#Az x reader angst

[potatoplace]

the 1

Elriel, Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Alternate Endings: Gone | betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: All you had ever wanted to be was plain. And now, as a plain-faced High Fae, you want more. You want your mate.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, self-loathing, suicide

Words: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I'm sorry. (I told you guys I've been having a rough week...) Apparently my brain is saying 'fuck Kinktober!' Even tho like. I WANT to write those... smut just doesn't feel in the cards for me today 😩 so have some tasty tasty angst instead. (I'm also watching an Eras Tour live so I'm hella cheered up now lol)

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Self loathing grew in your gut as you watched your family around you.

All of them were happy, reveling in the togetherness that they shared.

And your mate- your mate- was ignoring you. He was speaking to one of your sisters, absolutely enamored with her. And you couldn’t blame him.

Elain had always been the pretty one of the four of you, a shining diamond even in the filth of poverty.

Nesta was the one with regal beauty, her sharp eyes and the way she carried herself not letting anyone think otherwise.

Your twin, Feyre, was stunning, even if she herself had never seen it, the cleverness in her eyes and quiet grace drawing people’s gaze to her.

And then there was you.

You were… the ugly one. Your mother had said so, even though you were only a child when she passed. Your father had quietly agreed with her. Nesta had mocked your looks when she had had a bad day, which was nearly every day while you had been living in the run down hut after your family lost their fortune. Elain said nothing, but shot pitying looks at you when no suitor asked for a dance while you had still been human, even when it had been a ball thrown in your honor for your birthday. Feyre has been the kindest to you, reminding you that it’s what on the inside that counts…

But that didn’t appear to be so.

Even with a mating bond that you knew should draw Azriel’s attention, his eyes were still glued to Elain. He seemed to be able to breathe only when in her presence, taking in the same air as her.

And in your presence? He couldn’t seem to get away fast enough.

Being dumped into the Cauldron had made both of your sisters even prettier, and Feyre was no exception either after being turned High Fae.

For you, it had made you plain. No longer ugly, unless you counted the still crooked teeth and too small nose and thin mouth.

Just plain.

As a human, you had begged to whatever higher power there was that you could just be plain.

But now that you were, you knew it would never be enough.

Because while Feyre was right, your personality mattered more in a long term relationship than your looks, being pretty drew people in.

Being plain only made you fade into the background.

Azriel laughed at something Elain had said, the sound sending warmth through your body.

It should be you making him laugh, not Elain.

Elain, with her beauty and poise and perfect personality and her ridiculously handsome mate who wanted nothing but her time.

Elain, who seemed to want no one and no thing but your mate.

Your Azriel.

You tore your gaze away from the couple, who you already knew were in a relationship. Elain had confessed it to you a month ago, gushing about how their fifth date had gone and how she thought he was the one. She had told you first, knowing that you wouldn’t tell anyone.

After all, who would you tell?

It’s not like you had any friends in Velaris- or in the human lands, for that matter- and your other two sisters were so preoccupied with their mates and growing personal circles that they hardly had the time to look at you, let alone talk to you.

No. You were alone. You were a lockbox for all of her secrets.

Including that she was planning to officially reject the mating bond once Azriel offered a proposal of marriage.

That had made you sick to your stomach, but you had hidden it deep, deep down in your heart as you congratulated her and faked happiness, asking her when she thought he would propose.

“Any day now, I suspect. Azriel told me that he was planning for the future, and wanted to know if I would like to be a part of it,” she had sighed dreamily. “We just need to tell the family, I know that… Rhys was worried about what us being together would mean for court relations. But he’s just being dramatic, don’t you think?” Her chocolate eyes landed on you, so filled with hope that you couldn’t tell her that he was your mate.

“Yes, he’s just worried, ‘Lain. I’m sure everything will be fine,” you managed to say, and relatively normal at that.

That was last night, and while your eyes had drifted to the carpeting, they shot back upwards at the sound of clinking metal on glass.

Your mate, standing with a flute of sparkling wine in his hand and a knife in his other, had his arm locked with Elain’s.

He cleared his throat once he had everyone’s attention, his eyes passing over everyone-

But you. His eyes skipped over you, even now, with the bond flaring in your chest.

“Elain and I have something to announce, though Rhys already knows what it is.” You heard a hand slap against an arm, Rhys’s faked moan of pain, and Nesta scolding her mate. Azriel smiled at their antics, such a rarity on his face that your heart skipped several beats, leaving you lightheaded.

It most certainly wasn’t because of what they were announcing.

“Elain and I have been dating for the past two months, and we would like to make it official with you all now. In fact, the two of us will be moving into a cottage in town later in the month, and we would like to invite you all to join us for a housewarming party in two weeks.”

The inner circle broke into cheers around you, Cassian immediately encasing his brother in his arms and clapping him on the back.

“Congratulations, brother! I know you’ve waited a long time to find love.”

You remained seated where you were, offering a smile to the happy couple but staying put.

If you stood, you were sure to faint. Or be sick. Or both.

Nesta was the only other person who remained where they were, a skeptical look on her face.

“I hate to be the person to bring the party down…” She started, her voice weary. “But what of your mates? Haven’t you wanted one for your whole life, Azriel? What will happen when you find her?”

“If I find her, I will reject the bond, Nesta. My love for Elain eclipses that of what I thought possible, even with a mating bond. Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister,” Azriel answered, which seemed to be enough to have Nesta’s approval, as she stood and made her way to the couple.

“Then I’m happy for the both of you. But if you ever hurt my sister, you will deal with me,” Nesta warned, ice in her tone.

You didn’t stick around to hear what came next.

Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister.

And of course, he was right. How could you compare to Elain?

She was beautiful, yes, but she was also a perfect match for Azriel. Kind and caring, always ready to help people, not to mention she would be a wonderful mother.

And then there was you. Plain. Boring. Nothing special.

Even the Cauldron hadn’t thought anything of you, leaving you with a High Fae body but no magic to speak of.

You couldn’t even fathom why you had been made Azriel’s mate when Elain was such a wonderful pairing to him, and had the magical abilities to match.

You stumbled your way to the town house, where you had taken up residence once Feyre and Rhys had finished the river house. Once inside you quickly made it to your room and shucked off your clothes after locking the door.

Bare, you stood before the mirror and assessed yourself. It was a habit you had picked up once your family had regained their fortune after Feyre had been stolen away.

One that brought you no comfort, but you needed to do.

Your physique was fine, you had filled out in the past year of being fae.

But there was nothing… special about you. You were medium height. Your chest was a bit smaller than average. Your legs were on the shorter side, making your torso look too long.

And your legs… they were covered in small white scars.

Another habit that you had picked up, this time after turning fae.

And tonight would be no different.

You suppose the one saving grace of being turned fae was your quick healing, letting you destroy your body without anyone knowing.

And no one ever would, seeing as your mate was on his way to being married to your sister.

A sigh left your lips as you turned to your bed, fishing the small blade you kept underneath out from below the mattress.

Tonight would be no different.

Except now you knew that even if you confessed your bond to Azriel, your heart would be torn to shreds no matter what.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

It was two months later, during Starfall, that your world crumbled further.

You had donned a plain dress in a midnight blue, with long flowing sleeves and reaching your feet. You had opted for flats, seeing as no one would pay you enough attention to notice if you were in heels or not.

No, no one would notice you at all.

Because Azriel had a ring in his pocket.

One that you had given him advice on, to choose something Elain would love.

A glutton for punishment, that’s what you were as you gazed at the beautiful couple, clad in matching blue outfits and beaming at one another.

You had attempted to stay home that night, only for Azriel himself to personally fly you up to the House of Wind, insisting that you needed to be there for Starfall.

You knew he meant their engagement, though.

He hadn’t even glanced your way once last Starfall, so you knew it wasn’t that you would be missed by him.

Still, you stood on one of the balconies, watching them. Waiting for the moment that your life would be forever altered, never to have a great love.

Because truly, your one chance at a great love was a mating bond. You knew that no one would choose you to spend their life with, not when you were so plain and boring with nothing to draw people in, to get to know you.

They were dancing together, so wrapped up in each other that it was painful to watch.

And then your feet were moving, leading you straight to them. You met them right as the song finished, the two of them just inches apart.

It stung.

“Azriel, may I speak to you for a moment?” You asked without realizing the words had left your mouth. “Alone, please? It will just be a moment, I promise.”

You cringed at yourself.

What were you doing?

Azriel glanced down at Elain, who nodded with a smile. “Of course. I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss to Elain’s lips before following you back into the House, away from the commotion.

“What’s this about, Y/N?” Azriel asked in a clipped tone once you were alone, anxiously glancing back to where you had left Elain.

“I…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Are you really going to tell him?

“Well?” He asked impatiently, his shadows swirling around him.

“I… I’m your mate,” you said, the words rushing out all at once, and your tore your eyes away from his face and to the floor.

“You’re… You’re joking, right?” Azriel asked incredulously.

A dagger of ice to the heart, crafted of your own yearning and longing for him, for your mate.

“No, I… It’s true, Azriel. I am your mate.” Your eyes flicked back up to his face after you said it again, but you wished you hadn’t.

Anything would be better than seeing the horror in his eyes, the disgust twisting his features.

The dagger, forced in further by a hand smacking the hilt.

“You?” Azriel laughed. “Why would the Cauldron make you my mate?”

Twisting, bleeding, shredding your soul apart even as you felt the bond flare to life on his end, the very slightest stumble as he regarded you.

“I… I don’t know…” You whispered, barely audible.

“You’re not my mate,” Azriel said, stepping away from you. “You were never going to be my mate. You’re a fine enough person, sure, but how could you compare to Elain?” He shook his head, snickering to himself. “I suppose these five hundred years of waiting were for nothing. I’ll tell Cassian or Rhys take you back to the town house. Just…” He sighed. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me, hmm?”

And with that, the bond between the two of you was shredded, a wounded cry leaving your lips as you sank to the ground, clutching your chest where it used to reside, glowing brightly and giving you a reason to go on.

“I think it’s best for you to stay away from Elain and I. I wouldn’t want you getting territorial and ripping my love’s throat out of anything. Goodbye, Y/N.”

You barely heard him walk away, so overwhelmed with pain.

Why me?

Why was I his mate?

Why didn’t I just drown in the Cauldron?

With a great deal of trying, you managed to hoist yourself back onto your feet, stumbling your way to one of the unoccupied balconies, still clutching your chest.

Your gaping, empty chest.

Because Azriel still had your heart. He had shredded it, mangled it beyond believe but it still resided with him, leaving you with nothing but a hole where it used to be.

Your legs crashed into the edge of the balcony, your hands flying to the stone to steady you.

But it didn’t help, everything was still spinning, blood rushing in your ears as your heart kept beating somehow, somehow still physically intact even as you felt it was being ripped from your chest over and over and over.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t live.

The very fact that Elain was so casual, so blasé about shredding a bond to bits had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your sister.

How could she condemn someone to this existence?

Because already, you weren’t living.

This couldn’t be living.

It couldn’t be.

You risked a peak over the edge, spying the sharp, jagged rocks below.

If you weren’t living now…

Before you could second guess your choice, you lifted yourself onto the balcony, letting your legs dangle for a moment.

Then you swung them over the stone, to the side that had nothing to catch you.

Well, nothing but the cold embrace of death.

Which at this point would be a welcome reprieve from the fiery hot grief flooding through you, grief at the bond that was never given a chance, a moment to be considered.

But perhaps that was all the consideration you needed. To know that you would only have been a burden of mate to the male you had fallen for.

You took one last, jagged breath into your lungs before you slid off the smooth stone, air rushing past you and-

This must be what it feels like to fly.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

[solbaby7]

a neat long island with lime please

❤️

[ “are you really so oblivious” + angst + az ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Honesty hurts sometimes; blindsides you with its brutality. Catches you off guard in the sporadic way in which it unleashes itself without providing an anchor to hold onto for stability.

“I just don’t understand,” Azriel’s words slur around the consonants, scarred fingers lazily curled around a weeping crystal glass half fulled with some top shelf whiskey. “Why doesn’t anyone I want, want me back?”

The casual confession hits you like a head-on collision; tissues bruising and bones snapping, blood spewing and whiplash forcing your vision to blur from the impact. The aftermath is devastating, the accessing of your injuries leading you to a conclusion in an instant.

You’d survive but at great cost.

Pieces of you would be missing, scars would be left behind and you mourn the death of a hope that such a male would ever reciprocate your feelings. All too soon does that foolish dream wither away like flowers without water, your happy buzz fading out into the background until the music’s bass begins to sound less exciting and more overwhelming. “I’ll be right back.”

Mor observes silently, picking up on the shift in your mood, the shake of your hands and the wobble of your chin even as you flash a comforting smile. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” You’re too quick to scoop up your clutch and lucky enough to have the end seat that aids in your hasty escape. “I just need a moment.”

The High Lord’s cousin watches you rush through the sea of dancing bodies with a frown. Elbows dig into weathered wood when she sends a disappointed glare the spymasters way, frustration lacing her tone when she snaps, “Are you really so oblivious?”

Confusion clouds Azriel’s golden eyes, handsome features scrunching up more animatedly in his inebriation. Lights cast shadows over the line of his nose, accentuating the shape of his brow and fullness of his mouth. “I don’t know what you—“

“She loves you, you idiot.” A few silver coins are fished out of Mor’s purse, long hair flicking back behind her shoulder when they’re neatly laid on the table as payment. “She has always loved you.”

[lidiasloca]

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!!

[prythianpages]

A Field of Dandelions | Azriel

azriel x green witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

**

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps. 

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder. 

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

**

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact. 

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness. 

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.  

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away. 

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake. 

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

**

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

**

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the sweet and delicate fragrance surrounding you. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions is mesmerizing almost, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes aching to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation:  “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.” 

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating joyfully. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him.

A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a fine constellation of possibilities. 

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face.

Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile forms on his face.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching.

Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

**

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood.

Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance. 

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

 “We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion. 

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add:  “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

**

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away. 

 “Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen. 

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he’s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

 “This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him. 

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved. 

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“My only wish was for you to be mine.” He confesses, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

here's an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light: Part 1 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: Your ex-boyfriend gives you his dealers number, but you don’t expect for him to be so fine. And you certainly don’t expect him to be so goddamn flirty. (3.4k)

WARNINGS: descriptions and dealings of recreational drugs (weed), little bit of swearing, slight sexual themes and lots of shameless flirting. THIS IS A MODERN AU!!

A/N: the first part is here and I’m so excited!! Im still unsure how many parts this is going to be, but there’s a lot I want to happen in this series so probably (I’m guessing!!) six or seven, but we’ll see!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Your patience was wearing thin. Very fucking thin. Those three grey dots mocked you as they bubbled at the bottom of the screen—disappearing and reappearing again—until they were replaced with another less than satisfying message.

Brandon: are you taking the piss? Why didn’t you just ask when you were here earlier?

You scanned the message over, swallowing back the groan at the idea of another potential argument. You needed to nip his attitude in the bud, you weren’t entertaining his bullshit anymore. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, your fingers quickly typed a response.

You: I didn’t realise I was out until I got home. Can you get any or not? Just lmk

The dots appeared again after a few moments of silence, and you prepared yourself for the snarky remark he was most likely to give you, and took a deep breath to compose yourself in advance.

Brandon: no. I can’t get you any. Sort it out yourself for once.

There was no way in Hell you were going to let your frustrations show. Despite the pure anger and annoyance that began to bubble even more within you.

Brandon could be a lot of things. A liar. A cheat. And a fucking asshole. In all honestly, the only thing he was truly good for was the occasional above par fuck and the fact that his dealer had the best weed you’d ever smoked.

But when they were the only two good things he had going for him, it was hard to justify the disgusting behaviour he showed throughout almost your entire relationship. You broke up every few weeks as it was, but if you’d known about the cheating before, you would’ve left for good sooner.

Instead, you found out a year and half into the relationship, coming to the deafening conclusion that he had, in fact, never been faithful for a single moment of his adult life.

Fuck him. And fuck his shit sex. The weed, you could get yourself.

You: lmao ok. What’s his number?

A heartbeat after he read the text, he was calling you. And the moment you answered the call, he was his usual, un-charming self.

“What the fuck do you mean what’s his number?”

“Hello to you, too.” You murmured, tucking yourself under the blanket on your couch.

His clipped tone didn’t startle you, didn’t worry you about any form of consequences. He wasn’t scary, even when he tried to be. He was just a douche.

“What do you mean what’s his number?” He repeated himself, that agitation growing thicker and thicker with every word he spoke.

“How else am I supposed to get any?”

“Find your own dealer.”

He was being bitter now, pathetically so. You picked at the aged edges of your book, a novel you’d read five times over but one you couldn’t get enough of. Your love for it could be seen by the fading print of the front cover and the severely broken spine—despite how careful you tried to be with your readings.

“Brandon, I’m not going to find a random dealer. Your Azriel guy has good stuff and I know it’s safe. Besides, me going to the same person as you is not going to affect you in any way.”

He was silent for a moment, mulling over your words. Despite his dreadful personality and lack of love and care and compassion, he knew how little you knew about marijuana. He was the one that taught you to roll, after all.

You’d barely smoked before you met him, and on the rare occasions you did get high, it was usually in the form of gummy edibles your friends had. And you weren’t addicted or reliant on it in any way. You just enjoyed a smoke every now and then if you’d had a long day.

Alcohol had never been your favourite, and you much preferred to feel the chilled buzz from a joint than cradle a hangover for two days after a soirée.

“Fine. I’ll text you his number. Say Marco gave it to you, it’s a code he made up—had cops on him a while ago. He can be a bit of an ass, don’t let him shit talk you. Ask for a 3.5, he usually charges 40 for it. It’ll last you a couple weeks unless you’re planning on smoking heavy.”

It was easy to be pulled back in when he was like that. When he did the bare minimum of offering advice on things he knew you weren’t too sure on. But you were better than that now, smarter. You weren’t going to fall back into your old ways again.

Not with him. Not with anyone.

“I’m not. Thank you.”

The line went dead as soon as the words left your mouth and a few moments later, he texted you Azriel’s number. You would’ve appreciated a reminder of what you were supposed to ask for but at least you got his number. Small wins. You weren’t his responsibility anymore.

It took you a few minutes to figure out what to say, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed and erased, typed and erased. Until you settled on ‘Is this Azriel?’ and finally sent the message.

Ten minutes passed and you didn’t get a response. Your nose was tucked back into your romance novel as you chewed on the drawstring of your hoodie. In all honesty, you could’ve quite easily slipped into a peaceful slumber under the warm golden glow of your lamps.

That was another thing Brandon couldn’t respect. Your No Main Light rule. The vibes were always immaculate with gentle warmth from lamps. The main light was not allowed on under any circumstances. You much preferred the cosy feeling of golden hues that accentuated the deep green leaves of your plants and vines that scattered the walls and crevices of your home.

Your phone chimed from your lap, a small surge of anxiety pulsing in your chest. You unlocked the screen and read over the message.

Azriel: depends who’s asking.

Ah, Brandon did warn you. You considered fucking the whole idea off. Maybe cracking open a bottle of wine and snuggling on the couch with a book or tv show would be better than having to meet this asshole, but the bottle of White Zinfandel wouldn’t give you the mellow buzz you wanted.

Not unless you had at least four glasses which was usually paired with a hangover the next day. Something you did not want to entertain. So, you bit the bullet and typed your reply.

You: y/n, got your number from Marco. You about?

The more you let your mind wander, the more you realised how little you knew. You had no clue how this sort of thing worked. Would he come to you? Your home? Would you meet at a location of his choice? Or would he just stash the weed somewhere for you to collect and you don't cross paths at all?

But the burning fire of the what-if anxiety was quickly trampled and extinguished when another text came through and instead of him deciding for you, you were given choices.

Azriel: sure, I can meet you at old tower in 20 if that’s good for you? If not I can drop to your location.

He didn’t seem as much of an ass now. No, quite the opposite. But you supposed that offer was something he probably gave to all new, female clients. If he truly was an ass or not, you couldn’t fault him for the consideration.

Old Tower was the old old watermill tucked slightly away in the centre of the city. It had been derelict for years, but due to its location—so close to all the necessities and right opposite the police station—no one ever tried to break in or set it alight like the many other derelict listed buildings had been in the past.

Even now, at almost midnight, that part of the city would still be bustling with city-natives and tourists alike. And you appreciated the safe and public meeting spot he suggested.

You: old tower in 20 is fine.

As quickly as you sent the message, you received another reply. A text describing his blue Mustang and his licence plate. You shook the nerves off as soon as they came. Azriel was respectful and well known. He dealt to make his money and that was that.

But the facts didn’t stop you from sharing your location with Brandon just in case, nor did it stop you from double checking you still had your little pepper spray clipped to your keychain.

The walk to the Old Tower wasn’t a bad one. There were many ways you could access it, most of them leading you through the city, but here were a few that hid you behind back roads and alleyways—those were routes you never took. Not on your own and certainly not in the middle of the night.

The air was still a bit sticky from the summer heat, and while the denim shorts you wore kept your body cool, you were grateful you kept on your hoodie—just that extra layer that protected your arms and shoulders from the chill of the breeze that your legs never seemed to experience.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the Old Tower, and it took even less time to spot the electric blue 2022 Ford Mustang. Small tufts of white smoke emitted from the exhaust as it sat in its standstill, headlights facing the opposite direction of what you came in, but you could still hear the engine humming from your short distance away.

You double checked the licence plate to the number Azriel texted you, and slowly made your way closer. While you didn’t know much about drop offs, deals, and weed in general, you did know the unspoken rules of picking up. And if you were picking up from someone in a vehicle, most people got inside for a few minutes before leaving.

Azriel must’ve noticed you from the rear view mirror because just as you approached the back of the car, the passenger door opened wide, inviting you in. You sucked in a breath but accepted the invitation, keeping your eyes forward as you settled into the warmth of the leather seat and closed the door shut.

You finally let your body shift and your eyes met his. And you were fucking done for.

You’d never seen a man so strikingly fucking beautiful before. He was tall, lean and muscular and oozed pure sex and charisma. Tan, golden skin and dark, luscious hair that swept loosely down his forehead and curled gently around the tops of his ears.

His face was chiselled not too sharply, a subtle gentleness to the stark contrast of the cold, brooding aura he carried. And those eyes. Christ, those fucking eyes. Hazel iris’ that dripped with a golden hue of honey.

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and willed your lips to part so you could finally speak. “Thank you for meeting me so late.”

And Azriel was absolutely hooked.

When you’d texted barely thirty minutes ago, he did not expect to be meeting with someone so fucking gorgeous. Your soft hair was twisted in a loose braid that hung over your shoulder, wayward strands having fallen from the updo and framing your face mesmerizingly.

Your eyes were the most captivating thing he’d ever seen; rich in colour and wide with slight anxiety, despite the sleepiness he could slightly notice beneath them. Your voice sounded like a fever dream. It wasn’t sickly sweet like most women he knew or dealt to. Perhaps it was just the sleep, but there was a rasp—a very slight ruggedness—in your tone and Azriel was certain he’d never heard something quite so sensual in his life.

He cleared his throat, that all too cheeky grin teetering on the corners of his mouth. “I was already out,” he shrugged, nonchalantly. “How much are you after?”

His voice was a perfect blend of sweet and rough. A deep depth to his tone that skipped hand-in-hand with a sweeter note. God, he was unreal, and the sound of him had you forgetting entirely what exactly Brandon told you to ask for.

You pulled your lips between your teeth and offered a very sheepish—but mostly embarrassed—smile. “Um… I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologising for the second time tonight. “My ex used to do this part, so I have no idea how this works.”

You couldn’t help the flush that rose to your cheeks at your own admission, couldn’t handle being the subject of his firm gaze, and you absolutely could not fucking handle the soft rumble of rich laughter that chuckled through him.

“Do you smoke a lot?” Azriel finally asked, a slightly amused smile on those full lips of his. His pink tongue swiped out to wet them and your heart thundered against your ribcage at the sight.

“Not really,” you cleared your throat. “Just every now and then. Semi-regularly, I guess.” There was no such thing as semi-regularly when it came to drugs and alcohol. To someone’s own self, sure. But not the general mass that consumed whatever it was they did.

Some considered three joints a day ‘semi-regular’, while others considered it as a joint every few days. Azriel had a feeling you were the latter, but he didn’t say anything about his thoughts or what you’d said.

Instead, he hummed and chewed at the inside of his cheek in thought. He wasn’t laughing at you or your lack of knowledge or understanding. Usually, he’d have kicked a new client out of his car by now and told them to figure it out on their own—he was a dealer, not a fucking private tutor—but with you, he didn’t seem to mind explaining or breaking things down so it was easier to understand.

Neither of you quite understood why he was happy to explain, but you didn’t complain. You’d much prefer this than the alternative version of him that you’d been warned about.

“A 3.5 would probably be best for you, then.” He decided.

Yes, a 3.5… that sounded very familiar. You nodded, slowly, considering your next words carefully. You had already disclosed the most embarrassing part of not having a fucking clue how this worked, one more probably wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of your neck. “But can you break that down in joint terms?”

Azriel laughed again, softer this time, through a breath. It was odd, really. He wasn’t laughing to be cruel or to embarrass you further. It seemed to you that perhaps he found it endearing—your innocence on the matter—and maybe, just maybe, you reminded him of himself when he too at one point, had no idea either.

“It depends on how strong you have them. Do you smoke blunts or just joints?”

Your eyes widened animatedly. “God, no. Just joints. I think a blunt might wipe me out.”

A glint of warmth and light fluttered through his eyes for a split second. “So, a 3.5 would get you like seven joints.”

“Yeah, that would last me like a week, two weeks.” You nodded. “I’ll have a 3.5 then, thank you.”

Azriel hummed in agreement, and it was only when he reached for the centre console and flipped open a compartment that you saw his hands. His golden skin was marred beyond belief, etched in burns and an array of pigmented colours. Your stomach lurched at the sight. Not from fear or pity or disgust, no. Your stomach twisted in agony, your brain couldn’t comprehend a reason for scars like that.

You looked away as quickly as you clocked them, not wanting to stare and not wanting him to notice. You supposed he was used to lingering gazes, but you would not be a name added to that list of people.

Azriel did nothing but make you feel comfortable in the brief few minutes of meeting one another. He was kind enough to not laugh in your face and kick you out of his car after your admittance. You were not about to make him feel uncomfortable either.

He pulled out a small plastic baggie stuffed to the brim with forest green nuggets and handed it to you between two scarred, pinched fingers. You took it gratefully, a full and genuine smile on your lips now as you thanked him, reaching into the back pocket of your denim shorts for the cash.

“Did you want me to roll them for you, too?” Azriel’s teasing voice dripped with sarcasm and your eyes snapped to him with a stern look. “‘Cause that’ll cost you extra.”

“I know how to roll, thank you.” You bit back, and while your voice and tone held all the conviction, the amused glint in your eye and the corners of your mouth told him he hadn’t offended you in the slightest.

“It’s twenty-five.” Azriel chuckled from beside you.

Your brows furrowed as you pulled out two twenty’s, meeting his gaze again. “Isn’t it usually like forty?”

The air now smelt of that tangy, vile scent, something that you don’t think you’d ever get used to. Or enjoy. He shrugged, flipping down the lid of the compartment between you. “You’re a new client.”

You raised a brow now, a taunting smirk creeping at the corner of your mouth. “Do you always undercharge new clients, then?”

Azriel liked you. Very much. You didn’t shy away or hide your personality from him, even after only knowing one another for barely an hour in total. He had a feeling he was barely scraping the surface.

He matched your stare, only he wasn't teasing. “Only the pretty ones.”

There was no hiding the heat that crawled up your neck and sat heavy on your cheeks. It had been a long while since you received a genuine compliment. Let alone one so forward and from someone so unexpected. You averted your gaze from him, looking at the two twenty’s in your hand. Raising them, you pursed your lips.

“I only have two twenty’s on me. So you may as well take the full forty.”

Azriel didn’t listen. Instead, he pinched one note from your hand, his skin brushing yours but you didn’t falter, didn’t shy away. He was warm, and despite the scars and marred skin, his skin was softer than you expected.

You huffed, not ungrateful for the discount but this was his livelihood and taking away from that felt wrong to you.

“Let me know when you’re out.”

You smiled appreciatively and nodded, stuffing the bag and cash into your hoodie pocket and reaching for the door handle. “I will. Nice to meet you, Azriel.”

He watched you climbed out of the car, offering another warm smile as the cooler evening air kissed at his skin. He wanted to ask how you were getting home, if you’d be walking alone or if you needed a ride. But Azriel couldn’t cross those lines, especially not with someone he only just met.

So he bit his tongue and prayed to the Mother above to get you home safely. “You too, Y/N.”

He started up the engine again as soon as the door closed, but he didn’t drive away. He watched you through the rear view mirror until you were out of sight and when he finally looked down, he found his jeans tight around his crotch and a painful erection.

“Fuck.”

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[azriellls]

az x f!reader — torment

summary: azriel can’t stand the torment of loving you and being unable to show it; pairing: az x fem! reader • warnings: none, just angst. food?

Cassian’s laugh, so rich and full, pulled you out of your reverie; spoon still in hand, your untouched porridge atop it long gone hard and cold. For the past ten minutes, you’d been trying and failing to get down the breakfast spread out in a buffet before you: bread and butter, seasonal fruits; all courtesy of Rhys’ stocked townhouse kitchen. But every time you tried to eat, the leaden weight in your stomach grew heavier. The absence of one particular male at the table was a tangible, physical thing.

But your surroundings snapped back to you then: the faces of all the people, bar one, that you loved the most in your war torn world. Feyre, to the right side of Rhys, had her hand lovingly placed atop his, but her eyes were flitting to you at short intervals with an increasing, almost motherly, concern.

You could tell within seconds that a private conversation flowed silently between the two of them. Knew it as surely as you knew it was about you. About what to do next, and how.

Indeed, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed as fully, as heartily, as Cass.

With a slight shake of your head as if to refocus, you spooned in your mouthful of oats. Chewed, swallowed. Did it again. Again. Again. Again.

Across from you, beside Cassian, this time Morrigan caught your attention. Out of everyone in your found family, you often felt she understood you best: that your trauma bond was one that ran so unspeakingly deep, between two females that had been broken and made themselves reborn.

Now, her eyes were tender, painfully so, as she sought out your own. Beneath the table, her shoe clad foot bumped yours, and you took the message as if her voice had spoken in your very own head. Come on.

It wasn’t chastising. Never would Mor, a sister to you in soul if not in blood, be chiding. Food was fuel, and they all knew it, too. Had fought enough battles, enough wars, to know it.

And the Cauldron only knew what they’d face today to make you regret not agreeing.

Still, Cassian and Amren continued their sniping back and forth across the table; what they’d been saying, you couldn’t have said, but the rumble of voices was a sure — albeit distant — comfort.

There was still most of the breakfast spread left, a veritable feast with no chance of going to waste when surrounded by such warriors.

Or, as you and Feyre liked to say, an excess of Illyrian babies.

You shut down the thought as you deliberately didn’t think about the one conspicuously absent.

As if it was a physical thing, you knew your sorrow bled out into the room; knew it was pretence that kept your friends laughing, and joking, and talking into that deep quiet.

As if on cue, Cassian and Amren’s bickering slowed, then died out altogether.

It wasn’t until that scent caught you in the gut that you realised quite why it had.

Azriel’s presence took all the air from the room, the townhouse, the world, as he took one step over the threshold. Around him, his shadows were an extension of himself: that inner darkness you knew lingered in him, that you loved dearer than your own self.

Of course, he’d known you’d be in here — those lithe whorls of living night never missed a trick, especially not when it came to you.

So it was a surprise, a shock hit to your gut, when Az’s broad frame filled the doorway, and he walked in, swift as though born on a wind, and made to the seat beside yours.

It had been a month — longer, even — than he’d been this close. Than he’d been within range of even speaking. At every chance, he wouldn’t deign to say a single word; would leave a room, no excuses needed when it was him, just because he knew you would soon enter it.

No one, as far as you knew, could discern exactly what had gone wrong between you —you certainly couldn’t. But you did know how they spoke about it in your absence, and it never sat well. Even though you knew it was for love of you both, it didn’t work to lessen the sting.

The proud, stubborn insult of it. Of being what they had to discuss.

The pains the others took to restart conversation almost brought you to tears, your heart been hammering against your ribs like a struck bird of prey trapped in its cage.

Between you and Azriel, tension thickened and wrought the air heavy with its taste. His shadows twined around his shoulders and you knew they whispered to him; could swear you sometimes felt them watch you — speak to you — as they did him.

One breath in, one out. With impossible focus, you looked anywhere but at the Shadowsinger, holding fast to the deep timbre of Rhys’ voice, and Feyre’s responding, light laugh.

The easiness between them, the intimacy that came so readily, so naturally —

You couldn’t help but turn your eyes to the male seated beside you, hoping for something, anything, some sign that he was there, just that he cared for a second —

All at once, the room changed. Azriel’s chair was pushed back with the ease and assurance of the warrior he’d always been. His tall frame seemed to fill the whole room as he stood from the table and crossed to the doorway.

He didn’t utter a word as he left, as his scent was carried on a phantom wind.

But you could’ve sworn you heard that whispering, heard it pull at something deep inside your core, deeper even than your heart as he walked from the room. From you.

Your family met your eyes, guilt and disappointment twin aches on their faces. No no no. You couldn’t stand their pity.

Even worse was the genuine sorrow not only for you, but for who they’d lost as well.

When was the last time the seven of you had eaten together, a full meal? When was the last time you’d laughed together like you used to, as a unit, as a family?

You couldn’t bear to keep count any longer.

•~•

Azriel hadn’t made it three steps out of the dining room before he could’ve fallen to his knees. He might have, were it not for him knowing that you all watched his back receding from view — he knew, even without his whispers, how acutely you all mourned his presence.

But what could he say, or do? Azriel had thought of going to Rhys, of telling him — confirming to him — what he suspected he likely already knew. That was, judging by the way he’d met his eyes just before you turned his way.

In that one look, every unspoken word between the two brothers had passed. It was a flat, unyielding look, tinged with a sympathy he couldn’t stand. Toeing the line between brother and High Lord wasn’t always easy, and it never was now. Not with this.

Not with you, his mate.

And when you’d turned your head, those wide searching eyes so damn trusting, so achingly hopeful as they sought out his own —

Your scent had lifted up from your hair with the movement, and that had been Azriel’s undoing.

He’d had to get out of that room before his heart caved in on itself. He’d had to get out, get out, and now that he was he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think around the ache in him —

Not even his shadows, in their swift stealth and silence, could quiet the voice in his mind; a child’s voice, his voice. Unloved unloved unloved.

Every day, every time — those words, and that same voice.

So if this was the price he had to pay then so be it. He would pay it, and be done. He knew exactly what he didn’t deserve.

Would never deserve.

Because if you found out the truth, if you knew for one second what you actually were to him —

He’d rather be the one to do the leaving than be left.

[callsigns-haze]

You're Mine

Pairing: Azriel x Eris' sister!reader

Azriel pins you against the wall, shadows tight around your body as he tears down every defense you’ve built, forcing you to confront your hatred—and the way your body betrays you. With every teasing touch and whispered command, he drags you into a ruthless, possessive storm of desire you can’t escape. You tell yourself you hate him, but as he claims you, body and soul, you know you’ve already surrendered.

Warning: Dub-con, possessive dynamics, rough smut, choking, and power play.

The moment Azriel's hand wraps around your throat, you swear every muscle in your body locks up in defiance. His grip isn't tight—yet—but it's enough to remind you exactly who holds the power in this twisted, suffocating dance. You hate him. You’ve always hated him.

Your father’s pawn, your brother Eris' accomplice, sent from court to court, used as a distraction so the real work could be done behind the scenes. It’s always been like that—always someone else pulling the strings of your life. And yet, standing here, pinned against the cold stone wall by the Shadowsinger’s dark magic, you’ve never felt more furious, more alive, more utterly consumed.

His shadows move like living things, coiling around your limbs and torso, holding you in place as he steps closer, his hazel eyes gleaming with something dark. His voice is low, rough with satisfaction. “So full of hate, aren’t you?” His fingers tighten ever so slightly around your throat, his thumb brushing teasingly over the delicate skin.

You can’t look away from him, despite every instinct screaming at you to. His face is so close, the heat of him burning you alive, though shadows cling to him like a second skin. He lowers his head, his lips ghosting over your ear as his voice drops to a gravelly whisper. “My good girl.”

Your body betrays you with a shudder, one you fight to suppress. You’re not his. You refuse to be. But the way he says those words, as if he owns every inch of you, sends an unwanted thrill through you.

“You hate me, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before tracing down the column of your neck. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and teasing, as his shadows tighten their hold on you. You want to scream at him, tell him to go to hell, but all that escapes is a strangled gasp. His thumb presses against your pulse, feeling it quicken beneath his touch.

He hums, satisfied, his mouth now just grazing the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. “And yet…” He nips at you, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Look at you. Trembling for me.”

You struggle against the shadows pinning you, but it’s futile. They tighten in response, Azriel’s magic so intimately entwined with his power that it feels like he’s holding you down with his own hands. The heat of his body presses into yours, and you can feel his smug satisfaction radiating from him like a physical thing. It burns through the air between you, stoking the flames of your hatred.

His lips press more insistently against your neck now, and he’s feasting on you as if you were his to devour, sucking gently on your skin before releasing it, only to return again. Each touch of his mouth sends jolts of conflicting sensations through you. You hate how your body reacts, the way your breath hitches, the way your blood sings despite your loathing.

“Say it,” he commands softly, his voice dark velvet, so smooth yet dangerous. His mouth hovers over your pulse, his breath sending goosebumps racing along your skin. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Never. The word burns on your tongue, but it won’t come out. Not with the way he’s unravelling you, tearing down every wall you’ve built between you and the raw, vicious need now swirling deep inside.

He chuckles, the sound low and wicked, feeling your defiance. His fingers trace the line of your jaw, tipping your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes are sharp, glowing with hunger. “Good girl,” he murmurs again, voice dripping with mockery as his hand tightens ever so slightly around your throat, a reminder of his control.

Your heart hammers wildly against your ribcage as he watches you, his gaze devouring, every part of him dangerous, intoxicating. And you hate that, in this moment, you feel more alive than you ever have in any court, any battle of wills.

Azriel’s lips find your neck again, teasing, tormenting, savouring the way your body reacts to every brush of his mouth, to the shadows curling around you like a lover’s embrace. His shadows pin you tighter, and you can’t help the quiet, broken sound that escapes you as he whispers against your skin.

"Mine."

His grip tightens, and before you can even register what’s happening, Azriel shoves you harder against the wall. The breath leaves your lungs in a sharp gasp, his strength overwhelming, the solid stone biting into your back. The sharp edge of pain is enough to remind you of your hatred for him—of the fire burning in your veins—but it’s drowned by the rush of heat as his shadows slither down your body, pulling at your clothes with expert precision.

"Such hate," he murmurs, voice low and teasing as he steps back just enough to get a better look at you. The cold air meets your skin as his shadows strip away layers, each piece of fabric disappearing as if he willed it. “And yet… look at you. Barely even resisting.”

Your chest heaves as your fingers instinctively reach for him, hating yourself for the need gnawing at you. You pull at the clasps of his tunic, your hands shaking with frustration—anger at yourself for wanting this, for needing to feel him. His shadows pulse with his amusement as he watches you struggle to undress him, your movements hurried and clumsy.

He catches your wrist, pinning it to the wall beside your head with a swift movement, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark, the hunger in them unmistakable. “What happened to that hatred?” His free hand moves to your waist, his fingers trailing along your exposed skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You hate me so much, and yet…” His gaze flicks down to where your body responds to his every touch, betraying you.

“Shut up,” you spit, trying to twist out of his grasp, but his hold tightens, keeping you exactly where he wants you. You hate the way his words cut through your defences, the way his voice coils around your thoughts, reminding you that no matter how hard you fight, there’s something primal inside you that responds to him.

His lips curl into a cruel smirk, his breath hot against your ear as he presses himself closer, his hard chest flush against your body. His fingers brush the waistband of your undergarments, teasing, making you painfully aware of how little remains between the two of you. “You’re trembling,” he murmurs, his voice a dark, mocking whisper. “How is it possible, when you claim to despise me so much?”

Your body betrays you again, your hips shifting involuntarily, desperate for more contact, more of anything. And he feels it—he feels every twitch, every tremor. You can see it in the way his smirk deepens, in the way his shadows pulse and tighten around you, pinning you even more firmly in place. His hand trails lower, sliding beneath the fabric still clinging to your hips, fingers just grazing your skin.

“Such a submissive little thing,” he taunts, his lips brushing your jawline, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You hate me… but look at how you’re begging for it.” His fingers slide lower, teasing, as if he’s daring you to deny what you both know is true.

You arch against him, unable to stop the movement as your body reacts instinctively to his touch, to the overwhelming heat of him. And gods, you hate it. Hate him. But the need, the raw, primal need for him consumes every rational thought, until all that remains is him—his shadows, his power, his control.

Azriel’s lips brush your ear again, his breath warm and teasing. “Say it,” he whispers, his fingers now dancing along the edge of where you ache for him the most. “Tell me you’re mine, or I stop.”

You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing the words. But it’s torture—the way his touch lingers just out of reach, the way his shadows pin you down so perfectly, so completely. You want to hate him, want to scream and claw and fight, but your body is traitorous, every nerve alight with need, with the unbearable desire for him to just—

“Please,” the word escapes before you can stop it, barely a whisper. But it’s enough.

Azriel’s smirk is wicked, full of triumph, as he pushes harder against you, his lips tracing down the column of your throat to your collarbone. “My good girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction as he begins to undress you fully, piece by agonizing piece, as if savouring every second of your surrender.

And with every brush of his hands, with every teasing touch, you’re reminded of just how much control he has—how much you’ve already lost.

The last remnants of your clothing slip away, leaving you exposed to him, and Azriel’s shadows ripple around you, holding you firmly against the wall, trapping you in place. His eyes roam your body, dark and intense, a slow, deliberate inspection that has your skin heating under his gaze.

Azriel leans in, his mouth brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear. His voice is a low rasp, filled with dark amusement. “It’s so easy, isn’t it?” His hand trails down the curve of your side, his fingers barely skimming your skin. “To make you submit. And you hate it. You hate me.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your breaths shallow as you try to focus—try to regain control of yourself. But it’s impossible, not when his shadows are binding your wrists above your head, his body pressing you into the stone, his touch a maddening tease. You can feel every inch of him, his heat, the hard planes of his body, and it sends a thrill of need coursing through you despite your best efforts to fight it.

“I don’t—” You start to protest, but he cuts you off with a low, dangerous laugh.

“Don’t lie to me.” His fingers curl around your chin, tilting your head back so you’re forced to look him in the eyes. “Your body betrays you.” His other hand slides lower, ghosting over your hips before brushing between your thighs. “You’re soaking for me.”

You let out a choked gasp, your hips bucking against his hand instinctively, and that wicked smirk of his returns. He leans in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth as he whispers, “Tell me again how much you hate me.”

You grit your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing your submission, but your resolve is crumbling under the relentless teasing. His fingers slide against you, just barely enough to drive you mad, to make your body scream for more, even as your mind fights against the feeling.

Azriel hums, clearly pleased with your struggle. “You act so tough,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mockery as his fingers continue their torturous exploration. “But deep down, you want this. You need this.” His thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you that makes your legs tremble. “Don’t you?”

You try to twist away, to break free from the hold of his shadows, but it only makes them tighten, pulling your body taut against the wall, your chest heaving as you fight for breath. His control is absolute, and the more you resist, the more pleasure he wrings from you with each slow, calculated movement of his fingers.

“You want to hate me,” he continues, his lips brushing your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “But you can’t deny how much you like being under my control.” His fingers press harder, deeper, and you can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips.

Azriel’s smile is cruel as he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with satisfaction. “Good girl,” he murmurs again, voice thick with approval. “Look at how perfectly you submit.”

Your face burns with shame, with fury, but your body—traitorous, needy—continues to respond to him, your hips grinding against his hand, chasing the release you so desperately crave. He’s teasing you, holding you on the edge, his fingers working you over with maddening precision. It’s torture, the way he brings you closer and closer, only to pull back, leaving you gasping and aching.

You clench your jaw, refusing to give in, even as your body screams for him. But Azriel knows exactly how to push you, how to bend you to his will. His shadows coil tighter, pressing your body against his, and his fingers slow, just enough to leave you trembling with need, desperate for more.

“I can make this last all night,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “Or you can give in now, and I’ll make you feel things you’ve never imagined.”

The frustration, the burning need, and the torment of his teasing are too much. Your pride battles with your desire, but it’s a losing fight, and you know it. Your lips part, the words on the edge of escaping, but Azriel’s smirk deepens as he waits for your final surrender.

And then, in a broken, breathless whisper, the words fall from your lips. “I’m yours.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, Azriel’s control snaps. His shadows tighten around you one last time before they release you, and his mouth crashes down on yours with a ferocity that takes your breath away. His hands are no longer teasing, no longer holding back—he’s devouring you now, his lips, his hands, his entire being consuming you.

You’re not sure where the hatred ends and the desire begins, but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. He has you—mind, body, and soul—and for now, you’re his.

Azriel’s mouth moves from yours, his lips trailing a heated path down your throat, nipping at the sensitive skin as his hands grip your hips with bruising strength. His body presses into yours, forcing your legs apart, and your breath hitches in anticipation. The teasing is gone now; the playful taunts replaced by a raw, consuming hunger.

His hands slide down, hooking under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the hard length of him pressing against you. His eyes lock on yours, dark and full of an almost feral intensity. There's no more mockery in his gaze now—only possession.

Azriel holds you there, suspended between him and the stone wall, the tension between you at its breaking point. His fingers dig into your skin as he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of him brushing against you, sending a shiver up your spine.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, as he pushes into you in one slow, deliberate motion.

The stretch is overwhelming, a burning mix of pain and pleasure as he fills you completely, his body pushing deep inside yours, inch by inch. Your breath catches, your fingers digging into his shoulders, clinging to him as your body adjusts to the intrusion. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath, doesn’t stop for you to acclimate—Azriel’s too far gone, his control shattered the moment you whispered those words.

With a deep, guttural groan, he pulls back, only to slam into you again, harder this time. The force of it knocks the air from your lungs, your back arching as your body gives in to the sensations. Each thrust is punishing, precise, driving you further into the overwhelming storm of pleasure that threatens to consume you.

Azriel’s hands grip your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he moves inside you, his pace ruthless, as if he’s determined to claim every part of you, to make sure you remember this. Remember him. His shadows swirl around your wrists, pinning you once more, holding you helplessly against the wall as he takes what he wants—what you’ve already given him.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear between ragged breaths. “Look at you,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “You said you hated me… but you’re taking me so well.”

You can’t form a response—can barely think—your mind fogged with the sensation of him inside you, the way he fills you over and over, each thrust dragging you closer to the edge. Your body responds instinctively, your hips moving in rhythm with his, meeting each of his brutal thrusts, chasing the release that’s building rapidly in your core.

Azriel feels it—senses the way your body tightens around him—and a dark, satisfied smile spreads across his lips. “My good girl,” he murmurs, his tone a mix of praise and possession. His hand moves from your thigh, sliding down between your bodies, his fingers finding that sensitive spot and circling it with cruel precision.

The added sensation is too much. Your body tightens, the tension coiling in your core until it snaps, pleasure crashing over you in a tidal wave. You cry out, your vision going white as your body convulses around him, trembling with the force of your release. Azriel growls in satisfaction, his pace never faltering as he rides you through your orgasm, prolonging the intense pleasure until you’re left gasping and shaking in his arms.

And still, he doesn’t stop.

His grip on you tightens, his movements growing more erratic, more desperate, as he chases his own release. His breath is hot against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as his rhythm becomes harder, faster, each thrust sending shockwaves through your already oversensitive body.

With a final, deep thrust, Azriel shudders against you, his release hitting him like a storm. He groans low and guttural, his body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you completely. His shadows pulse and flicker around you, dark tendrils that seem to mirror the intensity of his pleasure.

For a moment, the only sound is the ragged breaths you both share, your bodies pressed tightly together, still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. His grip on you softens, his shadows loosening their hold as he leans his forehead against yours, his chest heaving.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, softer this time, as if sealing the claim he’s just made on you.

And in this moment, you know it's true.

[shadowdaddies]

I Need You Most

Azriel x Reader angst → smut

for this request

warnings: smut below the cut, light bondage, shadow play, masturbation, p in v sex, oral f!receiving

You stormed into the bedroom, not bothering to hold the door open for Azriel who trailed closely behind. Practically ripping the shoes from your feet, you tossed them in the closet and reached around to loosen the ties on your dress.

Scarred hands gently covered yours. “Let me help,” your mate murmured, pulling the strings on the corset that you couldn’t reach. 

Before he could loosen the ties any further, you whipped around, face flushed red with anger. “Do not touch me right now,” you seethed, maneuvering around him back into the bedroom. Ignoring the awkward feeling of your half-done corset, you grabbed the book from your bedside table and moved to sit in one of the chairs by the hearth. 

Azriel slowly walked out of the closet, ever the cautious and assessing spymaster as he watched your movements with interest. Once you had taken your seat, he sat in the chair opposite you, hazel eyes burning into your skin as you struggled to focus on the pages in front of you.

“My love, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Az pressed gently, leaning forward with strong arms braced on his knees. 

Forcing yourself to bite back a bitter laugh at the question, you took a deep breath and set the book down. “You really don’t know why I might be upset, Azriel?” At his confused expression, you continued, “It seems as though you have a talent for noticing everything except me.”

Azriel’s eyes simmered with barely constrained anger at your digging comment. “If you would care to stop speaking in riddles and be straightforward with me, that would be much appreciated. I may be observant, but I am not daemati, love. I cannot read your mind.”

Shadows grew darker around Azriel, oscillating with the palpable irritation in the room. But instead of sticking to their master, they moved to join you. Cool whisps of darkness curled around you, giving cool caress to your heated skin as Azriel watched, guilt suddenly registering on his face. He knew that if his shadows were on your side, he was truly in the wrong.

“I’m sorry, angel. Please just tell me what is wrong so I can make it right.”

You relaxed slightly at his apology, tension thinning as you studied your mate’s worried expression. “You are away so often, Az, and I knew that would be the case when I accepted the mating bond. I love you for who you are, and I wouldn’t want to change that. But it’s hard for me when you leave me, and then hardly notice me when you are here.”

Azriel loosed a soft sigh, understanding exactly what you meant. It was a conversation you’d had before, that you sometimes felt second to his spymaster duties. He’d been working hard to show you that that wasn’t true, but coming home from this last mission was too exhausted to notice how much you needed him.

“You don’t understand how much I miss you. I think I need you more than you need me, and I feel pathetic for it, Az,” you admitted.

Azriel’s face fell, the Illyrian leaving his chair only to kneel in front of you, eyes pleading as warm hands rested on your knees. “I need you. Like air, I need you. I don’t know how I lived before you, and I’m sorry that I make you feel anything less than the beautiful, perfect mate that you are.”

You could feel Azriel’s love through the bond, pure adoration and longing sending electric sparks through you, at odds with his warm touch on your thighs, where you hadn’t felt him in so long. 

Suddenly, your face was flushed with a different kind of heat, and Az’s eyes darkened as the scent of your arousal grew. A knowing smirk stretched across his lips, the crooked smile showing off one dimple. 

“You beautiful, cruel female. You like when I’m on my knees for you?” he purred, voice rough as his hands slipped further between your thighs. 

You fought to keep your breaths even, eyes flicking to the chair where Azriel sat moments ago. “My love, I adore when you are on your knees, but I still don’t think you understand how badly I needed you today,” you teased, the sentence taking on a different meaning with your sultry tone that shot straight to Azriel’s cock.

Curling one finger beneath his chin, you lifted in gentle encouragement for him to stand before nodding towards his chair. “Sit, Azriel.”

As though the shadows could read your thoughts, they followed Azriel to the chair, twining around his wrists and ankles. Hazel eyes were blown so wide they appeared black, the scent of your mate’s arousal so strong it was dizzying. 

“I missed you,” you whispered, standing from your seat and dropping your corset in one smooth motion. The fabric was tossed to the side, your hands pulling at the sleeves of your chemise. “I missed your touch, your warmth,” you continued, the remainder of your clothing falling in a pool at your feet.

Azriel’s breathing grew rapid, chest heaving as his hardened cock strained against his pants. “I needed you, but you stayed just out of reach, teasing and taunting me,” you drawled as you relaxed back into your own chair, eyes on Azriel as you hiked one leg over the arm of the seat, baring your glistening pussy to him.

He audibly groaned at the sight, pulling helplessly against his shadows as they stayed secure to the furniture. “Please, my love. Let me take care of you,” he gritted out, eyes glassy with desire.

Humming nonchalantly, you allowed your hands to wander over your body, fingers skating delicate touches over your sensitive areas. “You may take care of me once I think you’ve learned what it feels like to need me, to be truly desperate for my touch,” you replied, flashing him a wild grin as you dipped a finger into your entrance.

Pulling out your finger, you held it up to show off your slick in the firelight, eyes fixed on his reaction when you slipped the digit into your mouth, moaning dramatically as you sucked it clean. Releasing your finger with a ‘pop,’ you slid the wet hand down your body, toying with your nipples before resting above your core.

“This is what I do when you are not here to pleasure me, Azriel,” you breathed, gathering wetness on your fingers as they found your clit, rubbing slow circles there. 

“I use my fingers,” you continued, thrusting two fingers inside of you with a moan, “and I pretend they’re yours. I pretend it’s you, hitting that perfect spot inside of me.” Curling your fingers towards that spot, you moaned Azriel’s name, bucking your hips as you shamelessly chased your high in front of him. 

You heard him grunting and groaning in his seat, his need for you only turning you on more, which he seemed to realize. “Good girl. Move your fingers a little faster, just like that. Can you rub your clit for me?” he breathed, in awe as you obeyed his commands, letting him guide you to your orgasm.

Your eyes flew open as you crashed into your high, body writhing against the sofa when you looked to Azriel, jaw dropping in ecstasy while he watched you with a white knuckle grip against the restraints. 

Breathless, you relaxed into the cushions, a lazy smile on your features. “That is how desperate, how needy I am for you,” you whispered. 

“But it’s never the same. I crave your touch, your love,” you confessed, bare body shining with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved to stand just out of Azriel’s reach. “It’s a delicious torture, this power you have over me - at least when you’re there for me when I need you. Does that make sense?”

Azriel swallowed thickly, hips rolling in any attempt at relief. “Yes, it does. I need you, too, love. To take care of you, to touch you, to love you.” He strained again against his unrelenting shadows, and you smirked at the tendrils of darkness and their loyalty to you. “Let me touch you, please,” his hoarse voice begged.

“Not quite yet, Az. Soon enough,” you promised, moving to straddle his lap, body pressed firm against his. “I want to take advantage of this moment,” you admitted, fingers threading through onyx locks to pull him in for a passionate kiss.

Starting soft and slow, the kiss quickly grew frantic into a clash of teeth and tongues, bodies desperately writhing against each other in search of friction. Your lips left his, trailing down his jaw - kissing, biting, licking the skin along his neck. Hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt, new wetness pooling between your thighs at the sight of his toned chest.

“Fuck,” Azriel gritted out, cock twitching from the feeling of your slick soaking through his pants. You smirked, kissing down his chest until you arrived at the waistband of his pants, kissing along the lines of his muscles there.

“Up,” you murmured, Azriel obeying to lift his hips so you could slide his pants down, his leaking cock hitting his stomach as he groaned in relief. 

Straddling the Illyrian once more, your fingertips brushed teasing strokes along his cock as he cursed and pleaded incoherently. “I love you,” you whispered, rubbing his tip against your folds before sliding down his length, your moans swallowed by his lips on yours.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he muttered, hips thrusting up to meet you as you bounced on his dick. Rolling your hips forward and back, you felt him hit every inch of you with each thrust. 

The pleasure was too much, legs growing shaky as you grew weak above him. Shadows sensing the shift, they released their master, Azriel wasting no time before grabbing your hips and jackhammering up into you.

Limp, your head feel against his shoulder as you took everything he gave you, nails scratching his back and torso as you hit another orgasm. 

Azriel’s thrusts grew sloppier, his breathing hard in your ear when you felt him twitch inside of you, his warmth filling you up as he came. 

“I missed that,” you muttered, shifting to press a kiss to his shoulder where your head had been resting. 

“Oh, this night is far from over, love,” Azriel purred, hand sliding under your ass as he picked you up and walked to the bed. Tossing you onto the sheets, he quickly grabbed your thighs, warm hands running along the sensitive skin. “I wanted to worship you, and I will until you are begging me to stop,” he growled, shadows twining around your wrists to pull them taut over your head.

A shiver of delight coursed through you, squirming under your mate’s hold as you prepared yourself for a long night. 

[azes-silliness]

Illusion in shattered glass 

An: I promise I’m working on reqs but this was already in my drafts so 💙 I need more Mr. Reca content so I decided to make some! He’s a character with alot of potential 🫶🏼

A dream is just a nightmare you do not want to wake up from.

Inspiration: I can’t find the post anymore but there was a post about someone talking about Mr. Reca erasing his darling’s memories every time he confesses that to try to achieve perfection, if you find it plz tell me and I can add the link 💙 

An: I didn’t reread or review it so it might suck, but I did add effort. First few chapter are skip-able ish if your impatient. 

Summary: A picture perfect love story directed by Penacony’s greatest director.

Except it isn’t perfect.

You don’t remember any bit of this so-called ‘story’.

Because you-

—CUT!—

TAKE ONE 

“I love you, y/n.”

     “!?-Mr. Reca-I-do too…”

    Directors notes: Disapproved! Adding a title in the acceptance just makes there seem to be a distance or unfamiliarity!

TAKE TWO

“Ah. Y/n. I do adore you.”

         “-Reca…? In a platonic or a romantical way…?”

Director’s notes: Disapproved! The way in which y/n still must ask the intent of those words making them seem dense whilst they have much more intelligence then most actors.

TAKE THREE

“Y/n. Will you marry me?”

       “Gasp. I-ofcourse, Reca…!”

Directors notes: Mhmm…getting better! But it should be perfect! Therefore disapproved!

TAKE FOUR

Disapproved!

TAKE FIVE

Disapproved!

TAKE SIX

Disapproved!

TAKE SEVEN

——

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT

————1—————

Mr. Reca slammed his fist on the table as he re-watched the records for the nth time. “Ugh. Disapproved…disapproved…Y/n deserves only perfection, not this dogwash!” He cried, cupping his face between his hands in frustration, mumbling under his breath. “No…no…no….” He murmured, why was this so hard? He was the greatest director in the world! Why couldn’t he properly direct his own love story,..?

Yes, yes, he had tried all the cliché proposals and confessions, flowers, letters, even using a cat to carry on his letter. So what was missing in his grand vision of this ‘perfect confession’!?

———2———

{{This chapter is to give depth to the reader and extra interactions. Skip it you want though somethings may be a bit confusing 💕}}

“What I think of Mr. Reca…?” You echoed, tilting your head in confusion. This was…not what you had expected your friends to ask you during your truth or dare game. “Yeah! I heard you rejected him before!” They gasped excitedly, one of them bumping your shoulder and giggling, covering their mouth. “No. I never did that. He’s just my boss. Those are just rumors.” You clarify, shaking you head with a shy smile. You’d never reject him. Well, you’d never reject him if he asked! But that was just most likely your brain too full of those telenova romance movies you binge watched over the weekend. You looked down to your hands and shook your head lightly, trying to wipe those thoughts from your brain. “Anytyywwwaaayy…. y/n!” Your friend called, pointing at you, already seemingly forgetting their previous question, “You didn’t answer the last question, so you better answer this one!” They chirped in their usual bubbly manner, happily shaking your shoulder like a needy child. Oh no. They had a mischevious glimmer in their eyes. “Tell the truth…why do you only hang out with us in the dreamscape!?” They demanded, huffing while crossing their arms dramatically. Your pulse unknowingly quickened, but your expression was still positive. “I just am too busy outside of the dreamscape. Nothing secretive. Now….F/N!” You smile and point at your other friend in the same matter as the latter, grinning, “Truth or dare?”

———3———

Mr. Reca sat on his desk, Assistant Director across his lap as he went through script after script after proposal after proposal. How boring. It would be a hundred times more interesting to be spending these wasted hours with you. But oh well. Duty called, much to his chagrin. What an artistic block. Almost all of the scripts these days lacked individuality and creativity.

All but lacking stories with a totally predictable ending, boring characters and poorly suggested visuals. The director eventually ran his patience through, crumpling the paper in his hands and throwing it across the room in absolute irritation.

“Mr. Reca…? Are you alright?” You called, knocking on the door after you had heard his exasperated grunts. “Oh, y/n! Please, please, come in if you wish! of course I am alright!” He called, his mood already being lifted by your prescence and concern. As soon as you opened the door he ushered you in and had you seated on the couch in the far corner of the messy room in a matter of seconds. You glanced across at him akwardly, only given a few moments to settle where you sat before Mr. Reca began talking endlessly about the films he was working on, the potential-less stories and manuscripts he was forced to read and a lot of his day. In truth, most of it went over your head, merely keeping up your part of the conversation with the bare minimum occasionally nodding and throwing out “Mhmm”’s “Er-yes…” and “Totally.”

———4———

“Y/n. How do you feel today?” Mr. Reca smiled, drapping his jacket across your shoulders. Even though the weather in the dreamscape was hardly cold, today felt a bit different. “A bit…cold…” You offer, snuggling into his warm jacket and hunching slightly. You looked up to see Mr. Reca with a sad smile, which surprised you. “Is…something wrong?” You asked, looking at him with a concerned look. Mr. Reca never usually showed sadness, but now his expression also held something you never thought was possible for him.

He looked…in grief?

Before you could open your mouth to ask him again, Mr. Reca looked you straight in the eye, his hands clasping together nervously, “Y/n…I love you.”

Your brain could hardly comprehend that. You stared at him for a while, wide eyed and your mouth half open when you finally remembered to swallow. You looked down and turned to him with a joyful smile, “I do too, Reca.” Mr. Reca returned your smile, though it still seemed like he was thinking of something else. You put a hand carefully on his shoulder and hesitantly kissed his forehead. “Is there…something wrong?” 

You were met with some silence, which seemed incredibly heavy, not something you would expect the atmosphere of a confession to be like. You knew what was wrong. You did. 

But you didn’t remember. 

And you can’t remember why.

“Wrong? No. We are actually following the ‘right’” Mr. Reca finally replied, shaking his head whilst forcing a smile. He pulled you into an unexpected embrace, burying his head into the crook of your neck as his shoulders seemed to sag. “And in the will of fate we can never be together.” 

You stared at him, though you weren’t confused. Yes, because this happened before.

Eight hundred and eighty eight times, to be exact.

This was what the aeons had written in both your destinies.

“Yes…yes…”

“Because you never existed in the first place.”

———5———

Mr. Reca was now hugging his empty jacket, devoid of the warmth it used to hold. 

And he cried.

It had never gotten easier to accept every time that you were a mere memory zone meme.

A fragment of his consciousness and the embodiment of his wish.

Salty tears fell one after the other in a bitter waterfall as Mr. Reca bit his lip, trying to regain his composure as his breath hitched and more tears spilled.

It was an ironic, almost funny thing

The missing piece in his ‘perfect confession’ had always been you.

———

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED EIGHTY NINE

———

[fever-fluff]

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All Pt II

Word Count: 3.5k (not proof read) Am I writing this instead of doing my finals? Yes. Is it going to be worth it? I bloody hope so. Please do tell me what you think, I didn't expect the first part to go down as well as it did so I hope this lives up to expectations :D

Synopsis: The fallout of Azriel finding out about the bond is bigger than anyone though it would be

Thoughts swirled in your mind as you tried to find Azriel. You’d checked everyone house, the training ring, even going as far as to walk through Velaris aimlessly until you could spot some trail from your mate.

Gods, how had you messed this up? You knew Azriel’s feelings towards the mating bond. In your first few weeks together, he’d explained everything that had happened to his brothers, how they’d found their other halves in the form of two sisters, and that he was sure the third had been meant for him. It had ached to hear him talk of Elain like that, to know your mate was so sure of another that he could not see you right in front of him.

But the shattered tether between you two had torn long before that. Azriel had been sealed shut to the rope intertwining you two for centuries. You had pushed so much love into that bond in the beginning, so much that it had grown thick and blinding on your end, but slithered to nothing at his. Mor and Feyre had helped you come to terms with that, and you never faulted Azriel for guarding himself so tightly. Rhys had mentioned in a off handed conversation that Az was the toughest out of everyone to breach when he needed to speak with him, that he’d built his mental walls so high of his own suffering even one of the most talented Daementi found it sometimes impossible to penetrate.

So, instead of withering away over a bond that would never snap, you had stopped pouring all your love into something only you could see and began pushing it into your words and actions over time. Azriel had accepted it all, finally overcoming his preconceived loss and accepted the love of his own accord. But now you’d gone and torn down everything you’d built with him in months over a few seconds.

You’d looked all day, and he was still nowhere to be found. So, you’d call it a night and look tomorrow, not looking froward to the cold sheets that awaited you.

Except they weren’t cold, a very real, very sombre looking figure with curling wings sat on you side of the bed. You felt the tears of relief spring to release, and made to sit in front of him, an acceptable distance away so as not to touch him in fear of him turning away.

“Azriel?” you hadn’t felt this meek in eons. The weeks gone by had truly taken their toll.

“Did you just say that today to get them off your back?”

Gods, you truly wished he could feel the bond right about now. Feel how much it pulsed in the admittance one of you believed it didn’t exist. Azriel was your life force, what you lived and breathed for every second of everyday. How could he think this was not real? Any of it?

“No, gods no. Azriel, it’s real. It’s there, I promise you.” If he walked away now, you didn’t think you would be able to handle it. Everything had been good, so good. Was looking to have him all to yourself for a couple weeks the wave that toppled the boat? Was your selfishness the flap of the butterfly’s wings that sent an earthquake through the rest of your life?

But the darkened look from Azriel was enough for you to know this was not about you. He wasn’t asking to catch you in a lie. “I-I can’t feel it. It’s never snapped, and it’s been months. How-how can you still be here?”

Leaving the distance between you had been a mistake. Lunging for you mate, you placed your hands either side of his face, and lifted his tear filled eyes to meet yours. “Because I love you, Azriel. Bond or no bond, I love you.”

He shook his head, “there’s nothing to love. I can’t even feel something so innately ingrained in our beings, how can you find anything worth so much?” he had turned his back to you, standing to walk to the dresser.

“Azriel, do not walk away from me.” Fuck being nice, he never responded to your pretty words when he was like this before, how could you think different now. “Shout at me, curse me to Hel, but never walk away from me.”

“What…what can you find in me that you’d rather me stay than go?!” he was spiralling into the darkness that had swallowed him in the first years he had been in this world. Azriel was throwing you his lifeline, and you reached and tugged on it with everything you had.

“Because you’re made for me! In every sense of the word. You are everything I’ve ever wanted for every century I’ve been alive. And even if you cannot feel that I have been made for you, I will prove it every single day of this life and the next that you are wrong if you think not.”

You had stepped up to him again, searching his eyes to see if he’d truly heard you, “I know you hate those stupid parties, I know you hate it when Cassian leaves his sweaty towels in the ring after training. You don’t like the tea Rhys gives you in your early morning meetings, but you still drink it because its been 150 years and to admit it now would make you look bad. I know that Mor’s perfume, the one she wears when the seasons change from winter to spring, makes your nose itch and you sneeze every time you smell it. You don’t like Elain’s scones because of the raisins, and Feyre’s awful singing to Nyx at the crack of dawn.”

“And I love all of you, Azriel. Every damn part of you. The only thing I would change is how much you allow everyone you’ve let into your heart walk all over you.”

Azriel’s breath hitched and the tears that clung to his lashes finally trailed down his cheeks. “I – I… what if it never snaps. What if the bond never snaps for me? What then?”

Closing the distance that had grown once again between you two, you made to grab for him. Holding his face to yours, you felt your tears fall as your mate’s hands covered your own. “Then I’ll love you even more than I already do. I don’t need you to feel the bond Azriel, if you never feel it, then it’s okay. I will love every broken piece of you, even if I can never put them back together.”

You meant it. Every word. Azriel had been broken too many times for you to even think you could fix what hadn’t been whole since he was born. But those pieces of himself, the ones he clung to so desperately and allowed only a few fae to ever glimpse at were worth so much more to you than anything else. You’d hold them, even if they cut and sliced you over and over, and press them close to your own heart, hoping that the love there would be enough to stop them from shattering entirely.

“Ask me to stay, Azriel, and I swear to you that there will not be a day that you won’t know how much I love you.”

You could see the doubt in his eyes, the fear that one day the half-made bond would not be enough to keep you with him. But you needed him to take that risk. And you would take care of the rest. He needed to have the faith to jump, and it was only him who could make that choice.

And as he closed his eyes, resting his head against yours, you felt your whole world tilt on its axis, ready for the words that would seal your fate.

Stay.

It had been fifty years since that day, and Azriel finally began to understand that you were there to stay.

The weeks after the admittance of there being a bond between you had been some of the toughest he’d ever lived through. But it was no one’s fault but his own.

He’d pushed you repeatedly, subconsciously seeing if you would snap under the pressures he shouldn’t have ever needed to place upon you. Rhys had given you leave of your position for the few weeks, but in the end you hadn’t returned to your post for a full year after everything. His constant tearing at your relationship had snapped and sliced at you so much you had become so tired it was even a chore to fight with him, and he realised almost too late that you would rather endure it than leave, nearly turning you to a shell of yourself.

He'd been gone for nearly two months at this point. The mission shouldn’t have taken this long, but Azriel couldn’t find it in himself to return.

Every time he did, this knawing guilt would eat at his insides about fighting with you once again. It wasn’t your fault, it never was. You tried everything to support him, and yet he kept pushing and even he couldn’t understand why.

Cassian and Rhys had sent word not too long ago that he was needed back at the earliest time possible, and it had been their words, not yours, that spurred him to return to the city.

He should’ve answered your letters.

“She’s not responding to the treatments like she should. It’s too slow, and I fear the malnourishment is starting to outweigh whatever help I can give her.” Madja’s words iced his whole being, Cassian and Rhys looked away in shame.

“Where is she?” the plea in his voice did not go unnoticed by the others, but none seemed inclined to tell him.

“Azriel, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see her right now. We called you back in case anything serious should happen.” Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged away from the hold. “You don’t get to make that decision. She’s my mate! I’m supposed to help her!”

“You should tell him.” It was Nesta, coming out from putting Nyx to bed. “Maybe he’ll finally get it through his thick skull if he sees what’s happening.” She’d never used that tone with him, harsh and cold unlike anything he’d heard except the first few months she’d been brought to their court. He felt himself want to cower in the face of Lady Death. You two had always been close, your ability to take on Nesta’s bite and stop it before it festered allowed her to settle a new bond outside of Emerie and Gwyn, something everyone was glad for.

Rhys sighed but relented, and Azriel winnowed to you before any of them could change their minds.

You had been moved to the cabin, away from prying eyes of the fae who’d attempt to do harm while you weren’t your full self. Feyre and Mor had placed extra wards in case, and he had to call to Rhys to ask them to let him through as he felt them blocking his path.

The cabin was warm, fire blazing in the hearth as he made to search the room you were staying in. But the bundle of blankets on the couch had his feet lurching to turn in its direction. You were sleeping, although it was fretful, and the feel of his hand barely grazing your skin was enough to snap you eyes open.

“Az?” You were like ice, and the croak in your voice reminded him of how Feyre had been when Rhys had first called in their bargain all those years ago.

“It’s me.” He reached for your hand, intertwining it with his as he lifted you to sit up. The blankets fell from your form, and his breath hitched to see your bones protrude more than was healthy. Gods, how had he not noticed until now?

Your smile was what broke him the most. Lips chapped, it didn’t reach as wide as it did before, and the warmth it usually held was dulled to a small ember. “Did you get my letters?”

The letters. Oh gods, he hadn’t read any of them. Too scared of his own thoughts that one would be about you leaving before he arrived home.

His reaction must have told you everything you needed, and your smile dropped as your eyes turned like glass. “Did-did you not want to come home?”

Fuck, what had he done?

“I-”

Azriel never finished that sentence. Your head had rolled to the side as he made to catch your falling form. Sitting up had become too much for you, and the little energy you had was expelled in the very few words you’d spoken to him.

Rhys. He called for his brother. Rhys, what do I do? What’s happened?

His answer was almost immediate. Madja says she’s been strained too much. It’s the bond cracking. Even if you can’t feel it, all the fighting has been tearing at it from her end.

He’d done this. He’d torn at her so much he was going to kill her.

Gathering her in the blankets, he lifted her down closer to the warmth of the fire, settling her to his body as he wrapped his wings around them both. Her breathing began to even out as she fell into another shallow sleep, but it seemed she had enough strength to hold onto him, curling her hands in the front of his tunic. “Please stay. I don’ wanna fight anymore, Az. Please, just stay.”

Azriel tightened his arms around his mate, the one who’d given him everything even as he tore her down to nothing in the past few months. “I’m here. I promise, no more fighting. I’ll stay.”

The mark weaved onto the shadowsinger’s skin, burning into it like no other bargain had ever done before. It settled where her head now rested, over the fractured parts of a heart he had refused to allow her to put back together.

But as sleep pulled her further under, Azriel swore he could feel one part stitch itself slowly to another. He’d mend it. If not for himself, then for the woman he had nearly lost to his own darkness.

She wouldn’t leave, he knew that now. But he would no longer make it so hard for her to stay.

Watching now, as she sat having tea in the garden with Elain, Azriel thought of how he’d been so foolish in his first five hundred years of life.

If he’d just waited, and used all those wishes at starfall he wasted on Mor and Elain to instead wish for a chance to meet his real mate, he go back to all that time ago and start over.

You were laughing unabashed at Elain’s annoyance with the sprites leaving bite marks in her prized tulips, keeling over as the middle Archeron shooed them away for the hundredth time.

His own smile turned up at your outward display of happiness. It had taken a while, and months away from one another to get back to this point after he’d realised his mistake. Madja had been helping you recover, while he spent time with the Priestesses to figure out how to get past his own fears and love you like you loved him.

You had sent him word of how you were doing every week, never pressing him to write back but letting him know you’d be waiting when he felt it was right to return. After the first few, he has picked up his own quill and began spilling his thoughts onto paper.

Azriel had realised that while you would put him above all else, that wasn’t always a good thing. He needed to learn how to do that for himself so you wouldn’t lose yourself again. And he had.

He was still the courts spymaster, but his workload had dropped immensely in the past few years. He trusted his spies more often to fill the menial tasks he once filled his time with, and instead spent it doting on you like he should’ve from the beginning.

His heart was slowly mending itself, and he was now more comfortable within himself to not allow the darkness in him to stray from the light.

The last pieces of the puzzle were finally placing themselves back when he’d asked you about the bond and how it felt. You explained to him that it was there, thought it was purely a string of thread between you. Because of the block on one side, you couldn’t feel his emotions or his thoughts, and it had settled something in him he hadn’t realised was so restless.

You truly had loved him for him. There was no extra help from your end, you had to put in just as much as him to make it work.

Grabbing his mug from the counter, he rounded to the door that would lead him out to you. As if sensing him, you turned, and gave him that wonderful smile that had his whole body humming in delight.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He wrapped himself around you as you greeted him. “You were dead to the world this morning. I’ve never seen you sleep so soundly.”

His hum vibrated against your neck as he placed a kiss on the tender skin. “I was. Couldn’t wake up even when you left. Something has me more tired than usual.”

Being open with you like this was still new to him, and there was still that knawing at the back of his skull that he shouldn’t be revealing something so vulnerable. But as you turned in his hold and wrapped your hands round his middle, he felt it subside. “Maybe its all those years of running on practically nothing creeping up on you.”

“Maybe.” Even now, his words broke off into a yawn, and he felt himself cuddle into your warmth as a soft breeze blew in.

“Well, its lucky we have the day to ourselves then. I asked Rhys last night if we could take a little break.” He could still feel your apprehension as you spoke. It was still there at times, unsurety settling in when you doubted how he’d react.

“I would love nothing more.” Placing a kiss onto the top of your head, Azriel made to pull away to grab his mug.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to eat.” You made for the door he had walked through, but the smash of ceramic had you head snapping back to Azriel.

“Az?”

His breathing had turned heavy, and all that weight of tiredness had lifted from his body in an instant.

Turning to face you, you watched as he mouthed something you thought you’d never hear from his mouth with such reverence.

Mate.

Fifty years. Fifty years of utter turmoil and love and pain and happiness. All of it washed over him at once. He felt the bond, coiling and snapping and threading its way round his very soul. It was thick, more like rope than a mere tendril. And he felt everything he’d shut out from the very moment of meeting you for the very first time. He watched the realisation hit your face, your hands shaking as if you didn’t know whether to grab for him or stay where you were.

“You- you can feel it?”

He felt his voice choke on the simple yea and it was all it took to have you running into his arms hard enough to force you both to the grass beneath you. Laughter, pure and loving laughter spilled from your lips, and he pulled you as close as possible. His own joined not a minute after.

Azriel felt it thrum from you to him, everything you had to give poured down to his side of the bond, as if it had been waiting for this moment. He supposed it had, and as he took everything you had to offer, he returned it tenfold.

Azriel realised then that it wasn’t his heart from stopping the bond from forming. Even if it was still broken, it would have found a way to wrap around it.

No, the only thing that had stopped it all this time, was he fear of giving everything and receiving nothing. Even when you had shown you would, his own mind had fooled him into believing otherwise.

But you had never blamed him, and the missing part of himself had finally returned home when he had stopped blaming himself.

Azriel knew then that he was worthy of the love you gave him, and that you had been right. Even if the bond had never snapped, he would still love you just as much as you loved him.

Taglist (bold could not be tagged) @kalulakunundrum @imnotsiriusyouare @notsarareallynot @mell-bell @ang-taylorsversion @finleyjaycee @luvletterstogwyn @dwkfan @sagskylar01 @hnyclover

[potatoplace]

The Prophecy

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

the 1 (part 1)

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: In the aftermath of your fall, your sisters stay by your side, comforting you as best they can. The Shadowsinger is lurking, hoping for a chance to apologize. You want someone who wants your company.

Warnings: suicide mention, light angst

Words: ~4.7k

Author's Note: ayyyyy I finally managed to write something!!! I hope you guys like this, it's the third alternate ending for 'the 1.' I actually really like how I wrote this but I also haven't edited it besides properly marking where italics go lol. I hope you guys enjoyyyy 🫶🫶🫶

18+ only pls

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Azriel left you in the hallway, leaving you behind in his search for his love.

Elain.

Sweet, beautiful Elain who had chosen him, who had decided to love him for who he is.

Still, he couldn't help but rub at his heart, the sting of the broken bond catching his attention as he rejoined the party. He wrapped his arms around Elain who had taken up a spot at the balcony, her eyes gazing out at the stars.

How the Cauldron had decided that you would be his mate, he would never know. Your company was fine, that was true, but he had never once felt an ounce of attraction towards you. As a human, your face had been... difficult for him to look at compared to the beauty of the fae, or even your sisters. And as a fae, you were simply plain.

His eyes glossed over you every time you were in the room.

And with everything Azriel had gone to, well, he deserved the beautiful female currently in his arms, her eyes so filled with love as she looked at him.

The ring he had picked out for tonight was heavy in his pocket, and he was just about to pull it out when Feyre let out a scream- one so filled with pain and grief that the entirety of the House of Wind silenced, confused and concerned looks following their High Lady as she sprinted out of the main room.

Rhys followed first, only a few steps behind Feyre, and the rest of the Inner Circle exchanged glances before following suit.

Another guttural scream left Feyre as they approached the balcony that she was peering over, her wings springing into existence in the next moment, and then Feyre was flinging herself over the edge.

Less than a minute later she returned, your limp body in her arms.

His mate.

His mate!

Suddenly all Azriel could feel was the shredded bond in his chest, his hand flying out of Elain's to clutch at his heart as he stared at you, unmoving.

Elain and Nesta rushed to your side, careful not to touch you lest they do more damage that would stop your already weakly-beating heart.

Their mouths were moving, but all Azriel could hear was the quiet sound of the muscle he had shattered mere minutes before pushing blood through your veins, working to keep you alive.

Cassian appeared with Madja a short while later, though Azriel hadn't noticed he'd left, his senses entirely focused on you.

Their words went unnoticed until Rhys was in front of him, pushing him by the shoulders away from the balcony.

"What are you-?"

"Madja needs quiet, Az. Come with me. We need to talk," Rhys said quietly, guiding Azriel to the study he kept in the House.

Azriel shot one last, longing glance to your body, but the three sisters and Madja surrounding you blocked his view.

"So..." Rhys began as they sat in the leather chairs around the fireplace, with Cassian shutting the door and leaning against the wall next to the blazing fire.

Azriel hadn't noticed he was walking with them.

"What happened?"

Azriel looked at Rhys and blinked once, twice.

"What?"

Rhys sighed. "What happened? I saw Y/N pull you aside only a few minutes before Feyre discovered her. So... What happened?"

Azriel blinked at him again before answering. "She... Y/N, she's... My mate."

Surprised flickered on both Rhys and Cassian's faces before confusion took over.

"Isn't... isn't that a good thing? I know you and Elain... But... Why did Y/N... Why is she hurt?" Cassian asked.

Azriel didn't answer as shame washed over him, finally realizing the consequences of his hasty choice.

"... Az?" Rhys asked quietly.

"I... I rejected her..." Azriel whispered as tears streamed down his face, the dam having finally broken.

Silence.

He couldn't bear to look at his brothers, see the disgust in their eyes at his actions.

"I'll go tell Madja," Cassian said quietly, leaving the room in the next moment.

"Azriel... Why?" Rhys asked once the door had shut behind their brother, his voice soft.

Azriel managed to meet his eyes, the usual sparkle of stars in them missing. "I... I promised Elain that I would. And really, I... Y/N is... She's very nice but I never thought..." He trailed off, hoping that Rhys wouldn't make him explain further.

"You never thought what?”

"I never thought that my mate would be the wrong sister..."

"So you just... Rejected her? How long did you consider it?" Rhys paused to let him answer, but Azriel couldn't tell him that he'd given it no thought at all, and rather thought it was a cruel joke played by the Mother. "Did you even consider it, Azriel?" Another pause, and at Azriel's continued silence Rhys scoffed. "You didn't consider it, didn't think of the consequences of breaking the bond. You of all people should know just how a rejection can ruin someone."

Rhys was right. He hadn't thought any of it through, and look where that got him. A rejected bond and a nearly dead mate.

"I want to fix it," Azriel said, his voice cracking. "I want... I need to fix this."

Rhys narrowed his eyes at him, looking him over and taking in how wrecked he looked. Tears were still streaming down his face, a hand absently clutching at his heart.

"I suppose... You can attempt to apologize to Y/N, if she'll let you. But you need to decide what you're going to do about your relationship with Elain..."

Elain. How could Azriel give up his sweet, perfect, beautiful Elain? How could he... He would have to. Somehow, he would get over Elain.

"I'll go talk to her now," Azriel said as he immediately stood and made his way to the door, only stopping when Rhys put a hand in front of him, holding the door shut.

"Azriel. I need you to think about this choice. I won't have you harming Elain as well because you haven't thought yet another decision through. Go take a flight, clear your head. Think, brother." Rhys relinquished his hold on the door, allowing Azriel to pass through.

His feet led him to the balcony you had fallen from, quiet now that you had been taken away for further healing. Azriel gazed over the side, his heart clenching painfully when he considered you had done the same, deciding it was your only way forward.

He launched himself into the air, the chilled wind clearing away every thought but you.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍

Pain.

That was all you knew now.

When you woke the first time, your bones had screamed out, every muscle in your body flaring in pain and agony.

And then came the overwhelming sensation of the shredded bond in your chest, a scream passing through your lips without meaning to as it tormented your entire being.

"Y/N? Y/N we're giving you more pain medicine, you'll be out in a moment, just don't move sissy," a voice said into your mind, the familiar brush of it the smallest balm to the burning pain of your body.

Twin.

And then darkness washed back over your mind, pulling you away from the pain.

The next time you woke, you heard angry voices.

Pain still ruled you, making it impossible to open your eyes and see who was arguing.

Was it about you? Surely not, you aren't important enough to argue over.

One voice caught your ears.

The voice you had loved over the past year, clinging to every word that dropped from the lips it belonged to.

Now, it aggravated the bond, the jagged edges scraping your soul and bringing you back into your body.

Pain. It flowed through you like the blood in your veins, controlling every fiber of your being.

"She can hear you!" A voice hissed- twin.

Feyre's here. I'm safe.

More words, hushed this time, before a cool hand brushed over your brow.

"Go back to sleep, sissy. We'll still be here when you come back," Feyre whispered into your mind softly, and moments later you fell back into the dark, comforted by the presence of your other half.

The third time you woke, you could hear three heartbeats thudding close by, and one more that was muffled, distant.

Your body ached, and just clenching your fingers lightly sent shooting pain up your arms, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

The ragged bond in your chest still chafed, pain flowing out from it with every inhale and exhale you took.

You opened your eyes, only to close them tightly at the bright faelights illuminating the room. You slowly opened them once more, squinting until your eyes adjusted.

There was a warm weight on your right arm, and when you turned your head carefully you saw Feyre's face, eyes shut as she slept.

It looked like the first time she had slept in weeks.

"Feyfey?" You tried to ask, instead coughing as your dry throat protested speaking.

Feyre was awake in an instant, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her blue orbs met yours, tears filling them in the next moment.

"Oh, Y/N," she cried, her tattooed hands clutching your face gently. "I love you."

A weak smile graced your lips. "I love you too," you said, your voice rough.

"Oh, here," Feyre said, raising your head and tilting a glass of water so that you could drink as much as you wanted, her eyes never leaving yours. "Better?" She asked once you were done, gently placing your head back on the pillow it was resting on.

"Yes..." You whispered.

The distant heartbeat picked up in pace, and the bond in your chest flared again, causing you to clutch at your heart with a hand, even as your muscles protested the action.

You carefully surveyed the room, finding that Nesta and Elain were both sleeping much like Feyre had been, heads resting on the bed as the slumped over in their chairs.

All of your sisters, here at your bedside.

After you had... Had...

"How are you feeling?" Feyre asked gently, drawing you out of your thoughts. She always had known when you were spiraling into your anxieties.

"Not... great..." You said quietly.

That felt like the understatement of the century.

Your body was sore all over, your bones themselves aching just from existing. And the bond...

It was awful.

"I can give you more pain medicine in a bit, but Madja... She said that you might have lasting pains, from... From falling," Feyre said shakily, tears spilling from her eyes.

You just nodded, barely registering the information as Nesta awoke, her back straightening as she blinked her eyes into focus. Tears filled them when she saw you.

"Y/N, you're... You're awake," Nesta sniffled, a noise you rarely heard from your aloof sister. "Don't ever do that again. You are too important," Nesta said heatedly before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Alright?"

"Alright," you agreed, pleased to see the smallest of smiles grace your eldest sister's lips.

Elain stirred last, her chocolate brown eyes welling with tears when they landed on you, her disheveled hair a testament to how worried she was.

You remembered Azriel's words. I think it’s best for you to stay away from Elain and I. I wouldn’t want you getting territorial and ripping my love’s throat out or anything.

How could he have ever thought you would harm Elain? Your sisters were the most important anything in the world to you.

"Bunny, you're awake," she said tearily, her hands grasping for yours over the blanket. "I'm so, so sorry, I had no idea that he was your-"

"It's fine, 'Lainey. I made sure no one knew," you said, cutting her off. "It's not your fault."

Tears fell from her eyes anyways, and you knew she was still blaming herself.

"I want... I want someone to want me for me. Not a bond 'Lainey. He... He would never have looked my way, even if you had rejected his advances," you whispered, thinking to his cruel words before he had rejected you.

Feyre sighed, and you knew she was contemplating whether or not to kill the shadowsinger for hurting you.

"Cuddle with me? Like the old days?" You asked quietly, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn't have to deal with the sting of rejection from your own sisters.

"Of course, sissy," Feyre replied, already peeling back the covers to slide underneath, her arms wrapping tightly around you.

"For as long as you want, munchkin," Nesta said, following Feyre's lead and snuggling up to you.

That left Elain, who hesitated.

"Come in, 'Lainey. It wouldn't be the same without you," you reassured, your worries eased when she laid behind Feyre, one of her arms looping over to meet your hands.

The four of you fell asleep, snuggled together just as you had for so many years. This time to hold you together, your sisters acting as the glue that keeps you from shattering further as your ears listened to that fourth heartbeat, singing to you as it does to the shadows.

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

"You need to get up," a voice said, slightly muffled by something.

"But I haven't-"

"They're all sleeping, you need to go and clean yourself up. You waiting here isn't going to help things," a third voice said.

"But what if she wants to see-"

"Then she will ask for you. Until then, you need to give some space. Go wash up. Eat something. I'll see if Feyre thinks she'll want to see you, and if she does then you can come sit in front of the door again," the third voice ordered, followed by a heavy sigh.

"Alright."

Footsteps, then quiet.

You relaxed once more, sinking into the softness of the bed and warmth of your sisters around you. Pain lanced through your body, and you wished that you had asked Feyre for more of the pain medicine before you fell back asleep.

Feyre stirred next to you, no doubt awoken by soft mental prodding from her mate to ask her if you wanted to see your... your former mate.

"You alright?" She asked quietly, attempting to not wake your eldest sisters.

You nodded. "I hurt everywhere, though," you whispered.

She pulled a vial of pain potion from... wherever she pulled things from, and tipped it into your mouth.

It tasted horrible, but the relief was near-instant, the harsh aches easing into mild discomfort for the moment.

"Thank you Feyfey."

"Of course, sissy. Go back to sleep, hmm?" Feyre suggested, laying her head back on your shoulder and letting one of her hands lock fingers with yours.

You did as she said, drifting back into the peaceful space that your sisters' presences brought, the feeling of their souls next to yours as comforting as ever.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Your sisters were speaking softly when you awoke next, still cozied in between the three of them.

"If he keeps waiting outside, I'll kill him," Nesta hissed quietly, and Feyre shook her head in response.

"You can't do that, Nesta. You can punch him, sure, but I think Rhys would be upset if you killed him."

"Then I'll rip his heart out- oh wait, he doesn't have one.”

"Nesta, stop. Y/N's awake," Elain said. "How are you doing?" She asked, a nervous lilt to her voice.

"I'm alright. What are you two arguing about?" You asked, eyes flitting from Nesta to Feyre.

"Azriel is outside. He refuses to leave," Nesta seethed.

"Oh... What does he want?"

Feyre sighed before explaining. "He wants to beg for your forgiveness, or something along those lines."

You let that sink in. He wanted to apologize... But why?

"I... I suppose I can see him now."

"Are you sure? We can make him go away. You never have to see him again, if you don't want to," Feyre offered, but you shook your head.

You needed to do this.

"If you're sure, bunny..." Elain said, waiting until you nodded in confirmation before climbing out from underneath the covers. "We'll be waiting right outside."

Feyre and Nesta followed her after helping you to sit up against the mound of pillows behind you.

"Let me know if you need us to remove him," Feyre said, tapping a finger against her temple.

"I will, Feyfey. You should all get some food, okay? You need to eat," you insisted, the three of them caving when you narrowed your eyes at them.

"Alright. But if he does anything..." Nesta seethed.

"You'll be the first to know, Nes. I promise."

Your sisters shuffled out of the room, each of them glaring at Azriel as they passed him. Nesta even hissed at him, something that made you laugh internally.

You couldn't laugh out loud, though, as your former mate was standing before you now, looking worse for wear.

"Y/N, I wanted to apologize to you," he paused, waiting a moment to see if you would react. "I feel awful about rejecting you without so much as a thought, without considering the blessing that the Mother has granted us. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm here begging for it anyways. I want you, Y/N. I want to love you, and love the children we will have together. I want you to give us a chance, please.”

The entire time he was speaking, you merely stared at him, wondering how you had fallen for this male. Had it solely been the bond forcing your heart? Or were you now so disillusioned that you couldn't imagine loving him?

"Y/N?" Azriel asked, once you had been silent for a minute.

"You are begging for forgiveness? And that's the best you have to offer?"

Azriel blinked at you, confusion clouding his eyes. "What?"

"That's your apology? You call that an apology?" You scoffed, rage flooding your veins, put there by the bloodied bond in your chest. "You told me that five hundred years of waiting was a waste. You told me that I could not compare to Elain, you thought that me being your mate was a joke, you told me that I was not. Your. Mate. And yet here you are now, 'begging' for forgiveness by informing me that you rejected me without a thought, and that we will have children. You are right on one count. You do not deserve my forgiveness. And you will never have it. Now leave," you demanded, satisfied at the disbelieving look on his face.

He thought you would give in so easily? That you would crumble under a few kind words?

He was wrong.

You are an Archeron. You might not have the typical fire exuded by your twin and eldest sister, but you possessed the stubbornness that ran through your bloodline.

After ten seconds, he still hadn't moved, just staring at you as his wings drooped to the floor.

Perhaps he was beginning to feel the pain that he had condemned you to when he had rejected you 'without so much as a thought' as he had put it.

"Get out," you told him again. "Or I'll let Nesta tear you to pieces."

Still, he didn't move.

You sent your mind out to Feyre's as best you could, tapping on the strong walls of her mind. Can you send Rhys? Or someone? He's not leaving, you whispered to her.

Rhys is on his way, sissy, Feyre replied. Nesta too, as soon as Rhys stood she followed, Feyre sighed into your mind, causing you to laugh softly to her.

That's alright, I threatened him with Nesta.

The two of them burst into the room a moment later, Nesta grabbing your former mate by the hair and dragging him into the hall, faster than you would have thought possible.

Rhys stared at them in confusion for a moment before turning to you.

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

You nodded. "I'm fine, I said everything I wanted to. I just needed him to leave."

Rhys bobbed his head in understanding. "I'll make sure he won't bother you, rest assured. He will be banned from Velaris until you're ready, if you're ever ready," Rhys said softly, a look of understanding in his eyes. "I'm sure Feyre and Elain are headed back with food for you, but I'll make sure something is sent to you no matter what, hmm? Feel better, Y/N." Before he left, he kissed the crown of your head gently, and it was the first time you considered him to be your brother.

Only a couple of minutes after he left, Feyre and Elain returned to your room, both of them carrying a tray of food.

The three of you ate for a few minutes before Nesta reappeared, looking rather satisfied with herself.

"Have you eaten?" Nesta asked you, but before you could respond asked "Has she eaten?" to Feyre and Elain.

You wrinkled your nose at her in amusement. "I'm eating, Nes. You should eat something too, you didn't have much time."

She stared at you, waiting to eat until you had taken a bite yourself, proving that you were eating.

The four of you ate together until all of the food was gone, and you were certain that they had made you eat the majority of it when you laid back, feeling absolutely stuffed.

"Will you... Will you sleep with me again tonight? Not right now, but... later?" You asked hesitantly.

"Of course we will, munchkin. I think we might protest if you said you didn't want us with you tonight," Nesta said softly.

You smiled at her, pleased by the caring side of your eldest sister that you were finally experiencing.

"For now, I think I'd like a bath," you said, the feeling of having slept for multiple days covering your skin.

"I think I can help with that," Feyre said, and began lifting you from the bed.

"Feyre, I can walk!" You giggled as she brought you into the bathroom.

"I know, and you can test it once you've soaked in hot water. Madja said you may have some difficulty using your muscles for a while. So just be patient with me, I don't want you to get hurt. Okay?" Her face held such tenderness that you couldn't help but agree.

"Okay."

🤍🩵🩶🩷🤍

Six months.

Six months, and you felt like your life had changed completely.

The first two months had been absolute hell, with you learning to tame the shattered bond in your chest, slowly filing its edges down into something that still hurt, but wasn't all-consuming. You had also had to relearn to walk, write, swim, sew, knit, crochet- basically everything that you loved to do.

It was hell, but you would do it all again.

Because you had re-perfected your needlework in the next two, embroidering beautiful patterns onto dresses for the upcoming parties of the spring season, earning enough money to rent a small house in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Your own house.

All your own, to decorate as you liked. Of course you had help from your sisters and their mates, the seven of you working to transform the slightly run down house into your pastel dream home.

In the next two months, you had started a business with your new friend- Alina. She had been the junior dressmaker at the shop you had been working for, and the two of you became fast friends.

You were able to work in silence together, drawing peace from your work and each other's presences. And when you talked, you had so much in common. Both of you were... Not confident, for various reasons. And both of you fiercely loved your families, willing to sacrifice anything for them. You both enjoyed reading, but preferred soft romances compared to the smutty fare that Nesta enjoyed.

It turned out that Alina, too, wanted to be loved for who she was, rather than a bond. You found kinship in the story of her mate, the way he had only looked at her differently once the bond had snapped.

The two of you had bonded so much that when the owner of the shop you worked at had fired Alina for no good reason, you had quit in protest. Together, you opened a small shop near your home.

In only a month, the clients that preferred your and Alina's work had started frequenting your shop, leaving the both of you busy nearly every day.

It was absolutely lovely, everything that you had ever dreamed of.

Except... You still wanted to be wanted.

You shoved that desire down deep at every chance, throwing yourself into your work until your body protested, fingers cramping while you worked by a candle in the dead of night.

Some days, though, you could hardly move. The consequences of your choice to fling yourself off of that balcony followed you like a dark cloud, waiting to pour pain onto you at any given moment.

Still, you managed to push yourself forward, taking solace in the life you had created for yourself. You could hardly imagine what life would have been like had you accepted Azriel, but you didn't think it would be a happy one.

Nothing was worse than being the choice that was not really a choice at all, rather the forces of fate.

And nothing was better than being the first choice, you'd soon learn.

Because on the first day of the final month of spring, a Tuesday at 9:53 in the morning, something wonderful happened.

Theo, a repeat customer of yours had entered the shop, holding a dress box from your shop in his hands.

When Theo had first entered your shop a little under a month ago, he had taken your breath away, so, so similarly to how Azriel used to.

His bright green eyes made you blush whenever they fell on you, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his curly dark hair. And his voice! You melted at the sound, how deep and gentle it was at all times.

You would be lying if you said you didn't put extra care into each order he placed, making sure each piece was perfect for him.

He had ordered a couple of dresses from you before, both of them for his sister.

"Good morning, Theo, did your sister need something adjusted?" You asked as he set the box on the counter in front of you.

"Good morning to you, Y/N. This... This is not for my sister," Theo began, and you would almost say that he was nervous, if not for the confident smile on his lips. "This dress is for you, Y/N."

You blinked in surprise, glancing down at the box. "For me?"

"Yes, for you. I was hoping that you would join me for dinner on Friday at Sevenda's," Theo said, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Like, uhm... A date?" You squeaked, blood rushing to your cheeks.

Theo nodded, his smile widening. "Yes, a date. Are you interested?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and a matching smile to his graced your lips.

"I'll pick you up at seven, if that works with you, sweetheart."

"O-okay," you said nervously. "I'll see you then, Theo."

At the sound of you saying his name, Theo blushed lightly, your eyes just catching it before he turned to leave the shop.

"Oh, and you don't have to wear the dress if you don't want to, but... I think you'll look even more beautiful in it then you do now," Theo said sincerely, leaving the shop after flashing a bright smile at you once more.

You covered your face with your hands, your face flushed and grinning.

Theo had asked you out! You couldn't wait to tell Alina and your sisters, Feyre especially. She would be over-the-moon happy for you, knowing how much of a crush you have on him.

Luckily for you, your weekly sister tea time was later today, and you would have something exciting to tell them.

general taglist: @lilah-asteria @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao

'the 1' series taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222 @mellowmusings @romantasyreader28 @craybae10 @littlepippilongstocking @littlegirl-bd @casey1-2007 @moonlwghts

[solbaby7]

I love your work, and I’ve been creeping on your master list and it’s so good 😭❤️❤️❤️… pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that they’re true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that he’ll reject her cause he’s in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and that’s when Az realizes it too and smut ensues 🫶😭❤️

Since You Have A Lover

pairing : azriel x afab!reader

warnings: angst babe, torture too (oops👀🤣), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then we’re gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better 🫣

thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but i’m so happy you’ve been enjoying 💗💗

oh and…educate a girl. wtf is afab?👀 respectfully ofc

—

Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.

The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.

It’s instinctual to be jealous—to compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.

Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. They’re too caught up in each other to realize you’ve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.

Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesn’t send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.

Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. There’s a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.

Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but you’d recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.

A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.

You’re unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. “Oh,” The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. “Gods, I’m sorry.” You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book she’d dropped in the collision. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching here I was going.”

“That’s not like you.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. “I’m not quite myself at the moment.”

Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and you’re infinitely grateful that she doesn’t call you out on your state of disarray. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. “No, I think I’m going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.

She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.

You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.

Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."

--

Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.

Distracting, at the very least.

But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.

Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees you’d come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. “Nesta?”

The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. “Not quite.”

It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.

The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.

--

The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.

Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.

It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?

The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"

A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."

Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.

"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"

"Around three."

Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lord��s better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."

The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"

Nesta’s tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately you’d attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. “She didn’t leave me a map with a drawn out route—she just said she needed air.”

“While crying?” It wasn’t intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. “I was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balcony—I offered to walk her to her room but she just…” A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. “I let her go.”

“Nesta.” Feyre’s slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nesta’s shoulders squaring on the defensive.

“I’m not some evil bitch, I waited up!” She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isn’t truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because she’d felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that she’d made a grave mistake. Nesta’s shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. “I waited.”

Azriel’s already out of the room without a word.

He didn’t have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.

His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.

And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elain’s cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallways—the kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.

He’d pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.

It’s been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. He’d never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.

The words act as fuel, Azriel’s senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until they’d returned with something he could work with.

Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.

And they were soaked in your blood.

—

You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earth—the perfect dungeon.

One you’d been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azriel’s side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limits—wondering to see just how far you’d go just to be near him.

To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.

All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation you’d found yourself entangled in.

Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and it’s a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands don’t move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.

Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.

“I always did love that look.” Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasn’t. “When panic shifts into realization—truly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.”

Delicate?

You’d never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.

Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, it’s beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. “Come a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.”

The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and he’s too coward to brawl fairly. “As tempting as that is, it won’t be me who plays with you tonight.” Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.

He’s not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. She’d inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his form—no matter how misplaced it was.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.”

“So much fight in you,” Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. “I can’t wait to see how long it lasts.”

Breathe.

Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and it’s easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and he’d just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times you’d been in a similar situation—you, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.

Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The cell wasn’t very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“What do you want from me?”

Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no light—proving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. “Many things,” He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. He’s too cocky. Too comfortable. “But first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.” He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.”

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A smile works its way across his face—one so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. “I hoped you’d say that.” Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldn’t imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.

One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.

Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“Who are you?”

He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. “You can call me the Butcher—everyone else does.”

“How original.” A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. “Well, Butcher—come make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? It’s starting to chafe a bit.”

His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting door—a lock sliding into place. “You don’t really want me to do that.” For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. “If you’re as stubborn as I think you are,” The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. “You’ll need something to hold onto. It helps with the pain…for a time.”

Breathe.

“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beard—the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly trim and proper. “Not a fan of foreplay?”

Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. “I’m more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.”

Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. “You know,” Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. “Under entirely different circumstances, I think I might’ve actually liked you.”

The switch flips so fast—too fast for you to catch but it’s impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and you’re certain that it’s intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The masculine baritone of Azriel’s teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.

You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcher’s left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.

There’s a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldn’t be an option for you. “Tell me about the Made ones and I can stop.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“You live there with them,” Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. “You share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets aren’t shared as well?” Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. “Tell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.”

“Even if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?”

Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. “You say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian you’re always seen around?”

A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconscious—not enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.

Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too much—when you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.

The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. “We’re coming, just stay awake.”

The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subside—a side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.

It’s all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. “Rhys they want— they want…”

So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voice—Azriel’s voice bellowing your name. “Stay alive.” He mutters over and over and over when he’s finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. “Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.

All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.

It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.

—

Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.

"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."

He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."

"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."

Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"

"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."

Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"

"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."

"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"

"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance to—. What the hell were you thinking?"

The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minute—too fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."

Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."

Just like that, all the spitfire you’d prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. “Your mate.”

Azriel doesn’t confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.

“You know?”

“How long have you known?”

Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if that’s what it took to get to its other half. “A while.”

“And you’ve said nothing.” He says, tone sounding almost defeated. “Why wouldn’t you have said anything?”

“Because, Az,” The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. “You wouldn’t have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.” You’re quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. “Besides, the bond is a choice not a burden and that’s what it would’ve been for you if I spoke up about it.” Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.”

A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."

"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."

"I'll manage."

"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."

Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platter—he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadn’t noticed you’d been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.

Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."

"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"

"I felt something for you—something stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and it’s as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing you—ruining the peace I feel when I’m with you would’ve broken me.”

Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. “Az, you don’t have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“Then, please don’t reject it.” His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. “Don’t reject me—this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. “Can’t you feel it? This rightness.”

Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azriel’s eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.

Not one reaches your radar.

The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossed—a prophecy fulfilled.

When Azriel’s lips finally brush against yours, it’s like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadn’t known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensity—the burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.

One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. “Azriel,” You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.

“Mate.”

A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. “Even when my bones are rotting in the dirt, I’ll belong to you. My mate. Mine.”

[lidiasloca]

hello!! I was wondering if you could write an azriel x reader fic where they've been best friends for centuries and one day the bond snapped for her. And she starts to avoid him because she thinks he doesn't love her so she doesn't show up to things they usually do together and whatnot (or however you want to put it!) but meanwhile Azriel is going crazy because he misses her and has been in love with her for years and then he confronts her and the bond snaps for him as well!! sorry if it's too long hahah but thanks

is it chill that you are in my head?

azriel x reader

friends to lovers

It was curious to think that no matter the strength you applied, no hit you made would ever hurt Azriel.

Yet, the Illyrian seemed intensely determined not to let you get to even touch him.

“Where’s your mind?” he asked as he dodged yet another hit. You took, at least, a bit of pride in his breathless voice.

You also took pride in how much you had made him sweat already, but you didn’t let your thoughts linger there too much—your eyes, neither.

“In trying to hit you.”

“Well, isn’t it frustrating you won’t satisfy your mind?”

“You get cocky—I’ll hit you down there,” you threatened, taking in his amused grin.

“There you can get?” he questioned as he circled you.

You held your fists up, following his eyes as he eyed you like a vulture. “You don’t want to find out.”

“I don’t,” he replied, just as you went to hit him.

He dodged it effortlessly.

And even had time, as you retracted your arm, to take it and pull you toward him, unbalancing you until you fell onto his torso.

As he prevented you from the fall he himself had caused, you found yourself close enough to his body to make out the intention written on his face.

A threat for a threat, you realized as you stared at those deep hazel eyes.

His face lacked any sympathy as he spoke, his voice death and sensuality all in the same honeyed spoon. “Don’t make threats you cannot back up, love.”

Your breath caught at the darkness that surrounded you. The darkness that you faced when you had his lips so close to yours, his eyes so focused on you.

Azriel was that: darkness. Both the dark that scared you as a child and the dark that now let you dream of him without guilt in the depths of the night.

“You’re right. No more threats,” you breathed as you drove your knee upward—

His hand was steel against the futile force of your movement. And a mocking grin on his lips was all you could think about due to the roaring in your ears.

Bastard.

The knee you were going to use to teach him a lesson was held in place with his right hand, which now moved down, and down until it found a place on the back of your thigh. He urged you nearer him.

Close enough. Until your surroundings vanished and you could only see his face, his never-faltering smirk when you made it so easy for him to mock you.

This was the Azriel you had only for yourself.

Not polite shyness, or quiet kindness.

But darkness.

All of it—all of him. Darkness.

Everything, but his eyes.

While you liked to have this flirtatious, dangerous Azriel—which you both called friendship—you still found yourself fantasizing about the light in his eyes and how soft they were, how romantic and intimate, and everything that he shouldn’t feel like.

Where all of him was dark, his eyes were golden.

Lightness.

Like a thread that led you through deeper parts of him, of his soul.

Too intimate.

You let out a long exhale. “I’m not in the mood,” you mumbled.

And it broke your heart the way he immediately released you. How gently he let go of you as a flash of… pain painted his eyes.

Then it was gone in a blink. And that smirk found its way to his face again. “I make you exhausted quite fast.”

“Mhmm,” was all you could mutter as you watched him—those eyes.

That thread.

What was that?

He held your stare with a bit of confused amusement. “What do you find so interesting?” he smiled.

You took all your bravery… and a step, and another, until you were back where you started: looking deep into his eyes, close enough to feel his breath on your face.

He didn’t dodge this time. And neither did he smirk as you placed both of your hands on his face to make him meet your eyes.

Those golden eyes.

There was something in them.

That lightness that guided you through the darkness—his darkness.

As a thread.

A gasp broke through you at the realization, at the feeling in your heart—your soul.

You took a step back, your hands sliding away from his face as gently as a wind’s whisper.

He eyed you worriedly, taking a step toward you as you kept walking away.

“What?” he asked, finally that mask off his face.

But you couldn’t bear the sight of his eyes again. The feel of that thread.

M-

“What is it?” he asked, desperation lacing his words.

Ma…

“Y/N?” he pleaded.

Mate.

You winnowed away before he could pronounce another word.

…

You knew hiding was not the solution. You knew you would have to face him eventually—he was one of your closest friends after all, yet…

“I cannot do it. I cannot see him.”

Another of your closest friends was there to make you think logically.

“Y/N,” Nesta said, taking a seat on the couch in your bedroom. “You’ve been hiding here for almost a month. You can’t hide from him forever. He’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, despite how stupidly childish it made you sound.

Nesta exhaled as if indeed, you were acting stupidly childish. “Mate? You cannot hear the word mate?”

There was a tinge of mocking in her tone that made you meet her eyes with fury in yours. “It’s very easy to look at me and judge me when you don’t know what this feels like.”

“What? Having an Illyrian as my mate?” she asked with a soft smile on her lips, and you knew your friend well—you knew it wasn’t mocking anymore.

Nesta, as if to prove you right, walked toward where you sat on the bed and made herself a place next to you, moving her hand to caress yours like a mother would.

She didn’t say anything, though, so you replied, emotion running your words slowly—unsteady. “You don’t know what it’s like to know your mate… doesn’t want you back.”

“You don’t know if Azriel doesn’t want you back.”

“Yes, I do. I know Azriel.”

“Well, I know him as well. And I know—actually—all the house, and probably all Velaris, knows he likes you. A lot.”

You shook your head.

Nesta went on, “He flirts with you all the time, Y/N. In all honesty, it was about damned time that bond snapped for one of you. It was clear you had something.”

“Exactly: something,” you rectified. “That something, Nesta, is flirting. Flir-ting. Nothing more, nothing else. That’s all he wants from me. Taunting and touching and provoking and friendship. But not love. And most certainly, not a damn mating bond.” You took a staggered breath, not able to meet her eyes anymore. “Not with me.”

Nesta watched you silently, then said, “You don’t know that.”

You shook your head, wiping a tear that slid down your face. “You don’t know either.”

“That’s true,” she replied, handing you a tissue with her free hand as the other drew circles on your wrist. “We won’t know until you ask him.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “So, I just ask him if he wants the mating bond with me? That simple? Thanks, Nesta.”

Her eyes narrowed at you in warning to watch your tone, yet her faint smirk provoked one to bloom on your face. “Yes. It’s that simple.”

“And when he says no?”

She shook her head. “What if he says no,” she corrected you.

Your smile grew just a bit. “What if he says no?” you echoed.

“Then I’ll beat his ass on the training ground. And have Cassian beat him afterward.”

You chuckled lightly, imagining the scene.

But the question appeared in your mind, and you took the courage to ask her.

“And what if he says yes?”

By the warm look in her eyes, you knew she had understood. “It’s a long way to go. But one finally learns to let herself be loved, Y/N.”

And by one, you knew who she meant.

You were grateful that afterward, Nesta and you had a more lighthearted conversation. And when it turned dark outside, Nesta gave you a hug and left your bedroom.

You knew you had to also leave your bedroom at some point and face what awaited outside that comfort.

But love seemed to find you just where you thought you were safe.

“Can I come in?”

It certainly wasn’t Nesta’s voice.

Your hand trembled as you went for the knob and opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Azriel repeated, and you realized long seconds had passed of just you staring, unmoving.

“Yes,” you whispered, letting him through and closing the door.

You had prayed he stayed like that—backward to you, staring outside your window. Anything but have his eyes meet yours.

But he turned to you.

He was even more beautiful than ever, even if you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles around his eyes, his pale lips, or his eyes… almost lifeless.

Like the light had deserted him.

Like the bond had abandoned him… because he didn’t want it.

“It’s been weeks,” he eventually said, and his voice carried enough emotion you had to lean on the door, afraid to crumble to the ground. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

He took a step closer to you, making you meet his eyes again. “With what?” he demanded.

You weren’t fast enough to make up a lie before he said, “You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t quite a question. “You are mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he muttered, taking another step.

“I’m not, Azriel.”

He stopped his following step at the sound of his name. He looked like he had been slapped, and his face morphed into something unreadable.

“I’m sorry," he murmured.

“What?” you asked, walking towards him when he looked down.

You had to see his face, you had to understand him.

“Whatever I have done. I’m sorry. Forgive me and… be my friend again.”

You stopped in your tracks, not having quite reached him. Friends.

His words both broke and healed your heart. The desperation in them, the vulnerability.

You stared at the selfless male who cherished your friendship in front of you. Maybe you could take that and give up dreaming. Maybe you could convince yourself that friendship was better than nothing, even if it killed you.

“I miss you,” he said, and you decided that was the final blow.

A sob broke through you, raw and desperate, and his expression shifted instantly. He closed the distanced and his hands found your face, those scarred palms trembling as they cupped your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry, please. I’m sorry.”

Friends.

Mates.

“What are you even sorry for?” you mumbled, shaking your head faintly.

“The last time I saw you - when you got… mad at me, we were doing what we always do. Well, what I always do. That stupid flirting, that… you know. And I know that bothered you. And I’m sorry. I never knew it made you uncomfortable before and… I’m sorry,” he said again. 

You quietly stared at him, at the sadness and guilt in his eyes. “It’s not that it bothers me...” you said because it never had, but maybe now—maybe now it hurt your feelings - but that was because of you. It was not his fault. 

Yet you couldn’t speak your thoughts before he went on. “It does. I saw it in your eyes… like you were disgusted.” His voice cracked. “And it broke my heart, because… I don’t want it either.”

There it was.

The truth you’d been bracing yourself for.

Friends.

That’s all he wanted you to be—a friend.

He took a deep breath, his hands falling away from your face as he stepped back, as if retreating from his own vulnerability. “It’s all a lie, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched.

“I thought that’s what you wanted—the only thing you wanted from me—and I tried to convince myself that I could settle with that. That it would be enough. But…” His gaze locked on yours, piercing and raw. “I can’t.”

“What?” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The world stopped turning.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay with only being your friend. I don’t want to keep pretending. I just… I just want you to know that I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t remember what life was before you.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

Mate.

“You love me?” you whispered.

He nodded as a tear ran down his face. 

Another sob tore from you and his hands were on your face again in an instant, pulling you close. “I love you, too,” you murmured, the words spilling out.

And at last, the color returned to his eyes again, hazel-golden shining in the dark room. 

And that was it; the light that you needed, the strength that guided you—that encouraged you to tell him. 

“I am… I am your mate.” 

A beat later you realized you weren’t the one who had spoken. 

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

a/n: thanks for requesting, i hope the fic is of your liking, though i took some liberties in the writing. thanks for your request, love!!

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Wingspan

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Minors denied. Don't want me to write the list of all shameful things I wrote under the cut

Because I've spent whole week with sick 2 years old child, managed to get sick as well and I'm deprived of Azriel because last two months I'm writing only Heal me and as soon as he appeared on scene, this invaded my mind.. Honestly too many reasons to write something silly ⁄⁠(⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠)⁠⁄

"Okay, guys. You know why we are here," I started. "At first I'd like to thank you that you voluntarily signed up as subjects for this research."

"We compare our pricks whole life. It's our pleasure that somebody finally took it seriously and wants to write a whole book about it," Cassian teased, laughing hard.

Rhysand was trying really hard to keep a straight face the whole time, but after Cassian's comment he was about to lose it, and Azriel standing in the dark corner rather disappeared in his shadows after this comment.

How did I even get into this situation? Well, I knew how. It all happened because I was a passionate researcher. Too passionate for my own good.

It all started with mated Archeron sisters and Mor who wouldn't stop debating about this thing of a correlation of wingspan with the size of Illyrian male's private parts. It picked up my interest and I searched the entire library to find out more info about it. Utterly failing in the process, there wasn't a single mention. There wasn't even a proper documentation of their wings alone. So I took it upon myself to collect necessary data to confirm or deny truth of this rumour. I briefly mentioned it to Rhys hoping he could help me find enough subjects for the research. Which he did in surprisingly short time. And as if it wasn't enough he and his brothers signed up, too.

"That part I will leave to you. I hope I can count on you to deliver accurate numbers. If you try to cheat I'll have your mates to do it properly," I laughed, but I meant every single word.

"I'm sure Nes would be all for it," Cassian grinned proudly.

"As if Feyre wouldn't," Rhysand lost it. I had to laugh. I was afraid it would turn into something awkward, but with these two it was impossible. They were like kids, turning everything into a funny game.

I met Rhysand under the mountain. He witnessed the moment my ex betrayed me and when Feyre saved us all, he picked up my remains and brought me to Velaris to heal. In the end I decided to stay here. I buried love, lust and everything related to it as deep as possible and focussed on what I liked - research - occasionally helping inner circle.

"At least they certainly won't cheat," I smiled. "This research origins in their concern after all."

The three of us laughed so hard we cried. Only Azriel stayed silent hidden in his corner.

"And who will make sure Azriel doesn't cheat?" Cassian wondered.

"Why should I," Azriel stepped out from his hideaway, lowering a challenging gaze at me.

"I believe Azriel is the last one of three of you to use such dirty tricks to manipulate the results," I said, returning his gaze. "But if he does, I'll personally make sure he delivers true data."

His hazel eyes lit up with mischief and corners of his full lips slightly moved upward in a hardly there smirk. He wasn't so different from his brothers. More serious than these two? Certainly, but he could be playful, too.

"Okay, guys, let's get it done. Who is the first to show off the wingspan?"

This was the part I'd been looking forward the most. Illyrian wings, the most important subject of my research and to be honest, the main reason of this fuss. So sacred that sometimes even their lovers weren't allowed to touch them. Not that I could touch them by any mean. Boys only granted me to take measurements and a close look to make detailed sketches. Totally understandable given how sensitive they were.

All three of them took turns one in a time, helping me when my arms were too short. I took measurements of different parts of their bodies, too, just to be sure I have all I could possibly need to get accurate results. I wrote down numbers into my notebook, already amazed by the results.

"That's all for today. Thank you for your time. When can I expect the other data?"

"You can get them even right now, if you want, but I guess you don't want to see it, do you?" Cassian, always such a tease. I shook my head laughing.

"Would tomorrow morning be a soon enough for you?" Rhysand purred, flashing a smile. "Tonight we're going to have a lot of fun with Feyre."

"It would be perfect," I agreed. The sooner I was done here, the sooner I could go to camps to collect data from volunteers Rhysand had found for me.

Cassian and Rhysand left soon after, but ever-silent Azriel stayed behind.

He seemed to be so flustered and nervous while I was taking his measurements. Cassian was picking on him for that, but Azriel stoically ignored him and held still. It seemed he didn't even breathe. I knew he didn't like to be touched. It was the biggest of the surprises that he voluntarily signed up for this, so I was extra careful with him.

Ever since I met him, he was always very kind and considerate to me. However it took some time until he opened up. It's just few months since we started to hang out more. Not that I wouldn't like him. If I were honest, I would admit that he was very interesting person, I liked him a lot and he was so incredibly handsome. Too handsome to be real.

But that's exactly the way I wasn't suppose to think about him. I'm the type who falls easily and hard, and loves with all her being. That's why I was so devastated last time. Nobody could possibly love somebody like me. I'm unbearable in many ways.

Plus he is too high league for somebody like me. He can have anybody he wants and the line of prospects is long. Elain and Gwyn for example compete for his attention for years. Successfully. There's no way he would think of me that way. I shook my head to get rid of these self harming thoughts.

Turning I smiled at him encouragingly. Azriel cleared his throat, wings rustled behind his back. He did this often when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

"The camps.. are you planning to go there alone?" His deep voice always did this strange thing with my insides. And today was no different. I pushed the feeling aside, to the box of things I shouldn't think about and shut it closed.

"No, I believe last time Rhysand mentioned something about sending an escort. Mor is going with me, too."

"Okay," he nodded. His one word responses the were death of me. It was so hard to keep conversation going.

"Uhm.. So tomorrow? You don't have to hurry if it's inconvenient for you."

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Oh.. So.. uhm.. I'll see you tomorrow." Shadowsinger just nodded looking down at me a little longer than necessary and then finally he turned and left. I let out a long breath.

Next day Rhys came as the first one as soon as I entered my office. I guess he couldn't wait. Cassian stopped by as soon as the training with priestesses was over. I checked their results with their mates during the lunch break just to be sure the numbers are correct.

It was almost evening and Azriel was nowhere to be seen. I packed some of the stuff I needed to take to camps and took a look around. There was nothing else to keep me occupied, so I decided it's time to go home. I was about to open the door when a knock sounded. It was Azriel.

"You came," I greeted him with smile.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. I was-"

"It's okay," I interrupted him. "You really don't need to apologise. I'm grateful you signed up for this."

He made a small noise and handed me a piece of folded paper. I took it and returned to my desk where I left the notebook with all data.

"Were you going to go home already?" he asked while I unfolded the paper.

"Yeah, you came just in time. One minute later and I would be gone." I looked at the number and froze. No way, this was certainly wrong. I compared it to the other numbers. Definitely wrong.

"Something's wrong?" he stepped closer, peeking down on me.

"What?" I was so immersed in my thoughts I didn't hear him. "Excuse me," I said boldly and reached for his crotch. Just to make things clear, I wasn't completely myself, otherwise I wouldn't dare to even think about doing so. In that very moment I was simply researcher and nothing else.

Azriel sharply inhaled, eyes widened, but he held still, blushing heavily.

"As I thought," I mumbled to myself releasing him. "Sweetheart, you were supposed to measure yourself when you are.. You know.. 'excited'. I really didn't think you would try to sabotage the research," I tried to joke to lighten his embarrassment. "With your .. equipment.. there's no reason for you to lose. I thought you are quite competitive."

He just silently looked to the side while the shadows danced around him as if trying to hide him.

"Or did you want me to help you with it?" I smiled teasingly. His head snapped up, hazel eyes finding mine. "Sit down there," I pointed to an armchair near the window. While he did as I asked him, I took a chair, placing it next to the armchair, facing the other side. I took the notebook, a towel and a tape measure I used the other day, and sat down on the chair.

I looked at him amused. From this angle I could see only his face and shoulders. "Go ahead. I won't look." With that I opened the notebook looking for the page, but he hadn't moved gazing up at me.

I smiled still leafing through pages. "Let me tell you a secret, okay? We have something in common, Az." I leaned closer to him as if it was really a secret I was about to reveal. "When I say I won't look, then I really won't do it." I looked straight into his eyes to make it clear that I meant it. "I can even measure you without seeing it. I don't need to touch you either. All I need is for this measure to touch you. That's all. So take your pants off and let me know when you are ready."

At this moment he was panting heavily, his pupils dilated. "Do you want me to chit chat you through it? Or do you prefer silence?" I added, arching a brow at him when he just sat there gazing. Finally he moved and I heard as his pants slid down. Azriel's gaze darkened, his eyes never leaving mine.

He swallowed, his broad chest heaving. "I'm ready" he rasped, his usually deep voice deepened even more. I'd be lying if I said it didn't effect me. Now it was my turn to blush.

I handed him the towel. "Cover yourself." I stood up slowly to give him enough time. I turned to him placing notebook on a small side table within arm's reach. I gasped when I looked down at him. My heart went crazy, running for marathon and I could only wish he didn't hear it.

Azriel sat in the armchair in full grace as if it was his throne, his bare legs with muscles on right places spread wide, towel crumpled in his fist. He grinned challengingly.

Okay, maybe we have more than one thing in common. I hate losing, too.

My mouth went dry and I was panting as heavily as Azriel. My head emptied. It took me every ounce of self-control to step between his legs, control my trembling hands and measure him. But I did it, I didn't break.

"Much better," I said coolly as I wrote results down. I collected my things, ready to leave.

"You want to leave me like this, Y/N?" Azriel growled lowly.

I made the mistake and looked into his beautiful eyes. I wasn't sure what I'd seen in them, but it dug out all forgotten feelings. As wave of lust washed over me I lost control over myself. I sat down on the armrest, my legs brushing his thigh lightly. I placed hands on his shoulders and leaned in.

"You are right. I should repay you," I whispered inches from him.

For a while Azriel watched me as a starved man. Slowly, very slowly he erased the distance between us, his soft lips colliding with mine. The moan that came out from his throat made me forget whatever happened after that.

When his fingers found a waistband of my pants and started unbuttoning them, it was like a cold shower. I broke the kiss, untangling my fingers from his silky dark strands. Eyes still closed, his lips followed after me. I squeezed his fingers in my hands and he looked up at me. I could see he wasn't pleased that I stopped him, but he didn't try to pressure me.

"This part of me is not on offer," I said calmly sending him a sad smile. There wasn't reason to be mad. It was my fault in the first place, I was the one to provoke him. "For you it might be just another one night stay that you forget all about very next morning, but I'm different." I stood up fixing my clothes. "I take male to bed only when I have feelings for him and vice versa." He frowned, ready to say something. "I'm trying to say.. for me it isn't just sex.. To do it, I need real relationship, real feelings, security.. Lust isn't enough. I'm sorry." I left quickly and he didn't try to stop me this time.

Next day early in the morning I left to collect data at camps. Work helped me to forget about that night, but as soon as I stopped, it all returned. The most scary thing was to return back to Velaris and meet him. So I extended my stay as much as possible.

Four months later I was sitting in a sitting room of River House, chatting with Feyre and Mor by the fireplace after the family dinner. I collected all data to get some presentable results and currently I was half through writing in down. (Just between us, the rumors have proven to be true. Larger wingspan equals bigger you-know-what)

It was few weeks since I returned to Velaris and so far Azriel was avoiding me as much as possible. When we happened to be in the same room, he didn't even acknowledge me, looking the other side. So much for my fear.

Did it hurt? As hell. He was my friend. The feelings he awakened that night also didn't disappear over night, haunting me down every spare minute I had. I pushed them deep down, but it was too late. I'd already fallen for him.

During our stay at camps, Mor found out that something must have happened before we left, but she'd never asked about it. Which I was very grateful for. I wasn't ready to talk about it.

Now she kept peeking somewhere behind me, biting on her lower lip, unusually silent. Something was obviously bothering her. I could ask her straight away, but I decided to give her 5 minutes to see if she would start to talk on her own. It took exactly 3 minutes.

"Uhm, Y/N, tell me. Something happened between you and Az?"

"I may have hurt his male ego. Why?" I replied as casually as possible.

"He keeps eyeing you and I know that look too well. He watched me like that for five centuries, but it's never turned into something so... Desperate?" She turned to Feyre. "What do you think?"

Feyre inconspicuously peeked behind me, too. "Yeah, definitely desperate. And sad. Rhys said that lately he isn't himself. As if something was wrong with him? Maybe bothered him? But he won't talk about it."

Mor nodded. I had the urge to turn around and see for myself, but I resisted.

"What happened?" Mor asked and Feyre leaned closer, eager for details.

"Well, he kind of misunderstood the situation.. and I told him.. that I don't do the one night stay thing.."

"He actually went after you?" Mor beamed lowering her voice.

"Not really. I might have provoked him a bit," I reluctantly admitted.

They giggled like small girls, looking at each other.

"Y/N, believe me when I tell you that you can't provoke him," Mor whispered enthusiastically. "Nobody is able to break him. He is like.. granite."

"There must be something more behind it," Feyre added. "You should go and talk to him."

"You should," Mor agreed. "He looks to be on the verge of total breakdown." She again peeked behind me. "Go. Right. Now."

They both gave me nod, stood up and moved to another chat group. I stayed alone, just like Azriel who sat in an alcove with window behind me. I inhaled deeply, slowly breathing out. I could at least give it a try. Standing up I took my glass and walked to him.

"Hey."

"Hey," he answered lowly. I hardly heard him. His face was as unreadable as usually, but his impossibly beautiful hazel eyes.. Yeah, they were right. He looked to be on verge of breakdown. Even his posture was all wrong. Slumped shoulders, hunched over, wings hanging down. The shadows hoovered around him like embodiment of his current mood.

"Everything alright?"

He nodded looking away. Ouch. He didn't want to talk with me. I probably hurt his ego more than I thought. I was lost for words. Did he expect me to apologise? I certainly wouldn't do that. I had every right to stop him back then.

Oh, male and their ego. Suddenly memories of my ex flooded my mind. And I got mad. Rage was the only emotion that never disappeared completely nor healed.

I turned around, ready to leave before I could take it out on the wrong person. Strong fingers wrapped around my arm, stopping me. They held me gently, but firmly. I looked back at Azriel and all the rage was gone instantly.

"Would you mind to it down with me?"

I couldn't speak, still shocked by the pain in his eyes. Just when I was seated in the alcove, he released me and sat back down, too. Silence stretched between us.

"I meant to say this much sooner," he started slowly. "I'm so sorry for my poor behaviour. I'm so ashamed." My fingers curled into fist, but I didn't dare to interrupt him. "I know you were just joking to make me feel better, to relax. I knew it even back then. I wish I could explain why I did it, but I can't. I was.. dick."

And how big dick. I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself. This was serious situation. But in all seriousness, he broke the records. Nobody had bigger than him.

"I should have covered with towel as you asked me. I shouldn't have stopped you. I shouldn't have kissed you," he whispered the last sentence. "I should even be sorry that I kissed you, but I am not. I wanted it. Really wanted. Still want it. I'm trash." He stood up quickly. I managed to pull him back down before he could run away. My pulse skyrocketed.

Waitwaitwait. Had he just said that he still wanted to kiss me? My rational part demanded answers. I had to solve this question before my reckless heart could come to own conclusion. I didn't need another heartbreak.

I looked deep into his eyes. I looked only for truth and nothing else. "Tell me, Az, why? Why do you still want it?"

He blushed fiercely and tried to look away, but I wouldn't let him. "Please."

"I..love you," he whispered and my heart stopped for second only to start racing at a crazy pace later.

I wasn't sure he really said that. That must be just my imagination, right? I gazed at beautiful, elegant Elain with big doe eyes sitting on the other side of room, laughing with her sisters. Yeah, I imagined it. But when my eyes slid back to him, he was gazing right back, tensed, waiting.

"I'm sorry. I think I misheard," I smiled nervously.

"I said.. I love you," Azriel repeated quietly, but clearly.

A single tear rolled down my cheek. I didn't think. I couldn't. I just surged forward and hugged him. He stiffened for a heartbeat and then his strong arms wrapped around me and held me firmly. Another tear followed the first one and then another, until it turned into an endless stream. I felt a cool touch of his shadows. They hid us from prying eyes. Or so I thought.

World tilted to the side and we were in my office where it all had started.

"More private," Azriel whispered when I released him to take a look around, confused.

I quickly wiped tears away. "Oh." I still wasn't ready to talk. My head was a total mess. Love. Azriel just told me he loved me. And he was still waiting for my answer. But I wasn't currently able to put the words together to make even a simple sentence.

"Do you need water?" he offered, helping me to sit to an armchair, the very same armchair where he.. Nope, I couldn't think about it now. It would be too much.

What was the question? Ah, water.. Did I need it? I nodded anyway and he handed me a glass. I emptied it immediately.

Azriel watched me carefully as if I could explode any second. I was trying to find something to ground me and my eyes fell to the notebook. "Wingspan," I blurted. His brows furrowed. "You have the largest wingspan."

He huffed in amusement. "Do I?" Azriel took a step back, his eyes were sad again.

Maybe I was crazy, but I reached out and pulled him down on me. "I believe I still haven't repaid for your help."

He shook his head. " You don't have to-"

"I want." I cupped his cheeks between my hands. He hesitated searching my face, his body tensed above me.

Azriel slowly leaned down and kissed me. It was nothing like the last kiss driven by lust and desire. This kiss was careful, exploring. I pushed against his shoulder and we exchanged our positions.

Just like the last time, Azriel was sitting in the armchair and I was above him. I made sure there was space between us. I didn't want to provoke him, sex was out of the question yet. He knew it, too, and kept his hands on my waist.

I deepened the kiss and soon enough we both turned into a panting mess. Azriel's moan startled me.

"I'm sorry," he rasped.

I giggled. "You moaned back then, too."

"I can't help it," he smiled. Azriel leaned forward, keeping small space between us. He hid his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply again and again. "Touch them."

I swallowed. "What?"

"You can touch them," he spread his wings wide around us. "I've never allowed anybody to touch them. But now I want you to do so."

I was speechless second time today. Sacred Illyrian wings and he asked me to touch them. This was Illyrian way to say he trusted me. He trusted me even with his life.

I ran my fingers through his soft hair. "You know that.. there will be no sex today nor any time soon.." I hoped it came out as a joke. Truthful, but still joke.

He laughed breathlessly. "I know. That doesn't change the fact I want you to touch them. You said you want to repay me. So please.." He kissed the sensitive spot under my ear.

He got me there. If he only knew what he had called upon himself. I wanted to touch them, badly, but not only because they were his. I wanted it because I was the damn researcher which equals to a monster at times. I longed to feel the texture of the skin, to feel every single bone and muscle in them, everything.

"Are you really sure about this?" My attention was already trained on the beautiful enormous wings around me. This was his last chance to back out of this.

"Absolutely. So put those damn little hands of yours on them already," he rasped, landing another kiss to that sensitive spot.

He didn't need to repeat it again.

I gasped as tips of my fingers traced the soft skin around the bone. It. Was. Perfect. I expected them to be cold and rough to touch. Even though I touched him just lightly, I could feel every single muscle, even the smallest ones. The bone seemed to be so fragile and strong at the same time. Skin was so warm, stretchy and impossibly soft like baby's skin. I mapped every vein running through the membranes, his pulse drumming under my hands. I traced every scarred tissue I found, paying it extra attention.

I was so immersed into exploring his wings that I hadn't noticed what my curiosity did to Azriel until he came under me with a wall shattering roar. I winced, looking down at him.

His head was tilted back, eyes closed tightly. He was trembling and panting, his broad chest heaving heavily. Streams of sweat were running down the column of his exposed neck. His hands were fisting the material of armrests so tightly he almost torn it into shreds.

I couldn't believe I'd missed something so..amazing. Azriel was a piece of art in every possible meaning. My fingers traced the vein that bobbed out on his neck. He shuddered, his eyes slowly opened, looking up at me. Shadowsinger smiled weakly. "Only you can do this to me," his voice was hoarse.

I brushed away a damp strand of hair that fell to his forehead. My heart was beating wildly as I leaned in and kissed him slowly and deeply. His hands embraced me, pulling me closer.

"I love you," I whispered to his mouth.

I wasn't scared anymore. In this very moment I was more confident than ever that I would spend the rest of my life with this perfect male. Because he was mine and I was his.

[prythianpages]

Dandelions | Masterlist

݁˖ ❀ ⋆ A series of imagines/drabbles inspired by Ruth B's Dandelions, in which Azriel's mate is a Green Witch ݁˖ ❀ ⋆

☪ = smut ☁︎ = fluff `♡´= angst

One Shots

𓇢𓆸 A Field of Dandelions ☁︎ `♡´ | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of Spring and Autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

𓇢𓆸 au where you're the one who says the line "please don't talk to me like that" [click here] `♡´

𓇢𓆸 feyre's reaction to Az and you [click here] ☁︎

𓇢𓆸 I Love You ☁︎ | The moment you realize you're in love with Azriel.

𓇢𓆸 HCs of Az and you accepting the bond [click here] ☁︎ ☪

𓇢𓆸 I Put A Spell On You ☁︎ | A night out at Rita's. You're first outing after accepting the bond.

𓇢𓆸 The Family Reunion ☁︎ | Azriel unknowingly and accidentally welcomes your family into your home.

𓇢𓆸 My Sweet Little Wildflower `♡´ | After begging Azriel to take you with him to Windhaven, he finally concedes. But his worries of you getting hurt come to life when you're kidnapped.

𓇢𓆸 The Love Potion ☁︎ ☪ | Azriel asks you for an elixir to soothe his aches and you accidentally give him the aphrodisiac you had made for Nesta, bringing to surface one of his hidden desires.

𓇢𓆸 a little headcanon of Az and you having a daughter [click here] ☁︎

𓇢𓆸 headcanons of you and Az starting a family (focus on your three children) [click here] [bonus]

𓇢𓆸 Slipping Through My Fingers ☁︎ | It's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go.

𓇢𓆸 Sprinkles ☁︎ | You and your daughter return back from visiting your family in the Middle with an unexpected surprise.

𓇢𓆸 But the Worms ☁︎ | Azriel is woken up by one of your daughters in the middle of the night to answer some of her questions.

𓇢𓆸 Strange Love | Alora nearly sends Azriel into a mini crisis when she tells you she has a boyfriend.

more drabbles/HCs

˖𓍢ִ໋🕸 I Put A Spell On You pt 2 | You're the hot witch gf and they let you do whatever the hell you want.

˖𓍢ִ໋🕸 Very Demure | How each witch would respond to the "trend."

a/n: If you have any ideas or would like to request something, feel free to send it my way. I can't promise to always be able to write an actual imagine but I can definitely do some headcanons.

[witch au masterlist]

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Epilogue

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Some suggestiveness

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Three years later.

You lay sprawled out under the covers, limbs tangled up in the sheets as you awoke slowly with the sun and frowned at the empty space beside you.

As if on cue, Eris emerged from the next room, hair dripping like molten fire with a towel wrapped around his trim waist. He grinned at the look on your face, tossing the towel to the side and sliding into bed. He rolled over on top of you, kissing every inch of skin he saw.

“And why are you frowning this morning, my love?”

You hummed with satisfaction when his lips found the curve of your neck, “Because my husband was rude and woke up without me. Didn’t even invite me to take a bath with him.”

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Terrible. But maybe this husband of yours wanted to allow you the rest you so greatly deserve." He kissed your throat delicately before moving his lips to your ear where he whispered, “Maybe this husband of yours wanted to wake you up properly.”

His hands wandered downward.

“Hmmmm, perhaps.” You said, brushing his hair back with your fingers. “I suppose I could forgive him if that was the case.” 

Eris grinned, his lips slotting over yours like that was what they’d been crafted for. 

“So… am I forgiven?” He asked coyly.

You thought it over for a minute, “No.” 

You began to shriek with laughter when he unceremoniously lifted you up, slung you over his shoulder, and made his way over to the bath. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Inviting my wife in for a bath with me.”

“You just got out.” 

“So?” Eris smiled wickedly over his shoulder at you. “I’ll never protest more time spent with you.” 

You and Eris took a long time in the bath, hands trailing over skin like you had all the time in the world. It was time for the Harvest Festival again. The last week had been a flurry of activity, securing the borders and organizing guards so that the festivities might be enjoyed without worry. Now you could afford to bask in the morning sun and whisper your words of love to one another. Now you could afford to take your time.

The smell of cinnamon, honey, and oranges wafted in the air, clinging to your hair and skin and driving Eris made with love. He held you pressed up against his chest, fingers trailing up and down your back languidly.

“I love you.” He murmured.

“I love you.” You whispered, dropping kisses over his eyes, “My High Lord,” Over his cheeks, “My husband,” Over his lips, “My love.” 

He hummed with satisfaction, “I like it when you call me your husband.”

“Well that is what you are.”

“Yes, I am well aware. I was at the ceremony after all.”

“Really? I could have sworn it was someone else.” You teased, “Someone more handsome and strong and-” 

Eris growled playfully, his fingers tickling the sensitive skin of your ribs until he heard your laughter again. It sounded like heaven to his ears.

You both moved with ease about your bedroom, dressing, eating, and working slowly and stealing kisses whenever the opportunity presented itself. That was until Myrah and Halvor arrived. She stole you away to one of the adjoining rooms to get ready for the festivities that night. 

Ever the dutiful blademaiden, she oiled and braided your hair, running gold lace through the strands before you turned around and did the same for her. It was at the moment you brushed her hair off her shoulders that you caught sight of the thin gold necklace hidden beneath the collar of her dress with Halvor’s scent still wrapped around it.

Myrah’s cheeks flooded pink when she caught your lingering gaze. 

Your lips parted into a mischievous grin, “So you and Halvor?”

“Shhh!” She hissed, pointing towards the other room where Halvor and Eris were getting ready. “Not so loudly.” 

You tipped your head back and began to laugh. You and Eris had an ongoing bet about when the pair would finally admit their feelings for one another. You were fairly certain you’d won.

As if the necklace wasn’t enough, Halvor’s eyes lit up like fae lights when you and Myrah emerged. The cream-colored dress brought out the warmth in her skin, storm gray eyes tinted blue from the gold accents. 

He bowed his head ever so slightly, throwing her a smirk, “Nice dress. You clean up well."

It was his way of saying "You look beautiful."

She rolled her eyes at him with affection, accepting his arm half-heartedly. 

Eris slunk over to your side, kissing your temple and wrapping his arm around your waist. You followed a safe distance behind Myrah and Halvor, and Eris couldn’t help the flood of warmth in his chest to see his brother so… so happy. 

To anyone else, it would look like Myrah was half an inch away from slapping that smirk off Halvor’s face. But you could tell she was suppressing a smile with every piece of her being and Eris could tell that beneath all the layers, Halvor’s smile was full of love.

“I believe you won the bet, my love.” Eris whispered into your ear.

“And when will I get my prize?”

“Later tonight?” He winked and you blushed.

“Later tonight is good.” 

You breathed in deeply when you winnowed out of the Forest House to the fields beyond. Joyous laughter ricocheted off the tree trunks and barrels of ale and mead piled neatly off to the side of the dance circle. Mountains of food were laid out on hand-sewn tablecloths and a fae with plum-colored skin and dragonfly wings flitted about carrying pints of beer in both hands as he shouted towards his friends.

Musicians tuned their instruments, straining to hear the notes over the beat of the drums a pair of horned children had strapped to their chests. Their parents chased after them as they shrieked and ran away on spindly legs, but no one made a move to stop them. It was good to see children roaming the Autumn Court woods again.

One of them ran into Eris’s legs, eyes widening like dinner plates when his gaze traced up the resplendent yards of emerald velvet and landed on the crown on his head. 

You and Eris smiled at one another before he leaned down, plucked the child up and placed him back on his feet. With a snap of his fingers the shoddily built drum was replaced by a hand-crafted wonder, nearly as tall as the child was wide. Eris winked and the child screamed with delight, sprinting off to join his companions toasting walnuts by the bonfire and beating his drum all the way.

Farmers gathered around in circles, riotous laughter echoing upwards as they flipped over the last of seven cards on the ground. Music began to fill the sky, a fast and bright melody that pulled fae to their feet and out to the dance circle. 

Even Halvor wasn’t immune to its call. He pulled Myrah to her feet before she could finish working on her fire lantern, but there would be time for that later. Now was a time for dancing. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her when he spun around on his heels, one arm beckoning her forward. 

You leaned your head against Eris’s shoulder, watching the fire roar with life as your people danced and swayed like the leaves in the wind, lifting up the words of the songs that had been passed down from generation to generation. 

He held your hand, lifted it up to his lips for a kiss. A ring glittered there on your finger, winking at him as you smiled. 

Who was to say whether you had made the right or wrong decision? If there even was a right or wrong decision. But as you touched the tender place where the bond lay silent and still, but never truly gone, you knew one thing - you’d made a decision you could live with.

Sprawling cities, like Velaris and those that dotted other courts, would never find a home in Autumn. The land wasn’t built for it and neither were the people. The land was built for rolling hills encrusted with fields and trees more vibrant and precious than all the jewels in the world, for flowing rivers that raced through the heart of Autumn, carrying life to the people who knew how to endure and burned more fiercely for it.

Eris cleared his throat and bowed deeply, the unbuttoned collar of his shirt flaring out like the wings of a dove, “My High Lady, my love, would you please do me the honor of a dance?”

You pulled him up with a strength and earnestness that made him chuckle, pressing your lips against his in a kiss that had him grinning from ear to ear. He lifted you up and spun you around, skirts flaring out around you like the petals on a flower. He finally set you on the ground, fingers ghosting over the curve of your lips and your cheeks.

“I would love to dance with you, my High Lord.” 

“My wife.” 

You smiled. “My husband.” 

You sprinted towards the dance circle with Eris in tow, bare feet kicking up the dark, soft soil that cushioned your steps as you sprang into the spirited dance. The fae around you whooped and cheered as you two lept around each other, Eris tossing and spinning you in the air with a joy no one had ever thought possible from a High Lord of Autumn. 

Dark days had passed and everyone could bask happily in this moment. 

You had found your family and you had built your home.

<- Previous Chapter

______

Author's note:

Thank you for following along with this story and for reading! I know it's not perfect, but I'm really happy with how it came out and I hope it made you laugh and cry and smile and generally gave you all the feels.

Now excuse me while I hole up like a gremlin and write some Azriel x Reader fics because I also love him and want him to feel happy and loved.

Love,

Florence B.

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