anyone else made bile rise in your throat.

“Excuse me?” Azriel growled, his chest rumbling beneath where your head had lolled.

“No,” Cassian repeated. His voice was a little warped, and your head was growing heavy. “You take her home. Rhys and I will handle those males.”

“They deserve—“

“I know,” Cassian placated. “I know they do.” His voice was so far away now. Adrenaline had abandoned you, and you were in Azriel’s warm arms, and your exhaustion was slowly stealing you away.

“You need to take her home,” you thought he said, but it was so difficult to focus, to be certain that your reality was not meshing with your dreams. “Go home, and take care of your mate.” A dream, then.

~ ~ ~

You were certain your skin was melting from your bones when you awoke. Your scream that filled the room sent a chill through your core, a direct contrast with the scalding of your skin. You couldn’t understand where you were, who was touching you. Everything was mush, and pain, and terror. Your brain had tricked you, fooled you into a false sense of relief by showing you Azriel, and then yanked him away. You were still in that cave, still a captive to those sadistic males.

Except the hand on your forehead was far too small and delicate to belong to one of those brutes. Their skin was soft and cool against your own, and gently forced your head to lay back, cold porcelain meeting your neck. “You’re in Velaris. In the House of Wind,” a delicate voice murmured. Female. The voice was female. “You are safe,” she cooed, and your terror slowly abated, dulling into a sickening anxiety that left you trembling.

You slowly realized you were in a bath, the water a murky green color that continuously flooded the wounds littered across your body.o Every movement you made sent the water sloshing against your skin, and you forced yourself to stay still as you met the female’s eyes. Madja.

Your eyes stung as you stared at the familiar healer, whose ministrations and focus did not falter. “Madja?” you croaked, your throat raw and sore.

“Yes, dear,” she affirmed gently, lifting your arm from the water to probe at your inflamed and oozing wrist.

“Where is Azriel?” you practically whimpered.

“He’s just outside.”

“I need him.”

She glanced at you. “You are not dressed, love. He did not want—”

“Please,” you begged. “I need him. Please get Azriel.” Your volume rose steadily as you yelled desperately, another flare of pain searing through you, “I want Azriel!”

“I’m right here.”

Your eyes darted behind Madja, Azriel standing there in the doorway. His eyes were pained as he took you in, and your body went limp as soon as you saw him. A sob broke free from your mouth, your body shuddering uncontrollably.

He immediately rounded to the other side of the tub, crouching down next to you.

“Shadowsinger,” Madja warned.

“Can I touch her?” he asked, voice cracking. You whimpered through your sobs as she pressed a balm against the wounds circling your wrist.

“Just her face,” she relented.

Azriel’s hand immediately cupped your cheek, and you leaned heavily against him. “It hurts,” you whimpered, eyes falling shut.

“I know,” he murmured. “It will be better soon.”

You sniffed, hesitantly meeting his eyes again. His normally bright hazel eyes seemed muted, exhaustion and worry dulling them. “Is this real?” you whispered, voice so small and vulnerable. You wanted to curl up in a ball, and hide away forever. You wanted to erase these last few days from your memory, or however long you were strung up in that cave. You wanted to go back and listen to Azriel, to not let your pride and anger push you into something so rash.

“Yes,” he assured, his voice soft and gentle. He brushed some hair behind your ear, the strands damp and clinging to your face. He glanced at Madja, then picked up a cloth hanging over the side of the tub. He dunked it in the water then ringed it out, before gently bringing it up to your face. “This will sting a bit,” he warned softly, then dragged the cloth across your forehead.

It did sting, but the discomfort was drowned out by the excruciating burns that consumed the rest of your body fully submerged in the water. You sucked in a breath as he brushed over a tender part of your forehead, and he murmured soft apologies as he continued cleaning it. You could only imagine how you looked at that moment, how disheveled and broken you must have been. Just like that horrid night in Cesere.

“I’m sorry you had to save me again.”

Azriel froze, his eyes wide as they met yours. “Why–” he spluttered, then shook his head. “I will always come for you,” he promised, his voice a bit desperate. “Why would you think—”

“I should have listened to you,” you rasped, chest heavy with guilt and shame.

“Shadowsinger,” Madja cut in, preventing Azriel from answering you. “Keep her calm,” she scolded. “And hold her hand now. This is going to be painful.”

Your stomach lurched, and you looked at Azriel in panic. He dropped the cloth in the water, then gently picked up your hand, wrapping it in both of his. “It’s going to be fine,” he murmured, squeezing lightly. “I’m right here, okay?”

Madja coaxed you to sit forward, the water falling from around you as your shoulders broke through the surface. She held you up with one hand on your collarbone, and Azriel went rigid as he stared at your bare back.

“What is it?” you asked quietly, fear running through you. His eyes snapped toward yours, immediately softening.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the top of your hand, careful to avoid your injured wrist. “Madja is going to take care of you. Don’t worry.”

Madja held a purple vial in her free hand, and she gave no warning before pouring its contents over your back. Your body fell into Azriel as you screamed, the liquid like lava as it seeped into your wounds. Madja dropped the vial, and she let Azriel hold you up as her hands fell over your back, the heat of her magic exacerbating the scalding across your skin.

You were sobbing into Azriel, and one of his hands moved to cradle your head against his chest. “Make it stop,” you begged.

“I can’t,” Azriel choked out. “She has to do this, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Just another minute,” Madja murmured, her voice apologetic.

You were shaking by the time she was finished, and you felt near delirious from the agony still flaring across your back, every throb agitating the wounds that must have gone farther than you realized. Azriel was pale as he watched you, his face stricken.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, and you couldn’t understand why he was apologizing. You couldn’t think about much beyond the pain you were drowning in.

Madja gently coaxed your head from Azriel’s chest, pressing another vial to your lips. “This one won’t hurt,” she promised, slowly pouring the fruity liquid in your mouth. You swallowed hard, watching her in a haze.

You glanced at Azriel again, who looked a bit blurry, his face becoming distorted. “What—”

He shushed you gently, brushing your cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Just get some rest. I won’t leave you.”

You didn’t want to sleep. You didn’t want to leave him again, to be left vulnerable, but before your panic could sink its claws in too deep, darkness blanketed over you. It was soft, and cool, and comforting, and you thought maybe you could stay there, just for a little while.

~ ~ ~

“It’s my fault.”

“Az–”

“It is. You didn’t see her back, Rhys.”

A beat of silence, then, “Can I—”

“No,” Azriel growled. You felt guilty for listening to their conversation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes yet, lethargy still weighing them down. “There are two gashes down her back, right where wings would be. You know what that means. It was intentional. They knew she was important to me.”

“Or,” Cassian said gently, “They knew she belonged to Rhys’s circle.”

“They could smell me on her, Cassian! I should have known better—”

“Az,” Rhys cut him off quietly. You held your breath as the room went silent, your heart rate picking up.

The bed dipped at the edge, and the touch of familiar scarred knuckles lightly brushed across your cheek. “Hey,” Azriel murmured, his voice far more gentle than it was seconds ago. You guiltily fluttered your eyes open, the light of the room making you squint. “You’re awake?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you rasped, your voice a mere whisper.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his hand settling on your hip that was covered by the duvet. A black duvet, that was definitely not your purple one. You slowly took in the room you were in, lavishly big with books and weapons adorning the walls. The bed you were in was far too large for your frame, but it smelled like cedar, and you knew exactly who this room belonged to, even if you had only ever caught glimpses of it before.

Your eyes fell back on Azriel, and he looked more than worse for wear. He looked like he was hanging on by a thread, his eyes limned with exhaustion and his face taught with anxiety. You slowly pulled a shaky hand out from the covers, reaching for his hand beside you. You weakly squeezed his hand, smiling faintly. “It hurts,” you admitted, voice still a weak rasp, “but it’s better.”

Azriel didn’t smile, but he squeezed your hand back, and it made your heart clench.

“Y/N,” Rhys said from the foot of your bed, startling you from your bubble with Azriel. Embarrassment and shame flooded you as you met the eyes of your High Lord, and your eyes quickly started to sting. An apology was about to spill from your mouth, but before you could, Rhys said, “I’m so sorry.” He sounded anguished, and guilty, and you couldn’t fathom why.

You shook your head lightly, a frown pulling at your lips. “Why?”

“I never should have sent you on that mission. It was too dangerous, with too many unknowns, clearly, and I’m sorry.”

“But, I’m the one—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Azriel cut you off, voice hard. “They had an aerial patrol unit we didn’t know about. So while you were focused on avoiding anyone on the ground, they likely spotted you from above within minutes of stepping foot in their forest.”

Your face burned with even more shame. “I didn’t even think about—”

“Neither did we,” Cassian said, stepping up beside Rhys. “We should have, but we underestimated the camp’s efforts, their numbers.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “There’s a lot more of them than we anticipated, but they were anticipating us. They knew Rhys was suspicious of them. It wasn’t your fault, it was ours.”

You took in his words, struggling to accept them. You looked at Azriel, fighting back the tears still threatening to break free. “But you warned me, and I didn’t listen.”

“I was just being selfish,” he murmured softly. “I didn’t want you anywhere near Illyria, but had I known, had I received tangible intel that this was waiting for you, I would have warned you. I would have gone with you.”

He brushed away a tear that fell down your cheek, murmuring softly, “It wasn’t your fault, love.”

Then why did it feel like it was your fault? No one ever knew what you would find on a mission, what you would run into. It wasn’t anyone’s responsibility but your own to anticipate an attack, to map your enemies’ moves, and you failed.

The door creaked open, and Madja’s kind and gentle face appeared in the doorway. She smiled at you, granting you a reprieve you were quickly growing desperate for. “We should change your dressings,” she said, moving toward your bedside, completely unfazed by the three males hovering over you. You, however, only just realized that you were laying there bare, aside from the gauzy white fabric bound around your chest and torso. You wished this bed would just swallow you whole.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Rhys said softly, then guided Cassian out the door.

Azriel lingered though, hesitating to leave your side. He glanced at Madja, and your face went hot as you thought about your bath earlier, about how you screamed and cried for him to help you. “I’ll be fine, Az,” you said quietly. His eyes darted back to yours, clearly not believing you. 

“When was the last time you ate, Shadowsinger?” Madja hummed as she aligned vials and balms on your bedside.

Azriel didn’t say anything, and alarm flitted through you. “You haven’t eaten?” you asked him, shuffling a bit. “Azriel—”

“I’m fine,” he assured, glaring at Madja.

She scoffed. “You haven’t left her side since you brought her to me last night.”

“Az,” you chided softly, guilt flooding you. “Please, go eat something. I’ll be fine with Madja.”

His shadows pulsed haphazardly around him, his eyes clearly conflicted. Eventually he sighed, and stood up from your bed. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything,” he promised softly. Madja gently shooed him out of the room, and you felt empty and conflicted once he disappeared. 

Your mind was swimming. You could barely piece together a general timeline of the last few days, let alone come to terms with whatever complicated feelings you had toward Azriel. It didn’t matter, though. None of it mattered. You were just a broken priestess that would never be worthy of an Illyrian warrior. 

As if your heart wasn’t bruised and battered enough, Madja rubbed salt in your wounds by humming, “That boy loves you.”

Her words hurt. They were meant to comfort, to soothe, to tease—to distract you from whatever pain you were in as she slowly sat you up in bed—but instead, they only prodded at your already tender heart. She stuck another knife in your chest as she said, “I shooed him out because you seemed a bit suffocated, but you need to lean on him.”

“Respectfully,” you said quietly, voice lacking any true bite, “it’s not your place.”

She started to gently undo your bandages, the cool air on your raw and mangled skin making you hiss. She didn’t seem the least bit offended by your words, and simply hummed with a far too knowing voice, “Love heals.”

~ ~ ~

A few days passed, and you had effectively isolated yourself from everyone. At least, as much as you could. Your friends still brought you food, checking in every so often, and reluctantly leaving after you promised you were fine and you just wanted to rest. Azriel never returned, though. He was never one who brought you meals. You couldn’t deny the ache in your soul that throbbed everytime one of your other friends’ faces appeared in your doorway. If you weren’t surrounded by the scent of him from being bundled in his bed, the ache would likely be unbearable. You didn’t know where he was staying while you took over his room.

An oily anxiety was slowly accumulating in your stomach, trickling into your veins to spread throughout your body. Madja took you off the sleep tonics yesterday, and sleep had evaded you the entire night. Every time you closed your eyes, you were back in that cave. Every little sound made you flinch, made you grit your teeth and brace yourself for those males to return, to finish what they started.

“You look like shit,” Nesta drawled as she shut your bedroom door behind her, making you jump. You sat up slowly, resting your back on the mountain of pillows that had accumulated along the headboard. Rhys continued to ply you with gifts, flowers and blankets and pillows now littering Azriel’s room. You could probably move to your own room now, but you selfishly didn’t want to leave.

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

She sat your food tray on the bedside table, a bowl of steaming soup and buttered bread sitting neatly on the wood. She assessed you with cool and calculating eyes, her brow furrowed into a hard line. “Before you kick me out,” she began, “Madja said your bandages need changed, but she can’t come by tonight.” She started pulling gauzes and balms out of the drawer. “So you’re stuck with me.”

“No,” you said quickly. Nesta stilled, side-eyeing you. “That’s not—I can do it myself.”

You didn’t want her to see. You didn’t want anyone to see. It was bad enough Azriel had seen you thrashing and screaming in that bath, had seen the wounds across your back—you couldn’t handle anyone else seeing the remnants of your failure.

“Y/N—” she started to say, voice unusually gentle, and it made you recoil.

“I’m fine, Nesta,” you said. You were fairly certain you would never be returning to training with the Valkyries, that you would be resigning to your life as a researcher in the library, but showing her your wounds, your weakness—it felt like the final nail in your coffin. You weren’t ready for that.

Her eyes narrowed, and she shut the bedside drawer with more force than necessary. “Fine,” she said, voice clipped. “That’s utter bullshit, but fine. As you wish.” She turned her back to you, heading toward the door. “Tell the House if you change your mind.”

The harsh slam of the door made you jump. Guilt mixed with the anxiety in your veins, a muddy mixture that would likely cement inside your heart. 

~ ~ ~

Searing pain jolted you from sleep, lava running down your back. A sudden hand on your shoulder made you scream, undiluted terror mixing with your pain, and defeat took over you as you were yanked back to that cave. You had never left. None of it was real. You were still there, they still had you tied up, and were—

“Y/N,” Azriel’s voice pulled you from your spiral, splashing ice cold water on your terror, blurring the memory you were trapped inside. “You’re safe,” he cooed. “You’re with me.”

Your eyes slowly focused on his figure, his wings flared out a bit and shadows pulsing with tension. His eyes were wild and frantic, and he slowly sank down on the bed beside you as he realized you finally recognized him. 

Relief overwhelmed you, and you couldn’t control the sobs that broke free. Azriel shifted closer, his hands shakily cupping your face to wipe away your tears. “It’s okay,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over your hair as you cried, his shadows nuzzling against your neck. 

The ache in your soul dulled under his touch, and more tears fell down your cheeks as you leaned into him, desperate to cling to the male you had been longing for the last few days. Despite the shame and mortification you felt every time you thought about him having to save you again, him having to hold you together while Madja treated you, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t cut the tether you felt binding you to him.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmured gently, concern evident in his eyes.

“What?” you rasped. You sucked in sharp breath as another bout of pain washed over your back, and you remembered why you awoke in the first place.

Azriel’s hand shifted to your shoulder, gently pushing you to lay on your side. His breath faltered at whatever he saw, making your heart race. “Sweetheart,” he choked out. “Your bandages are falling down.”

You face heated in embarrassment, and you wished your stupid pride had just let Nesta help you earlier, and Azriel didn’t have to see you as a fucking mess again. “Why didn’t Nesta make them tighter?” he said, voice growing angry. “And there’s no balm—”

“I did them,” you cut him off, avoiding his gaze.

“What?” he asked, voice going soft. 

“I told her I could do them,” you said. “How did you even know she—”

“Why wouldn’t you let her help you?” he asked.

You bit your lip, your eyes burning with fresh tears. “I didn’t want her to see,” you whispered.

Azriel paused. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said quietly.

Your hackles instantly raised, and you sat up to meet his gaze, the covers falling around your waist and your back barking in protest. “Really?” you asked, voice incredulous. “I was captured within an hour on my first field mission alone. Rhys didn’t even want to send me on that mission, but I convinced him. I should have known that they would have an aerial patrol—me. That was on me. I should have anticipated—”

“Stop,” he ground out. His eyes were pained and angry as he met your gaze, making you swallow whatever words you had left. “It was not your fault. Maybe there were things that could have been done better, maybe you did make some mistakes, but ultimately, I failed you by keeping you from the field, and by failing to realize—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. He muttered something under his breath, and then said, “No one blames you. Missions go wrong, and sometimes it will be your fault. It’s inevitable that you will make mistakes, but this one is not on you.”

You wished you could believe him. You wished that his words could erase your fears and insecurities, but you would be a fool to ignore the mound of evidence staring you in the face, that littered your skin.

Azriel sighed, as if he realized he wouldn’t be changing your mind tonight. “Let’s get you some clean sheets and clean clothes,” he said. “I’ll get Nesta or Feyre to help with your bandages.”

“No,” you rushed out, making Azriel freeze. “Please, don’t get them. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he argued. “Your wounds aren’t covered which is why you woke up in pain.”

That made you falter. “How did you know that?”

Azriel blinked, hesitation flickering in his eyes before they shuttered again. “My shadows.”

Your chest went tight. “They’ve been watching me?” you squeaked out.

Azriel looked slightly guilty when he answered, “I just left a few with you, in case you needed something. That’s all, I promise.”

Well, you certainly hoped they didn’t tell him about the tears you shed throughout the day, or the sleepless night you had beforehand, or the pitiful attempt you made at putting the damned bandages around your torso. “Okay,” you sighed.

“Come on,” he coaxed, helping you up from the bed by your arms. You were immensely grateful Madja had helped you bathe yesterday. He helped you into the bathroom, letting you sit gently on the stool beside the bath. He crouched down in front you, making himself eye level with you. “Your back needs to be cleaned and properly bandaged,” he said quietly. 

Your lip trembled as you thought about anyone else touching you, seeing you so vulnerable. It made you nauseous. “Can’t you do it?” you asked, voice embarrassingly small.

His eyes widened a bit, and his hand fell to your knee. “Of course, I can,” he said softly. “But do you want me to?”

“Please,” you begged. “I can’t—I don’t want anyone else to—”

His thumb brushed your knee, making your words die off. “Okay,” he murmured. “That’s fine, love. I have no problem helping you.”

“Then why did you disappear?” you asked, immediately regretting the words.

His eyes snapped to yours. “I didn’t—” he fumbled, shaking his head softly. “I didn’t think you wanted to see anyone.”

“That didn’t stop everyone else,” you grumbled.

“You had to eat.”

“Then why didn’t you bring me meals?”

Azriel stared at you, his throat bobbing. “I didn’t know how to face you—but I’ve always been here. I haven’t left the House.”

“Face me?” you asked.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, his wings rustling slightly as he stood up. He moved toward the sink, wetting a cloth before returning to you. “Those gashes on your back have meaning,” he said softly, eyes swimming with guilt. “They are exactly where wings would be, exactly the kind of wound that would be left behind if wings were removed. They obviously knew you were…” He hesitated, and you couldn’t fathom why. “You were important to an Illyrian.”

You didn’t know what to make of that. You didn’t understand why he felt he was personally responsible for those wounds, why he would be the reason for them. You also didn’t know how they would have known that, unless they guessed you were a part of Rhys’s court. You still found yourself saying, “I don’t blame you.”

He averted his eyes, squeezing the cloth tighter. “And I don’t blame you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing neither of you would believe the other. He moved behind you, then tugged at the hem of your camisole. “Can I take this off?” he asked gently.

Your heart started racing, and your mind was yanked back to that cave, where you were strung up with your chest bare to those wicked males, and—

“Hey,” Azriel murmured, his face in front of yours again. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch featherlight. Your hands were trembling in your lap, and embarrassment made your throat tight.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped.

“No,” Azriel said. “Do not apologize.”

You sniffed. “Just take it off and get this over with please.”

“Y/N,” he said softly. “That’s not how this works.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t already seen.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to let me see it again.”

A tear escaped from your eye, and you felt so defeated as you looked at him. “I don’t want anyone but you to touch me right now.”

Azriel’s face was a mixture of pain and reverence, and you didn’t know where to go from here. “You know I would never hurt you,” he finally said, voice quiet.

You nodded quickly. “Yes,” you whispered. “I do. I trust you, Azriel. That’s why I want your help. I just, I don’t know why—”

“Let’s try this,” he murmured. “You take off your shirt, and my shadows will cover you, and I can clean your back.”

Relief flooded you. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Yeah?” he hummed. He moved behind you again, and you worried your lip between your teeth. “I won’t look until you tell me to.”

You sucked in a breath, toying with the silk hem. You removed the fabric from your body with a little difficulty, your shoulders and back screaming at you as you stretched the raw wounds across your skin, but you managed to get the material over your head and toss it on the floor. As promised, his shadows clouded over your chest, effectively covering your skin. “You can look,” you mumbled. 

You heard him shuffle behind you, and goosebumps skittered across your skin when he brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Ready?” he asked softly.

You nodded, and the warm cloth pressed to your skin. Azriel didn’t linger in any one area, cleaning your bloodied skin quickly and expertly. He then reached for a tin on the counter, and you heard him unscrew the lid. “This is the healing balm,” he told you quietly. His fingers gently lathered the balm along the edges of your wounds, his touch as light as possible to avoid inflicting any pain. His touch was soothing, and the balm quickly eased the pain radiating up and down your back. Your chest was flooded with the most comforting warmth, and you caught yourself leaning into him as the tension eased away.

He swapped the tin for the roll of gauze. He handed you the end of the roll, the cotton material soft between your fingers. “Hold this in place for me,” he murmured.

You did as he asked, pressing the gauze firmly against your chest. Azriel wound the gauze around your chest and torso with quick precision, never touching anywhere he shouldn’t. The material was snug against your skin, and you knew it wasn’t going anywhere. He smoothed the end of it out, securing it in place, before gently squeezing your hip. “Done,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you whispered, heart near bursting. 

He pulled a clean shirt over your head, it smelling like cedar and salt. It was clearly one of his, and you didn’t know when he had time to grab one for you, but you practically melted into the soft fabric.

His shadows dissipated, and he smiled at you softly as he rounded the stool. He offered you his hand to help you up, then shifted to brace your lower back as you walked back to your bed. The sheets were swapped for fresh and clean silk ones, and you were sure you had the House to thank for the courtesy. Azriel pulled the covers up and over your shoulders once you laid down, his hands lingering briefly over your shoulders before he pulled them back to his sides.

The moonlight filtered in through the drapes, streaks illuminating the bed and bits of his skin that weren’t covered by his sweats and tee, a reminder of how late it was. “I’m sorry for waking you,” you mumbled, sleep quickly creeping back in.

“Don’t be,” he hummed. “Get some sleep.”

He took a step back, a small smile briefly pulling at his lips before he turned around. Panic sunk claws into your chest, and you blurted out, “Azriel.”

He immediately froze, and turned back to look at you. “Please stay with me,” you begged, voice wobbling.

“Of course,” he agreed easily, moving toward the sofa under the window.

“Lay with me?” you blurted, face burning from your request but something inside of you just needed him close. You needed to feel him next to you. You couldn’t explain it, couldn’t comprehend why you so desperately wanted to cling to him, but you were too exhausted to fight it.

He looked almost boyish as he stared at you with wide eyes. “Are—are you sure?” he stumbled out.

“If—if you don’t mind.”

Azriel’s response was to quickly slip under the covers next to you, turning so that he faced you and his wings draped over the edge of the bed. His warm arm brushed against yours as he shifted around, and you realized this bed was barely big enough to share with an Illyrian warrior. He didn’t complain, though, and you selfishly didn’t want to risk him leaving you, so you kept your mouth shut.

You were facing each other, heads resting on separate pillows but only inches separated you. He was so warm, and he smelled so good. You had caught yourself indulging in his scent far too many times at training, your friends had even caught you once or twice, but this time it brought you a comfort you had never felt before. It made you feel safe. You felt like you were home when you were wrapped in his scent. It’s why you were still holed up in his room after days of him avoiding you.

“Can you tell me a secret?” you asked, voice low.

Azriel hummed softly. “A secret?”

You bit your lip, focusing on the collar of his shirt where his tattoos poked out. “Yeah,” you whispered. “You’ve seen me at my worst, twice. It’s mortifying, actually.” A sad huff of a laugh escaped you. “You’re too perfect in comparison.”

Azriel let out a surprised, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not perfect. Not in the slightest.” He glanced at his hands, whether it was intentional or subconscious, you didn’t know. It killed you that he saw the evidence of him surviving the cruelty of others as his flaw.

“You don’t need to be self-conscious, though,” he continued, his breath lightly fanning your face as you shifted closer. “I know what I said the night you left, and I am so sorry.” His voice was low and thick as he continued, “I’ve never doubted you. I only said that, because I was desperate to keep you here. I’m sorry.”

Before you could reply, before you could question him or accept or reject his apology, he shifted back to your question. “I’ll tell you a secret, though,” he hummed. “I’m scared that one day, the mating bond will snap, and my mate won’t want me.”

It was like a red-hot knife was stuck in the center of your chest, hearing him talk about his future mate. You swallowed your jealousy, your pain and longing, and rasped, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Azriel studied you for a moment, and you fought back the acid burning at your throat. You wished you could go back and never have asked him the stupid question. “What if I’ve kept it from them?” he asked, voice sounding fragile.

His question only twisted the knife. This was an entirely new form of agony. “You’ve met them?”

Azriel’s eyes were soft as he said, “Yes, love.”

Your stomach churned. You pushed yourself back, sitting up frantically. “I shouldn’t be making you share a bed with me then. Gods, Azriel—”

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you gently to lay back down. “Please,” he murmured, “Just listen.”

You closed your eyes a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat before returning your gaze to him, hoping he didn’t keep ripping at your bleeding heart. This was not how you saw the rest of this night going. “What if me keeping this bond from her, nearly got her killed?” he asked, voice weak. “What if the scent of her bond to me, painted a target on her back, that she was completely unaware of as she walked into enemy territory?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you pieced together the meaning of his words, as you pieced together fragments of your rescue and healing that you had dismissed as hallucinations. “No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “This isn’t funny. This is not funny, Azriel!”

You pulled your wrist from his grip, mind swimming and heart racing. His eyes flashed with hurt, and you realized you were reacting exactly how he feared. You were playing out his worst fear he had just confided in you with—but it’s not that you didn’t want him. You didn’t deserve him.

“It’s not possible,” you choked out, voice thick with your tears. “I cannot be your mate. This is a cruel trick. I am just a broken and battered priestess, and you—”

Realization dawned on Azriel’s face, and your words died in your throat as he pulled you to his chest. “You are so much more,” he murmured into your hair. “I have known for a while, been suspicious even longer—since we met really.” Someone had stolen the breath from your lungs. “And while I have doubted that I was worthy of you, I have never doubted you. I’ve spent this year of our training questioning the Mother, asking why she would stick you with me as your mate, but I’ve never considered myself anything less than blessed.”

You pulled back from him, and you took in this male who—who was apparently your mate. The male you had longed for and had stifled away your feelings for as some silly crush, when in reality, they were anything but. His hazel eyes were bright in the darkness of your room, shining with vulnerability and a hesitant hope. One of his hands still rested gently on your hip, and the touch felt like a stream of electricity connecting the two of you together.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes fell away from yours, a shaky breath leaving his lips. “I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t—I wasn’t even certain until a few months ago. At that point, you trusted me. I couldn’t—” Azriel was stumbling over his words, and it made your heart clench when you noticed his cheeks were dusted with pink as he shifted into a beam of moonlight. 

“I couldn’t take advantage of that trust. I didn’t want to ruin it, but I still did. I—I was too overprotective. I kept denying missions that Rhys offered, because I was scared, and he told me I couldn’t let the bond control me—control you—but I was terrified of something happening to you. It made me ill to think of someone hurting you, or worse, and then that’s exactly what happened anyway. If I had kept myself in check—”

“Azriel,” you interrupted him gently, and his mouth fell shut. “I understand.”

His thumb brushed your cheek gently, and your eyes fluttered shut. “This was probably the worst time to tell you,” he murmured guiltily.

You caught his wrist, fingers gently wrapping around the scarred skin. “It’s not,” you whispered. “It actually makes me feel a little less insane for how much I want to cling to you.”

He chuckled lightly, brushing some hair out of your face. “You have no idea. I’ve been sitting in the hall for days, just in case you needed me.”

You shuffled closer, your heart practically glowing. “Really?”

“Yes,” he murmured. 

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes fell to his lips, and you didn’t really think before you pressed your own against his. He kissed you back immediately, his soft lips melding gently with yours. You arched closer to him, desperate to be closer to him, but the movement pulled at your back, aggravating the healing muscles, and you sucked in a sharp breath that made you break away.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked frantically.

You nodded, embarrassed. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.” You moved to keep kissing him, but he gently held you back.

“We can wait, love,” he said softly.

You sighed, leaning your forehead against his chest. “We probably should.”

He smoothed a hand over the back of your head. “Madja is already angry with me for leaving your bedside. I don’t need to make it worse by tearing open your wounds.”

You smiled softly, then said, “She told me love heals.” You looked up at him. “Did she know?”

“Probably,” he hummed. “I was a mess when I brought you to her. It wouldn’t have been hard to guess.”

Your smile widened, and you burrowed against his chest, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric covering his heart. “I think she was right,” you said into him. “Having you here—it’s the best I’ve felt since before everything happened.”

That familiar warmth bloomed in your chest, and you reached inside to sink your fingers in it, letting the love and adoration weave through your fingertips. Now that you finally could recognize it for what it was, now that you knew the source of that warmth, you sent your own love back down the glowing thread that reached from you to the male next to you.

Azriel sucked in a sharp breath, his body going rigid before relaxing again. “Was that you?” he asked breathlessly.

You nodded shyly, your face still buried against his chest. “You’ve been making me feel that for a while—I just didn’t know it was you.”

His arm squeezed you to him, his hold firm and comforting. “I love you,” he breathed.

You sank further into him, any lingering tension abandoning you as you fully relaxed into your mate’s arms. You closed your eyes, breathing him in, before whispering back, “I love you.”

[mischiefmanagers]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only, only one

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.5k | warnings: none

Summary: secrets threaten to swallow you whole as you work up the courage to tell Azriel about being his mate. Unfortunately, you aren’t the only one with secrets

Author’s note: this came from a draft I found BURIED okay I was looking for a different azris x reader draft but found this and had to finish it

Next part

Today was the day. Everything lined up - Feyre and Rhys were at the River House hosting an overnight play date for Nyx and one of his friends. Cassian and Nesta had taken some of the Valkyries to Day to see the pegasi. Mor was somewhere on the continent. Amren was likely at her apartment, but she came by less and less frequently these days.

The sun had just set, the night sky bright and endless as it hovered over the House of Wind. You and Azriel had the entire place to yourselves.

It was a sign from the Mother. You had to tell him. You stood before your mirror, wanting every piece of hair to fall perfectly into place. You took a few deep breaths, failing to calm the beating of your heart.

Everything was going to change. You smiled at your reflection, certain that everything will work out. It had to.

So what if Azriel had pined after two females that weren’t you? That didn’t matter. Not when he was always so kind to you, seeking you out during parties. He always sat next to you at dinner, the two of you fully engaged in conversation the entire time.

His pining toward Mor and then Elain always felt strange to you. It never happened around you, you hardly saw him even glance their way. You only knew about it from Cassian’s love of gossip.

“It should be you he focuses on - the two of you are so similar. And so annoying.”

His words likely meant nothing to him - especially the end when you had stolen food from his plate. But his words echoed in your mind, echoed around the string nearly suffocating your heart.

The two of you were well suited. You complemented each other. Surely, if he didn’t love you now, Azriel could grow to love you. It should be easy.

Would you want someone who had to grow to love you? You shook the thought from your head, certain the Mother wouldn’t lead you astray like that.

Your thoughts led you outside his door. The words had laid dormant on your tongue for too long, weeks going by without admitting the truth to him.

You knocked on his door quickly, not wanting nerves to get the better of you. You couldn’t help lightly bouncing on your feet as you waited, listening to the shuffles behind the door. Each sound of footfalls made your heart rate quicken.

Azriel poked his head out the door, a small smile when his eyes fell on you.

“Sorry to intrude, but can I come in? I want to talk to you about something.”

Surprise at your demand showed on his face, but he opened the door wider, letting you come in. The sight of you in his room wasn’t unheard of, but you had never so boldly asked to come in.

You walked through the threshold, noticing immediately a suitcase on his bed, nearly full before his shadows quickly closed and latched the lid.

“Are you going somewhere?” You couldn’t stop the question from coming out.

“I was going to take a few days to myself. Enjoy some quiet at my cabin.”

Your heart had been bursting with secrets lately. Months ago Azriel had confided in you he had a cabin somewhere he liked to hide away in when he needed to get away.

That tidbit of knowledge was secured deep in your fantasies, a story you told yourself before going to sleep about him whisking you away to his cabin.

“Oh - well, I hope I’m not interrupting your need for peace.”

“Nonsense. I find your presence quite peaceful, anyway.” Your heart was in your throat at his words. His casual admittance giving you just enough strength to be bold.

“That is very kind of you. I find your presence to also be peaceful and delightful.” He smiled down at you, his full attention on your words. That was always what drew you to Azriel the most. You have always had his full attention whenever you spoke to him, and he always recalled the smallest of details from your conversations.

He saw you. He noticed you. The Mother made him for you and you for him.

“Well, Azriel. We are friends, right? And friends tell each other things and are honest, right?” You wrung your hands with your fingers, needing something to expel your nervous energy.

“Yes. I am always honest with you.” His words came out with a slight chuckle, a tilt to his head, wondering where this was going.

“Great. I have actually been keeping something from you for a while. At first I had to take some time myself to understand, and then I was waiting for the right time.”

“Go on.” He looked radiant with the light of the moon cutting across his face. No male could compare to his beauty. His words of encouragement and his smile at your nervousness were all you needed for the words to come tumbling out.

“I am in love with you. I have been for a long time, and I kept it to myself, but a few weeks ago, the mating bond snapped and I-“

“A mating bond?” His words were sharper than you had ever heard him speak to you before. His shadows swirled around your feet, occasionally jumping and leaping to reach you, but never quite making it.

“Yes, it-“

“You’re certain?” His words were making you shrink ever so slightly. The shadows had now begun swirling around the two of you, like they were trapping the two of you into a bubble.

“Yes, it-“

“To me?”

You tugged hard on the bond, pulling as hard as you could to release him from the shocked stupor he was in. It knocked him off balance, his feet stuttering forward before he righted himself. His scarred hands rubbed absently at his chest, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Let me finish, Azriel.” The shadows that had been swirling around the two of you floated down, sweeping across the floor. A few moved toward you, swirling around your body, helping you stay upright.

He didn’t listen to your words, only shook his head in response. He dragged his fingers down his face, muttering something you couldn’t quite make out.

He looked once more at you before he reached out, his hands taking hold of your shoulders before the two of you were whisked through space in his shadows.

“Azriel!” You pushed off of him the second you felt solid ground beneath your feet, putting distance between the two of you. “This is not what I hoped-“

“Be quiet.”

Your eyes widened at his words, taking a moment to take in your surroundings. He winnowed the two of you right in front of a cabin door, the structure surrounded on all sides by thick forest.

“Okay Azriel, you could have just rejected me - not bring me to who knows where.” You ignored his command, irritation lacing your words.

“No, I just- wait here.” He shut the door quickly behind himself, leaving you alone. Your heart felt heavy as you looked about the woods, uncertain if you wanted to know what laid in the darkness.

Whatever scent lingered from beneath the door was familiar, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. You were stuck - you could winnow home, you supposed. But why did he bring you out here? Would he leave you out here, wanting to know how long you’d stay and wait? Surely the bond would make him protective enough to let you die from the elements, right? The thought caused the string around your heart to play a sad, out of tune note.

You weren’t sure how long you were standing outside, a brisk breeze making you well aware of your lack of coat. The door opened once more, Azriel coming back out before he quickly shut the door behind himself, not letting you see inside.

“Az, what are we doing here?”

He held out a hand to you, his other back on the knob of the door.

“I have never brought anyone from the Inner Circle here.”

You grew frustrated at his words, a tiny hint of pride at being the first of your family to visit here. You accepted his hand, noting there really wasn’t any other decision you could make.

He opened the door and you took in the space. It was small - just the one room connected to a kitchen. It held a massive bed - somehow larger than the ones in Velaris. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations - the house was void of any indication of who lived in it. Your eyes stopped on the redheaded male who was moving about the kitchen, the sight of him short circuiting your brain.

“You said you’ve never brought anyone else here before.” Somehow amidst all the confusion, that was what your brain settled on.

“He said no one from the Inner Circle had been here. The door’s not as thick as you are, Azriel.” Eris’s voice was full of chastisement, clicking his tongue at the end to accent his point. You glanced between the pair, even more confused now that Eris had opened his mouth, the comment almost affectionate.

You shook your head, dismissing the thought. “Look, Az, I get it, this is something you don’t want-“ “Now I didn’t say-“ “so we can just go back to Velaris and I can move out.”

“What is she talking about?” Eris’s voice was loud to accomodate for the banging of pots and pans. He was cooking something, the cherry on top of ‘well, why not this too?’

You looked up at the ceiling, fighting back tears to what has quickly become the worst moment of your life. This was all so strange, you were certain you had hit your head somewhere, your body likely unconscious in Azriel’s room. Maybe none of this happened, and you fell on something in your room.

When you woke up, you were certainly never confessing to him.

“Tell him.” Azriel’s prodding words confused you even more. You looked at him in bewilderment. He had the same look on his face he does when he’s about to win a card game - no matter what move you make, he’s right in his assessment.

“Tell him? Azriel I think telling someone they’re your mate and them not wanting it is embarrassing enough, why do we have to drag in a spectator?”

His face fell slightly, something pooling in his eyes you couldn’t quite make out.

“Why do you think Azriel is your mate?”

You cocked your head at Eris, never having officially met him. You would recognize him anywhere - the long red hair, the ornate clothes decorated with autumn leaves, the scent of bonfire and whiskey stuck to him.

No one in the Inner Circle had ever told you how stunning he was, his beauty making other males look like mortals next to him. Except Azriel.

“I assume we can skip the pleasantries, Eris. Every facet of this night is more confusing than the last. Why are you cooking?”

“Because otherwise I will die of starvation. Or be even more intolerable due to hunger.”

You wished for a wall behind you to bang your head into. They may have omitted his beauty, but they weren’t wrong about him being difficult.

“Why are you in Azriel’s cabin?”

“I asked my question first.”

“Well, Eris, if you must know the inner workings of my personal life, Azriel is my mate and instead of being happy or even indifferent he brought me here to you for some reason. Can I go now?” The tears started forming in the corner of your eye, your fist clenched as you spoke.

“No,” they replied in unison, not looking at you. They both mirrored each other, their crossed arms not giving anything away as they silently argued, unsure when Azriel moved closer to Eris. You could make out a few words from the hushed tones, but it was impossible to hear them.

It took you a moment to realize Eris had stopped cooking when Azriel approached. He was giving him his full attention as they spoke to each other.

This was a very odd dream indeed.

“I’ve felt a pull to you.” Azriel was still looking at Eris, and you weren’t certain who he was talking to until he shifted his eyes to you. “I have always been drawn to you, needed to be near you. I didn’t want to think we were mates, because Eris is my mate.”

You blinked multiple times, the idea trying to make itself comprehensible to you. You looked around, certain to find some trace Rhysand had built this imaginary reality as a practical joke.

“No, that's not possible. If it’s not me, it had to be because of Elain or Mor.”

Eris scoffed, his annoyance clear across his face, his movements becoming more hurried as he added things to a pot. “Sorry to disappoint the both of you by not having breasts.”

“Eris.” An admonishing hiss from Azriel caused the Autumn heir to roll his eyes, not even looking at the glare the shadowsinger sent him.

“Forgive me. Forgive my mate for his deceits being so well done it fooled even his female mate.” Eris refused to pull his focus from his cooking, hardly acknowledging you with his body.

“Azriel and I have been together for some time, a rouse that is perpetuated by his supposed infatuation with the other females close to you.”

For some reason, his words stung. Azriel had been faking affection for them? If he could do that, why didn't he fake them for you?

As if reading your thoughts, Eris continued. “He was feeling something for you, something he hardly wanted to admit to me. But we have been looking into it. It seems no one has ever had this.”

“Had what?”

“Two mates.”

Your head was reeling, a migraine forming as you tried to process every bit of information you were given. Something gnawed at you - some insecurity making itself known in this odd circumstance.

“Were you getting close to me as an experiment?” That drew Azriel from his silence, his steps moving toward you.

“No - gods no. I like you, I like spending time with you. I’m drawn to you - I can’t help it.”

“He yearns.” Eris’s voice was flat as hid words came out, Azriel quickly spun on his heel and looked toward his mate.

His other mate, you supposed.

“I do not yearn.”

“You complain about missing her when you’re here.” Azriel’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, the first sense of affection you've felt from him since arriving.

Eris stopped stirring, turning his full attention toward you. His gaze left heat all across you, as if his eyes could penetrate your clothes, seeing your body and soul beneath. You can’t tell if he’s making the room warmer or if that’s just you.

“In the concept of honesty, I have to say you are… something.” His words broke you out of whatever stupor you had found yourself in.

“Thank you, Eris. That is the best non-descript compliment or insult I’ve ever received.”

“It’s not an insult.” You scoffed, uncertain how to respond. He straightened himself, standing tall as he continued. “Do you wish for me to wax poetic about my mate’s new mate? Divine, delectable, take your pick.”

Was he flirting with you? The notion made no sense, but something Azriel told you about Eris years ago had always stuck.

If you want to get anywhere with him, you have to play his game.

“My mate has a very pretty mate.” It was true and something Eris was more than aware of about himself. He scoffed, picking up a spoon and going back to cooking, but you continued. “Should I wax poetic about you, hm? Tell you all about how you look like a predator prepared to pounce and I’d be more than willing to be beneath you?”

Eris stopped his cooking, his spoonclattering as he took his time drinking you in.

“I thought you said she was timid and shy?” His question was directed at Azriel, but he kept looking at you. His gaze stayed on you, not wavering, seeing something he found interesting.

“That’s because Azriel runs at the potential for intimacy, I had to ease him into it.” Something close to a laugh escaped from Eris. His gaze finally moved toward the shadowsinger.

“I like her, Azriel. We can keep her.”

“I am not some toy to claim ownership to.” Eris paid you no mind, turning back to his cooking. You couldn’t figure out what he was making, but it smelled divine.

“Of course not, but you are my mate’s mate and that means I have to like you before making decisions about you.” Your heart stalled at his words, the air getting thinner around you.

“What do you mean by decisions?”

“Eris.” Azriel cut in for the first time in a while, and you would have forgotten about his presence if it hadn’t been for the bond humming.

“Well, I mean he is my mate already. He’s accepted the bond with me. If I didn’t like you, he’d just reject you.”

“He wouldn’t just-“ your words stopped, your statement unable to continue. Your throat went dry with the look Azriel gave Eris. It was a split second, but it was enough.

They clearly had discussed it - some topic they had mulled over several times, working through every scenario. Eris’s words were of such nonchalance, such subtle cruelty.

They would decide to shatter your heart without any thought or input from you.

It was getting hot, your clothes too much on your skin. Your breathing rose again, too shallow to fully take in a breath.

“So you’ve been- what? Keeping it a secret for months that Eris is your mate and that I’m your mate? Were you test running me this whole time?” Your voice came out squeaky, but you were too upset to care.

“No, I didn’t know-“ Azriel was scrambling, his eyes pleading with the truth. “I didn’t know, I was curious-“

“I mean, I knew you kept secrets, but this is- Eris and-“ your breaths were coming shorter and shorter, the cabin swaying slightly as it got harder to breathe. This couldn’t be real, it had to be some fictional reality. The bond in your chest was crying in agony, desperate for you to be closer to Azriel and to stop arguing.

“Azriel, she's self-destructing.” Eris didn’t move from his spot, continuing his cooking as if you had made an astute observation about the weather.

“I can see that.”

“Do something. She’s your mate.”

You pushed the hair from your face, straightening your shoulders. You blinked slowly, trying to clear your gaze. You had been a fool this whole time, that much was true. You were an experiment to Az - this whole time he had his suspicions, and you were nothing but a test subject he could drop at a moment’s notice. The collateral damage of your heart meant nothing to him.

He had Eris. Why would he want you?

“It’s clear now that you already have your hands full, Azriel. I’ll bow out respectfully.” The words came out cold, not a hint of the warmth you felt for Azriel laced them.

“Sweetheart-“

His shadows swirled around you, desperate to keep you close, to pull you closer to him. You batted them away, not wanting their comfort.

They knew. Azriel knew. Eris knew. This was all a joke to them.

“I’d be a fool to compete with Eris Vanserra over anything, including you Azriel. You’ve told me a hundred times how Autumn Court males sink their teeth into things and don’t let go.” Had his words been a warning? Had he been mated to him when he told you that? How far did these lies run? “Clearly you know from experience.”

You winnowed away, Azriel’s hand inches from where you stood. His shadows exploded, several moving around Eris, the Autumn heir batting them away with little effort.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Azriel directed all of his anger toward Eris.

“You were my mate first.”

“You practically pissed all over me, marking your territory. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut for me to speak!”

“Shall I hike up my leg? I thought such things didn’t interest you.”

Azriel breathed deeply, clenching and unclenching his fists to keep his anger in check.

“Besides, you wouldn’t speak. You clammed up.”

“We discussed this. You knew how important this was to me. This all went wrong.” Azriel was tugging at his hair, the bond swirling in his chest with your despair.

“Yes, yes. I know how my mate was quite taken with a female he lives with. Forgive me for not being thrilled.” Eris let the tiniest hint of hurt show on his face, his first display of emotion all night. Azriel spotted it immediately, his anger dissipating slightly.

“She might be your mate, too.” Azriel’s words were a whisper, a soft hope he was speaking into existence. The Mother wouldn’t give him two mates who hated each other, would she?

Eris gave a dismissive look Azriel’s way. “I suppose we’ll never know now.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Author’s note: any ideas for part two 👀

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @slytherintaco @userxs-blog @emryb

Next part

[mischiefmanagers]

The Purest Kind of Love | Part One

Azriel x Fem!Reader x Eris Vanserra

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: none

Summary: Two desperate friends make a bargain and that bargain comes into play.

The Purest Kind of Love Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

NEXT

•••

In the large bed in the centre of the bedroom lay two figures, one with large wings and one without. Their soft whispers filled the silence of the room, gentle touches upon each other's skin, smiles lighting up their faces. The fire created a soft glow in the room, only accentuating the intimate atmosphere. 

The winged male brushed the female’s cheek with his thumb, guiding his movements down to her lip– a silent ask of permission.  The female nodded and the winged male let out a small sigh of relief before he connected their lips in a sweet kiss. Arms wrapped around one another until there wasn’t a space in between their bodies.

“What if–” The female began but the winged male cut her off with a brush of his lips over hers.

“Then we will go our separate ways,” the winged male said, caressing the curve of her hip.

The female thought for a moment before she nodded. “Then we go our separate ways.”

“But now, we are unsure if it will ever happen,” said the winged male, a smirk forming on his lips.

The female smiled. “So we can remain here in this bed and I can feel your touch every night.”

Their lips met once more as the fire within the room slowly became nothing but embers. By the time the fire was fully out, the winged male and the female were sleeping soundly in one another's arms, a bargain tattooed on their hearts. 

***

The research book on her desk was open and a page full of notes was directly next to it. The last sentence written wasn’t complete. Y/N never planned to fall asleep in the middle of her work but she had needed something to distract herself from the thought of her partner and family in the midst of a bloody battle.

The candles in the room had all burnt out with the exception of the one still burning on her desk. It would never burn out, it had been a gift from her partner for their fourth anniversary. It was the present she loved the most. 

The door to her office was opened slowly and two shadows creeped in, moving freely in the darkness before settling over her shoulders in a cool blanket. The master of said shadows followed a moment later, stopping to admire the sleeping figure at the desk. Despite the dried blood and dirt clinging to his skin, Azriel smiled at the sight. 

His footsteps were quiet as he stepped in the direction of her desk. 

“Y/N,” Azriel whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. “Wake up.”

A long groan left Y/N as she woke up. “What?”

“You fell asleep at your desk,” Azriel replied, standing back to his full height, not wanting to accidentally smear blood or dirt onto her. 

After blinking rapidly a few times and orienting herself, Y/N’s eyes shot open. “Azriel!”

Immediately, Y/N was on her feet as she wrapped her arms tightly around Azriel’s neck. Azriel didn’t return the hug.

“I don’t want to get you dirty,” Azriel said, keeping his arms and hands, which were covered in dried blood, away from her.

“I don’t care,” Y/N mumbled into his neck. “I was worried about you. Is everyone else okay? Did you all do it?”

The weight of Azriel’s arms settled around her waist as he encased her in his warmth, shadows lingering around her too, always keeping her safe. “Everyone is okay. There were a few minor injuries but that was all there was. The High Lord of Autumn is dead.”

“Who made the killing blow?” Y/N asked as she pulled back from the hug to look into Azriel’s eyes. 

“Eris did. It was all part of the agreement we had with him. We would only help him take out any obstacles to his father while he dealt with him himself,” Azriel explained. 

Y/N nodded. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You knew I always would be,” Azriel teased, a crooked smile stretching across his face. 

“No need to be so cocky,” said Y/N, following her response with a quick kiss to his lips, the only place on his face untouched by blood or grime. “Now come and take a bath with me. No offense but you do smell quite strongly of death.”

“You don’t need to have a bath with me,” Azriel said. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“No, I need a bath as well after hugging you,” Y/N joked. “And besides, I can think of a few things we can do once you are clean.”

Azriel’s hands slid down to her hips as his voice lowered into a soft growl. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, now–”

Before Y/N could finish talking, Azriel had lifted her up and draped her over his shoulder. Even though she knew that he would never let her fall, Y/N still clung to him regardless. “Azriel!”

“What?” He said innocently. 

“Put me down!” Y/N shrieked through her laughter. 

“You cannot make me,” Azriel said, amusement clear in his voice.

Y/N allowed Azriel to carry her into their bathroom before she lightly hit his back for him to set her down– which he finally did so.

“You can be a brute when you want to,” Y/N said as she balanced herself. 

As the bath filled, Y/N took a step closer to Azriel, her palms resting flat on his chest. Azriel watched her movements, heat residing in his eyes, if she allowed him, she knew that he would take her then and there on the bathroom floor whether he was clean or not. Y/N wouldn’t allow that, not until she replaced the scent of death that clung to his skin and clothes with a variety of her many citrus or floral scents. Scents that Azriel would never admit to liking. 

Buckle by buckle, Y/N stripped Azriel’s bloodied and torn leathers away from his body, suppressing a small giggle when his clean, undirtied skin revealed itself to her leaving only his head, neck and hands covered in blood and grime. Y/N dragged her nails down Azriel’s torso causing the shadowsinger to shiver at her touch. His eyes fluttered closed and he groaned at the pleasurable sensation. Once the bath was full, Azriel slowly stripped Y/N out of her clothes and let them fall into a pile with his clothes. Just at the sight of her bare body before him, Azriel groaned. 

“You can never get enough of me, can you?” Y/N teased.

“No, I cannot,” Azriel replied. 

It wasn’t long before they both sat in the bath, now clean and fresh. With a wave of her hand, the dirty water became clear as if there was no blood and grime at all. Finally, Y/N allowed herself to relax into Azriel’s hold, allowing herself to sink her body a little deeper below the water. 

Her life was never meant to turn out this way. Y/N had known Azriel for many years and a romantic relationship had never been in the cards for her. Of course she always thought the shadowsinger was attractive, but she never found herself pursuing him. Azriel always had someone else on his mind. First it was Mor, then Elain, then finally Gwyn. Once all of them had happily found their mates. Mor with Emerie. Elain with Lucien. Gwyn with Octavian; an author of one of the valkyrie’s favourite novels. 

Y/N had her fair share of romantic endeavours too, though none had lasted. Deep down she always knew that she was seeking the same thing as Azriel– a mate. The whole reason why Y/N and Azriel had formed their relationship in the first place. Their family and all others around the two were happy with their mates, starting families or thinking of starting one. It only left Y/N and Azriel alone together. 

When she agreed to be in a relationship with Azriel, she never thought she would become as comfortable as she was. There was some part of her that wished that this could be for eternity, it was easy and she adored Azriel. Actually there was a way that this could be forever, if neither of them found their mates. If one of them did, then their relationship would end. That was the matter of their bargain. 

Still, Y/N thought. Could a mating bond be better than this?

“Where did you wander off too?” Azriel asked, snapping Y/N back into reality. 

Y/N leaned further back into him, closing her eyes. “Nowhere. Just thinking.”

“About me, I hope,” Azriel said, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Of course,” said Y/N, tilting her head to look at Azriel. “Who else?”

The smile that brightened Azriel’s face was difficult not to make Y/N smile in return. “However, I do remember some things we could do once we were in here…”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me.”

A wicked grin spread across Y/N’s face as she slowly straddled Azriel’s lap, bringing her lips to the shell of his ear, whispering promises of where the night would take them. 

***

It was early that very next morning when Y/N found herself hunched over her desk once again. Notes and small sketches on a new kind of plant that was sprouting around Velaris covered her desk. She was sure that it wasn’t necessary for anything Rhys needed but she liked learning about it regardless. So far nothing was special about it. 

A piece of paper landed on her desk before a cold feeling wrapped around her ankle. Azriel’s shadow. Y/N smiled and picked up the slip of paper.

“I formally invite you to a celebration to commemorate the new High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra. Celebrations will begin after the sun sets,” Y/N read. 

“Rhys demands that we must all go,” Azriel said, slipping into the room.

“Must we?” Y/N groaned. “I have too much work to do.”

“Take a break,” Azriel replied while sitting down on the chair in the corner of the room. 

Y/N snorted. “You are telling me to take a break? In the five hundred years I have known you, you have never told me that. You should be taking your own advice.”

Azriel shrugged. “I’m telling you now.”

Y/N stood from her chair, slowly walking over to Azriel whose face displayed a lazy smile. “And why would you, Azriel, want to go to the Autumn Court and converse with Eris Vanserra of all people?”

Arms wrapped around Y/N’s body as Azriel pulled her down onto his lap. “I don’t want to converse with Eris Vanserra. I would prefer it if we stayed far away from him.”

“Then tell me the real reason why you want to go?” Y/N asked. 

Heat filled Azriel’s eyes as he looked at Y/N. “Well this celebration is an excuse for you to wear the dress you bought last month. And it gives me an opportunity to show you off.”

Y/N stilled. Since getting together four years ago, they still hadn’t made any public appearances together. Being seen together in public would make their relationship more real; less like a final and desperate option. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at that thought. 

“Okay,” Y/N said with a soft smile. 

“Okay?” Azriel asked, a smile creeping onto his lips. 

With a nod, Y/N pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling utterly content. She pulled away for a brief moment. “Will I have time to finish off my work before we need to get ready?”

Azriel laughed, his hands squeezing her hips. “Only as long as I’m allowed to stay.”

Y/N pecked his lips and stood from Azriel’s lap to return to her desk. “Of course you are. Stay as long as you like.”

In the corner of the room, Azriel got himself comfortable as Y/N continued with her work. Shadows lounged on his shoulders as a soft smile toyed at Azriel’s lips. He was perfectly content. 

***

The dress Y/N wore was one she had been excited about wearing since she bought it. It was a deep red and adored with gold detailing simply making it more stunning. Jewels decorated her neck and ears and hair, sparkling everytime she moved. Y/N was sure that she had never felt so beautiful. 

The Inner Circle split off in different directions. Azriel’s hand rested on Y/N’s lower back, gently guiding her to the edge of the dancefloor. Y/N thought he looked exceptionally stunning tonight dressed in a dark blue formal outfit; she had even convinced him to put in his earrings that he never wore. 

“Refreshments?” an older male asked, offering two glasses of wine.

Y/N took one without a second thought. “Thank you.”

Azriel took the other and gave the older male a nod of appreciation. Y/N immediately turned to Azriel. “Did you know I’ve never been to Autumn before?”

“I actually didn’t know that,” Azriel admitted. 

“I have never actually been to any of the seasonal courts before,” Y/N said, looking at the ornate details of the ballroom. They stood next to a large window that gave her the most perfect view into the gardens and the night sky where all of the stars were visible. “I’ve always wanted to visit them before but the opportunity never arose. I must admit that the Autumn Court is rather beautiful so far. I don’t see how you dislike it.”

“It’s not that I don’t dislike the beauty of the court,” said Azriel, taking a sip of the wine. “It’s the people I find insufferable.”

“They cannot all be bad,” Y/N said. 

Azriel chuckled. “Just wait until you meet–”

Before Azriel finished his sentence, he was interrupted by the new High Lord sauntering towards them. Y/N put on a smile while Azriel looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. 

“What was it you were saying about people of the Autumn Court being insufferable?” Eris Vanserra asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“I was simply telling Y/N the truth,” Azriel replied. 

As Y/N’s eyes locked with Eris’s, she couldn’t help but be blown away by his beauty. There seemed to be a roaring flame behind his eyes that made them all the more striking. Faint freckles dotted around his nose gave him a look of innocence but from the stories Azriel and Cassian had told her, he was anything but. He was dressed in the colours of the Autumn Court with a circlet situated atop his head. The gold standing out from his dark auburn hair, not a strand out of place.

“And who is this gorgeous being, Azriel,” Eris asked. Even his voice was stunning. 

The hand on her lower back dug into her skin. “I’m Y/N,” she answered. “I am a researcher at the Night Court.”

“I don’t believe we have ever met,” Eris said. “I think I would remember such a stunning thing such as yourself.”

Y/N knew that all of Eris’s words were precise, dripping in honey. Even his flirtatious tone was picked out especially for her. This was simply a game and Y/N found herself wanting to play.

“No we haven’t,” Y/N replied. “Unfortunately for me.”

Eris smirked before offering Y/N his hand. Before she could take it, Azriel pulled her back. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, the grip on her waist tightening.

“Don’t worry,” Y/N whispered. “I already know it’s all an act. And Rhys did tell us to be on our best behaviour. If I reject the High Lord it won’t reflect very well on any of us.”

Azriel seemed to think for a second. “Fine. But if he does anything–”

“Az,” Y/N interrupted. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Finally Azriel nodded and reluctantly released his grip on her waist. “You owe me a dance after.”

“Wow, you want to dance,” Y/N said. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Shut up,” Azriel said playfully.

Y/N turned back to Eris and placed her hand in his. She was shocked to discover how soft his skin was. Eris pulled her to the centre of the dancefloor as the orchestra began to play a song Y/N didn’t recognise. Almost immediately she fell in love with it. 

The smile Eris offered her was one she didn’t expect. It was softer than the fake one he had offered when he asked her to dance. Once she was swept up in the dance, her body seemed to move on its own, never missing a step and perfectly in time with Eris. 

“I didn’t expect you to be a talented dancer as well,” Eris remarked. 

“I have a lot of good qualities,” Y/N replied. “Do you always wear your circlet everywhere? Or is it just for this celebration?”

Eris looked taken back by the question. “I’m sorry?”

“You circlet, do you always wear it? It’s a little bit…conceited, don’t you think?”

“Excuse me?” Eris said, missing a step. 

Y/N smirked. “You heard me.”

As Eris fell back into perfect step, his hand felt heavier on her lower back, she could feel the warmth of it through her dress. “Yes I suppose it is.”

This time, Y/N was taken back by his statement. “You agree?”

“Of course,” Eris replied. “I wouldn’t be wearing this if it weren’t for this celebration. Though it does look dashing on me.”

“If that helps you sleep at night,” Y/N said. 

“It does,” Eris said with a smirk. “Now, what is the reason why I have never seen such beauty in this court before?”

“Are you well, High Lord? Because if I’m not mistaken, Azriel was in your court not long ago,” Y/N pondered.

A melodic laugh escaped Eris's mouth and it blended with the orchestra. “The shadowsinger may be pretty but you know exactly who I am talking about.”

“Well, I must be dense then because I have absolutely no idea who you must be talking about,” Y/N said with a smile. 

“Then you must be,” Eris muttered, a smile stretching across his own face. 

The conversation ended there but the smile remained on both of their faces. Y/N seemed completely unaware of hers as she danced with Eris. Though Y/N needed to admit to herself that dancing with Eris was fun, she was sure that she had never had a dance partner match her talents since Nesta. The two of them would dance together when they were bored or wanted to do something to ease tension. 

Of course Y/N danced with Azriel and she always enjoyed the way he would occasionally stumble and smile shyly at her– but he never wanted to stand out. Y/N was aware of every single eye on her as she danced with Eris and it was an exhilarating feeling. Even so, she still was not aware of the bright smile that graced her face. 

***

Hazel eyes bore into the hand Eris had placed upon Y/N’s back– a little too low for his liking– as he swept her up in the dance as the orchestra began to perform a new song, one Azriel knew was only played in Autumn. He wouldn’t admit to anyone but himself that the symphony was pleasant to his ears, even his shadows seemed to enjoy the sound as they danced around him. 

Still, the grip Azriel had on his glass of wine cracked under the pressure it was receiving. The grin on Y/N’s face as Eris spun her around the dancefloor was beautiful and Azriel wished that he had been the one to offer her such a dance before Eris. The two looked radiant together as they stood out in the crowd, even others around them stopped and watched the High Lord as he danced with someone unknown to them. 

Y/N had always enjoyed dancing, she would always make Azriel dance with her when the two were alone together. Despite his hesitancy to dance, Azriel always ended up enjoying himself– perhaps it was because it was with Y/N; he had never gotten the same pleasure while dancing with Nesta. 

The steps Y/N and Eris made were precise and elegant, as if that had practised them forever. Even though everything in him was screaming to intervene and sweep Y/N into a dance of their own, Azriel couldn’t help but stand there in awe watching the pair. 

Cassian stood close to him nursing his own drink while Nesta was swept into a dance by a Day Court advisor. 

“What did that glass ever do to you?” Cassian commented as the glass in Azriel’s hand cracked even more, small chips of glass digging into his thumb. 

Azriel tore his eyes away from Y/N and Eris and glanced down at the cracked glass he had in his hand. Slowly he placed it down onto the floor, making sure it was out of the way of anyone walking by and turned back to Cassian. 

“The glass didn’t do anything,” Azriel replied.

Cassian looked out at the dancing couples before his gaze found Y/N and Eris dancing together. Cassian whistled. “I see what has you so pent up. They are looking rather…close.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” said Azriel, forcing the words through his teeth.

A deep chuckle emitted from Cassian. “Tell that to the glass.”

In the middle of the dancefloor, Nesta bid goodbye to her dance partner before walking back over to Cassian, taking her place beside him. Her silver eyes looked Azriel up and down and Azriel felt as if he shrank under her gaze. 

“Be careful,” Nesta said, a hint of amusement in her dry tone. “Remember after I had one dance with him, Eris proposed to me. Y/N is an amazing dancer too, their wedding will be by the end of the night and their heir will be conceived by the morning.”

Cassian laughed loudly while Azriel only glared at Nesta before his gaze settled upon Y/N once more. Their eyes met and she offered Azriel the most gentle smile in the world and it was as if all of his worries disappeared in an instant. 

The orchestra finished playing and the room erupted into applause. Y/N slowly walked back to Azriel and Eris followed behind her, his gaze settling upon Azriel. No matter how hard Azriel tried he couldn’t help but let the Autumn High Lord’s gaze cut into him. 

“Shadowsinger,” Eris drawled as he stood in front of him. 

Despite Azriel being a little bit taller than Eris, the Vanserra still commanded the conversation. Azriel could feel his change in power. Y/N gently grasped his hand and Azriel looked at her, pupils dilating. 

Eris folded his hand behind his back as he addressed the small group. “I am glad you could all come tonight.”

Cassian suppressed a laugh. “No you’re not. You only needed to send invitations to us because it would reflect badly upon you if you didn’t.”

Eris’s gaze cut into Cassian. A wicked smirk forming on his lips. “As always you are wrong. You are really proving how uneducated you are.”

Cassian growled at Eris but it only made the amusement in the High Lord’s eyes grow. 

“I am glad you could all attend so you could witness how to throw a real celebration and a way to bring people together that isn’t a reason to show off your power to those poor souls trapped in the Court of Nightmares,” Eris remarked. The glare Cassian gave him would have been enough to put anyone into a grave. 

Eris clapped his hands, a smile replacing his smirk. “Well, now. Why don’t you all get back onto the dancefloor. I have a few tasks to do and conversations to have before the night is over.”

Eris’s gaze fell on Y/N. “It was wonderful dancing with you, Y/N. You are a beautiful dancer.” All words of flattery, no real meaning behind them. 

“You are an amazing dancer too, Eris,” Y/N replied genuinely. 

Eris scoffed playfully. “Don’t flatter me too much, Y/N, I can only take so much.”

Eris held out his hand to Y/N and Azriel fought the urge to smack it away. Beautiful rings decorated his fingers and Azriel couldn’t stop the urge to scoff. Eris didn’t even spare him a glance. Gently, Y/N placed her hand in his, Eris’s fingers tightening around hers. The jewels embedded in the gold on the rings were a perfect match to Y/N’s dress.

“It was a pleasure,” Eris said, no hint of deception in his tone.

A small kiss was placed upon Y/N’s knuckles. She smiled at him before pulling her hand away– fingers lingering for a moment too long. Taking a step back, Eris’s gaze fell upon Azriel. He frowned.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t bleed all over my ballroom floor, shadowsinger,” Eris said.

Azriel looked down at his hand and blood dripped from his fingers where the glass had cracked. He hadn’t noticed until now. 

“Oh!” Y/N exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

Azriel lifted his hand. “I’m fine.”

Eris rolled his eyes before flicking a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Azriel. “Make sure you don’t lose any more blood. My hounds will become accustomed to the scent and I can’t have that.”

Y/N gratefully took the handkerchief from Eris, their fingers brushing. The moment they touched, Y/N pulled away immediately as if she had been burned. Azriel didn’t question it as he looked at the blood continuing to seep from the small wound. 

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to Azriel to wrap the handkerchief around his hand, keeping pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. 

There was no verbal response from Eris, much to Azriel’s surprise. With a small nod of his head, Eris walked away without sparing a glance back. He whispered something to one of the guards by the door before disappearing from the room. 

“How did this happen?” Y/N asked, her voice unusually quiet. 

“The glass cracked,” Azriel answered. 

Y/N only nodded before looking up at Azriel. Her features softened upon looking at him. The smile that made Azriel’s lips switch was a welcome feeling. Y/N pulled the handkerchief away once the bleeding had stopped. The bloody handkerchief was embroidered with Eris’s initials and it took everything for Azriel not to scoff. Regardless he pocketed it before offering Y/N his hand. 

“Will you dance with me?” Azriel asked.

Y/N placed her hand in Azriel’s, her skin soft against his scarred skin. “Of course I will.”

Despite Azriel not possessing the same dancing skills as Eris, the smile on Y/N’s face was the same one she always had for him. The two of them slowly walked to the centre of the dancefloor as the orchestra began playing once more. 

***

It was late into the night as Y/N changed into her night clothes. Everyone had retired to the rooms they were designated though if Y/N had her way, she would have run back to the Night Court and to lock herself in her room and never leave again. Her heart beat more rapidly and her palms were sweaty. If Azriel hadn’t picked up on anything amiss yet, he would soon. 

Y/N sat under the soft blankets as Azriel changed into his night clothes and slowly crawled into bed next to her. Her back was facing him so he hadn’t noticed the tears welling in her eyes. The night had been absolutely perfect; until it wasn’t. 

The blankets and sheets rustle as Azriel shuffled closer to Y/N, his hands wrapping around her while moving her hair away from her neck. His hot breath fanned on her bare skin and Y/N could hardly take it. 

If it had been any other night, she would have leant back in his touch and revelled in his kisses. Lips attached to her neck and everything in Y/N was screaming, her heart hurt and she found herself clutching her chest. 

Her chest moved rapidly as the first few tears escaped down her cheeks. Azriel pulled his head away, his dark eyebrow furrowed in concern. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked, worry dripping from his tone. 

Finally, Y/N turned her face towards Azriel. Upon seeing the pure concern and worry in his eyes, Y/N broke. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N sobbed. 

Warm hands cupped her face as Azriel wiped her tears away. “Sorry? For what?”

“Azriel,” Y/N said, looking up tearfully. Azriel immediately wiped them away. “I–”

The words were stuck. She knew that if she said them aloud, they would become real and Y/N couldn’t accept that, for some reason she couldn’t. The pain in her heart increased and she knew that it was only a matter of time before the claws of the bargain would close around her heart completely. 

Azriel rested his forehead against Y/N’s. “Tell me what it is, my love.”

“Eris, he–” Y/N cut herself off by a loud sob forcing its way through her lips. 

“What did he do? Did he say anything to you?” Azriel asked, rage building within him. If he needed to start a war with Autumn, he would; Y/N didn’t doubt him on that.

“No,  he’s–”

“Sweetheart,” Azriel said, gently but it seemed as if his words only made Y/N more hysterical. He had never called her that before now. “Please tell me.”

The claws sunk in even more and that last bit of pain seemed to force the words from Y/N. “He’s my mate.”

“W-what?” Azriel stuttered, not knowing if he heard Y/N correctly. 

“Eris,” Y/N said, her tears falling down her cheeks. “He is my mate.”

“No,” Azriel said, taking a step back from her, his heart seeming pierced by ice. “No, he can’t be.”

“He is,” Y/N whispered, finally opening her eyes. “The bond snapped in the ballroom.”

“Are you certain?” Azriel asked. 

Y/N nodded. If she spoke any other words, she was sure that she would only break down even more. The pain in her heart lessened but it was still prominent. It would be until one of them walked away. 

“So our bargain has been fulfilled,” said Azriel, his voice wavering, “once one of us leaves.”

“Az,” Y/N croaked. “We can still be together. This doesn’t need to be the end of what we have.”

“It needs to, Y/N,” Azriel said, avoiding eye contact. “Otherwise the bargain will hang over our heads just causing us pain until one of us eventually drops dead.”

“We will find a way to break it,” Y/N said, stepping close to Azriel. She stumbled over her feat, the pain worsening as she took steps closer to Azriel. “Please, Azriel…”

For a brief second, Azriel’s eyes softened. “The pain has already started for you. It must have started in the ballroom.”

Y/N encased Azriel’s hand with her own, trying her best to ignore the pain in her chest. “I can ignore it. We can– we can find a way to break the bargain.”

“And then what?” Azriel asked, his voice pained. “You have seen what has happened when someone finds their mate. Take Elain and Lucien for example. I never stood a chance in her eyes, even when I nearly kissed her, I could tell all she could think about was him– her mate. The same thing happened to Gwyn. I was courting her like she requested before she slowly began to cancel anything I planned for the two of us because she found her mate. No matter the connection you have with someone, they will always choose their mate. The bond connects your souls, it is hard to ignore that.”

“Azriel, please don’t do this,” Y/N said. 

For the first time since Y/N revealed the truth, Azriel looked her in the eyes and for a split second he considered returning to bed with her and acting like none of this damned night never occurred. But logic dominated over his heart. 

“We can’t, Y/N,” said Azriel, slipping his hand out of her grasp. “I will not allow myself to get in the way of what could be a lifetime of happiness for you.”

“What if the bond is wrong?”

Azriel nearly laughed. “I asked myself that at one point. It never is.”

Azriel fully turned his body away from Y/N, she wanted to reach out to him again but it was as if her body was rooted to the floor. 

“Az,” Y/N whispered. “What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going back ho– to the Night Court,” Azriel answered, nearly saying home. That cottage he shared with Y/N could never be his home now. Not anymore. “I will move my things back into the House of Wind.”

“Will you allow me to see you again?” Y/N asked, hope rising in her voice. 

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Azriel answered honestly. “It is too painful now to say anything for certain.”

Slowly, Y/N nodded her head. “Well then,” Y/N sniffed. “I hope you find your own mating bond one day.”

“Impossible,” Azriel said as he stepped closer to the door. “All hope of finding my mate dies here with you.”

Azriel was out of the door before Y/N could even reply. Her mouth hung open as she watched the door close with a soft knock. A single shadow remained in the room with her but before long it was seemingly pulled away. There was no pain in her chest anymore, there was nothing at all. 

Their bargain had been fulfilled.

Taglist:

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[mischiefmanagers]

can you see right through me?

azriel x mate!reader

summary: after finding out you're mated to the Spymaster of the Night Court, you can't help but feel self-conscious, thanks to the jealous remarks made by patrons at your bookstore.

warnings: mentions of self-hatred and self-sabotage, angst!!!, body image issues, depression, mentions of death, azriel is an idiot but he figures it out ok, mentions of sex & the mating frenzy

word count: 9.5k (oops...)

Ever since finding out that you’re mated to none other than the High Lord’s Shadowsinger two months ago, everything in your life has flipped upside down.

You’re not just some ordinary bookstore owner anymore, you’re now part of the Night Court’s Inner Circle by default. Your status as a citizen in Velaris has completely changed, but you refused to quit working just because of your mate, much to his disappointment. He’d rather you just stay with him in the House of Wind, filling your days reading your favorite books instead of selling them, but you insisted. You wanted to get to know the male better before immediately accepting the bond, moving in and forgetting about your old life, especially after hearing all the things people say about you and your new mating bond when they’re in or around your shop. 

You have to deal with sidelong glances and whispers from almost everyone who comes into your tiny shop next to the Sidra, have to hear the spiteful unmated females who might kill to be in your position. 

“How do you think she got him? Do you think she slipped one of those banned love tonics into a drink or something?” 

“He could be mated to anyone, and the Cauldron picked her of all people?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already rejected the bond, I don’t ever see them together.”

“She’s definitely just using him for his money and power, she had to have manipulated him somehow.”

“I thought he was with the Morrigan, she’s much more fitting for a male like him, much prettier.”

Every snide remark hits you like a knife to the heart, but still, you keep your composure throughout every single day. It isn’t ever until you’re in the safety of your own apartment above the bookstore that you allow yourself to mull over the comments, to let yourself fall back into old self-loathing habits.

You quickly learn how to contain your sadness to your end of the bond, blocking Azriel from seeing the pain that you endure on a nightly basis. You’re convinced he would be so embarrassed to see you cry yourself to sleep, to see you poke and prod at your skin in front of the mirror, to see you skip over meals in order to appease that incessant hatred filling your mind, to see you become filled with so much disgust in yourself when you replay the remarks over and over and over again.

The comments never seem to die down as weeks pass, and you slowly convince yourself that they’re all right, that Azriel is going to reject the bond because you don’t deserve him. You don’t see him often anyways, as you’re both preoccupied with your jobs throughout the week, which doesn’t help the fact that you’re convinced that he doesn’t want to be around you. 

You’re stuck between trying to change yourself to fit what you think the Illyrian would like in a mate and rejecting the bond before he gets the chance to break your heart. You eventually decide it’s worth a shot to change yourself into the ideal, beautiful mate that you think he wants you to be before being stung with the inevitable heartbreak that comes with rejecting a bond. 

Sundays used to be your favorite day of the week because you get to close shop at mid-day and spend the rest of the day reading at the foot of the Sidra or walking around to the nearby shops. 

For the last few Sundays, you didn’t feel like doing anything aside from wallowing in self-pity in your bed. You never let yourself do just that, though. 

You’d taken it upon yourself to change your lifestyle after thinking long and hard about the women that he’s surrounded by in the Inner Circle. All of them are tall and toned and so strong, more in shape than you’ve ever been in your life. All of them have natural beauty and grace that you could only wish to have. 

Every Sunday for the last month, you’d spent the afternoon running or doing some kind of training in order to “fix yourself”, to look an inkling more similar to those beautiful high fae of the Inner Circle. This Sunday was no different. 

You closed the bookstore around noon and headed up to your apartment, changing into training clothes before deciding to go for a long run after a day of extremely ruthless comments. You slip out the back door of the bookstore to begin your run, but are halted almost immediately when you walk straight into a wall of leather and warm skin, shadows skittering around your shoulders as you take a step back. 

Azriel peers down at you as you frown at him, concern lacing his features when he takes you in. His heart races as you stand in front of him, excited to finally see you after not seeing you for over a week. He swears you look different every time he’s seen you recently, your frame beginning to thin out in ways that concern him, but he knows better than to bring that up. 

“S–Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” you say meekly, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket while avoiding direct eye contact with the male. 

“It’s quite alright,” he says gently, watching you closely as his eagerness extends down the bond to you. “Where are you going?”

“Was just gonna go on a run,” you reply with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as the self-doubting thoughts swirl around in your mind even more in his presence. “Did–did you need something?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my mate whenever I please?” he teases, which makes your eyes widen in fear that he’s actually upset.

“I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean it like that!” you stammer, shaking your head at him apologetically as you take a step back, backing into the door behind you. 

“Hey, no it’s alright. I was only joking.” Azriel says quickly, one of his hands coming up to caress one of your arms. “I didn’t mean to take you by surprise, I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure it was okay that I stopped by.”

You shake your head again, blinking before looking up at him with a frown. He wants more than anything to ask you what’s bothering you, but can see that you’re obviously already distraught about whatever it is, and doesn’t want to pry. Since he’s known you, you’ve always been closed off, like him, about your emotions. So, he opts to change the subject instead. 

“I did have a real reason for coming over here though,” he suggests and you nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. “Rhysand requests your presence at dinner tonight.” 

“T–The High Lord?” you question, and Azriel nods. “W–Why is he requesting my presence at dinner?”

“Well, we have family dinner once a week, and he claims it’s not a complete family affair if my mate isn’t present.” he explains, the ghost of a smile on his lips, “I tried to tell him to fuck off, because I know you’re typically busy on Sunday nights, but he insists that you come this week, at least this once.”

There’s a pleading look in your mate’s eyes that makes you nearly melt at his feet, and you know you can’t say no to him at that moment. 

“I–I, yeah, I can come tonight.” you say finally, giving him a weak smile as he grins down at you triumphantly. 

“Perfect,” he retorts, his shadows dancing around you with equal excitement, “I’ll meet you here around five? It’s just over at the River House.” 

You nod quickly, forcing a smile onto your face as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek before bidding you goodbye. The small gesture makes your heart flutter, but you can’t help but wonder how forced it is, can’t help but wonder if inviting you to dinner is a ploy to bring you in and publicly reject your bond.

There’s no way in hell you’re going for a run now. 

You spend the next five hours pacing around, thinking about what you’re going to wear if you want to even come close to looking as good as the other females that will be there. The clothes in your closet are few and far between, but you finally decide on your nicest dress, one that's made of a gauzy navy fabric, adorned with silver embroidered stars littered over the bodice. It’s more revealing than most clothes you wear, but it’s the closest thing you have to the clothes that the Inner Circle wear. It takes you almost an hour to feel presentable in terms of makeup and hair, and by the time you’re done, you hear a knock on the back door of the store. 

You throw your shoes on quickly before making your way down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for the evening as you do. 

Azriel’s eyes go wide when you open the door, something like amazement and confusion mixed in his gaze as he stares you down.

“I–I’ve never seen you wear anything like this, it’s beautiful,” he starts, unable to tear his gaze from the flowy dress, “You’re beautiful.”

Your chest aches at his compliment as your mind tries to convince you that he’s lying, but you smile up at him weakly nonetheless. He extends his arm for you to take, ready to lead you to the River House across the Sidra.

The two of you are greeted by more people than you’d expect when you enter the High Lord and Lady’s home, but you recognize them all before they get a chance to introduce themselves. You’ve only met Cassian and Nesta prior to this dinner, so the first hour was spent essentially introducing yourself to each of them one-by-one. Azriel stays by your side through each introduction, hand on the small of your back as his shadows swirl around your hands comfortingly. He can tell that something in you has changed since he met you a few months back, that the light and excitement in your eyes when you first found out he was your mate has since dissipated. There’s an unmistakable lump in his throat as he thinks too much into it, wondering if you’re having second thoughts about him. 

Dinner comes and goes as smoothly as you hoped it would. The nauseous feeling roiling in your gut keeps you from eating much, only pushing the food around on the plate while taking miniscule bites to fight off any comments that any of them might have about your hesitancy. You’re only roped into conversations every once in a while, so you’re able to sit back and explore the dynamic between the group a little more without much involvement. Azriel mainly stays silent, only making a few remarks here and there. 

With a snap of the High Lord’s fingers, dessert appears in front of everyone along with more wine in each of your glasses. 

“I propose a toast,” Rhysand suggests after getting everyone’s attention, eyes landing on you finally, “to Y/N, for bringing our Shadowsinger so much happiness.”

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you force a smile, raising your glass as the others do too. ‘Cheers’ is mumbled by everyone before they all take a drink, and Azriel reaches over to squeeze your hand that’s sitting on the edge of the table. You turn to look at him, noting an unfamiliar look in his eyes that you nearly mistake for love, before your thoughts are interrupted by a loud laugh from Amren across the table.

“I, for one, am so grateful that Y/N finally came along after all this time.” she says with a sly grin, “because I think if she wouldn’t have, then the Spymaster would’ve continued to pine after Mor for the rest of eternity.”

There’s a collectively uncomfortable murmur from everyone at her words, and Nesta jabs her in the side with a warning glare as she notices the smile on your face falter for a split second. You could feel all color leave your face as your heart plummets to your stomach, the female’s words confirming all of your doubts about your current situation. Azriel shifts his eyes to you then, but you bring back the same composed mask to your face, the same one you’ve held for the last three months any time someone made snide remarks at you, while you try to avoid his burning gaze. You give the female a withering smile, ignoring the worried stare from the male at your side as you do. 

“Truly, I’m grateful the Cauldron deemed me worthy of being a welcome distraction to such a male like him,” you say in response with a laugh, hoping your voice comes out in a joking tone as you try to mask the disappointment in your wavering voice. 

The comment is enough to earn a few chuckles from around the table, pushing away any awkwardness that stemmed from Amren’s comment. You’re able to skate through the rest of the evening without any snide remarks from the Inner Circle, glad that you’re one step closer to getting the hell out of this house as the group finally starts to stand from the table. 

Azriel follows closely behind you as you bid everyone goodbye, exhaustion raking over your bones as you give one final wave to the High Lord and Lady before turning toward your mate.

There’s a look of worry shining in his eyes when you finally peer up at him, shadows skittering anxiously around your wrists in the meantime.

“Ready to go home?” he questions, forcing a smile onto his face as he guides you towards the front door when you nod. 

“You don’t have to walk me home, Azriel.” you start once you’re out of earshot of everyone else, stopping in your tracks to look at him again. The look on your face is almost unreadable, but his shadows whisper to him about your pain and embarrassment as the two of you stand on the outside of the front door to the River House. “I’m truly fine to go by myself, you don’t–don’t have to bother to go out of your way for me.” 

His brow furrows and a frown pulls his lips down at your words, finally seeing the slightest glimmer of sadness and disappointment shining in your eyes as you speak. He only shakes his head, taking a step towards you before he speaks. 

“I–You’re not a bother to me.” he says, unsure of what else to say to you, “If you’re upset about what Amren said, please know that she always says bullshit like that when she’s drunk, I have not thought about Mor in that way for centuries–”

“Truly, Azriel, it’s quite alright.” you interject with a pained smile. “You didn’t ask to be mated to me, I understand if you’re preoccupied with other love interests or if you just don’t want to be with me.” 

The Illyrian opens his mouth to speak, but is downright dumbfounded by your words to the point where he simply closes his mouth again. He very obviously had been reading the situation wrong this whole time, as he thought that giving you space was the right thing to do in order to let you process the very new bond from your end. He realizes then that you needed reassurance and not space, but it could very well be too late now. Before he can protest, you’re taking a step closer to him in order to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before stepping away.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I get it, I really do. And–And if you need to reject the bond and never want to see me again after tonight, I’ll understand.”

Oh, fuck. You think he wants to reject the bond. 

Hazel eyes meet yours then, and you swear you see a twinkle of regret and hurt shining somewhere between the bronzy flecks, but it’s almost undetectable. Such a miniscule expression that you tell yourself that you imagined it, that his face never changed and that he truly does not care about what you’re saying to him now. 

He shakes his head as you take another step away from him, as you turn on your toes to walk away from the townhouse, away from him. His chest feels like it’s going to cave in then, as the bond to his heart hums with a sadness he’s never felt before. He can feel the bond quivering in pain between your souls, threatening to wither away if either of you even thinks about truly rejecting the bond. 

But you don’t feel it because you’ve expertly blocked the bond out for the last month, because you truly believe that there’s no way Azriel could ever truly want you, because you’re convinced that he wants this.

There’s no hesitation in your step when you turn your back to the male, walking in swift strides towards the bridge to cross the Sidra to reach your little apartment on top of the bookstore. You refuse to let him see how much it kills you to freely offer up a rejected bond, you can’t let him see how you’re crumbling with each step you take. So you stay steady in your gait, hiding your shaking hands in front of you as you blink back the tears that threaten to spill. 

If you would’ve looked back in that moment, you would’ve seen the tears that spilled down the shadowsinger’s cheeks. If you wouldn’t have blocked out the bond in that moment, you would’ve felt the way you almost tore his heart out of his chest as you walked into the darkness. 

Azriel didn’t follow after you though, he didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. He’d fucked up so badly by not showing you how much the bond truly meant to him, by simply assuming that you needed space. 

So, he simply sent a shadow to make sure you got home safely and sat down on the front step of the townhouse. 

He sat on that step for almost two hours, staring at the stars and cursing himself for all of the mistakes he’d made. 

You only get one mate in your eternal life, and he really fucked it up this badly already?

Memories of the first few times the two of you had met replayed in his mind as he sat there, remembering how your eyes glimmered with the most love he’d ever been shown in his life.

You were shy and quiet, something he wasn’t used to from being around the Inner Circle for so long. After living with the loud, boisterous crown for centuries, he was used to emotions being expressed outright. So, he’d mistaken your meek behavior for disinterest, mistaken your nervousness for distaste. He thought you’d needed space, needed time to get used to his brooding and intolerable presence, needed room to process the sudden bond. But, fuck, was he wrong. 

Everything becomes clearer to the male as as it nears midnight. The ache in his chest becomes more and more painful with each passing minute now, and he realizes that he has to get you back, he has to fight to make you understand how much you mean to him. 

_______________________________________

Nesta Archeron started her Sunday much earlier than usual this week, thanks to her mate’s early morning departure. Cassian woke her by rustling around their shared bedroom before dawn, seemingly flustered as he tried to gather his leathers and put them on in the dark. 

“You’re not very good at being quiet, General.” she remarks tiredly, sitting up in the bed to flick one of the bedside faelights on.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, shooting her a sympathetic smile as he nearly trips over the leathers he tries to step into. “Rhys said there’s an emergency in Windhaven, Az and I are leaving soon.” 

She only hums in response, watching him finish getting dressed in comfortable silence. Cassian stands over her at the edge of the bed after tugging on his boots, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before heading out for the day. 

Nesta knows then that she won’t be able to fall back asleep, so she decides to reach for her latest read on her nightstand. Once she grabs the book, she realizes that she’d finished the night before and is completely out of books to read. She knows then that she’ll have to make her way into town, deciding to take a trip to your bookstore at the base of the Sidra for the first time. 

She took her time getting ready, slipping into a gray dress and her usual boots before heading downstairs to eat breakfast. It was a little after seven in the morning when she made her way towards your bookstore, basking in the chilly morning air as she walked along the river.

It took her all of thirty minutes to reach the store, where she was met with a locked door and a dark front window. It was well past opening time for the store and there were no other signs on the door to suggest otherwise, but your store was definitely closed. 

“I’m not surprised,” Nesta hears a female say from behind her, giggling to her friend as they pass the storefront, “I’m sure she’s been rotting away upstairs because the Shadowsinger broke their bond or something like that. The store’s been closed all week. A lesser fae store owner like her did not deserve a male as beautiful as him.” 

Nesta turns to see the culprits of the spiteful comments and laughs, and the two High Fae females’ eyes widen upon her whipping her head towards them. 

Their smirks fall immediately, the one who was speaking starts to open her mouth but Nesta only holds up a hand to shut her up.

“I don’t know either of you females–and I’m very glad I don’t–” the sharp-eyed female spat out, “but I do know the Shadowsinger and his mate. And all I have to say is that if I hear either of you coming around here to harass her or if I hear of you spewing more lies about her relationship, I will be sure to mention it to the High Lord and Shadowsinger. I’m sure neither of them would be very happy to hear the rumors flying around.”

The females nod feverishly as Nesta stares them down with that silver fire flickering lowly in her eyes, both mumbling apologies under their breaths as they scurry away.

Nesta lets out a huff, turning on her heels to make her way towards the other bookstore across town, where she only finds two new books for herself instead of the countless romance novels she knew she would’ve found at your carefully curated store. The remarks from the two females about you aren’t lost on her as she makes her way through the city, their spiteful words and evil giggles running through her mind as she replays the scenario. 

Instead of trekking all the way back to the House of Wind after gathering her books, she makes her way to the River House in order to spend the day with her favorite person–Nyx.

The day goes by quickly between reading and rolling around with the toddler and his mother, and it’s evening before she or Feyre even realize it. Three Illyrian warriors clad in leathers make their way into the drawing room where the two females lounge on the couch, looking exhausted from a day of crisis management at the camps. 

“Long day?” Nesta says as she raises her eyebrow at the three males, stroking Nyx’s hair as he sleeps silently on her chest. 

Her mate only grunts in agreement, coming over to press a kiss to the crown of her head in greeting. The High Lord is greeted by Feyre with a loving stroke of his cheek, smiling up at him sympathetically. Azriel only stands at the threshold, looking more brooding and closed off than usual.

“Well, good news is you can tell us all about it at dinner.” Feyre suggests, trying to lighten the sour mood of the three males as she reaches for Rhys’ hand to intertwine into her own. “Nuala and Cerridwen just finished making some delicious stew and I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving.”

Dinner seems to lighten the mood quite a bit for the group, quiet conversation carrying through the dining room after Cassian and Rhysand get their complaints out for the day. Azriel sits on the other side of Feyre, silent for the majority of the meal, only engaging when Cassian involves him. 

A burning question gnaws at Nesta as she takes in the sad, hazel-eyed male, she can almost feel the pain radiating off of him from across the table as he stares intently down at the barely touched food in front of him. It’s hard to read the male, so she’s not entirely sure what the sadness is about, but she has to know eventually.

“How was your day, Nes?” her thoughts are interrupted by Cassian’s words and his elbow nudging hers lightly.

“Great, for the most part. Got to spend it with my favorite nephew,” she jokes, grinning briefly over at the babbling toddler being fed by his mother. “But I did find something very interesting on my trip to get some new books this morning.”

She notes how Azriel’s eyes flicker towards her then, intrigued by the mention of going to a bookstore.

“Oh, did you go to Y/N’s store? I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to take a trip over there to get some new books.” Feyre asks while forking some food for her son. 

“Well, that was the original plan.” Nesta retorts, lips pulling into a half-frown before turning towards the shadowsinger, “Have you heard from your mate lately, Azriel?”

Azriel drops the spoon he was holding into the bowl of stew with a loud clatter, obviously taken aback by the question directed towards him. The room is silent as he finally looks up, seeing four expectant pairs of eyes staring back at him, Nesta’s gaze the harshest out of all of them. 

“No, I haven’t heard from her since Saturday.” he says, willing his voice to be strong as he feels as though he’s going to throw up.

“Hm, interesting.” Nesta hums, eyes sharpening even more, if that’s even possible, “I tried to stop by the store because I finished my last novel last night, but the door was locked and the lights were all off. Then I ran into the most interesting pair of females who I overheard say that the store had been closed all week.” 

“All week?” Feyre questions, a frown on her face now too.

“You haven’t heard from your mate for a week and you haven’t thought to try to contact her?” Rhys interjects, disappointment laced in his tone as he stares down Azriel from across the table, his honed gaze rivaling Nesta’s. 

“She–She hasn’t left her apartment since last Saturday.” Azriel grits out, stopping anyone else from their questioning. “She thinks I want to reject her, to reject the bond. And I’m starting to think I should.” 

Everyone goes silent then, even Nyx’s babbling is hushed as a thick air of tension fills the large dining room. Azriel’s hands are shaking as he stares at his untouched glass of wine, shadows slashing around his wings angrily now.

“Why do you think that?” Nesta’s the only one brave enough to question him, unafraid of facing the upset male. “What makes you think you should reject the bond?”

“I fucked up. I thought she needed space, thought she was overwhelmed by me, by all of this, by being part of the Inner Circle by default.” he says, a pained expression on his face as he finally looks up to Nesta. “I hurt her and I didn’t even realize it. She needed me and I wasn’t there for her. I can’t figure out how to make it better, I–I don’t know how to take away her pain. I’ve been her mate for less than six months and I’ve already lost her trust in me. I don’t deserve such a sweet creature like her.”

“Do you want to reject the bond?” Nesta persists, and he knows she means to ask if he loves you or not.

“I don’t. But–”

“There’s no but, Azriel.” Cassian interrupts firmly, “You either want to, or you don’t. And you don’t want to reject it, I know you don’t. You’ve never been happier than you were when you realized you had a mate and that it was her. You need to get your head out of your ass, stop pitying yourself and start showing her that you want to be with her. If not, you’re going to kill the poor female. You’re gonna fucking kill her from a broken heart.”

_______________________________________

In all honesty, you don’t know what day it is anymore. You’ve sat in the dark in your apartment above the bookstore all alone for Gods know how long, letting yourself wallow in the sorrow that fills your chest every time you breathe. 

You can’t remember the last time you ate, the last time you did anything aside from stare at the wall next to your bed, save for the times that you’ve gone to the bathroom. It truly feels like you’re dying, like you’re withering away into nothing, and you might as well be. You don’t know what day it is, but you do know that Azriel hasn’t tried to contact you since you left the River House on Saturday, you do know that he wants nothing to do with you.

You hadn’t realized how much you had grown to rely on the male’s visits and nervous glances, how much they’d excited you, until they were no more. 

The golden thread in your soul quivers every time you think about him, but you don’t let yourself think about missing him for too long. You always shut down before it gets too bad, and push yourself back into the thoughts of self-hatred, the thoughts of how you wish you’d just cease to exist already. There wasn’t anyone around anymore to check on you, anyone to make sure you made it through this bout of depression like there used to be. Your sister and mother have been gone for years, and now your mate, the one who gave you a sliver of hope for the shortest time, is gone too. 

When the first knock falls on the door to your apartment, you barely hear it over the incessant ringing in your ears. You choose to ignore it, thinking whoever it is will go away eventually if they stand out in the late evening cold for long enough. 

But they don’t. 

They knock, and knock, and knock, and knock for what feels like thirty minutes, each knock getting louder and more insistent than the last. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall back asleep to ignore the sound, but it doesn’t work. After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, the knocking finally stops. 

What you don’t hear–or see–in that moment is the shadows that slip under the door at the bottom of the stairs, quietly unlocking it for their master to slip inside, and the other shadows ahead of their master that report back to him about your state before he makes his way up the stairs. 

Moments later, you hear the creak of the stairs and your heart sinks, but you feel too weak to move, too weak to save yourself, and for a moment, you thank the Cauldron that some intruder has finally come to put you out of your misery in one way or another.

You don’t expect the weak, broken voice of a male at the top of the stairs as you’re laying with your back towards the threshold, the sadness in an all too familiar voice when you hear, “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.” 

It takes every ounce of strength out of Azriel to walk over to the bed after taking in the sight of your studio apartment in complete disarray. The place is unkempt and needs plenty of repairs just from what he can see with a quick scan, but that’s not what hurts his heart the most in the moment. You facing the blank wall, staring mindlessly ahead as you’re curled up in a ball at the edge of your bed is what breaks him. He finally makes his way over to the wall that you’re facing, but you don’t look up at him, unable to take the energy to complete the small gesture.

Azriel falls to his knees in front of you, reaching a hand out to stroke your hair. He takes you in fully then–your unkempt hair, chapped lips, red cheeks and heavy eyes–you truly were dying from a broken heart.

“Y/N,” he says gently, trying to keep his voice as strong as possible while choking back tears. You take a long moment to finally look up at him, a look of confusion and then delusion crossing over your face as you do–you had to be dreaming him, right?

“I’m–I’m so fucking sorry, love. Gods, how long have you been laying here?” he says, and you only blink up at him because you’re not even sure of the answer, numb to it all at this point. “Are–Do you want me to help you? Can I help you somehow, please? I–I wanna fix this, I wanna make you better.” 

A strange noise leaves your throat then as your brow furrows at his words, your delusions during depressive episodes have never said anything like this to you before, and that’s when it all feels too real. You slowly realize that this is very much the real Azriel kneeling in front of you with tears shimmering in his eyes, clasping your very clammy hand between his very warm ones. Tears brim in your own eyes now, the weight of the entire situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You’d ruined yourself before he’d even broken the bond, so now you’ve hurt him by somehow signaling to him of your suffering. 

“‘M sorry, A–Azriel,” you croak out, the first words to have left your lips in days. 

“S–You’re sorry?” he says, voice more stern than before, shaking his head persistently, “No–No, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, love.” He squeezes your icy hand then, giving you a weak, bitter smile, “I’m sorry for not coming sooner, okay? I’m so sorry and I’ll apologize until the day I die for not being here for you when you needed me. I–I wanna help you now, if you’ll let me. Will you let me help you? Can I take you home with me to get you some help?” 

Despite the confusion and sadness swirling around in your deprived brain, you nod at the male, who jumps up almost immediately after you nod. He slowly peels the covers off your frail form, heart breaking at the sight of you. He pushes the ache in his chest down to be strong for you then, gently scooping you up into his arms. The two of you are engulfed in shadows seconds later as Azriel shadow-walks to the House of Wind as quickly as he can. 

You don’t remember much from your first moments at the House of Wind, other than the fact that there were a lot of people around you in a very short amount of time. You recognized some of them, the High Lord and Lady, along with Cassian and Nesta, but other faces were less familiar. One woman came into the room you laid in, tugging a warm blanket over your body before using what you could only assume was healing power on you. She’d mumbled something to Azriel on her way out before patting him on the shoulder, and that was the last thing you’d remembered before finally falling into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a week.

Sunlight streaming in through the curtains woke you later on, you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been out for but you’re sure it had been for more than a few hours at this point. You groaned lightly as you stretched your weak legs, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings fully for the first time. The room smelled of mahogany and amber, a familiar and inviting scent you knew too well to not understand whose room you were in. 

Though alone at the moment, you know he’s not far, as his shadows skitter excitedly around you as you attempt to sit up in the bed. 

The door opens not even two minutes later, the shadowsinger standing in the doorway with a tray of what looked to be steaming food, a glass of water, and some medications. He nearly drops the tray when he sees you sitting up in the middle of his bed, not expecting you to already be awake and so alert. Without a word, he strides over to the large bed, placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair he’d positioned on the side where you laid.

“Hi,” he says with a sharp inhale, giving you a weak smile as he searches your eyes for any emotion he can find. 

“H–How long was I out for?” you ask meekly, the full weight of your actions crashing down on you all at once. “How long have I overstayed?”

“What?” he questions, a frown pulling his lips down as his heart sinks. You truly think you’re burdening this male, when all he wants is for you to be safe and to feel loved. “You haven’t overstayed, I brought you here to heal, I wanted you to come here to get better.”

You shake your head then, blinking harshly at him as you refuse to believe what he’s telling you. “N–No, you only came to find me because I’m–I’m stupid and didn’t give you the opportunity to reject the bond before I mourned what we never had.” you insist, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of this, please–please, you can reject it now, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

The level of self destruction going on in your mind was on another level that Azriel couldn’t deign to comprehend in the moment, but he knew it wasn’t just by your own doing. He can see the internal turmoil you’re going through, can feel your peril down the bond that he now realizes you’ve been shrouding in your own shadows for months, can feel the way you’re tearing yourself apart from the inside out. He reaches for you then, hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently as his shadows rub soothing circles along your back to calm you down, though you continue to babble apologetically about how he should hate you and how you’re the one who should be apologizing for everything.

“Y/N, hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” he coos gently, thumbs stroking your cheekbones softly to bring you back to the moment as you finally lock eyes with him, “I don’t want to reject the bond, I never wanted to reject the bond.” 

You try to shake your head feverishly, but he doesn’t let you as his hands stay on either side of your face. “Nesta told me about some females she heard outside your store on Sunday, who said some pretty foul things about you.” he begins, having to reign his anger in as he speaks about the females, “Is that something that happened a lot at the store? Did females that come into the bookstore say things to you about us often?” 

You can’t even look at him now, dread and self-loathing gnawing at your chest as you think back to all the hateful comments thrown at you throughout the last few months. You shake your head slowly now, brow furrowing as you try to push down the bile rising in your throat. 

“No, it only happened a–a few times.” you lie bluntly, staring down into your lap as you try to pull away from his touch again and this time he lets you, watching closely as you attempt to stand from the bed. “I want to take a bath.” you say, attempting to change the subject to something less painful.

Azriel is there to catch you when you all but fall when trying to stand on your own two feet, hands landing on your waist to situate you back on the edge of the bed, “You’re not supposed to be getting up on your own yet. You didn’t eat for almost a whole week, you’re too weak to stand right now.” he says softly, hands firmly planted on your waist still, “Do you want me to take you to the bathroom? This food will still be warm when we return if you’d rather bathe now.”

You nod wordlessly, brow pinched in frustration at your current situation. Azriel easily picks you up, carrying you bridal style into the en suite bathroom and sitting you on the edge of the large tub as he draws a warm bath. He turns the tap off once it’s nearly full, turning on his heels to leave you alone in the bathroom for some privacy. 

“A–Azriel,” you call out before he shuts the door, making the male stop in his tracks to face you, heart nearly shattering when you look at him with wide, shameful eyes. “Can you help me bathe?”

The male is at the edge of the tub in an instant, nodding at you gently. He looks away as you strip out of the clothes that you’d been in for a week, tossing the dirty pajamas into a pile at your feet before stepping into the tub slowly. He helps you ease down onto the bottom, letting go of your hand he didn’t realize he’d grabbed once you tug out of his grasp to wrap the arm around your knees you pull into your chest. 

You settle into the water, letting the warmth engulf your cold limbs as you lean your head back to dip your hair, up to the scalp, into the water. Azriel gives you a few minutes to relax in the water, watching as your muscles finally relax slightly under the caress of the liquid. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo eventually, eyeing you closely as he pours some into his hands to lather it. You lean your head up as he does, giving him a small nod of invitation before he reaches for your scalp.

There’s nothing but love and tenderness behind his caress, fingers combing through your damp hair to thoroughly clean it. He’s careful with every movement, making sure to not make the wrong move and send you spiraling for one reason or another. 

It’s such a tender moment as he gently tilts you back to rinse your hair with a cup of water that it nearly makes you sob, but hold back for him to continue. 

“Can you promise me that you won’t ever let yourself get like this again?” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he runs conditioner through your hair. “I–I don’t know if I can handle seeing you so sad ever again. I won’t let you destroy yourself over my stupidity, not when I’m the one to blame for this whole situation.”

You tense at his words, chest tightening as you hear his voice crack when he chokes back tears. It takes you a moment, but you finally turn to face him, your own tears blurring your vision as you look up at the hazel-eyed male.

“It’s–It’s not your fault, Azriel.” you say, shaking your head insistently at him, “It’s my fault for making you feel obligated to be nice to me, I–I know you didn’t ask to be mated to a lowly, lesser fae bookshop owner when there’s plenty of beautiful high fae females out there ready to accept your hand in marriage at the drop of a hat. I shouldn’t have tried to pursue you after the bond snapped, I–I should’ve let you reject it then so you could go be happy with whoever you want to be with.”

“It’s you I want to be with, Y/N.” he insists, hands shaking as they fall from your head. He falls to his knees then, pivoting so he’s face-to-face with you when he continues, “I don’t care that you’re lesser fae, I fucking hate that you’re considered that anyways, it’s a disgusting term. I’m not even a high fae myself, I don’t care about title or status or whatever else, I only care that I’ve finally found my mate.” Azriel is trying his damndest to keep himself from falling apart as he speaks, “My mate, the love of my life, the one that I get to spend the rest of my days with. I know you feel like I pushed you away and I know I made you feel unwanted, but I thought you wanted space. I know now that you don’t, and I promise you that I’ll spend every waking moment, from now until we die, showing you that I am so fucking happy that you of all people are my mate. I love you.”

Whether he realizes it or not, Azriel projects his passion and love down the bond in the moment. Your deceitful brain would’ve told you he was lying had it not been for that tug and flow of warmth between your souls, if it had not been for the true, unadulterated ache you felt in your chest when he said that he was happy that you were his mate. 

Tears well up in your eyes once more as you stare at him, really taking him in, in full form, for the first time. He’s so beautiful, and though there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that still tells you that he’s lying, deep down you know that he’s all yours. Something blooms in your chest then, something stronger than you’ve ever felt, something so compelling that you can’t just sit and stare at him anymore. 

You don’t say anything as you continue to stare up at him, reaching your shaky hands out of the water to cup his cheeks. He almost flinches when you do, taken aback by you initiating the touch, but he doesn’t. With the strength gifted to you by the love confession of your mate, you’re able to maneuver onto your knees and tug him a little closer, crashing your lips into his in a gentle, watery kiss. 

“I love you, Azriel.” you murmur against his lips when you finally pull away from the kiss for a short moment. 

He smiles against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss as his hands grip your forearms to keep you from slipping in the tub. 

“We really need to get you cleaned up before we can finish this conversation, yeah?” he encourages in between kisses, smoothing down your wet hair as it drips on the side of the tub.

You breathe out a laugh, nodding at him before turning to let him continue washing your hair, and then moving on to your body. Each touch threatens to set you on fire, but there’s no sexual intention behind them, only loving caresses meant to wash you clean of the last week of pain. 

After getting you out of the shower, Azriel slowly dresses you in one of his large shirts, mumbling an apology about how he’ll be sure to bring some of your clothes over if you’d like him to. You only smile at him softly, knowing you’ll be bringing more than a few of your items over soon enough. 

He insists that you eat after your bath, bringing you back to the bed where the soup is still steaming hot, likely thanks to the House that Azriel explained was imbued with magic and would do anything you wished it to. You eat the stew after taking the handful of medications and strength tonic that the healer, Madja, had given him for you, relishing the feeling of the warm food settling in your stomach. 

The change in your energy level after the strength tonic is astonishing. You feel as though you can run for days, but know better than to try something like that in front of your terrified mate. But, there is one thing that you feel like you need to do at the moment, something that’s long overdue.

You’re laying in Azriel’s arms when you finally get your burst of energy, sitting up abruptly enough to make him sit up with you. There’s a look of wild concern on his face when he reaches for your hips, steadying you as you pull your legs to the side of the bed. 

“Are you alright?” he questions immediately, brow furrowing when you miraculously stand on your own two feet. “Do you need something? The House can get you whatever you need.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down to caress his cheek before kissing his forehead gently. 

“I wanna get this thing myself,” you state matter-of-factly as he raises a brow at you. “You stay right here, alright?” 

Before he can protest, you’re walking towards the door of the bedroom to swing it open. You shut the door behind you, leaving the male in the room without a word. 

The House is magic alright, you confirm that when you’re on your way down the stairs and it lights the way for you, only letting the fae lights on the direct path towards the kitchen light the way. It knew exactly what you were doing. 

You’re met with a cutting board, a block of cheese, a loaf of bread and a bowl of grapes next to an empty plate when you enter the kitchen, a lone fae light above the counter lighting the area so you can prepare the plate. You make quick work of cutting the cheese and bread, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking incessantly as you saw into the sourdough. It only takes you a few minutes to lay everything out on the plate and the House takes care of the rest, then you’re on your way back upstairs, on your way to change your life forever. 

Azriel shifts quickly on the bed when you return, sitting up straight as he locks eyes with you. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when his eyes flicker down to the plate of food in your hand, realizing what you were up to when you left the room. 

You give him a nervous smile, gripping the plate with two hands as you make your way over to the bed, careful not to tip its contents onto the floor as you quiver. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating in the moment, as you feel like it’s about to beat through your ribcage with one more loud thump. 

“Y/N…” he trails as you shakily extend the plate to him when you perch on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with a look you can only describe as certainty. “Are you sure about this? You want to accept the bond right now?” 

“If you don’t eat this food right now, you might as well send me back to my little old apartment so I can try to die of a broken heart again.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you give him a watery smile and push the plate closer to him.

He takes the plate from you then, but doesn’t grab any food at first, looking back up at you before he does. He leans over, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss before taking a shuddering breath.

“I promise you that after this bond is accepted, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you are so much more than all of those evil things that those females said about you. I’ll spend every waking moment showing you how perfect you are and making up for the time that we didn’t get to spend together,” he begins, planting a kiss on your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, Azriel.” you whisper, “now eat that food, please. I’m tired of waiting.” 

He smiles at you then, leaning back on the bed as he grabs for a piece of bread and cheese, ready to spend the rest of his eternal life with you, with his mate. 

_______________________________________

It takes almost a whole month for the mating frenzy to die down enough for the two of you to be able to integrate back into society. Rhys insisted on letting the two of you stay in the Cabin for your time away, but you opted to spend your time in Summer in a secluded bungalow for the four weeks instead. 

When you do return to Velaris after your time away, Azriel insists on taking another week off from spymaster duties to get your bookstore back on track and to help move your belongings to the House of Wind while the two of you look for your very own home, somewhere closer to the Rainbow where you can continue to run your bookstore. You don’t dare to protest your mate’s wishes, letting him alternate between packing the little amount of things you have upstairs and taking inventory in the store while you run the register. 

It’s a sunny Saturday when you open your doors for the first time after over a month of being closed, and you’re much busier than you’d expected to be in all honesty, though it seems many of the females coming in are just being nosy to see how true it is that you’re actually back in the flesh. 

There are less snide remarks thrown your way now, but still enough that they make you flinch every once in a while. They don’t bother you anymore, though. During your time away, Azriel showed you how much you meant to him and how beautiful he thought you were in many ways, with his mouth, with his hands, with his tongue, with his…

“Do you think she’s single again? Like…do you think he actually rejected the bond?” you hear a high fae female say on the far end of your busy shop, her eyes darting in your direction as she speaks to a friend.

“I hope so, there’s no way he actually–Oh my Gods.” her friend says, eyes wide when they fall on none other than the shadowsinger himself emerging from the back room of your store, a dozen books in hand. 

A satisfied smile spreads across your face as Azriel walks behind the checkout counter to press a kiss to your forehead before placing the books next to you. The sound of the females whispering hastily falls on deaf ears as your mate turns to you, grabbing a small piece of paper off the top of the pile of books he’d been holding. 

“Found six more copies of both of those romance novels you said you were out of, so no need to order more until those are gone.” he says while pointing at the books. “You really need a better inventory system.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just hire you to do it for me instead, since you’re so good at it.” you tease, shooting him a smirk.

“As long as I’m compensated fairly, I wouldn’t mind.” he jokes with a wink, pulling you in for an embrace to speak to you lowly. “On another note, you are officially fully moved into the House of Wind. So once you’re closed up for the day, we’ll be able to go home and officially christen the bedroom.” 

“We’ve already christened that bedroom,” you giggle, rolling your eyes at him, “it’s been thoroughly christened, multiple times at this point. And if I remember correctly, it’s the first place that was christened by us.”

“And?” he says, lips quirked up into a smirk, “I plan on christening it multiple times tonight, and the next night, and the night after that…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laugh, slapping his chest lightly as you pull out of his grip, “You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re beautiful and the love of my life.” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It was safe to say that you’re getting nowhere past the mating frenzy phase of your relationship anytime soon.

And you’re okay with that.

taglist (add yourself here!): @wrecklesssly @slutforwordsfr @georgiadixon @dreamloud4610 @angelbunny222 @bookishbishhh @fanficscuziranout @Buckingforbuckybarnes @thefandomplace

[mischiefmanagers]

Solstice and Sorrow

Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 17427

Warnings: Extreme angst, toxic friends, dark thoughts, fluff, happy endings.

Summary: What will happen when Selena’s (OC) toxic friends poison her mind and make her doubt her worthiness of Azriel when she’s already struggling with intense flashbacks and PTSD during this Solstice season

─── ♡ ───

Selena usually loved the holidays. That feeling of contentment that thrummed in her chest when the air started getting colder, when the spiders, ghosts and pumpkins slowly started turning to wreaths and twinkling lights and she absolutely adored winter solstice. Selena loved sitting around a fire and chatting with her friends a whiskey or hot fudge in hand, she loved giving meaningful gifts to her family. Everything about the holiday was so special.

Yet this year was different. 

Azriel had been working on the continent for four months so far, which was…fine. It was fine. It wasn’t the first time he had been gone for so long. Selena had always done her best to manage. Throwing herself into her work  until her hands bled that she didn’t have time to think about the ache in her chest. It was harder this time though, not having him  here to cozy up with by the fire as snow fell, or to make gingerbread with their nephew. 

She had shoved that bittersweet feeling far down though, occasional loving tugs on the bond and the cold weather increasing the numbr of patients she dealt with all got her through the day. 

It wasn’t until she recieved written word that he would not be able return in time for Solstice that Selena had gotten really upset, her heart sinking. She had shut off the bond as soon as she had read Azriel’s letter so he wouldn’t feel her sadness and had ignored the twinge of guilt that passed over before she did. 

It was her favorite holiday and she wouldn’t be spending it with her mate, the love of her life. Selena had burst into tears right then and there. She was so exhausted these last few months, running suspiciously close to burnout and all she wanted was him. 

So of course after a few days of wallowing she went to her childhood friends, they had been begging to see her and drinking in their favorite bar to ignore her feelings sounded like the perfect way to spend her evening and for awhile, it was. The music was just right and the drinks poured faster than Selena could blink. But when she had explained to her friends why she felt so off, they had responed so weirdly. 

“Spending every second attached to his hip isn’t enough?”

“Girl..this is good for you! You need some time for yourself.”

“No..we don’t mean it like that just… I mean come on we haven’t seen you in months, and now your complaining about the person your -and no offense honey you know we love you- literally always with.”

“You know what we mean, like you’re always all over him- give the male some room to breathe!”

Selena had left after that, and with the alcohol numbing her she couldn’t feel the harsh cold nipping at her bare shoulders. Her friend’s words echoing in her head until they were the only thing she could focus on. She knew she was clingy, physical touch had always been her love language. It was a reminder that they were safe, that they were here with her, not only that but she loved touching Azriel. Loved holding his hand under the table and crawling into his lap on the couch. Tears welled up in her eyes as she distantly remembered comments from Azriel’s brother’s when he introduced her a few decades ago. They had been surprised at his…willingness to her.

“Who are you and what have you done with Azriel.”

“If you’re here I guess Lena isn’t far behind.”

“And he…let’s you do that?”

Her mind was a whirlwind of memories and voices all overlapping in her head, it made her drunken head spin even faster when suddenly the thought came up so fast from the darkest part’s of her it had her pausing in the middle of the snow covered street. 

What if she was somehow forcing herself on him?

What if he had been pretending he was fine with all her advances but in reality he hated them? What if for over a hundred years she had been making her mate deeply uncomfortable? 

She let out a strangled sob at the thought. Trying to force herself to be quiet lest she wake anyone up with her misery at this ungodly hour. She had always tried to be respectful, but she had gotten too comfortable and now-

Now she was making Azriel resent her. 

Selena couldn’t stop the full on cry that fell from her lips, stumbling forward as tears blurred her vision on her walk home, she didn’t know when she tripped on the loose stone’s and cut her knee open, she didn’t know when the shadows had enough of her pity party and winnowed her home. Selena barely even remembered those same shadows tucking her in bed before slinking off to tell their master. 

———

The next morning she was woken up by the blinding intrusion of the sun. Selena groaned, her head was pounding and she turned away from the window, hoping to escape the light but hissed at the pain raidiating through her body at the movement. It took her a few moment’s to remember what happened last night and when she did, she curled up even further in the blankets as she cried once again. Everything felt heavy, like the weight of the entire world was crushing in on her slowly and she couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape the truth that she was a horrible mate. The shame was crushing her heart, distant traumatic memories a faint buzzing in the back of her head and Selena decided to stay in bed just a little while longer, at least until she had to get ready for tonight’s Solstice celebration.

Time moved slowly and yet too fast. She had just watched the clock on the wall tick the minutes by, falling in and out of sleep to avoid the heaviness of her thoughts, everything felt numb and yet when the sun started going down Selena felt like she needed more time to rest, to pull herself together.

With a pained sigh she forced herself out of bed, ignoring how the few shadows Azriel left behind in case of emergencies swirled around her feet to make sure she was steady. Her shoulder was throbbing and her knee hurt like a bitch and once she was looking at herself in the mirror she knew why. The fall she had taken was still fuzzy in her mind and she was almost postive that the shadows had lessened the damage. But a bruised shoulder and a scabbed knee was nothing in comparison to some of the other injuries she had faced in this lifetime. The massive hangover wasn’t going to help her healing process so Selena applied some of the ointment’s she kept in the cabinent and took a vial of foul tasting medicine for her headache and set to getting ready for dinner. 

———

Azriel knew how important Winter Solstice was to his beautiful mate. Her family celebrated loudly every year before their untimely and gruesome deaths. Whether or not his lovely wife wanted to admit it he could tell that she needed him around even more during this time, to celebrate just as loud as she had before, to cherish and hold her even tighter as a reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere. But this damned assignment was ruining everything. He had been stuck an a different continent for months with little to no communication with Selena given the severity of this situation- trying to hunt down rumours about harming the little prince of night. He wished he could shadow-step immediately into his sweetheart’s arms but with how spread thin his magic and how much it would take to do so would nearly if not assuredly kill him. So a flying and winnow combo was the only way he could make it to her and he had left days ago determined to return for her favorite holiday. 

Yet he had severly underestimated how much energy he had left for shadow-walking, it was taking more time than usual especially trying to avoid detection from other courts lest he cause a political nightmare. So Azriel regrettedly sent a letter, the words appearing on the magic paper faster than he currently was, he could feel her mates disappointment before she hide it away and the thought almost had him not wanting to return at all to avoid facing that sadness head on. But everything ached for her, every second away felt like his body was slowly shutting down. The bond in his chest anxiously awaiting to return to his other half. He was flying above the clouds nearing Pyrthian’s border when suddenly her quietness on the bend snapped in half and all of her emotions hit him like a brick he nearly fell out of the sky and into the ocean below when he luckily caught himself on a strong current. 

He could feel her shame, her drunkeness, he could feel that little ball of anxiety in her chest getting bigger and bigger with each passing second he felt like he was close to hyperventilating right along with her. Azriel had to take deep calming breaths doing everything he could to reach her and calm her down and it only made it worse his mind felt like it was burning and his heart was pumping too fast. He was starting to panic at the weight of her emotions, slowly starting to drift down. He couldn’t fucking think-

Hundreds of years of displine and training had him regaining control of the sitaution on his hand. He had to shut off the bond so he couldn’t feel her, avoiding another untimely fall as he did. Guilt ate away at him for doing so but something else spurred him to beat his wings faster. His mate was hurting and he needed to fix it now. The bond in his chest raged at the thought and the sudden adreneline boost made his siphons flare slightly with a new determination to get there as soon as possible.

——— 

Dinner went by in a rush and her entire family was sitting in around the fireplace passing around presents, soft music played from somewhere in the house but with like the rest of the noise it all buzzed faintly in the back of her head. She had slipped into this headspace so fast and now she was drowning it and she didn’t know what to do. 

A soft hand nudged her shoulder and she pulled her attention away from the window. Her High Lady was standing in front of her with a soft smile holding out a small box in her hands, wrapped up in gold with a red ribbon curling gracefully down the sides. The Inner Circle gave her a few worried glances before returning to their own conversations and Selena flushed with embarrassment at the realization Feyre had been trying to get her attention for awhile. 

“Sorry.” She breathed out, wanting to fold in an herself and disappear even further. The fae smiled gently. “Not a problem, it is quite beauitful out there.” Selena hummed in agreement silently thanking Feyre for saving her from any further embarrassment. “This is from Rhys and I.” 

She took the gift with a smile and thanked her High Lord and Lady who gave her answering grins in return, after delicately opening the expanse wrapping paper and revealed the book inside she couldn’t but feel a tang of sadness in her heart. She recognized the handwritting stamped on the leather cover. Selena quickly looked up at her friends to confirm and Feyre nodded. It was one of her mother’s medical journals, after her family’s violent death they had all been given out to muesuem’s or research groups that had needed the groundbreaking information inside. 

A tear slipped down her cheek as she thumbed the pages. Everything about it was so uniquely her. The messy handwriting, worn cover, the strong scent of her jasmine perfume still clinging to a few of the pages. “I found it in a musuem visiting Day and practically fought the curator for it. Thankfully Helion owed me a favor.” 

“Thank you…I-I have no words.” Selena breathed out and Feyre gave her another smile. “There are none needed.” 

Present’s were close to being done when the clock struck midnight. Rhys outdoing himself each year with spoiling his mate for her brithday, she was making a joke about need to add a whole wing to the house just so she had a place to put her increasingly extravagant gifts and Rhysand’s eye glinted with mischief at the thought. Soon the night wrapped up and Selena walked home, needing to feel the cold wind on her face as she processed her thoughts. 

Any other day she would’ve loved Feyre’s gift, but all it had done was twisted the swirling vortex of shame and grief in her heart. Her mind seemed to grow more weary with the weight pressing down on her. She missed her family, she missed the way her mom sung holiday song’s all year and how her brother’s always played with the colorful lights. 

She missed Azriel, and the thought hit her that she would always be missing him, it wasn’t long until he would eventually grow tired of her. She had ruined everything, needing a better escape from her thoughts Selena winnowed home. Grabbing the whiskey on the top shelf Cassian bought a few years ago as an anniversary gift and popped the bottle open, the hands moved on the clock extremely slow and also too fast, drink after drink was poured as her mood soured even more. She didn’t even notice when the door opened and that familiar scent of rain and cedar invaded her senses. Didn’t even notice the thrum of the bond humming in delight until her mate was kneeling in front of her with a soft smile on his face.

“Hi Baby.” 

Selena almost broke down in tears right then and there, every fiber in her body screaming at her to jump into his arms, tackle him to the floor and pepper his face with kisses. But her friends word’s rang in her ear like a dark bell echoing in her head tugging on that rotten piece inside her chest. She smiled at him, the sight and scent of him still soothing some of the jagged pieces of her heart. “Hi.” She breathed out softly. 

Azriel’s brow’s furrowed at her lack of reaction but he wasn’t surprised he could already make an educated guess of where his lovely mate’s head was at based on the echoed feelings in the bond and the shadows whispering information in his ear. He gently pried the whiskey from her grasp and kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her mouth. She sighed into the kiss and Azriel’s heart hummed in contentment as the bond slowly settled at finally being able to touch her after all this time. He lifted her off the couch and carried her to their shared bedroom. Placing her down gently on the bed and settled next to her. Usually Selena would automatically curl into his side laying her head against his muscled chest and entertwine their hands pressing a kiss to each of his scarred fingers. But instead she curled away from and Azriel seethed silently. 

He was usually an extrememly patient male, he had to be in his line of work but she didn’t jump into his arms when he came home, not even kissing him or saying she missed him and now she was pretending he didn’t exist in their marital bed. His patience snapped. He let out a dark growl, sitting himself against the headboard and pulled Selena onto his hips so fast she let out a gasp of surprise. 

The sound elicited something within him and his stomach churned with need. But first he needed to check on his gorgeous wife before even acknowledging the desire that had slowly been building up with their time apart. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong sweetheart or do I need to pry it out of you?” He whispered placing soft kisses on the side of her neck. Selena’s eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation, everything felt intensified after their distance. His hand’s massaging her inner thights, his lips slowly moving down to her shoulder, the shadows running along her spine. It was overwhelming and she wanted to lose herself in the feeling, in him. But the voices returned tenfold and snapped their jaws viciously clamping down on her heart and she jerked away from him and off the bed. Hurt briefly flashed across his expression but instead he let out a soft breath. 

“W-Why are you doing that.” Selena asked gasping for air. This was too all too much. You’re going to lose him, you’re going to lose him, you’re going to lose him, you’re going to-

“Selena..Baby…” Azriel said in the deceptively soft tone it skittered across her bones and her heat skipped a beat when he said her name. “You’re my mate can I not kiss you?” 

Azriel slid off the bed, walking over to her silently he was good at reading people, especially her. He had spent years figuring her out understanding how her mind worked and how her heart sang exactly for moment like these and he knew that she just needed to talk aloud or else those little voices trying to take his mate away wouldn’t go away. She just needed a little push and Azriel knew her body, knew which button’s to push to elicit certain reactions. “The faster you tell me what’s wrong the faster I can fix it sweetheart.”

“I don’t need you to fix it!” She snapped, her voice breaking. “I-I just-“ A shuddering cry escaping her throat as Azriel gently pushed the pieces of her hair back. His heart shattered at the sound, the bond hissing at her dispair and he wrapped his arms around her pulling her close as she cried her body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I don’t…want to lose you.” Selena said gasping for air in between her words. 

“You’re never going to lose me.”

She cried harder at that. “I lose everyone, it’s not long before-“

He pulled away grasping her face in his hands softly but firm, locking eyes with her so she could understand the gravity of his words. “Selena you’re not going to lose me whatever things you’re thinking it’s not true.” She let out a painful whimper, cries had subsided to small hiccups as she tried to regain control to speak. “I feel.. like-like you secretly hate me that I am too clingy and annoying and right now…I feel like you’re lying to me.” Her voice broke at the end and a pained sob escaped her lips as she finally admitted to what had beeing weighing on her heart and mind. 

Azriel felt like his heart had fucking shattered and turned to dust on the floor. 

He felt tears prick at his eyes as he realized how severe she had fallen into her trauma, she had turned away from him not able to face him as more sobs wracked her body. “Selena.” Azriel whispered his voice cracking. “Selena look at me. Please.” 

Selena’s heart broke ever further at the pain in Azriel’s voice and she slowly turned, he touched his forehead against hers and than pressing a soft kiss there as well. His hands rested on the side of her neck and the other one on his hip. “Selena I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I would go fucking insane without you, not having you jump into my arms as soon I got home made me feel like the world was ending. I love it when you touch me, I love it when you whisper how much you love me right before I fall asleep, I love it when you come and find me while I’m working just to curl in my lap. I am so addicted to you it makes it hard to breath and If I didn’t have you I’d go mad. You’re the brightest light in this world, watching you shine is the greatest honor of my life. When you laugh my heart sings, and when you cry it breaks. I love you so much Selena. I am utterly consumed by you.” 

Azriel grabbed her hands and settled them over his heart. “Do you feel that? My heart only beats for you and nothing and no one else. Ensuring your happiness and health is something I take very seiously and great pride in.” He was pushing all his love and adoration through the bond it was overwhelming and Selena had no choice but to feel the truth in his words, it spread her entire body with this mind numbing warmth and she let out a watery laugh. More tears falling as she did so. Azriel brushed them away ever so softly with the pad of his thumbs. 

“I’m sor-“ He cut her off with a kiss. “Don’t.” He whispered quietly. “You have saved me from myself too many times to count dearest, it’s a privilege to even try do the same for you.”

“I love you.” Selena choked out, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him impossibly closer.

“I am your’s Selena, and you are mine.” Azriel said with finality. Selena whispered it back to him, trailing soft kisses up his neck and peppering his face with their soft lips. Azriel grinned, the dutiful shadow that had been with her that night had already told on her toxic friends, whom he’d never liked and believe it or not this isn’t the first time he comforted Selena after their misplaced words. They would be dealt with, Azriel growing tired of their bullshit affecting his love. 

But right now all he wanted was to hold her. He picked her up and she squealed happily, wrapping her legs around him as Azriel walked them back to the bed. He was leaning above her his hands still gripping her hips tightly as he pressed his lips to hers. “Do you believe me when I say that I love you?” Azriel asked, pushing his love through the bond once again and Selena nodded. Azriel smiled, “Good because you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” 

Selena laughed and a moment of silence passed between them as Azriel started pressing more kisses to the inside of her wrists, then her fingertips, than her forehead, her nose and finally her mouth. 

“Thank you.” Selena breathed out in the peaceful moment they had created. Azriel just hummed and pressed his lips to hers again absolutely determined to make her feel good, needing to chase away the darkness even further. His hand’s slipped under her skirt brushing against her inner thighs and Selena let herself reveal in his touch and in the all consuming warmth vibrating from his side of the bond with an intensity that thrummed under her skin. The doubt eddied from her mind and Selena sent every ounce of love right back to him as she finally pulled herself out of her dark thoughts. 

“Mine.” She whispered with a slight nibble on his lips and he growled lowly, returning the favor. “Mine.” He whispered back. 

A/N: Holy shit guys I've been writing this fic FOR WEEKSSSS! I kept deleting and restarting and getting stuck halfway through, this isn't really where I wanted to go with it but omg here we are. I'm not 100% happy with it but thank fuck its done. I might rewrite a different version later but idk. Let me know what you think!

[mischiefmanagers]

Burning Flames I || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: less Eris than what you might expect, but with the next episode you'll forgive me; and english is not my first language :)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

The first time Eris saw you was at the High Lords meeting. As soon as he had entered the room something flickered in Eris' chest, something warm that made his eyes looking around, a bored look on his calculated face, as he studied where the source of that flicker was. Then, his eyes laid on you, and oh gods if he had to call all his five centuries of practise to keep his breath from catching.

Before his eyes was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. He felt an unknown urge to know your name, your story, what had brought you there. Your eyes were on his father, studying him as the Vanserras had entered the room.

Eris took a second to realize that you were seated between the High Lady of the Night Court and another bautiful female. All three of you looking oddly similar to one another, and it was that moment that he realized who you were. You and the female at your left were two of the three High Lady's sisters, turned High Fae by Hybhern. Twins, he realized as he looked at the two of you. So close you looked like fire and ice. Your features were warm, even the colors of your hair, skin and eyes were a warm contrast to Nesta's cold features, all sharp and icy.

Your eyes scanned all his brothers until they fell on him, and Eris kept a cold face as you studied him, his posture, how his brothers obeyed to him.

Your eyes flickered quickly to Mor, then on him again and Eris could tell the exact moment that you connected who he was, because you grimaced and turned your face in a cold and dismissal expression. Of course the bastards would spread what happened with Mor; he thought with bitter humor. He gave you a lazy, mocking grin before turning his attention on Thesan, who now was talking to welcome everyone.

It was when Tamlin appeared that he felt that warm flicker inside him again, and when he curiously looked at you what he saw pietrified him. It wasn't cold that shimmered in your eyes. There were pure, burning flames in them.

Two punds of raging, wild, unforgiving fire were now locked on the High Lord of the Spring Court, and for a moment Eris was thankful that you have just watched him with dismissal distain, because what you were giving Tamlin was a promise of slow, painful death.

“It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.” A sneer from Tamlin toward you and your twin. “Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?”

Eris saw your hands gripping the arms of the chair, your knuckles white from the strenght. You were going to kill him, he was sure of that. You were going to kill Tamlin someday.

***

You could feel your power, rising in your body, begging to be lashed out.

As you watched Tamlin's smug smirk a lovely imagine formed in your mind. Tamlin's body burning from the inside out, his blood boiling with your flames, his flesh coming down slowly and painfully while he begged to stop. Yes, more you looked at him and more that imagine gave you comfort.

He was the one who had sold you and your sisters to Hybern. He was the one who locked Feyre inside his house, who forbade her from doing anything she wanted. He was the one who responsible for your sisters' traumas, and you were going to make him pay.

You wondered if you were imagining his sweat on his forehead, his hand coming to adjust his shirt's collar every now and then, his breath heavier with every minute. It was if for once your power had listened to you and was now doing what you wanted.

Careful, for how much I'd like to see his blood boiling up it wouldn't win you many alliances to defend the humans. Rhysand's velvet voice appeared in your head, making you blink few times before lettiing go the arms of your chair and calming your breath.

Sorry. You answered him, not feeling ashamed at all. Tamlin was targetting Rhysand too, the male who saved you and gave you a place to call home, promising you that he would keep your sisters safe.

“You’re insane,” Feyre breathed to Tamlin as Varian bared his teeth. “Do you hear what you’re saying?” Your sister pointed toward you and Nesta. “Hybern turned my sisters into Fae, after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!”

“Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress, I’m sure the trait runs in the family.” said Tamlin with a scoff.

"It seems like you love to insinuate what an Ancheron girl want in her life and what she doesn't." You said slowly, your voice burning with fire as you locked your eyes with his. "I hope the trait doesn't ruin in your court. If you had any left after you let Hybern in their houses."

Tamlin snarled at you, and you only lift your chin higher not feeling scared or intimidated even for a moment. Many things had changed since he had come and wrecked your cottage, and now he was the one who had to be afraid.

"You'll find out, Tamlin..." said Rhysand with a bored voice. "That nothing good come out from telling an Archeron what to do. But you should already know that."

You could feel the flames inside you ready to be leashed out, but you kept them at bay, knowing that all it needed was for Tamlin to make a move toward you or your sisters and you would let them out. It wouldn't matter if you burned too, you would make sure to incinerate Tamlin.

“Pity you didn’t bring the other sister. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty.” snorted the male you had recognized as Eris. Your eyes snapped to met his and you found him already looking at you.

As soon as he had walked inside the room your brain had gone silent for a moment. He was, with your deepest annoyance, the most beautiful male you had ever seen, and that thought alone was enough to make you ashamed. You had needed few seconds to recognize who he was, and as soon as you put the name on his face you had grimaced at the thought of have called him beautiful in your mind.

You narrowed your eyes, your hands hitching from the unleashed power you were keeping inside your body. If they did as much as to hurt Elain you would incinerate all of the red haired family in front of you.

Eris seemed to understand your look, because he only smirked amused at you before Mor's voice caught his attention. “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things don’t change over the centuries.”

Eris’s mouth curled into a smile at the words, the careful game of pretending that they had not seen each other in years. “Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.”

You had barely widened your eyes, disgusted by his words, as a flash of blue light passed in front of your eyes. A moment Eris was seated, the next he was on the ground, Azriel over him.

You hid a smirk behind your hand as you watched Azriel's hands around Eris' throat, and the heir of Autumn running out of air. It didn't matter if you had a secret alliance with him, he had no problem into proving how horrible he was.

When the alliance had been forged the Inner Circle had proceeded to tell you and Nesta what kind of person Eris was. How he had left Mor die because she had refused to marry him. How he had hunted your sister and Lucien when they were escaping the Spring Court.

So, the show that was now in front of your eyes made you amused for the first time since you had been taken from home. Your sister, Feyre, stopped Azriel and invited him to sit beside her, making all of your shift of one chair.

He sat at your right, and after a careful speech from Feyre, Eris apologized with Mor. It was curious that the Lady of the Autumn Court, Eris' mother, watched him with an approval look as he apologized. Maybe not everyone in the Vanserra family was horrible.

Around you everything was going down. Thesand had proposed an antidote for the faebane and while the Night Court was willing to try it, Beron threw free insults to your sister and Rhysand.

Thesan asked, “And you believe the human armies there will bow to Hybern?”

“Its queens sold us out,” Nesta said. She lifted her chin, poised as any emissary. “For the gift of immortality, the human queens will allow Hybern in to sweep away any resistance. They might very well hand over control of their armies to him.” Nesta looked to you, to Feyre, to Rhys. “Where do the humans on our island go? We cannot evacuate them to the continent, and with the wall intact … Many might rather risk waiting than cross over the wall anyway.”

“The fate of the humans below the wall,” Beron cut in, “is none of our concern. Especially in a spit of land with no queen, no army.”

"There are people." You said angryly while the fire run hotter inside your body. All you could see was Beron's disgusting face and his arrogance. "There are families. A moment ago you were all horrified about Amarantha killing the Winter Court's children, but now since they are humans its different?" You asked looking to every High Lords in the eyes, watching them shocked and uncredoulous. "Humans children are less than yours?" Your eyes locked with Kallias, the High Lord of the Winter Court.

"Careful with your accusation." said Kallias with a low voice.

"Careful with your next actions." You said back, letting him see the fire in your eyes, calling back your emissary voice. "How many parents had died trying to protect their kids from Amarantha?"

It was Viviane who answered, her hand closed thighly around her mate's. "All of them."

You rose your chin high, watching her right in the eyes. "Every human will fight againsgt Hybern. With or without your help, they will fight for their children, their families. And they will die too, without your help, hoping for a better future."

“So go waste your own soldiers defending them,” Beron said. “I will not send my own forces to protect chattel.”

Your eyes snapped back on him. “You’re a coward,” Feyre breathed to the High Lord of Autumn. Even Rhys tensed.

At some point Feyre hit Beron with her power, breaking his shield and trapping him in a bubble of water. Your eyebrows rose, surprised to see your sister's full powers.

Let us out, your flames begged. We will end him.

No. You couldn't let them out. Your power felt too descructive to be leasshed in a room full of people. It was better burning from the inside out rather than burning everyone you cared for.

Your sister seemed to calm down after a while, letting Beron breath again with your displeasure. How could someone so horrible be still alive after centuries? Why no one had never killed him?

The display of Feyre's power got the High Lords tensed up. She had showed them she had all their powers and not all of them were too happy.

“The power belongs to us. I think it is,” Beron seethed making you close your hands on your laps in tight fits. if he did as much as take a step toward your sister he would find that your fire was hotter and more dangerous than his.

You could feel them, the flames, starting to come out from your hands. Beron would let the humans die for his own benefits, he will never see reason.

But it was when your sister apologized to the Lady of the Autumn Court and Beron called her human filth that everythink around you exploded.

You felt your power lashing out, and as much killing Beron would only bring you happiness, there was one thing you wanted more. and it was for him to be afraid of you. So when your fire lashed out you stood up and directed it to the chair on which Beron was seated, making him fall on a pile of burning wood.

He yelled in pain. Your fire was circling him like snakes ready to strike, and it felt so good to let it out finally. The room fell quiet, everyone was looking at you but your eyes were fixed on the High Lord of the Autumn Court who now looked at you with a promise of death in his eyes.

"We are here to discuss an imminet war against Hybern." I said deadly serious while every inch of you fought to control the flames that now were out and extremely close to the Vanserra's other memeber. "But talk to my sister like that again, and next time I won't be aiming at the chair."

Beron shot to his feet, his hand still tring to make the little flames on his clothes stop, and declared to no one in particular, “This meeting is over. I hope Hybern butchers you all.”

"This meeting is not over." said Nesta raising on her feet.

She stood tall, a pillar of steel. “You are all there is,” she said to Beron, to all of them. “You are all that there is between Hybern and the end of everything that is good and decent.” She settled her stare on Beron, unflinching and fierce. “You fought against Hybern in the last war. Why do you refuse to do so now?”

Your eyes studied all the Vanserra sons, marking how Eris gestured for his brothers to sit and how his eyes met yours again. You expected to find challenge, rage for what you did to his father, but instead something fickered in his eyes. Something like...pride?

Your confusion must have shown on your face because his expression become amused, and you quickly looked away from him. You didn't want for the heir of Autumn to study you, to think you cared what he thought of you.

“You may hate us. I don’t care if you do. But I do care if you let innocents suffer and die. At least stand for them. Your people. For Hybern will make an example of them. Of all of us.” said Nesta at your side.

“And you know this how?” Beron sneered.

"We went into the Cauldron." You said, pushing away the horrible memories that came back. “It showed us his heart. He will bring down the wall, and butcher those on either side of it.”

Nesta looked to Kallias and Viviane. “I am sorry for the loss of those children. The loss of one is abhorrent.” She shook her head. “But beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death.” She jerked her chin at you and Feyra. “Were it not for my sisters… I would be among them.”

She was right. You and Nesta might have been twins, but you were born few days before her and that made you the oldest, and as the oldest you had taken upon yourself to provide for your family when the money had ended.

"We are not asking you to protect them." You said firmly, taking Nesta's hand in yours while you watched every High Lord in the eyes. "We are asking you to give them a chance to survive. To fight together for your lands. They have spent centuries starving and dying while you were here with every comfort. They hate you? Yes. They will ask for your help? No. That's why we are here, because without you there will be no human left after this war."

Thesan cleared his throat. “While a noble sentiment, the details of the Treaty did not demand we provide for our human neighbors. They were to be left alone. So we obeyed.”

"Because they are scared of you." You said. "Because most of your kind have enslaved them for centuries. And they are afraid that if they let you close it will happen again. Show them they are wrong. Show them your strenght doesn't have only evil ends, but it can help to build a future where no children, human or Fae, will have to worry ever again."

"You have been entrusted with protecting this land.” Nesta scanned the faces around her. “How can you not fight for it?”

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering, impressed, even, by your and Nesta's speech. You met Eris' eyes again, and you looked at him determinated. He needed to convince his father to fight together, because otherwise the human lands would be reduce to ash.

You thought you had imagined it as he gave you a subt nod, masking it with his hand under his chin. What was it? A promise? Did he understand the gravity of the situantion and actually cared? Or was it only to ensure his alliance with the Night Court?

Beron only said, “I shall consider it.” A look at his family, and they vanished.

Eris stood behind just for few seconds, his eyes scanning all of us, his expression unreadable. His eyes fell on the pool in front of us, then on you and then on the pile of ashes beside him where his father had been seated. Something sparkled in his eyes as if he was understanding something, then with one last curious look toward you he vanished too.

You let out a breath you hadn't realize you were holding, and you seated on your chair again, feeling the tiredness that the leash of power left inside you. Your eyes fell on the pool, and, even if impossible, your blood froze.

There was no water left inside the pool.

That's what Eris had been looking. That's how powerful your flames had been. They had made the magic water evaporate into nothing. You looked over Thesan apogetically, but he just waved a hand as if to dismiss it while water appeared again.

At least now they know who is fighting with the humans. Maybe it was what they needed to convince themself, Rhys' voice appeared in your head with a calming tone, as if he had sensed your terror at what you have done.

What if I hurt someone of our army? You asked panicked in your head, trying to keep a neutral face while your sister was speaking to the High Lords.

I'll make sure it won't happen. Rhysand said firmly and yet kindly. I promise you.

[mischiefmanagers]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: none yet, but they are coming in subsequent chapters!

word count: 1.4k

story tags: if you want to be tagged, leave me a comment!

This is a slow-burn, angst filled story! So buckle up and hang on for the ride! Thank you for reading my dive back into writing fanfiction!

____________________________________________________

For all the girls who have been told you are too different and too weak, always remember you have everything you need inside of YOU and you are stronger than you know!

Chapter 1

Azriel POV

The missive arrived at dawn, delivered by a pair of Summer Court guards who greeted the House of Wind’s wards with nervous smiles and relieved sighs when it was received without incident. The guards from the Summer Court handed over a slender roll of parchment sealed with wax that bore the familiar crest of a seashell twined with vines of coral. Rhysand stood at one of the balconies as he cracked open the seal, his violet eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he read the elegant script. The morning light caught the silver accents in his tunic, and the wind ruffled his dark hair, but he paid neither any mind.

Azriel lingered just behind him, half in shadow. He noted every flicker of emotion that danced across Rhysand’s face—slight tension in the jaw, a thoughtful crease between the brows, a subtle shift in posture. Not displeasure, Azriel decided. More like careful consideration. Whatever was in that letter, it had piqued the High Lord’s curiosity.

Azriel moved to stand at his shoulder, reading over his friend’s arm. He noticed immediately how few details had been included. There was no mention of why Tarquin had requested their presence, no explicit reason for this sudden summons. Instead, the High Lord of Summer had written in polite, measured phrases—couched in formality and courtesy—but the essence was elusive. Tarquin asked for Rhysand’s “counsel” and his “company,” hinting vaguely at a matter of some sensitivity, a topic “pertaining to connections long misunderstood.”

The letter itself felt more like an invitation to a private conversation than a formal diplomatic gathering. No agenda was outlined, no negotiation topics listed, not even a hint of trade routes or mutual enemies. In fact, very little addressed the broader alliance between their courts at all. Instead, Tarquin’s words circled around the mystery he wished Rhysand to solve. It was an artfully arranged puzzle, each line carrying a quiet promise: come, learn what has been hidden, what might redefine all that you think you know.

Yet Tarquin never said what that secret was. He didn’t explain why now, after all this time, he was willing to peel back this layer of secrecy. It was only in the final line that Tarquin’s meaning became something Rhysand could almost grasp: “In your presence and hers, truths may finally step into the light.”

Azriel studied his friend’s face, searching for any sign of distress. Instead, he found curiosity, guarded hope, and wariness. “How do you feel about going?” Azriel asked gently.

Rhysand turned back to the view of Velaris below: the spires and terraces, shops opening their doors to the morning’s first customers, the Sidra glinting in the rising sun. “I don’t know yet,” he said quietly. “I must be careful.”

Azriel’s wings rustled, a subtle shift that conveyed understanding. Caution was wise. Still, Azriel could sense Rhysand’s intrigue. He, too, felt a stirring of curiosity. 

“Do you trust Tarquin?” Azriel asked.

Rhysand sighed, not taking his eyes off the shimmering city. “He’s a proud High Lord, one who wants to do right by his people. We’ve had our differences, but I believe he respects me—respects what we’ve built here. I trust his intentions enough to find out what he wants.”

“And if it’s a trap?” Azriel’s voice was mild, but his hazel eyes were cool and sharp.

Rhysand inclined his head, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I doubt it,” he said. “But if it is, we’ll be prepared. That’s why I want you there, Az. Your shadows have a way of seeing what others miss.”

Azriel nodded once, accepting that charge. “When do we leave?”

Rhysand folded the parchment with careful fingers. “I’ll send a reply that we will come in three days’ time. That gives me a moment to inform Feyre, let her decide if she wishes to join us or remain here. But for this initial meeting, it might be best if it’s just me and you.”

Azriel dipped his head in agreement. “I’ll be ready.”

Azriel felt Rhysand’s tension increase as he read that last line. They exchanged a glance, and Rhysand’s brow furrowed. There was no denying the note’s courtesy, but its omissions were glaring. The High Lord of Night flicked his fingers in silent frustration, and Azriel understood his meaning at once: they were being invited into something unknown—perhaps delicate, perhaps dangerous. And the vagueness was intentional, forcing them to come to Summer if they wished to learn anything at all.

In the early morning hush of Velaris, with the dawn just breaking across the Sidra, they stood there a moment longer in companionable silence, the rolled parchment in Rhysand’s hand, knowing that the answers they sought would not be found in these few polite lines. They would have to go to Summer to discover what Tarquin truly wanted—and what secrets lay behind his carefully chosen words.

3 days later…

They chose a quiet, windswept terrace high atop the House of Wind as the place to winnow from. The morning sky blushed faintly with pink and gold, the hush of the early hour wrapping Velaris in soft silence. Rhysand and Azriel stood side by side, the brisk mountain air tugging at their hair and the edges of their cloaks.

Azriel could feel the taut energy humming through Rhysand—keen anticipation tempered by wariness. This would not be a show of strength or pageantry. It was a journey into unknown territory, a meeting built on secrets and hints rather than clear truths. Still, Rhysand’s posture remained confident and poised, his violet eyes steady as they fixed on a point in the distance only he could see.

Azriel took a breath, readying himself. Winnowing was second nature by now—a single blink, a gathering of night and shadow, and then the world would shift. No matter how many times he did it, there was always that brief, disorienting pull, as if reality blurred and stretched like ink swirling in water. But he trusted Rhysand’s ability to guide them both, to weave their powers together and reemerge exactly where they intended.

Rhysand offered him a faint, reassuring smile. “Ready?”

Azriel merely inclined his head. Words were unnecessary between them at a moment like this.

With a subtle shift of magic, Rhysand reached out, as though cupping the very night sky in his palm. Azriel’s shadows flattened and stretched, wrapping them both in a whisper of darkness. The terrace, the fresh mountain air, the distant murmur of Velaris below—they all fell away in an instant, like slipping out of a familiar dream.

Time folded. Space bent. A heartbeat passed, maybe less, and then the world settled again.

They stood on a patterned marble courtyard bathed in golden sunlight. Salt-tinged air drifted around them, warm and humid, carrying the distant cries of gulls and the gentle hush of waves rolling onto shore. The stone beneath their boots gleamed with the Summer Court’s signature warmth, and lush greenery framed the path ahead, leaves shimmering with tiny prisms of light.

Azriel adjusted to the sudden brightness and warmth. Only a moment ago they had been amid Velaris’s cool dawn. Now the day was brighter, the atmosphere heavier with the scents of citrus and brine. This was Tarquin’s domain—familiar in its own way, yet each visit offered something slightly different, as though the Summer Court’s beauty changed with the shifting tides.

Rhysand drew himself to his full height, his demeanor that of a High Lord who had come by invitation but would take nothing for granted. Azriel let his wings relax, but he remained vigilant, his senses attuned to every soft footstep or change in the breeze. They had left one home behind to step into another’s territory. There would be courtesies, discussions, revelations. And beneath it all, the unspoken question of what waited for them in these sunlit halls.

A pair of Summer Court sentinels approached, cautious but polite, their spears angled low in a gesture of greeting rather than threat. Rhysand inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Azriel noted how the guards seemed relieved to have their arrival proceed without incident. After all, High Lords did not always travel so peacefully into one another’s realms.

As they followed the sentinels toward the palace’s open corridors and glittering chambers, the hush of the morning terrace in Velaris already felt like a memory, a point on a distant shore. The path ahead was bright, uncertain, and filled with the secrets that had drawn them here.

Chapter 2

[mischiefmanagers]

Bound by Secrets

Pairing: Azriel x Beron’s daughter!reader

Summary: When you get caught sneaking around the Hewn City, you end up in one of the dungeon cells to be interrogated by the infamous Spymaster. But things don't go exactly the way the General and the High Lord thought.

Warnings: mentions of sex, allusions to torture and scars

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: Okay sooo, I got a bit carried away with the first part and it came out longer than anticipated, with Az coming in at around word 1.7k. I know it’s a lot without him since it's his appreciation week, but the build-up is worth it (hopefully) and seeing how long the whole fic turned out to be, I hope you don't mind too much. There's still a lot of Azriel, I swear! (and I might have gone a little bit off-topic but shh it's fine). Anyway, happy @azrielappreciationweek everyone!

You knew being here was dangerous.

The Hewn City was not a place you could simply sneak into, and yet here you were, lurking in a corner of the throne room, waiting for the right moment to slip out and search for the treasury.

You had been sent there with a mission: find the Veritas Orb. How your father knew where it was, or what he needed it for, was not information you had been made privy to. But the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been clear: you were to steal the Orb as soon as possible. Knowing the kind of punishment he dealt when disappointed, you always did your best to comply. That left you with little time to prepare and, apparently, a huge number of problems.

Because just as you were about to make an unseen exit through the hallway you had previously selected, every single person in the crowd stiffened, and the chattering stopped abruptly, plunging the room into a silence so deep you could hear a pin drop.

As you turned to see what had happened, you realized everyone was staring at the entrance doors, just as they swung open. One look at the two tall figures slowly stalking in, and you knew you needed to get out before it was too late.

You blended into the shadows against the wall as the Spymaster and the General of the Army made their way to the dais on the other side of the hall. A smudge of red and gold was all you caught out of the corner of your eye when the Morrigan entered, just as you bolted down the hallway.

The High Lord and High Lady would be next. And if they caught you not only in their Court, but in their underground city as well, you'd be in serious trouble. You couldn't risk it. You needed to get out.

Yet you couldn't leave. Not without the Orb. Fear seized you for a split second at the mere thought of the pain you would suffer at your father's hands if you were to fail, and then you broke into a sprint—or as close to a sprint as you could manage with the high heels you had worn to blend in with the Hewn City inhabitants.

A thrum of power reached you despite the distance you had already put between yourself and the throne room, a clear sign of the High Lord and Lady’s arrival. You needed to hurry.

“Damn heels,” you muttered under your breath. You stopped long enough to take them off, gather them in your hands, and resume your run. At least your night-black dress was loose enough around the legs to allow you to move freely.

You had no idea where the treasury was. Your father didn't know, merely telling you the Orb was likely kept there—as if that helped. But you wouldn't consider where else it could be, instead choosing to focus on one thing at a time.

You wandered through the hallways, peering into every room you could find. Most of them were studies, sitting rooms, or smaller chambers for holding court. None of them what you were looking for.

Pushing a heavy wooden door open, you discovered a staircase that spiraled down. The basement. Or dungeons, you guessed, summoning a flame in your hand to light the steps as you began the descent. It made sense for the treasury to be on a lower level—harder to reach and easier to hide. That was where your father kept his most treasured possessions as well.

The stairs ended in a long hallway with many other tunnels branching off. You chose one out of instinct and kept going like that for a while, trying to remember every turn you took. The place was like a maze and there was nothing to, with nothing to distinguish the different paths. But eventually, your seemingly random choices paid off, and/because you found yourself in front of large, unguarded double doors. Upon closer inspection, you realized they were warded, hence the lack of actual guards.

With a smirk, you placed your palm on the knob and summoned more of your power. Your hand became a bright shade of orange, and a thin circle of fire spread from it, growing over the surface of the doors until it burned the spell protecting them. A little trick your oldest brother had taught you years ago.

Pulling your hand away, it returned to its normal color as you shoved the door open and walked inside.

Piles of gold lined the walls, jewels and weapons displayed in glass cabinets, and everywhere you turned, something shiny caught your eye. You delved deeper into the room, discovering beautiful pieces of artwork scattered around, but you couldn’t let them distract you from your task. You began searching the place instead, opening boxes and trunks, anything you could find, but there were no signs of the Veritas. The more you looked, the clearer it became.

The Orb wasn't there.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, and you stifled a groan as you made your way back to the tunnels, picking up the heels you had left by the door.

There had to be another room where more treasure was kept. You just had to find it. You were so sure it would be somewhere nearby that you made a stupid mistake: you didn’t count your turns, didn’t memorize when and where you had gone left or right or straight.

Maybe you should have asked for help before coming here. You had considered it, but you didn't want to endanger more people than necessary—or, even worse, have the truth discovered—and you honestly had thought you could do this alone.

You were wrong, and now you were lost. Like a damn fool.

Too caught up in your worries and rising anxiety, you did not hear the approaching steps. As you turned around the corner, you bumped into a tall, muscular body. A strong hand gripped your arm to keep you from losing balance, and the flame still flickering around your hand went out.

Now only the low gloom of the torches several feet down the tunnel illuminated the darkness.

“There you are.”

You didn’t recognize that deep, almost rough voice, but your heart jumped in your throat at sight of the leathery wings and the black scaled armor adorned with seven crimson Siphons.

You already knew who you were facing when you looked up and met the wary gaze of the General of the Night Court armies, his face half-hidden in the dark.

“There I am?” you repeated, putting on a sweet smile that didn’t reflect your internal turmoil. “Were you looking for me, General?”

His eyes narrowed as he took in your bare feet and the heels you still held in your hand. “What are you doing down here?”

You couldn’t tell if he meant down here in the Hewn City or in the tunnels below the palace. What if he knew the truth? What if he knew who you were? It could have given you a way out, it could have—

But Cassian’s grip on your arm tightened at your silence. “Answer me,” he growled. “We know someone broke into the treasury. And I know it was you.”

You shivered at his tone, at the fear that began to settle inside you, knowing you had been caught. As you tried to find a way out, you heard the words coming out of your mouth as if they were someone else’s: feigned shock at the news, deep confusion at the accusation, refined politeness when you addressed him. Hopefully, it was enough to let you off the hook.

“Why, if I may ask, would you think that was me, General?”

He didn’t seem impressed by your display of innocence. “There are very few redheads in the Hewn City, and none with fire powers. You’re from Autumn.”

Well, shit. You were so used to seeing red-haired Fae in the Autumn Court that you hadn't considered how recognizable your hair—or your powers, for that matter—could be outside of your home.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. You had red hair. You were suspiciously wandering in the tunnels. You had broken into the treasury using your fire. How could you find an excuse for all of that?

Your hesitation was confirmation enough for the General. His grip on your arm became almost painful. “Who are you? What were you looking for in the treasury?”

Maybe telling him the truth would help. If you revealed that you were in the Hewn City because you had no other choice, that you were not only Beron’s secret daughter but also his spy, his undercover agent, would he believe you? And if he did, would that make things better or worse for you?

Again, you thought about it for too long.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed even more. “You’re coming with me,” he ordered, nudging you along. “And you will talk, one way or another.”

You didn’t like where this was going. You didn’t like it one bit.

You could burn him, you supposed. Use your fire on him to create a distraction and run away. But you knew what kind of pain it caused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt someone that way, not even him. And even if you did, where could you run? You didn’t know the place, didn't know where the hallways led or where the hiding spots were. But Cassian did. You wouldn’t get far before he found you.

You let the General lead you even deeper into the dungeons, following him without a struggle, even as the cold air bit at your skin and your gut churned in fear.

After a few minutes, you were escorted inside a small cell. There was nothing but a wooden chair in the middle of the space, right next to a grate on the floor from which hisses and growls rose up. You decided you didn’t want to know what was on the other side.

Cassian took your shoes, placing them next to the door as he gestured for you to sit. You obeyed silently and took a seat, waiting for the handcuffs, for the restraint, for the questions to start.

None of it came.

You just sat there, the General watching you intently from his spot against the wall, his stance relaxed yet alert in case you tried something. He said not a word.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again and another male walked in. He was Illyrian too, a sword similar to Cassian’s was strapped to his back, and he wore the same armor. But his Siphons were a shade of cobalt blue, his black hair cut short, and he was surrounded by swirling shadows.

Your breath caught at the sight of the Spymaster.

Azriel’s eyes widened ever so slightly as they settled on you, his shadows frozen around his shoulders. He stood there, wings tucked tightly in, staring at you as if he could see right through your façade.

“Where is Rhys?”

The Spymaster didn’t tear his gaze away from you even as he answered. “He couldn’t leave.” His voice, cold as ice, sent a shiver down your spine. “This is the intruder?”

You held your head up high, reigning in your emotions. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. You refused to. No matter the stories you had heard about the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court, you wouldn’t cower. Not before him. You had suffered enough at the hands of your father to know how to deal with fear and pain.

“I found her wandering in the tunnels,” Cassian answered. “Not far from the treasury, hand wreathed in flames. She refused to say anything.”

The Spymaster assessed you, hazel eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Well, that’s about to change.” His hand lingered dangerously close to the black-hilted knife strapped to his muscular thigh.

Your brother's words echoed in your mind. “Tell him what he wants to hear.” “If you fight him, you'll only make it worse.” “Think of something nice, hold on to it, and it'll be over soon enough.” “Behave like the pliant little female he expects you to be.”

If Eris's precious advice had always worked with your father and his particular inclination for painful punishments, then maybe it would work now as well.

Azriel's gaze didn't falter as he stalked toward you, the dagger now clutched in his scarred fingers. You could have sworn his hand trembled for just a split second as he unsheathed it, but you were already looking down at your bare feet, letting your shoulders slump forward and your stiff back relax into a more submissive position.

A pair of black boots stopped right in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands holding the armrests so tightly that your knuckles went white. The scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled your nose as cold metal pressed just under your chin, urging you to lift your head.

You didn't fight it, meeting a pair of honeyed eyes that stared at you coolly. So close, you could see the tiny speck of green in them, even with his dilated pupils.

Cauldron, this male was beautiful. Painfully so. Bigger issues begged for your attention, but you couldn't help but admire him—the sharp features of his face, the perfect lines of his jaw, the plush lips, the way a few black curls hung over his forehead.

You didn't dare shift your position, but the urge to clench your thighs was almost overwhelming. The most inappropriate time ever.

Azriel seemed to somehow sense it, because his nostrils flared and the tip of the knife pressed a bit more under your chin, though still not enough to draw blood.

“What are you doing here?”

That voice, like silk and shadows and ice. Now you could understand why everyone feared the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Why were you in the treasury?” he pressed, more demanding than before.

When you didn't answer his questions, he removed the dagger and took a step back. You glanced at the General, still standing by the door, but your focus quickly returned to the Spymaster, who had begun to circle around your chair.

Like a beast about to strike, toying with its prey before the killing blow.

“You know, this would be easier if you talked willingly.”

Shadows wrapped around both your ankles and wrists to prevent any possible movement. He was behind you now, his dagger trailing down your arm, sending all your senses on high alert.

“Or I'll have to resort to more… unpleasant methods.”

Your bindings tightened as if to prove his point and a small gasp escaped your lips. You had to say something, come up with some kind of excuse before it was too late.

“Tell him what he wants to hear.”

What did he want to hear? You couldn't very well give up the truth, could you? But maybe if you did, maybe if you tried…

Your eyes shot to the General. He was studying you with his arms crossed, nothing but distaste etched on his features.

Azriel, now on your left, noticed the direction of your gaze. He watched the other Illyrian for a few heartbeats before speaking in that low, quiet voice of his. “You know I work better when I'm alone.”

You stilled at the words. You, alone in a dungeon cell with the Spymaster? This changed everything—reshuffling all the cards, altering the odds of how this interrogation might end.

Cassian blinked, turning to face him. The two males stared at each other for what felt like ages, a silent conversation passing between them. Eventually, the General sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, fingers raking through his dark hair. “But alert Rhys immediately if something happens.”

The Shadowsinger seemed to hold back a scoff. “I know what I'm doing, Cassian,” he replied coolly. “I always get the information I want.”

You swallowed harshly, but Cassian gave a sharp nod and sauntered out of the cell.

As soon as the door closed behind him and his footsteps faded down the hallways, Azriel crouched in front of you, the dagger sheathed at his thigh once more. The shadows restraining you vanished.

“What the hell are you doing here, my love?”

~~~~~~

You and Azriel had met four years prior.

When you were born—the youngest and only female in a clutch of seven brothers—your father decided to keep you in the shadows. He never publicly acknowledged having a daughter, believing that no one would suspect a girl, thus raising you to serve as his undercover agent. Only your family knew of your existence, and if you hadn't gone mad over the years of confinement, it was only thanks to your sweet mother and Eris.

Beron had spent almost a century training you, molding you into his perfect little spy, and then sent you out into the world for just as long to do exactly what he had taught you.

You were attending a ball in the Day Court the first time you saw Azriel. You had already gathered the intel your father wanted about the honored guests from the Dawn Court, but you had no intention of going home earlier than scheduled. You still had until morning. And when the most beautiful male you had ever seen walked into the room as part of the Night Court delegation, you knew exactly how you wanted to spend your remaining time.

You watched him, taking in his muscular body, the massive wings, and the swirling shadows, until his eyes finally found yours through the crowd. You offered him a gentle yet unwavering smile, and your core clenched at the way he studied you as you approached him. Like he was already imagining pinning you beneath him.

It didn't take long for him to do just that. Within minutes, you found yourself in the room he was staying in, your dress discarded on the floor and his head between your thighs.

You had never felt so good as you did in those few hours.

It was almost dawn by the time you were both spent and sweaty, but you fought against exhaustion. You waited for Azriel to fall asleep, and then you slipped out of the room.

He woke up to an empty bed.

The next time you met him was a few months later. The High Lords and High Lady were all meeting in the Winter Court to discuss Prythian’s situation after the war with Hybern, but your father was paranoid. He ordered you to ensure the other courts weren’t plotting a coup against him.

You had just sneaked out of the suite reserved for the High Lord of the Summer Court and his entourage when shadows pooled at your feet, and your back was slammed against the wall. The air was snatched from your lungs at the impact, leaving you little time to take another breath before a dark dagger pressed against your throat.

Despite having spent just one night together, you immediately recognized your assailant by his scent alone.

“Didn't know you were into this kind of thing,” you drawled, looking up to meet Azriel's gaze. “Kinky. I like it.”

His eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned on him, the blade moving an inch away from your neck but no more. “It's you.”

You knew you should be bothered by the dagger, that this was a powerful male not to be trifled with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you could still remember how his lips tasted and how good he felt inside you.

“Strange way to meet again, uh?”

Azriel didn't return your smirk, nor did he step away. Instead, his voice was cold as death now that his surprise had faded. “Why are you sneaking into the suites?”

You had mastered the art of weaving lies so long ago that the answer flowed effortlessly from your lips. 

“Cresseida was wearing a beautiful necklace at lunch,” you replied with a shrug. “I wanted to see if she left it in her room.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you're a petty thief?”

Better than the truth, you thought, though a small part of you longed to confide in him, to tell him everything. A deep, innate feeling of trust had somehow bloomed in your chest. You ignored it.

“I'm a simple girl.” You offered him your most charming smile. “I see a shining jewel, and I want it for myself.”

Azriel hummed, knife still at your throat. His eyes scanned your face and you felt like he could see everything you were trying to conceal, all the secrets you'd kept locked away for years.

“You went through the suites of every Court except Autumn,” he mused, the tip of the blade tracing your jaw. You went utterly still. “Why?”

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't even know how he knew that. You'd been caught red-handed, and you had a feeling that any new lie you concocted would be pointless. So you decided to trust your gut.

“Alright.” You took a deep breath—or as deep as you dared with a sharp dagger pressed against your neck. “I work for Beron. He thinks someone might stage a coup, so he sent me to gather information.”

His eyes, which had been roaming over your features and perhaps lingered a second too long on your lips—though that could just be your imagination—snapped up to meet yours. The blade pressed a fraction harder against your skin, a clear sign of his distrust.

“For Beron?” he repeated. Not a hint of surprise or disdain marked his tone, just that icy coldness, so different from the warm voice he'd used to talk you through it in the Summer Court. “And he fears a coup?”

You wanted to sigh but didn't dare. If only he would sheath that damn dagger…

“Yes, that's what I said. And honestly, if someone does, I'm not surprised. I hope it works out for them.”

Azriel's brow arched.

“I mean, the male's horrible. He deserves it.”

You were aware of the dangerous line you were crossing, speaking of your father—your High Lord—like that to an important member of a rival court. You'd never voiced those thoughts aloud to anyone but Eris, and yet here you were. Beron would punish you if he found out. You were first his subject, then his spy, and only then his daughter.

A scarred hand cupped your jaw, Azriel's face now only inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. “Why do you work for him, then?” he snarled.

His grip on your chin made it impossible to look away, forcing you to meet his golden eyes. In that moment, you let him see your truth, the honesty and vulnerability you never revealed.

“Because I don't have a choice.”

A heartbeat passed, and then his expression softened. You stilled as his hand moved from your jaw to your cheek.

You had seen his scars months ago and immediately recognized what had caused them. Cauldron knew you always kept yours hidden with a glamor, allowing it to dissipate only in the privacy of your bedroom.

Thinking about all your father had put you through made the reality of the situation slam into you. What if Azriel told your father what you had just said? The Night Court and the Autumn Court were not on good terms, but who knew what political machinations were at play behind closed doors. Beron would consider your words a betrayal and punish you accordingly.

Your worry must have shown on your face because Azriel's thumb brushed over your cheekbone, gentle and reassuring. “Your secret's safe with me,” he said softly. He studied you for a moment, and whatever he saw in your expression seemed to convince him to finally put his dagger back into its scabbard at his thigh.

You took a deep, shaky breath, unsure whether it stemmed from believing him or simply from relief at no longer being threatened.

Now free, his fingers brushed over your throat where his blade had been. There probably was a thin pink line there. His featherlight touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You stared at each other, time seeming to slow down. His shadows peeked from behind his broad shoulders, a few tendrils swirling forward and weaving through your red locks, but your gaze locked on his, your heartbeat quickening. His other hand still cradled your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured.

“What for?”

‘For lying to you.’

‘For sneaking into your Court’s suite.’

‘Because I can't tell you the whole truth.’

So many easy replies, and all of them true. But one in particular pushed at the corner of your mind, one you hadn't been able to shake for months.

“For walking away right after you fell asleep.”

Something flashed in his eyes, there and gone in an instant, but you didn't recognize what it was. You didn't know him well enough to read every subtle change in his expression. Part of you wished you could.

You waited for him to say something—either to tell you he didn't care or that it wasn't a big deal—but as his silence stretched on, you debated whether you should change the subject or perhaps apologize for bringing it up.

Just as you opened your mouth, Azriel spoke again, but his words were not what you had expected.

“I looked for you the day after,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “But you were gone.”

You couldn't help but stare, so caught off guard that you were completely speechless. You had thought about him often since that night, but you never imagined he might have looked for you in the morning. You were torn between feeling even worse about leaving him and the rapid beat of your heart.

A grin curled your lips as you rested your hands on his chest. Even with his armor on, you could recall the lines of the tattoos swirling across his golden skin, a sliver of black ink peeking from his collar. “I was that good?” you teased.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, the sound like a song to your ears. “You were that good.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You felt that good wrapped around me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, igniting a desire that made you want to moan.

“Do you want to do it again?”

He barely gave you time to finish that sentence before his lips claimed yours, eliciting a surprised whimper. Your fingers tangled in his curls, his hands cupped your face, and there was nothing sweet or gentle about the kiss as his body pressed yours against the wall and you began to grind on him.

You parted only to catch your breath, but Azriel was already nipping at your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him more access.

When distant footsteps echoed from a nearby hallway, he didn’t even pull away as shadows wrapped around you both. In an instant, they winnowed you into a bedroom you didn't bother to register, too busy pushing Azriel on the large bed and climbing on top of him.

After that time, you began to plan your meetings. It was often a real challenge to find a moment when both of you could slip away from your duties without raising suspicions, but you couldn't risk your families discovering that you were regularly sleeping with a spy from a rival court.

Then, somewhere along the way, it happened. Sex slowly transformed into making love as you both developed feelings for one another, and around one year later, the mating bond snapped into place. You wanted to accept it, but you couldn't shake the dark cloud looming over your head. It was then that you decided to tell Azriel the truth about who you were, who your father was. He was gone for twenty days after your revelation, and you were left wondering whether it was because you had kept it hidden from him for so long or if he truly had a tight schedule and couldn't make time for a secret rendezvous. But when he finally returned, he assured you that whoever your father was wouldn't change or diminish his love for you. That very night, you offered him food, relief washing over you like a balm.

~~~~~~

And here you were, three years and countless secret meetings later.

“What are you doing here?” Azriel repeated, his voice carrying the usual softness he used when speaking to you, but with an edge of nervousness and impatience.

“My father sent me to retrieve the Veritas Orb,” you explained with a sigh. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to have to lie to your family even more. And… I thought I could do this alone.”

Azriel fell silent, his back stiff, his posture rigid. The shadows had retreated behind his wings. Finally, he asked, “What does he need it for?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “He didn't bother to share that information.”

He nodded, as if he had expected that answer. Rising to his feet, he offered you a hand to help you up from your seat. You took it, his skin cold against your palm, and stood with a frown.

“What do we do now?” you whispered, anxious despite Cassian’s absence. “I didn't mean to bring you into this mess, love.”

Azriel let go of your hand to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don't apologize. I know he didn't give you a choice.” He pressed his soft lips to your forehead. “But I can't let you walk out, angel. We need some excuse.”

Right, because letting you leave unscathed and without any information would only get him in trouble with his High Lord. But leaving without the Orb would get you in trouble. And yet, you would rather endure whatever punishment your father would concoct than let your mate deal with the consequences of your reckless actions.

You stepped back, out of the warmth provided by his body. You had a plan, one you knew he wouldn’t like, but it seemed like the only solution to get you both out of this mess with minimal repercussions. Well, for him at least. You doubted Beron would take pity and turn a blind eye to your failure, but it was worth a shot.

“I need you to hurt me.”

His eyes widened, but you went on before he could object. “You can tell Rhysand I was acting alone, that you made sure I won't be a problem anymore, and I’ll go back to Autumn and tell my father I was caught and tortured. But I need you to hurt me and I need you to make it look believable.”

Azriel was gaping. You had never seen him like this before. You knew how your idea sounded, but you needed him to understand the criticality of the situation and agree to it.

“Az, I—”

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

Something ticked in his jaw, a subtle clench of his muscle. “No,” he repeated, voice firm and unyielding. “I'm not hurting you, love. You can't just ask me to do that. I won't. I can't.”

You studied him for a moment, but you knew he wasn't going to change his mind.

“Fine,” you sighed, extending a hand toward him, palm up. “Then give me Truth-Teller.”

He frowned, and the shadows swirled around him nervously, as if sensing the direction this conversation was taking. “And why would I do that?”

“You won't hurt me, so I'll do it myself,” you replied, as if the answer was obvious.

His eyes widened. “Y/N—”

“Just a few cuts here and there,” you assured him. “Nothing too bad. But my father has to believe it's real.”

Once again, Azriel stared at you, pale as if he had just seen a ghost. “You can't be serious.”

“You have a better idea?” you retorted. Without waiting for his answer, you reached for the dagger at his thigh. The sooner you could get this over with, the better.

Azriel easily sidestepped you, grabbing both your wrists to prevent you from trying to take his knife again. “I'm not letting you hurt yourself either,” he stated. His grip on you was gentle, but his tone was cold. It was the kind of tone that told you he wouldn't take no for an answer.

But neither would you.

“We don't have a choice, Az,” you countered, your voice steady despite the rising tension. Yet you didn't try to free your hands.

Something shifted in his eyes, in his expression. His thumbs brushed over your wrists in soothing motions, and a pleading note entered his voice when he spoke again. “I can't stand to see you hurt, my love. I don't care about the reason.”

For a few seconds, you just stared into each other's eyes. You were still tense and rigid, and fear coiled in your gut at the thought of going back and facing your father. But Azriel's gaze was soft, scarred fingers never ceasing their gentle caresses. In that moment, you realized that he would rather tell his family the truth than let you go back home battered.

And then it hit you. Though you loved the Autumn Court, it wasn't your home. No, your home was Azriel. He had been for years now. Your safe place, the person you could always count on, the one who knew you better than anyone else. Your mate.

“He won't let me leave,” you whispered, and you hated how weak and vulnerable you sounded.

“You're already here.” Azriel lifted your hands to his mouth and pressed a warm kiss on each palm. “You don't need to leave. You just need to stay.”

You shook your head, tears rising to your eyes. “He sent me here. He knows where I am, and he'll come looking or send someone to find me, or—”

“We'll deal with him,” he interrupted you. “But you'll be safe here. I promise.”

You couldn't hold back the tears, then. He sounded so sure, as if it could ever be that simple. As if you could just make the choice to stay and never go back. You wished you could. With all your heart, you wished it could be as simple as that.

“Az, I… I can't,” you murmured, voice trembling.

He let go of your wrists to cup your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “I will protect you,” he reassured softly. “My whole family will, once they know the truth. You will be safe in the Night Court. And if not, then… then we'll go somewhere else, somewhere far away where Beron won't find us.”

We. Us.

For how long had you wished to hear those words? Even after you two had met, you had never truly been a couple. You had stolen moments whenever you could, but it was always you and him—your duties and his. Never a ‘we’, never an ‘us’.

“Stay.”

You closed your eyes, unable to hold his pleading gaze any longer.

“Stay in the Night Court.”

You swallowed, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders as if it were a physical burden. “Az…”

“Stay with me.” His voice broke, vulnerability spilling into every word. “Please.”

What if it were that easy? What if you could make the decision and simply not go back to the Autumn Court? What if you could spend every day and every night with the person you loved with all your heart, with your mate, and not having to hide, to carefully plan every meeting, to weave lie after lie to everyone around you?

When you opened your eyes, Azriel was staring at you. He was still brushing away your tears, but even through their veil, you could see how beautiful he was. How desperate. How broken.

And you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His eyes immediately lit up. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed despite the quiver in your voice. “Yes, I'm… I’m staying. With you.”

You barely had time to finish the sentence before he pulled you into his arms, your face pressed against his chest as he held you tight. You let yourself go, surrendering to the tears and the sobs shaking your body, clutching his leathers to keep your hands from trembling.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair, over and over. “Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You didn't know how long you just stood there. Minutes, hours, days—it didn't matter. You were together now, and you would always be from this moment on. You were home, and never again would you suffer at the hands of your father.

His shadows swarmed around you, caressing your back and arms, twisting in your hair as if they, too, were excited about what would happen next. You didn't know. For the first time in your life, the future was bright, and happiness was within your grasp.

You pulled back only when your tears ran dry. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled, brightly and lovingly, knowing you would not leave each other again.

“Let's get you out of here,” he said eventually, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers. “There's so much to do.”

Like meeting his family. Revealing your identity, who you were and what you did, and hoping they would understand and not hold it against you.

As Azriel stepped back to turn toward the door, you hesitated.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked, your voice quiet and still a bit hoarse from crying.

He stopped, worried eyes immediately searching your face for any sign of discomfort or concern. “Of course, love. Anything you want.”

“It's nothing too big, just…” You offered a small smile and squeezed his fingers. “No more secrets, Az.”

His hazel eyes softened, and his lips curled into a beautiful smile. He nodded, tugging gently on your hand to lead you out of the cell and into your new life. “No more secrets.”

2nd a/n: if the lines "Stay / Stay in the Night Court / Stay with me" reminded you of another very similar quote, you are correct. I had originally written "Stay in the Night Court. Just... stay with me" and it made me think of that quote, which is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books and said by one of my favorite characters ever, so I decided to include it (a little easter egg, if you will). Kaz and Azriel 🤝 simping for the girl they like

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[mischiefmanagers]

Beautiful Stranger | Azriel

Azriel x Reader | Azriel gets injured while on a mission and meets someone he never thought he would. aka you finding an injured Az and the mating bond snapping.

warnings: mentions injuries and blood; other than that, this is light & fluff

word count: 4,342

a/n: I love Halsey's Finally//Beautiful Stranger & when it came on my shuffle while driving, this fic played out in my mind.

Humming quietly to yourself to keep your thoughts occupied, you allow the glow of the moon and fireflies to guide you back to the village. Dawn Court was your home, but after the fall of Spring, you had volunteered to help its fae, creatures, and land heal from the devastation left by Hybern’s attacks.

Though the damage to Spring was immense, its beauty still endured. The air still held a lingering heaviness but the flowers had begun to bloom once more with promise and hope of a better future. Your task today had been to gather healing herbs, yet when you stumbled upon a field of dandelions in full bloom, you couldn’t resist the urge to stop and admire the scenery. It was why you were returning late at night, long past the sunset you had promised to return by.

As you made your way along the path, the gentle breeze grew colder and sharper. It rustled the leaves on the trees and made the branches creak, its eerie sound halting your steps and silencing your humming. A chill of unease prickled your skin and your muscles tensed in alarm. 

Then you saw them. 

Shadows, darker than the night itself, swirling around you.

These were not the shadows you were used to seeing at night. No, these shadows felt alive and with purpose. 

You should’ve turned back. But there was something in the way they moved, fluid and insistent, that made you follow. With every step, they guided you away from the familiar moonlit path and deeper into the forest, pulling you toward the river that ran through the heart of the woods.

A flicker of blue light was coming from just beyond the tree line, catching your eye. Curiosity tugged at you, drawing you closer. The shadows slithered toward the faint glow, vanishing into the darkness by the water’s edge.

When you finally reached the riverbank, your breath hitched at the sight before you.

A male lay sprawled on the shore, half-submerged in the water, his blood mingling with the river’s water. Blinking your eyes, you saw the shadows that led you to him, clinging to his battered form and limp wings. They pulsed in a protective manner. It’s then that you recognized the source of the blue light. It was coming from the gems attached to the leathers he wore. 

Siphons. He must be Illyrian…but what was an Illyrian from the Night Court doing in Spring? Alone?

It didn’t matter. You immediately rushed and knelt beside him, your healer’s instincts snapping into action. Your finger’s pressed against his neck, mind racing with worry and dread as his skin felt cold against yours. He must’ve been out for awhile now. The nerves eased slightly when you felt a pulse. 

Weak but present. 

You slipped your arms beneath him, the shadows aiding you as they wrapped around his arms, helping you turn him over to his side. His dark hair clung to his face, your hand reaching up to brush it back.

Your eyes finally met the face of the fallen warrior and something snapped. 

So piercing and electrifying, it had your heart fluttering from the intensity. All at once, the golden threads of the bond you’d only heard stories about unraveled in your chest. They weaved between your rib cage, pulling you tight toward him. A pull so strong it left you breathless and in shock.

Fate and shadows had brought him to you. Your mate.

But the exhilaration of it all was soon smothered by panic, the golden threads beginning to quiver. His blood, too much of it, stained the riverbank. His body was limp in your arms, his breathing shallow.

You had found your mate and already, you were on the verge of losing him before you could even learn his name.

**

Azriel wakes to the sound of singing, a nice and sweet sound, and he catches faintly to the words. He’s never felt so warm, so relaxed. His senses are dulled by grogginess, his body sluggish, but something feels… different. Lighter, somehow. 

Beside him, his shadows stir, the familiar weight of their presence grounding him. But there's also something else— different from the cool and light caresses of his shadows. Firmer. Warmer. The pressure is foreign but comforting.

As his senses slowly return, the scent of herbs and incense reach him before his eyes flutter open. Where am I? He thinks, finally blinking his eyes to clear his vision.

The first thing he sees is you, the source of the beautiful singing.

Light streams into the room, casting a golden halo around you. It strikes him hard, stealing his breath and sending a shock through his chest. He doesn’t know who you are, what you are. But you’re beautiful, so beautiful that his brows furrow in bewildered awe. There’s no way, he thinks. I don’t belong here…

He wills his dry lips to part, his voice is rough and barely audible. “Am I…dead?”

Your eyes widen and your singing comes to a sudden stop, startled by his sudden words. The warmth he felt vanishes as you pull your hand back, and only then does he realize it had been your touch on his face earlier. Your hand hovers between you, glowing faintly with a bronze light, like the first rays of dawn, before you settle it into your lap.

“No,” you finally answer. “You’re not dead.”

Azriel tears his gaze from your face, even though some part of him protests. His eyes wander around the small room, taking in the sparse furniture, the wooden desk cluttered with jars and vials. The sunlight continues to stream through the single window, the curtain hanging doing little to dull the brightness thanks to the Spring breeze. It blinds him when it catches his eyes and he winces, looking away. 

His attention is inevitably drawn back to you. You’re seated beside him, perched on a small stool that does not look comfortable by the bed. His shadows, the loyal dark tendrils that always remain by his side, are dancing around you. Their movement is playful, loving almost and you don’t seem bothered by it. As if they’ve done this before. 

The sight stirs an unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

The flutter is cut short when one of his wings, too big for the bed he’s in, twitches and knocks into the bedside table. A vial tumbles to the floor, the sound of shattering glass jerking his body forward, and in an instant, the memories come rushing back.

He remembers the mission. Rhysand had sent him to the wall separating the mortal lands from Prythian. He had met with Jurian, the encounter brief, and then he was on his way back—flying over the Spring Court when he was ambushed. His mind aches as he tries to remember more but all he remembers is being struck by poisoned arrows and falling through trees. Multiple trees.

Hot, searing pain stabs through him at the sudden movement and your hands fly to his bandaged chest, gently urging him to sit back. “You’re safe,” you reassure him. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Azriel shouldn’t feel comforted by your words, not when he barely knows you. However, he finds your voice soothing. He listens, allowing himself to slowly lean back against the pillows, despite his mind screaming at him that you’re a stranger. Your hands remain on his chest, glowing again with that soft bronze light, and the sharp pain in his body begins to ebb away, fading into a dull ache. Much more bearable.

His shadows return to him, sighing with relief as they nestle close. Azriel watches you, keen hazel eyes taking in more of your features. The curve of your lips, the softness of your eyes. They draw him in, and he finds himself unable to look away. Had it not been for the pain that shot through him moments ago, he would’ve thought you lied to him about not being dead. Because surely you weren’t from this world to have him in a daze like this…

“Who are you?”

“I’m…,” you hesitate, uncertainty crossing your features. He watches with bated breath, waiting but the words seem to catch in your throat. You swallow, clearing your throat before speaking again. “I’m just a healer.”

“And here I thought you were an angel from above.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, and the tension in your posture melts away. The corner of your lips tug up into a faint smile, one that Azriel surprisingly finds himself mirroring. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He doesn’t think. The words spill from him before he can stop them. “I didn’t say I was disappointed.”

The flush that dawns across your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. You turn your head, trying to hide the reaction. It’s too late. Azriel already saw it and even if he hadn’t, his shadows are happily gushing over it. Some, the ones not distracted by your beauty, curled around his ear and whispered about the emotion lingering on your face, in your eyes.

There was more you meant to say. Words left unsaid and he wants to know, the curiosity and yearning bordering on desperate. His gaze assesses you again, searching for an answer. For a hint. His shadows continue to whisper. Good, they say reassuringly, sensing no danger or malintent in you. We found her for you!

She saved master's life. Master was out for three days and she stayed by master’s side. She’s–

“What’s your name?” You ask, pulling him from the silent conversation with his shadows.

Azriel is not one to give his name so easily, often going by what he was–a Shadowsinger– rather than who he was. He’s also not one to dwell in places he’s unfamiliar with longer than necessary. But you saved his life and for some strange reason, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you. They seem to trust you and therefore, so does he.

“Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeat and his shadows shudder in response, as though they, too, are captivated by the sound of it on your lips. His stomach flutters in time with their movement.

“What about yours?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he says, repeating your name the same way you had his. His shadows dance in the air around you both.

**

It’s late morning, as you pick up the empty plate from him, that he feels the familiar sensation of talons scraping against his mind. Azriel?? Rhysand’s voice is urgent, the frantic panic of it making him wince. Your head immediately turns in concern and Azriel brushes it off with a small shake of his head.

I’m alive. Azriel responds, his answer curt as he’s once again distracted by your presence.

Thank The Mother, Rhysand breathes a sigh of relief. Where are you? Are you somewhere safe? Do you need me to–

I’m fine. I was attacked while flying through Spring. 

Who? Rhysand demands.

Given the fact that whoever ambushed me has made no move to find me and finish the job, I’d say no one of importance. Azriel replies, lips curving into a small frown at the thought of being caught off guard and attacked. It rarely happened, his shadows always keeping him one step ahead of anyone and anything. Had they been distracted…?

He turns his head, searching for the shadows in question. Some remained with him, choosing to burrow under the blankets. The others, however, were hovering at your side and helping you clean up from breakfast. One even opens the door for you and he hears you murmur a small thanks as you leave the room.

Azriel had spent most of the afternoon sleeping. He didn’t want to, not liking the idea of being in such a vulnerable state with someone he barely knew. It’s not that he suspected you’d harm him or had bad intentions–you literally saved his life for Cauldron’s sake! It was just a feeling he was not used to. To be able to sleep safe and sound.

When he woke up again, it was a brand new day. He realized the bandages on his chest and arm had been changed. He was slowly gathering his strength back. One of his shadows must’ve given him away because shortly after he woke, you had walked in with a friend. 

“Wow,” the dark haired fae murmured, her steps faltering. Her eyes had widened in wonder, taking in the large expanse of his wings that made the bed look ridiculously small. “The Cauldron truly favors you.”

Azriel’s gaze couldn’t help but narrow. Those words had been directed at you, not him. 

You’d introduced her as Poppy, explaining she was your friend, another healer whose family had taken you in. Poppy had left shortly after setting a steaming bowl of stew on the table right next to the bed. She had been adamant on letting him know her mother had made it and not you, which he found odd.

Azriel was surprised to learn this was your room and you’d given it up for him. He tried to protest, offering to sleep on the couch or floor. Of course, you had refused and he was even more surprised to learn you were more stubborn than he was. 

Where are you in Spring? Rhysand’s presence in his mind pulls him back to the present. He hopes he hadn’t accidentally projected his memory to his friend, wanting to keep it to himself for now. I can send Cassian, if you’re unable to fly. 

No. Azriel responds immediately and he can feel Rhysand’s confusion. I’m alive and safe. I just need more time to recover. 

And without waiting for a response, Azriel brings up his mental shields again, shutting Rhysand out. He can only hope he doesn’t send Feyre knocking on his mind next. Or worse, actually send Cassian to Spring, despite him saying not to.

He should’ve said yes, and accepted the help. The Spring Court was among the least favorite of his courts, in tie with the Autumn Court. He had a strong distaste for the High Lord, who remained wandering through his forests like a beast. 

As you return to the room, Azriel catches sight of a faint glow wrapped around your wrist. He hadn’t seen it before, the glow of your magic outshining the gold ink etched there. A sun, cradled by a crescent moon, and below the moon, a fine lined star glimmers, connecting the two celestial bodies with its ray of starshine. 

“You’re far from home.” Azriel comments, nodding toward the tattoo.

“So are you,” you answer, lips turning up at the slight flush that takes over Azriel. You then glance down at the tattoo on your wrist. The insignia of your Court with the added touch of your healing gift. The tattoo was an honor, a testimony of the oath you had taken after mastering your magic. “I came to Spring to help after the war.”

“Will you go back home after?” He asks, a little too quickly, then clears his throat. His shadows snicker beside him in a knowing manner. “Or will you stay here?”

“I’ll stay here as long as I’m needed.”

He doesn’t understand why but a part of him feels relieved that you’re not attached to this court. 

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” you then add. 

He feels an odd sense of relief, and his shadows give a little wiggle in excitement. He sends them a glare, and they sheepishly return to hiding under the covers. Though one brave shadow lingers by his side long enough to whisper, you'll find out soon Master.

“They’re cute," your voice pulls him from questioning his teasing shadow.

Azriel lets out a snort, the effort making his chest and stomach ache. Cute. His shadows had been called many things—strange, unnerving, even unsettling—but never cute. They typically clung to him, weaving around his form quietly, careful not to disturb anyone. Unless he sent them on a mission of their own or they had a mission of their own.

Occasionally, they’d make an exception for Cassian, creeping up behind him just to tap his shoulder and bask in his exasperation when he turned to find nothing there. They’d even tried their luck with Rhysand once, though he was never fooled. Yet, for reasons Azriel couldn’t fathom, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you, drifting toward you whenever they could.

The said shadows peek out from under the covers, almost shyly. If they could blush, he’s sure they would be at this moment. They're never going to forget this moment.

“I wouldn’t call them cute,” Azriel replies, ignoring their indignant hisses.

Conversation flows easily between you two from there, Azriel giving into his curiosity to know and learn more about you. Much to his surprise, Azriel indulged you in your questions, telling you about his shadows and things about himself he rarely told others. They were small, trivial things such as his exact favorite shade of blue and his biggest pet peeve. Yet you held onto every word, every detail and it felt strangely comforting.

Two more days passed, Azriel’s body still healing. Slowly but surely. You had been able to recover one of the arrows that had shot him. Not that it mattered. Azriel was now, unfortunately, familiar with the effects of faebane. It hindered his healing and though it was frustrating, there was one upside to it all–the friendship blossoming between you and Azriel.

There’s a knock on the door as you mix Azriel’s concoction for pain. “Yes?” You call out.

Poppy peeks her head in. “I was just checking to see if I had given you enough spearmint for the pain tonic and also to let you know that we’ll be out most of the day. If you wanted to take out your ma—male for a walk or something without being bothered by the little ones.”

You freeze and a sheepish look takes over your features, tainting your cheeks. “Poppy,” you say her name again in what sounds like a warning. “He has a name, you know. And he doesn’t need to be taken on a walk.”

“Oh, right, Azriel,” she says, giving him a cheery wave. “Hello again!”

“Hello,” Azriel replies, shifting in the bed, despite the protests of his muscles. He’s not at all offended by Poppy, her aura too bright and cheery to be bothered. He flashes you a grin that has your grasp on the mixer faltering. “I think a walk would be nice actually.”

“Told you!” Poppy replies. “Anyway, we’ll see you for dinner. Send a butterfly if you need me.”

When the door closes, you let out a small sigh, shaking your head with a small, sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry about her.”

Azriel brushes off your concern, his eyes shining bright when he looks back at you. “How about that walk?”

**

Azriel grunts as he pushes to stand, his wings trembling as he shifts his weight, unused to bearing himself after days of bedrest. He stumbles right into your arms, his usually steady form swaying. You quickly catch him, your arms coming around one of his sides. His shadows dart toward his other side, helping you hold him upright. 

“I’ve got you,” you say softly, your hold surprisingly firm. 

He can't help it. He lets out a low, amused breath. 

“What?” You ask.

“Usually, I’m the one saying that.”

Your lips quirk into a smile, a gleam in your eye, as you help him find his balance. “Well, even the best need someone to lean on sometimes, right?”

Azriel stares at you. Something in his chest tightens–a weird but comforting sensation. It’s similar, if not the same, to what he had felt when he first saw you. Warm and painfully sweet. The feeling reassures him that, though you were strangers mere days ago, you’re someone he can lean on.

“Come on,” you murmur, nodding toward the door. 

Azriel lets you guide him through the house and out onto the porch. You settle there together, cutting the walk very short. You're mindful not to push him too far when he's still recovering. Azriel doesn't mind, the fresh air enough for him. He knows he isn’t at full strength to protect you should anything arise. Even though you most likely know these forests better than himself.

His hands drift to the porch railing as he leans forward for support, fingers curling around the edge. The sunlight glances off his scarred hands, each ridge and mark stark against his skin. He’d kept them hidden beneath the covers and out of your view while bedridden, hiding them instinctively, unable to forget the pitying glances they’d drawn in the past. Though he’s sure you must've seen them when you rescued him.

Now, as he feels your gaze slide toward them, a familiar discomfort tugs at him. He starts to withdraw his hands, wanting to tuck them closer to himself.

But you reach out. Your hand hovers, brushing slightly over his. There’s a slight hesitation—an uncertainty in whether to bridge the space or leave it. In the end, you let your hand rest gently beside his.

Azriel hesitates, unused to this vulnerability, yet unable to move away. He glances up to meet your eyes and his guarded expression softens slightly. “They’re… not easy to look at,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know they’re not.”

“I’m familiar with scars, you know. They don’t make you less of who you are.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens, his gaze dropping where your hands are barely brushing against one another. His throat feels tight, an ache he’s kept buried resurfacing.

“Not to me,” you continue. “I don’t see you any differently because of them.” 

He searches your face and he sees something in your eyes that helps him slowly relax. His gaze returns to your hand, fingers hovering now over his. This time, there’s no hesitation as you gently lay your hand over his, holding it as if the scars didn’t exist at all.

It’s such a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes. 

His shadows slither down his arm and toward where your hands connect. For the first time, Azriel feels no urge to hide, no shame from the past that has long haunted him.

A silence drifts down between the two of you, settling like a blanket over the conversation. There’s no need to fill it, no awkwardness there. Just a gentle, shared peace, stretching softly around you both. He turns his head, shifting his gaze forward and takes a deep breath. 

He closes his eyes and a breeze rolls in, brushing against his skin and stirring his hair. His shadows begin to whisper excitedly. He basks in the sun’s warmth, and lets the scent of spring fill his senses from the fresh earth to the blooming flowers and the faint sweetness of pollen. It brings forth a tickle in his nose, and before he can stop it, he sneezes. His body groans in response, wings shuddering.

“Bless you,” you say, but he notices the way your mouth quirks as if you’re holding back a laugh.

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing.

“I’m sorry,” you giggle, your free hand rising to stifle it. “It’s just… you have such a fatherly sneeze.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, a rare, amused smile creeping onto his face. “Fatherly sneeze?” He echoes. He has never heard the expression before yet he somehow understands it. If you thought his sneeze was “fatherly,” he’s curious to see your reaction to one of Cassian’s sneezes. That thought is enough to make him laugh outright.

It's so silly but the sound is so contagious that you laugh too. His shadows began to flutter around you, as if joining in on the laughter. Azriel’s gaze then drifts down, watching the way your lips curve in laughter, how your eyes crinkle at the corners, how effortlessly you draw light into his heart.

And there it is again—that rush of warmth. It’s mixed in with joy, so pure and intense it has to be coming from you. His heart stirs, his pulse quickens, his mind clears, and in a single, life-altering instant, he knows.

“You’re my mate.”

Your smile falters, replaced by a moment of hesitation. Some shadows travel to you, brushing softly against your arms as if in a reassuring manner. He can't help but watch them, realization dawning on him.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit quietly.

“How—when…” His voice catches, unable to form the words.

“I was walking through the forest when your shadows came to me. They led me to you, by the river. You were unconscious and bleeding. And then… the bond snapped for me the moment I saw your face. You were so cold and--and…,” your face tightens, eyes glistening at the memory and Azriel can feel the panic you must’ve felt then. “I’d just found what so many only dream of and you were already slipping away...I thought I’d never get to know your name…”

Azriel feels a pang deep in his chest as he absorbs every word. His chest feels tight again and he swallows thickly. “And when I woke up, why didn’t you tell me?”

Your gaze falls, fingers twisting together. “I wanted you to heal, to feel better. That’s all that mattered.”

“I owe you my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I would’ve saved you, mate or not.”

Azriel searches your face, touched beyond words at the sincerity in your tone. It made sense why he felt so drawn to you since the moment he saw you, why his shadows took a sudden liking to you and kept whispering "we found her, we found her!" They had known all this time, been able to sense it before he even could.

Looking back, Poppy being the one to bring him food and water and not you was not as strange as he originally thought. You were being mindful, not wanting to accidentally accept the bond without his knowledge. He felt an overwhelming gratitude for how gentle and considerate you've been with him all along. He couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten so lucky to be bound to someone like you.

“And would you have sung to me, mate or not?” Azriel asks, his mind drifting back to the exact moment he'd first woken up.

Your cheeks flush, and you glance away toward the gardens, suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. “What?” You let out a small huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “What did I hear?” Azriel’s tone borders on teasing, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated contemplation. “Something like… ‘Beautiful stranger, here you are…’”

“That’s enough!” You interrupt, your face turning into an even deeper shade of pink, caught somewhere between mortification and laughter. 

This time, it’s Azriel holding back a chuckle. His lips curl into a small smirk, seeing the blush that lights up your face. He quite likes that shade on you—likes being the one to bring it out even more. “So…”

You keep your gaze straight ahead. “So…?”

Azriel leans in, his voice low and warm, making your stomach flutter. “Do you sing that song for just anyone too?”

“No,” you let out a laugh, your hands cup your face but there’s no hiding the blush there.  “I’m afraid that song was just for you.”

“Good,” he murmurs.

You turn to look at him, realizing his gaze had never left you. Your hands drop back to the porch railing.  “Yeah?” you whisper, your own heart pounding, not sure what it was you were asking.

But Azriel seems to understand anyway. He can feel what you’re feeling, now fully aware and attentive to the bond humming between you.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his smirk softening into a genuine smile, his heart finally at ease. 

A gentle warmth surges through the bond, reaching every shadowed corner of his heart and wrapping around his soul. It’s a feeling he could get used to, one he’s spent centuries longing and yearning for. It’s a feeling he’s searched for in all the wrong places, enduring the heavy weight of heartbreak after heartbreak.

But now, with you, he feels the weight begin to lift. After all the empty falls and broken promises, it’s finally, finally safe for him to fall.

a/n: you can't tell me Az & Cas don't have dad sneezes lol. Anyway, I really wanted to write a fic where Az finally feels safe with someone because he deserves to. I hope you enjoyed this <3

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