#Thorne's Writing

[dragongirlintestines]

Hunger Over Levin-3, Part 1

A vore fic featuring Thorne and Prin (@wolfgirlguts)

Ashvale station, in the orbit of Levin-3, has lain derelict for several years. The only things keeping it functional are the autonomous maintenance systems, still diligently scrubbing oxygen filters and purifying water. Designed to last, the half-mile long series of abandoned habitation rings has become a favorite stop of pirates, mercenaries, and others who would otherwise prefer to lay low for a few days. It's a far cry from the tourist-heavy resort destination whatever megacorp built the structure intended it for.

However, such shadowed corners of the galaxy are ideal hunting grounds for monsters.

Content warnings: Mentions of Sex, Blood, Gore, Graphic Digestion, General Cruelty.

Retro-rockets fire as a lone shuttle makes its final approach to Ashvale station, its raider crew cramped from the arduous journey and ready to spend some time reveling in their recent spoils. The raid had gone easier than expected, and they have some time to waste before they're due to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

Six bodies cross the umbilical between fuselage and installation, a mix of soft furs, ears of various shapes, and one tough, scaly hide. Two foxgirls, one red and one silver, mischievous grins flashing in the half light. A deergirl with an impressive rack of antlers spins an ill-gotten amulet around one finger, while a bright-eyed rabbit boy follows closely behind, eagerly chatting to her about something. Behind those four, standing two heads above the rest, a broad croc gal trudges, hauling one unwieldy laser cannon over her shoulder. Finally, a wolfman with greying muzzle follows, his walking staff thrumming with arcane power.

"Did you see the way that one looked when we busted down the door?" the rabbit remarks to the doe, "Priceless! I never get tired of those corpos' reactions when they realize they've fucked up!"

One of the vixens turns and smirks back at him, "Maybe we should see if we can get you to make that same face tonight!"

"I think you'd look quite cute begging for your life like that," the other vixen chimes in, moving to flank the leporine young man. A blush crosses his face as he recalls the pair's reputation for needing to burn off excess energy after a raid.

Similar jests continue as the motley crew make their way through slowly rotating habitation rings, finding a cluster of rooms around a common dining hall. It would seem the last residents to make use of the station had a sense of thieves-honor, and kept the rooms decently well maintained before their departure. The halls themselves are silent, lights extinguished except when the approaching party's life signs trigger their activation. The revelrous sound of footfalls and energetic excitement echo back and forth as the pirates set up for several sols of post-raid debauchery.

Not one of them notices as another small shuttle silently glides in to dock alongside their craft.

--

"Ahhh, it was so nice of them to leave that booze behind the bar! I was worried we'd have to dip into some of our own stash tonight!" sighs the red-furred vixen, reclining on a bed laden with pillows. The bunny boy, now thoroughly winded, rests his head on her slightly chubby belly, too exhausted and drunk to do anything about the mix of fluids matting down their fur. Beside them, the other vixen lays an arm across the pair, completing the rabbit sandwich.

"Yeah, and we still wouldn't have to if you hadn't drank half the bar, Shay," the silver fox groans, a teasing grin playing across her face as she gazes longingly into her girlfriend's eyes.

"Shut up, Bella," The other shoots back, flicking her partner's snout playfully. Above them, something creaks in the station.

"I didn't think we were that rough…" Bella jokes, before turning back to her lovers. "Whatever."

"Uggghhhh…" moans the cottontail between them, as he begins to roll off of Shay. "Gotta piss, do you know where the toilet is?"

"Nope! Let us know where it is when you find it!" Bella laughs. "Maybe after you use it. Unless you're into that, Ollie!"

"Ew. No." he deadpans as he disentangles himself from the horny vixen.

"Okie! Take your time, I'll get Shay here warmed up for round four!"

"Those stupid horny foxes…" Ollie thinks to himself as he leaves the room, unable to help but glance back at their still-throbbing cocks. It doesn't go unnoticed, and Shay shoots him a mischievous wink in response.

--

"Where is the damn bathroom?" The rabbit finds himself thinking, as he meanders through the hallways of the derelict station. The thought crosses his mind that this kind of poor design may have been one of the factors that led to its failure as a resort, and he chuckles to himself.

Up ahead, one of the sensor lights flickers on.

"Hello?" he calls out, wondering if one of his comrades was also up and about. As he casually strolls towards the light, it flickers out again, before reigniting when he comes in range.

"odd…" he mutters to himself.

"If I remember tomorrow, I should check that out and see if anything else is malfunctioning" he thinks. He is, at least sometimes, the responsible one of the crew. Finally, his wandering eyes catch sight of a sign, and he sighs in relief as he realizes his search has come to an end.

--

As the heat of the dryer cleans the fur on his hands, one of Ollie's ears perks up, as he hears the sound of footsteps outside the small lavatory. "I'll be out in a second!" he calls, hoping whoever is waiting didn't have to search quite as hard as he had.

Paws still slightly damp, he hurries through the door, and gently closes it behind himself. Turning back around, adrenaline spikes in his veins as he finds his vision filled with a mass of ashen blue scales. A pair of digitigrade legs, each foot tipped with sharp, bony talons ten centimeters long. Behind them flicks a long tail, pale golden ventral scales underneath contrasting with the same blue as the creature's thighs.

He slowly lifts his vision, trying not to stare too hard at the slight bulge in the golden scales and wide hips sitting just above his eye level. The creature's torso is a mass of muscle and flesh, and nestled between her breasts sits a strange device, a grey half-sphere glowing with baleful blue light. Hoses run from this core, most punching down into the flesh of the creature, but as his eyes follow two of them up to its left where they join into a terrifying mess of metal and synthetic muscle. A prosthetic arm, though he considers that it may have simply been an "upgrade" to the flesh it once was, given how its construction speaks of pure violent intent. It ends in a set of three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with sharp, polished points, the whole hand larger than his head. The terrifying metallic claws of the creature's left arm, however, seem barely an upgrade when he compares to the equally terrifying fleshy right arm. The whole body is framed by massive blue wings, tucked neatly up against its back.

Finally, he looks up to the creature's head, crocodilian to a certain extent, with pale ivory horns protruding from a mane of blue hair. Piercing, lightning-blue eyes leer down at him, and a pale red tongue runs along her lips as she looks down, hungrily.

"h… hello." he stammers, before the creature's metallic claw wraps around his torso and lifts him three feet off the ground, slamming him painfully against the door he just closed.

"Hey there, little snack," The creature growls, a wicked grin splitting its lips, revealing two dozen vicious teeth, each three inches long. Pure terror shoots through his veins, and he screams, every molecule of air he can expend tearing out of his lungs in a desperate cry for someone to save him.

Be it through sheer bad luck or a cruel twist of fate, he can hear a fox's scream of pleasure echoing faintly back through the halls of the station.

"Shame," the beast laughs, "you'll need that breath to run." It whips around, hurling Ollie's limp body 15 feet down the hallway. He bounces and tumbles, and feels several of his ribs bruise from the impact. "Get to it, little meat,"

"Meat?" he thinks to himself, unsure if he heard correctly, before the creature's draconic maw speaks again.

"I need to work up an appetite before dinner."

Oh. He heard correctly, he realizes. She wants to eat him. His mind races, the thought that a fellow sapient would stoop to something so taboo. Sure, some sapients would give in to their predatory instincts, but even the most depraved raiders stuck to hunting non-sapient animals.

"What, did I break you already?" a laughing growl peals from the beast's throat.

He doesn't need to be prompted. He needs to get back to his crew. They have weapons there. Victor might be able to weave a spell to bring her down. Or he could just be leading the monster to them. To devour them all.

No time to worry about that though. He needs to run. Now.

His paws scramble against the metallic floor, struggling for purchase. After agonizing seconds he pushes himself up off the ground, tearing down the corridors of the station.

He takes the forks on instinct, first left, then right, right feels correct here; there's no sense of direction, he just has to hope that by some miracle these labyrinthine corridors don't come to a dead end, and that he doesn't end dead.

No such luck. One wrong turn, and he rounds a corner into a common area of sorts. A large window looks out over the infinte void of space, the peaceful horizon of Levin-3 turning carefree down below. It would be beautiful, if he were anyone else.

To him, all it spells is despair. He's trapped here, in this beautiful lounge, with a monster between him any anyone who could save him. He's going to die here. He's going to die and be devoured by some sort of unhinged dragon woman. He's going to die and then she's going to slaughter his crew and no one will ever find their bodies.

No. he's not given up yet. Though the beast's pounding footsteps echo distantly through the station, he might yet be able to hide. He takes a chance to look around, noticing several doors labeled "penthouse suite" around the corners of the room.

He picks one, and to his relief, it opens with a quiet hiss. He dashes through, and finds a button with a padlock icon on the other side. His paw slams into it frantically, and the door gently clicks behind him. The lights in the room turn on, revealing a dusty, but lavishly decorated suite. A couch, table, and entertainment suite are laid out in front of him, with a kitchenette occupying one corner of the room. Through another doorway, he spies a comfortable looking bed, equally lavishly furnished.

He just needs to stay calm, and hopefully that… thing… will leave him be. He doesn't want to think about what that means for his friends, but that's a problem for when he makes it out alive.

Bile surges in his throat as exertion finally catches up to him, and he leaves a mess on the carpet as he retches. Recovering slowly, he tiptoes his way to the bedroom, tucking himself underneath the bed, behind the bed runner. It's sheer, and he can see the door through it, but it's as concealed as he can hope.

--

Agonizing minutes pass, and he can feel reverberations as the massive creature treads her way through the halls of the station.

"Did I put enough distance between us? Did she lose my trail?" Oliver wonders to himself.

The motion sensor lights turn off in the room, and he realizes the station itself kept his trail, writ large in pale LED lighting. A single, heavy footfall shakes the floor, and he knows death awaits right beyond the door.

A surprisingly gentle knock breaks the silence, followed by a mocking falsetto growl.

"Room service!"

A momentary pause that could last a lifetime. A prey animal trapped in its own nest holds its breath desperately hoping against hope that his doom would turn her gaze elsewhere.

"Ah well, worth a try," comes the growl, taking cruel pleasure in its little joke.

Metal shrieks against metal as hardened steel talons punch through the door, tearing through the it like paper. Blue scales fill the doorframe, and the creature stoops to let itself in. It sniffs a moment, then wrinkles its nose at the small vomit stain on the floor. A low, throaty growl escapes its lips, as it scans the room.

Oliver's eyes fall upon it at the same time as the beast's. A clean trail of pawprints in the otherwise pristine carpet of the room.

The beast crouches down, taking its time to crawl towards the poor rabbit's hiding place. "I didn't know you thought of me this way," she croons as she steps slowly, deliberately towards the bedroom. Stooping again through the second doorway, it presses itself to the ground. It lifts the bed runner, making full eye contact with one terrified lagomorph. Her claw lashes out, filling his vision, metal fingers splaying around his ears. He feels crushing pressure around his skull, and wonders if this is the end.

It is not. She pulls him out from under the bed by his ears, pain shooting through his scalp, and he can feel something warm run down the back of his neck.

"nononoNONONO!" he screams and kicks as she lifts him slowly up off the ground, before forcing him down onto the bed. Not too long ago, he remembers dreaming of something similar with a certain vixen, but this is much less desirable. For the second time within the hour, a scream rips its way through his throat, hoarse and ragged.

The monster does not allow it to last. She climbs up onto the bed after him, its lightweight orbit-alloy frame cracking under half a ton of draconic flesh. Her claws wrap around his arms, and those terrifying jaws crack open impossibly wide. He tries to squirm, but his arms are held tight to his torso, leaving only his legs to flail helplessly against the air, while the beast lifts him towards her rows of flesh-rending fangs.

The deathly maw snaps forward, driving daggers into his arms and gut, forcing the last screaming breath out of his lungs. He shuts his eyes, not wanting to stare down the yawning throat that pulses and throbs, eager for meat. It is only when she takes another hungry swallow, teeth this time piercing his soft ass, that he realizes this monster has no intent to chew. Her tounge dances along his abdomen, and a growl of pleasure reverberates up through the throat around him. Wretched, hot air wafts up from within its throat as he feels its tongue play across his body, tip winding its way into gaping wounds, lapping at his freely flowing blood. The agony is exquisite, but he can only manage a tiny whimper.

Again, the creature swallows, her tongue slipping between his thighs to push him deeper down her throat, rubbing against a sensitive nub of flesh. He is cruelly reminded of a joke Shay made about "playing with her prey" when her tongue had been in a similar position earlier that night.

He can feel as his ears slip into her gullet, and his face is pressed firmly into the soft entrance. Another burst of adrenaline kicks in, and his whole body flexes and writhes, raging against the terrifying thought of being digested alive. His arms, now free of the claws holding them in place, desperately grasp at something, anything, that he might use to pull himself out. Too late he realizes his paw has grasped something bony and round. Murderous jaws once again slam shut around him, and his hand is quickly turned to a mangled, bloody mess as it is impaled between dragon teeth. Likewise, his writhing legs are stilled as daggers sever nerves in his thighs, before pressure builds and he can feel a femur snap beneath several tons of bite force.

Her prey now somewhat more subdued, the dragon tosses her head back, letting gravity aid in pulling this morsel down her throat. One leg hangs limply outside her maw, as the still living meat is hungrily dragged into her throat. The rabbit can't even feel as she wraps her tongue around that limb, and lazily drags it down with the rest of him, not a care given for the disfigured mass of flesh it has become.

The throat is crushingly tight around Oliver, but compared to the bite force he had just experienced, it feels downright gentle. Peristaltic motions pull him ever deeper, and he cannot help but whimper, knowing in his heart that there is no escaping now; only slow, agonizing death. As he whimpers, his body shakes, and tears fall from his eyes, mingling with the esophageal mucous surrounding him. The beast's gullet, ignorant to his misery, pulls him ever deeper.

He feels a gentle pressure against his head, which gives way as the esophageal muscles push him into a more open chamber. He gasps, and immediately regrets it. Painfully acidic fumes burn the sensitive inside of his nose, down his throat, all the way into his lungs. A moment later he opens his eyes, another immediate regret. The throat pushes again. His face is plunged into chemical soup, immediately searing his corneas blind. Now panicking in sightless darkness, he can't help but thrash wildly with what little strength he has left. He feels himself fall for a brief moment, and a weight lands on top of him. He realizes that he can't feel his legs anymore.

As he thrashes, he can hear that same rumbling growl from before, only now it emanates from all around him.

"Mmmmm… yeah. I should get rabbit more often…"

He can feel something pushing on the stomach walls, as the beast rubs her slightly swollen gut. To an outside observer, were it not for the occasional bump, it would be barely obvious that an entire sapient had just been tucked away behind those scales.

"Shouldn't have crushed his legs though… they'd probably feel real good kicking in there…" Impotent fury surges through his mind as Ollie realizes she's taking pleasure in his digestive demise.

"Let me out! You fucker!" he screams, his voice hoarse from his previous exertions, as well as the scouring acidic air of her guts.

"Hmmmm… Aww, does food not know its place?" the monster ackowledges him, pure cruel mockery in its voice.

"Why… We're both sapients… You're a monster…" he moans, delirium starting to set in from lack of air.

"Oh I'm aware, you're hardly the first delicious little morsel to call me that."

"You've gotta let me ou- glrk" the poor rabbit's voice chokes as cruel hands force him under gastric juices. Bloody chime quickly surges into his throat, violating his insides. His tongue feels slippery as it begins to melt, and he finds himself unable to speak as his vocal cords sear through.

"Oh, no, I've still got a whole meal to worry about before that…"

Muscular claws push down on the belly, and it clenches painfully around him. He feels burning inside his chest, and pressure outside. Something twitches, then gives. His ribcage collapses, crushing his heart. Sensation begins to fade.

"I wonder if Prin's caught anything yet…" the bunny hears, moments before hopping off the mortal coil.

[aerequets]

Oh. That was when it clicked for Yor. She knew this: the hollow aching in your chest, the near permanent dread that made eating a chore, the way all your muscles seemed to perpetually be tensed. It was the fear of the impermanent, the vulnerable.

the great thing about writing and drawing is i can draw what i write and write what i draw >:)

(this is then and now chapter 8)

[illyrianbitch]

Body Count

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Anxious about how your lack of experience compares to Azriel's, you ask him about his body count. Unfortunately for him, he misunderstands the question gravely.

based on this funny lil request!

Warnings: angst if you squint, miscommunication, silly az and silly cassian making fun of silly az, mentions of death/killing, a sweet lil kiss! fluff!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You’ve always had a soft spot for Azriel. 

It wasn’t just his mysterious aura and brooding looks that made him irresistibly attractive to you— though those definitely added to the appeal. Azriel was thoughtful. He was attentive. He seemed to understand you and your needs in a way that none of your other friends could. 

Your feelings for him had grown over time, blossoming into a full-blown crush.

And for the most part, it seemed like Azriel enjoyed your company too. 

There was a playful flirtation between you two, a spark that you hoped would ignite into something more. It had grown even hotter these past two months, through conversations that were held entirely too close to one another, stolen glances, and brief touches that sent shivers down your spine. 

But deep down in your stomach, there was something holding you back— a bitter, nauseating feeling. You weren’t just nervous, you were insecure. 

It wasn’t a secret that Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand had their fair share of lovers. After all, they were all extremely attractive and had lived for centuries longer than you. But the idea of Azriel’s love life had begun to spin itself into an anxious, terrifying web in your mind. You weren’t experienced in such matters— at least, not nearly as experienced as Azriel must've been. The thought was daunting to you. Terrifying, really.

It was late at night now, and the last of your family had bid their goodnights, retreating to their respective rooms and homes. You found yourself alone with Azriel in the dimly lit living room, the small crackling fire mixing with the remnants of the celebration that lingered in the air— the heady scent of wine and the distinct smells of each of your loved ones. 

You stole a glance at Azriel, noticing the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes bright with mirth. His shadows were calm, dancing playfully around his feet and his arms. He caught your gaze instantly, offering you a lopsided smile, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a way that made your heart flutter.

This was your chance— a perfect, quiet moment to confess something to him. To tell him how you felt. 

But the nauseating feeling in your stomach bubbled up once more. You bit the inside of your cheek. Perhaps it was the perfect moment indeed. Not to confess your feelings quite yet, but to get rid of the spider web of overthinking you’d created. 

Summoning up the courage, you leaned closer to him, the alcohol emboldening you. "Hey, Az," you began, your voice soft and hesitant.

Azriel turned to you. "Yeah?" 

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can I ask you something?"

Azriel’s face seemed to soften. "Of course."

You held his gaze for a moment, taking in the hues of his eyes that seemed more golden in the firelight. A small blush rose to your cheeks and you swallowed nervously, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. 

"What is your body count?" 

Azriel blinked. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as his mouth slightly parted, and you watched as his gaze seemed to dance around your face. He opened his mouth to respond, but a hiccup escaped him instead of words.

"I'm just... I was just wondering," you stammered, your cheeks burning hotter with heat. "If you're comfortable sharing, that is."

Azriel smiled at you, letting out another small hiccup as he repositioned himself to lean closer.  His shadows seemed to reach out towards you, a subtle, almost subconscious gesture of reassurance. "It's alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't mind sharing."

He took a moment to compose himself. “8,754.”

As if you’d been doused in icy water, your alcohol-induced haze dissipated instantly. 

"Oh," you breathed out, your eyes widening in shock. "Oh."

You would’ve tried harder to hide your shock, but the only thing you could focus on now was the large, heavy, number. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of it settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. 

You expected a large number, sure. You told yourself that you could come to terms with it, learn how to be comfortable with the gap in your experiences. But you hadn’t prepared yourself for this large of a number, and suddenly you felt… uneasy. 

Azriel watched you closely, his expression quickly filling with concern. "Are you alright?" 

Azriel had been with over 8,754 people?

You nodded slowly. Unable to meet his gaze, you casted your eyes towards the carpet in front of him. "Yeah, I'm fine," you murmured, "I, uh, I think I need to go home. I must’ve drank too much."

Azriel seemed to sober up immediately. His shadows, which had been lazily swirling around his feet, suddenly grew still, sensing his shift in mood. He sat up straight, a look of worry crossing his features. "Here, let me walk you to your room," he offered, his wings slightly unfurling as if ready to rise.

You avoided his gaze once more, shaking your head quickly. "It's alright. I got it," you insisted, standing up a bit too quickly. You swayed slightly, and his wings twitched as if he wanted to reach out and steady you. You quickly regained your balance. "Goodnight, Az."

Azriel watched you go, shadows trailing after you slightly before retracting back to him. His wings sagged, a sense of helplessness washing over him as he watched your retreating form disappear down the hallway.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel was tense. Every muscle in his body, every movement he made, it all felt constrained– stressed. Troubled. His shadows swirled restlessly around him, their hurried movements perfectly mirroring the deep agitation he felt in his gut.

Days had passed since his last proper conversation with you. He missed it— missed your presence, missed your laughter. He’d grown so used to your company, had begun to look forward to your conversations and the small flirty banter that he’d gained the confidence to indulge in. But you were distant now— awkward, even. And it was driving him mad. 

It was hot out, the afternoon sun blaring down on him and Cassian as the sound of clashing blades filled the air. Heavy sweat trickled down their faces, to a point where Azriel’s hair clung to his forehead like glue. 

But Azriel’s mind was anywhere but the training ring. And his brother quickly noticed.

"Alright," Cassian said, stepping back and lowering his weapon. "Either you're losing to stroke my ego, or something's going on."

Azriel grumbled, parrying another blow. "I'd never lose for your ego.” His wings twitched in annoyance. 

Cassian frowned, a scrutinizing gaze watching Azriel's movements closely. Something was definitely off. He tied his hair back up, securing it tightly. "Alright, spill it."

"No," Azriel replied curtly, his grip tightening on his weapon. His shadows seemed to wrap tighter around his form, as if trying to shield him from the conversation.

"No?" Cassian echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to talk about my feelings with you. We're not twelve.”

Cassian let out a small scoff, raising his hands in exasperation. "By the Cauldron, Az, just tell me why you've got a stick up your ass."

Azriel glared at him. A moment passed. And then he sighed, sheathing his weapon. 

"Y/N has been avoiding me, it seems."

Cassian frowned. "Are you sure?"

The question only brought a scowl to Azriel’s face, who threw Cassian a glare. 

"Yes, Cassian. I'm sure."

There was an itchy, prickling feeling of annoyance filtering through Azriels skin. His shadows flared out briefly before settling back into their usual orbit.

"Well, what did you do?"

Azriel’s shadows twisted tighter and his wings rustled uneasily.

"I didn't do anything.” 

Cassian gave him a skeptical look, crossing his arms. "Really?"

Azriel threw him another withering glare. But when Cass only responded with a raised eyebrow, Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly. "At least, nothing that I'm aware of."

"Alright," Cass said, "Maybe you offended her somehow. What happened the last time things were normal? Can you remember?"

Azriel paused. He remembered quite clearly despite the drunken haze he had been in. He grimaced as the memory drifted into his mind, bright and clear as day. 

"She asked me for my body count.”

Cassian’s eyes widened. He stilled, leaning forward slightly. "And?"

"And I told her.”

There was a pensive look on Cassian’s face, a furrow forming between his brows as he processed Azriel's words. He narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What is your body count?" 

Exactly like that other night, Azriel replied without hesitation. "8,754.”

Cassian coughed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I-I’m sorry?" he spluttered, caught off guard by the staggering number.

Azriel's confusion deepened, a frown marring his features. "You know this.”

"No," Cassian countered, shaking his head emphatically. “I do not know this.”

Azriel clenched his jaw, offering Cassian a cold unamused and irritated stare. “Yes, you do.”

"Apparently not.” Cassian let out a scoff. “Hell, I would’ve remembered if you slept with almost nine thousand people, Az. That's more than me."

Azriel’s face twisted into a scowl, a deep crease forming between his brows. His wings flared slightly. 

"Slept with? What the hell are you talking about?" 

Realization flickered in Cassian’s widened eyes, and suddenly, an understanding dawned on him. "Oh," he breathed out, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He let out a hearty laugh. "Got all the skills in the world but that brain still fails ya, huh Az?" 

Azriel fought the urge to send a swift hit to his brother's jaw, if only to knock the amused grin off his face. 

"Can you be serious for one godsdamned minute?" Azriel snapped.

Cassian's laughter subsided, his expression sobering as he met Azriel's gaze— only slightly. The grin still persisted. "Body count doesn’t refer to your kill count," he explained, "It’s how many people you’ve fucked."

Azriel's face dropped and the color drained from his cheeks. From behind him, his wings fell limp. "You can’t be serious.”

"Deadly serious, brother.”

Azriel glanced to the ground, his mind racing through that moment with you. He thought back to your response, to that small “Oh” that haunted him, to the way your eyes widened. He’d simply assumed that you were disgusted by the amount of lives he’d taken, that you’d spent the night imagining how much blood was on his hands. For some reason, this new reality of what the question meant— it felt even more intimate. Oh gods.

"So does Y/n think that I..." he trailed off.

"That you've fucked almost nine thousand people?" Cassian finished for him, a subtle grimace painted on his features.

"But I haven't," Azriel protested.

"Well, you should probably be telling her that." 

Azriel didn't waste another moment. He turned on his heel, desperate to immediately find you and explain the very apparent miscommunication. 

"Wait!" Cassian called out. Azriel paused, turning around with an impatient glare. 

"Take a bath. You stink," Cassian said, wrinkling his nose for emphasis.

Azriel's glare deepened, and he flipped Cassian off before continuing his stride toward the exit.

Cassian's laughter boomed behind him, the sound trailing after Azriel as he walked away. "eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-four," Cassian muttered to himself, still chuckling in disbelief.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel rushed down the hallway. Following Cassian’s unasked for advice, he was freshly bathed, hair still damp and clinging to his forehead. His shadows flitted nervously around his feet, his wings twitching restlessly at his back. 

He had no time to waste. Azriel really liked you. He needed to find you and clear up the misunderstanding before it began to fester into something deeper, something much harder to clean up. 

He found you in your room, catching you just as you were about to leave. “Y/n,” he said, as he came to a stop in your doorway. His voice was a bit louder than he intended.

You jumped, letting out a small scream as you spun to face him.  You caught his gaze as your hand flew to your heart. “Azriel,” you breathed out, a nervous smile playing on your lips as you steadied your breathing. “You scared me.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, his wings shifting slightly– a small, but clear sign of his embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said softly.

You let out a small laugh. “Hi, Az.” 

His smile grew. “Hi Y/n,” he responded, walking further into your room. “Are you heading out?”

You blinked in an attempt to break away from his gaze, casting a quick glance down towards your window. “Oh, yeah. I was just gonna go walk about Velaris, get some fresh air.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment before asking, “Would you like some company?”

You hesitated too, a part of you wanting to say yes. But then the infamous number came to mind, and the bitter, nauseating feeling returned. “Maybe another time?” you said, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

Azriel could tell you meant it, but the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Alright,” he responded softly, his wings drooping slightly. “Enjoy your walk.”

A wave of sadness rolled through you at his response, at the way his shadows seemed to still at your rejection. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in his wet hair and the way his eyes seemed to plead with you. 

“I’ll see you later,” you said, offering him a small smile before making a move to side-step him. 

Before he could overthink it, Azriel reached out and gently grabbed your arm. The touch was soft, but it stopped you in your tracks. You turned back to him, finding yourself suddenly very close to him, faces only inches away.

His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. A giddy flutter spread through you as his touch sent warmth racing through your veins. You melted into his grip, feeling a hunger for his closeness after just a few days without it. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, before flickering down to your lips. You took a deep breath.

“I’ve taken 8,754 lives,” Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and hesitant.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You took a step back, properly facing him now, trying to process his words. “What?”

Azriel looked sheepish, his eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. 

His shadows fluttered around him.

“The other night, you asked me what my body count was. I told you 8,754.”

You nodded slowly. “I remember.”

“I thought you were asking how many people I’d killed. Not—” he paused, a small blush reaching his cheeks. “Not how many people I’ve slept with.”

Your lips parted in an O of realization. You took in his face, observing how his shadows swirled tirelessly around him. Azriel offered you a small, unsure smile. A small laugh left your lips.

“Why would I be asking you how many people you’ve killed?” you finally asked. Your voice was soft with confusion and a hint of amusement. A small gleam grew in the shadowsinger’s eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Azriel responded honestly. “Why were you asking how many people I’ve slept with?” 

You blushed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s silly.”

Azriel reached forward, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him. His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. You fluttered at the sudden closeness, feeling a rush of warmth and nerves flow through your body. 

“It’s not,” he insisted softly, his eyes holding yours with unwavering sincerity.

“I just wanted to prepare myself. I haven’t… I’m not experienced in these types of things.” You paused, holding his gaze for a moment. And then the corners of your lips tugged into a smile. “But gods, it’s good to know I don’t have to compete with the experience of almost nine thousand previous lovers.”

Azriel’s expression softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You never have to compete with anyone, Y/n. Especially not with me.”

A warmth settled in your chest. His thumb stroked your hand, a soothing rhythm that seemed to cause butterflies in your stomach with every touch. 

“Well, that’s good to know,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah?” 

Azriel’s voice was soft now, a low cadence that made you feel like puddy in his hands. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a small smile.

The smile on his face grew further. You traced the movement with your eyes, taking in the small smile lines and dimples that formed. His smile dropped slightly as he frowned, brows furrowing slightly. 

“Wait.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Hmm?”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed 8,754 people?

 “I know you have your reasons.” You shrugged gently. “Also, I don’t have to compete with dead people.”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, as if a weight had been lifted off him. A chuckle left his mouth. It was warm and genuine, and the sound resonated deeply within you. “Just one of the many reasons why I like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“You like me?

Azriel nodded, his gaze unwavering— something soft, almost sacred. “I do.”

A rush of warmth spread through you at his confession. You took a moment to let the words sink in. Your grin widened. “I knew it.”

Azriel shook his head, a smile of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t really trying to hide it.”

Your grin widened even more and you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. His thumb continued its gentle rhythm on your hand.  “Do you feel the same way?” he asked. 

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it,” you admitted, mirroring his previous words with a soft smile.

Azriel’s expression seemed to soften further, his eyes reflecting a warm sense of longing. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. 

Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek delicately, his touch sending a shiver down your body. You took a deep breath, feeling his scarred fingers run alongside your cheek. He met your eyes again, his gaze heavy, seeking something— permission. 

“Can I kiss you now?” 

Words eluded you for a moment as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You simply nodded, breath catching in your throat as you whispered, “Please.”

For another fleeting moment, his hand cradled your face delicately, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your heart ache. And then he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was sweet and fervent.

It was shy at first— a hesitant, tentative meeting of lips that conveyed unspoken feelings that had never been fully addressed until now. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming your senses. You pressed yourself further into his touch, fingers moving to tangle themselves in his hair as you pulled him closer. 

Azriel let out a sound of content as the kiss deepened, his shadows wrapping around you both like a protective embrace. You felt their cool, feather touch around your body, felt as lone tendrils weaved through your hair. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as he savored the closeness between you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your cheek. 

“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he murmured.

You let out a soft laugh. 

“Me too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[supposethismatters]

Enemies to lovers is about someone who has significant reason to hurt you but… actively chooses not to: It’s comforting.

The more it personally costs them to have you the more you know they want you: It’s flattering.

They lower their defenses understanding that you could truly harm them yet they have faith in you: It’s affirming.

Enemies pay attention to you in a way strangers, friends, and allies never do. Hyper aware of your motives, your skills, your every move for potential threats. But even with the intensive scrutiny we are judged worthy of their loyalty and vulnerability and love: It’s absolving.

[redheadspark]

Miss

Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!

You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night.  But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out.  All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.  

This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.

All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates.  Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor.  There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling.  It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time.  Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.

It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.

Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching.  But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on.  His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all.  If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.

Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.

"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling.  Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache.  Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking.  His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back.  He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"

"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.

"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"

As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree.  You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.  

You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability.  Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed.  Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx.  Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young.  If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.

You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady.  But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him.  There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that.  The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.  

But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.  

"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time.  Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal.  This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city.  Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds.  Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone.  Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.

Another four minutes, you came from his fingers.  Azriel was only warming up.

"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words,"  He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever.  Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"

You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were.  He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs.  Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly.  His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you.  He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.

This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower.  Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly.  But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body. 

Azriel was a pro at this.

"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned.  You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing.  You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm.  But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.

"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own.  Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully.  His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again.  It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again.  You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.

"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum.  Now, Az.  Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again.  Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life.  He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him.  How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could.  Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.  

And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge.  He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing.  The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.  

He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.  

Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon.  Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers.  Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder.  No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.

Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows.  Through the tragedies and the joy.  Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.

"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead.  Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.

"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection.  He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you.  Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.

"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.

"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.  

The End

[motherofoompaloompas]

Pt 9

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6, Pt 7, Pt 8

[jiarkives]

Azriel meets his mate who is a no nonsense female and isn’t dealing with the IC busy body bullshit. And azriel loves it cause he wants to be able to have something that is just his

He loves his brothers but they don’t know how to butt out of things. But his mate puts her foot down and lays down the law.

I need someone to stand up for him and take care of him.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — azriel’s mate does not take shit from anyone, not even the high lord.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i loved the idea but i fear i didn’t write my thoughts well enough so i might rewrite this completely and i changed the plot a bit so yeah !! thank you for requesting !! 🤍

~

“Love? Where’d you go?” Your voice was soft and so was your touch as his eyes focused back on you. It was early in the morning and you were both still in bed, opting to spend your day lounging around to let him rest after his week-long mission with the Night Court’s general in Windhaven.

“It’s Rhys.” He sighed and you knew immediately what he wanted, your eyebrows furrowing as you sucked in a breath. “He needs my help with something regarding Autumn.”

“But you just got home last night,” you said. “Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he listen?”

“Well—”

That was all you needed to pull away from him and get off the bed, going straight into the bathroom.

“Wait, Dove.” He quickly followed after you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him. “It’s alright. It’s just a quick in and out. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you can handle it, but just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, especially not this soon,” you said firmly, giving him no room for arguments.

And that was how you found yourself barging into the High Lord’s study after knocking briefly with Azriel trailing after you quietly, causing both him and the High Lady to look up at you with confusion written all over their faces.

“Good morning, High Lord, High Lady,” you greeted politely, looking at them as you addressed them. “I heard about you wanting to send Azriel to deal with the Autumn Court, but if you aren’t aware, he just got home last night.”

“We are well aware.”

Azriel sucked in a breath at Rhysand’s response, his eyes widening as he shook his head at his brother as he attempted to get you to back off with a gentle touch of his hand and his shadows.

“Then why are you sending him to another mission so soon?” You crossed your arms, looking at Rhysand with an eyebrow raised. The corner of Feyre’s lips twitched into a smirk as she witnessed the scene before her.

“Well—”

However, you did not give him a chance to respond as you cut him off, “Well, you better find someone else to do it for him because he will be resting at home with no interruptions.”

“You do remember that I am your High Lord, right?”

At this point, Azriel had given up completely and let you take the reins, while Feyre watched in amusement as you grilled his mate on his seat.

“Alright then, High Lord, find someone else to deal with your shit in Autumn and let my mate rest,” you said, your tone firm and stern as you practically glared at him, no room for any arguments.

Rhysand could only gape as his widened eyes flitted over to Azriel, then to you before quickly clearing his throat as he composed himself, “Alright.” He relented. “Azriel may take the whole week off and rest with you. Then, I get the Night Court’s Shadowsinger back.”

“Good,” was the only thing you said before giving Feyre a polite nod, staring at Rhysand for a moment longer, and finally leaving the room, leaving the two of them alone with a smirking Azriel who looked proud (and aroused).

Azriel was not even surprised when his shadows left him and followed his mate out of Rhysand’s study.

“Sorry, brother.” He shrugged. “What the missus says goes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhysand nodded with a grin, waving him off. “You go home and rest, brother. I’ll see you in a week.”

Azriel grinned and bowed slightly in goodbye before moving to leave the room.

“Wait,” Feyre spoke and Azriel immediately stopped and turned to face his High Lady. “Please tell your mate I’d love to introduce her to Nesta. I have a feeling they’d get along well.”

“I will.” Azriel nodded.

“Leave, brother, the scent of your arousal is starting to flood the room.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

My World

Day 1: Cool quiet.

Summary: Y/n's in labour. Azriel needs to stay calm.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 805

Warnings: labour ig? azzie being scared and sad cus yn is in pain :(

A/n: HAPPY DAY 1 OF @azrielappreciationweek YALL WOOHOOOO 🥳

all fics in the week will be like a series cus theyre all revolving around azzie and his daughter hehe but it isnt a series ig?

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Rhysand did not see the shift in his spymaster. Did not see the way he stiffened, the way his eyes went distant before focusing again, fist clenched.

He said no words, nothing to indicate he knew his mate was going into labour. And if the meeting with Keir had not ended when it had and Azriel hadn’t immediately winnowed away without preamble, Rhys wouldn’t have even known.

Even when Rhysand and Cassian followed their brother to his house on the outskirts of Velaris, welcomed by agonising screams of Azriel’s mate, Rhysand saw him stand quietly in the hallway.

Rhysand could not fathom being that cool, that quiet if he knew Feyre was in labour.

He had to give it to Azriel, the male was great at hiding his weaknesses. And Rhysand would have been convinced he was still composed had he not seen that in the dark corridor, light glinted off of the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Azriel still did not move, standing still against the wall with his hands folded behind his back.

It shook Rhys more than him pacing and losing his mind would have.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to curse himself out loud. After all, he was the reason his darling mate was going through the pain of birth.

Should’ve resisted when she said she wanted kids.

But alas, it was now too late to do anything but stand here helpless as he heard her loud cries of pain from their bedroom.

"I- Azriel! Az-"

It took all Azriel had in him to stand outside while his mate, his wife went through unbearable pain he knew he could not even fathom of. Having your privates stretched while you had to push out a literal being was something he knew his worst wounds would look like paper cuts in comparison.

It made him respect females more at the moment.

Through the bond, he felt flashes of hot agony and cold pain, but he was aware it was nothing, nothing compared to what his mate was going through.

The door opened the slightest bit, the worried eyes of an apprentice healer peeking out. "Spymaster? Madja said you can come in to soothe your mate."

Instantly, Azriel was hurrying inside the room, his eyes finding his mate lying on the bed.

Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm.

But how could he, seeing as the one person he could ruin the world for, was sobbing, tears running down her face in constant streams, aided by the sweat gathering on her skin?

He hurried over to her side, her palm instantly finding his.

"My love, I’m here."

She gasped in pain, nails digging into his palm.

Cool. Stay cool. It will be fine.

"Just one more push dear, then you can rest."

Azriel turned his head to Madja when she said that, relief spreading through his veins. At least the torture Y/n was going through would be over soon.

Y/n nodded, meeting Azriel’s eyes. Even while she was pushing out their baby, she found it in herself to offer him a weak smile.

Be calm.

Not even a moment after Y/n dropped back down on the bed with an exhausted sigh, loud cries filled the room. Azriel leaned down, placing his forehead against his mate’s. She smiled up at him, her eyes tired.

"No more babies. Y/n, I’m telling you, I cannot see you in pain."

Y/n had the audacity to pout. "But what if our baby gets lonely?"

He shook his head, kissing Y/n’s cheek. "I won’t let them get lonely."

He straightened when he heard footsteps approaching, lifting his head to look at Madja, who grinned at them over the baby’s head. "It’s a daughter."

Tears gathered in Azriel’s eyes as Madja leaned down, his daughter’s face coming into view for the first time. Azriel could not look away.

She’s beautiful.

Her eyes are so pretty.

She stared back at him with wide eyes.

Don’t cry. Stay calm. Stay quiet.

Fuck calm. Fuck quiet.

He let the tears fall as Y/n placed a hand on his arm, telling him to take his daughter. And even though he did not want to taint the pure soul made of him and his beloved, he extended his arms. Y/n had had the time of months to scold and train Azriel to not be scared of his own child.

The moment Madja stepped out of their room, Azriel let out an involuntary sob, accompanied by a look in his mate’s direction, who was crying too.

"I love her so much."

She nodded, giggling. "Me too." After a pause, she continued. "Hazel. That’s what we decided."

He nodded, unable to look away as he leaned down to press his lips to her tiny forehead.

"My world."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[dumblr]

“You'll never know all the days i died for you.”

— Bridgett Devoue, Soft Thorns

[azrielslittleslut]

Requesting Azriel x easily anxious and agitated Valkyrie, who constantly zones out? Fluff/smut/angst, you pick(just don’t break my marshmallow heart at the end😭)

"Little Valkyrie"

Azriel x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Az is kind of an asshole, reader is a lil bit of an asshole back, language

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: i would do anything to see az in a cowboy hat. i don't ride horses, but i'd ride him like one.

Enjoy!

The sound of the sword dropping onto the training room floor brought you back to the present. The clang of the steel hitting the ground echoed for a few moments, your breath coming in ragged pants as you tried to collect yourself.

Azriel groaned, his eyes rolling slightly as he looked at the dropped weapon. "That's the second time this has happened today," he said, dropping his own sword to his side. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

You flinched, your cheeks heating as the weight of your own failure crashed down on you. "I don't know," you whispered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. "I didn't sleep well last night. I guess I'm just tired."

"Tired" was definitely not the word to use, but it was the only excuse you could come up with. As a Valkyrie, you should be able to push through exhaustion, and Azriel knew that. You should be able to hold your sword high, no matter how sore or tired you are.

But you had never been like the other Valkyries. You were slower and slightly weaker, always full of anxiety about fighting or training. You could hold your own, of course, but it required more effort on your part. You had spent hours and hours in this very training ring, going through countless exercises to become a part of their ranks.

Now that you thought about it, you honestly didn't know why you had been so insistent on becoming one. You were happier when your nose was buried in a book than when you had a dagger in your hand. You were a dreamer. Your mind was always filled with imaginary scenarios that had absolutely nothing to do with fighting.

You would never admit how often you zoned out to anyone, especially not Azriel. Just earlier, he had been walking you through different sword techniques, his deep voice full of careful instruction as he showed you.

The only problem was, you didn't remember any of it. You had been too busy imagining what Azriel would look like wearing a silly hat, like a cowboy hat. It had taken all of your self-control to keep from giggling at the thought of such a broody male wearing something so ridiculous.

Yes, the zoning out was a massive problem, but you couldn't help it. It was how you dealt with your anxiety since childhood, and unfortunately for you and everyone else around, that little habit had continued on into adulthood.

Plus, it was the only way to ease your frazzled nerves around him. You weren't scared of him, like so many others, but your nervousness had other roots.

He was so beautiful, all tall, dark, and handsome. Your skin tingled every time he touched you to adjust your hold on a weapon. You felt your breath catch in your throat when he looked at you with those beautiful eyes.

You were so pathetic, pining after a male like Azriel, who was so unemotionally available it bordered on hilarious.

"Hello?" Azriel's annoyed voice brought you out of your thoughts. Damn it. You had done it again. "If you aren't going to pay attention to me, I'm not going to waste any more of my time. I have other things to do."

You watched in silence as Azriel walked over to the weapon storage area, and you felt anger boil inside of your veins as you watched him meticulously shed his weapons.

That was the downside to all of this- when you zone out, and others notice, you always get so agitated that you lose control of the words that come out of your mouth.

"What? You can't miss another appointment with those shadows of yours to do nothing but brood?" you snapped, your hands on your hips as you pinned him to the spot with your eyes.

Azriel turned on his heels, hazel eyes blazing with fury. "I would rather spend my time brooding than with a wanna-be Valkyrie who can't even focus."

The harshness of his words hung in the air, cutting through your heart like a knife. You had always been fond of Azriel, and recently you had even started to develop a small crush on him. But just like that, your hopes of anything more than a forced friendship with him were deflated like a popped balloon.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you stammered, unable to fight the tears that now spilled down your cheeks. "I think I should go now. I'll find someone else to train me."

You didn't bother looking back at him as you rushed from the training ring, your tears falling freely now. As you ran into the House, you ignored the faint feeling of a tickle on your skin, as if one of his shadows was begging you to stay.

---

"Why are you wound so tight, brother?" Cassian teased, his sword clashing against Azriel's with easy precision. Az felt the clang of metal on metal ring through his forearms, a welcome pain to distract him from his frazzled thoughts.

"Nothing," Azriel grumbled as he readjusted his fighting stance. He and Cassian had been going at it for hours now, the sounds of their labored breathing mixing with the clashing of their swords.

Azriel could deny it all he wanted, but there was a good reason as to why he was so on edge. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the look of pain on your face after he had insulted you. The tears that had poured from your beautiful eyes had cut through him, as if someone had been stabbing him repeatedly with Truth-Teller.

He had wanted to run after you, to do or say whatever was required to get you to smile at him again. He would beg on his knees to hear your laughter once more, but now he had gone off and ruined it.

Azriel was scum.

Cassian barely side-stepped Azriel's next strike, his wings snapping behind him as the blade came dangerously close to cutting them. "Mother's tits, Az," Cassian hissed. "If you wanted to play dirty, all you had to do was tell me."

Cassian was already crouching down, a position that he only used on the battlefield when he was preparing to face off with an enemy. But Azriel held up his hands, dropping the sword onto the ground. He tried not to think of how he had chastised you for doing the same thing.

"I yield," he murmured, his shadows wrapping around his wings and shoulders, preparing to winnow him away if he so wished it.

Cass stood, his eyes blinking rapidly. "You? Yielding?" He chuckled lowly. He looked over to the Illyrian mountains in the distance, his gaze scanning along the frozen peaks. "Yep. Illyria appears to still be frozen, so the world isn't ending. What the fuck is up with you?"

Azriel glowered at his brother. "Nothing, Cassian. Just tired." He really didn't want to explain this whole situation, and especially not to someone as nosy as Cassian.

"Yeah. Nothing. Okay," Cassian murmured, padding over to the water station at the corner of the ring.

Azriel silently followed, his mind wandering to you. He prayed you would forgive him for his stupidity. You were still new to training, even though you had proven time and time again that you belonged here. You fought as good as anyone else, sometimes even rivaling Nesta in your hand-to-hand combat skills.

I would rather spend my time brooding than with a wanna-be Valkyrie who can't even focus.

The memory of his words caused him to flinch, which didn't go unnoticed by Cassian. He slammed down his water glass, the liquid sloshing onto the ground. "Alright," he snapped. "Cut the shit. Something is going on, and you aren't leaving this training ring until you tell me what it is."

Azriel's shadows were already swarming him, their soft whispers filling his ears as the started to take him away-

"And if you think those shadows can hide you from me, think again." Cassian's gaze softened for a moment, his hand coming to rest on Az's shoulder. "Tell me, brother. What's troubling you?"

Az blew out a breath, knowing that Cass wouldn't let it rest. "It's the new Valkyrie," he murmured, his arms folding around himself. "I was training her earlier, and I said some things I shouldn't have."

That was the understatement of the year, but Azriel kept the details of what he said to himself.

Cassian raised his brows as he leaned against the wall. "Ah. I see," he said, a grin forming on his face. "The one who can't seem to keep her wits about her when she's around you?"

Az blinked. "What do you mean?" Of course, he had noticed your tendency to zone out quite literally in the middle of training. He had watched in silent horror as that glazed-over look had formed in your eyes while Gwyn was holding a dagger next to your throat, the blade so close that it had nicked your skin.

He couldn't believe how someone could lack so much self-awareness, especially someone as kind and beautiful as you.

Wait. Kind and beautiful? Where had those thoughts come from? Azriel pondered that for a moment, slowly coming to the realization that perhaps his anger at your lack of focus had nothing to do with him wasting his time training someone who didn't care.

Maybe, just maybe, it was more than that. But he was too afraid to confront that right now.

Cassian clapped him on the shoulder. "For a spymaster, you seem to lack basic observation skills," he said with a chuckle. "I'll be sure to let Rhys know that you're losing your touch."

If Azriel had hackles, they would be raised right now.

"Hey," Cassian murmured, his voice soft. "I didn't mean to piss you off. You should apologize to her if what you said was that bad. She seems like a nice female, so I'm sure that she can find it in her heart to forgive you."

Azriel crossed his arms. He had never been good with apologies, so the thought of this was his own form of torture.

"Besides," Cassian continued on, draining the rest of his water, "maybe she'll just zone out and not pay attention to anything you say."

---

The stars were bright in the night sky, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark training ring.

You fought to keep your breathing steady as you pummeled the punching back, your knuckles barking in protest as you put all of your strength behind each strike.

One, two. One, two. One, two.

You spoke through the movements in your mind like a mantra, your thoughts more focused than usual. You didn't have a problem with zoning out when you were alone, so you had decided that it was best to train like this.

Did the others think you were just a wanna-be Valkyrie? Did they think that you didn't care about being here?

Your punches became harder, more and more force behind them as your anger bubbled to the surface, your vision going red with rage-

"You're bending your wrist." The deep male voice echoed through the training ring, soft in nature but still carrying that condescending tone that had been haunting your waking thoughts for the last two days.

You did nothing to adjust yourself, proceeding to hit the bag the same way you had been all night. You chose to ignore the pain that had started to form in your wrist, just like you were going to ignore the male who had ruined your peaceful rage-punching.

Azriel sighed. "If you keep doing that, you're going to break something." His footsteps grew closer until they were right behind you. "Will you let me show you?"

You turned to face him then, not bothering to hide the rage plastered onto your features. "What? Finally decided that you wanted to help the poor, wanna-be Valkyrie? I am honored to be graced with the presence of such a powerful, siphoned-out warrior."

Azriel flinched, his wings twitching, his shadows swirling. "I did not mean to cause any offense," he whispered. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

You huffed. "Like you give a fuck. It would probably make you very happy to see me get my ass handed to me. You probably don't even want me here, so I'll just leave."

You turned, but Azriel's scarred hand stopped you. This close, you could smell his lovely scent of night-chilled mist and cedar, and you fought the urge to close your eyes and lean into it. He was so warm and strong, and you cursed the desire coursing through your veins.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft. "For what I said at training. I don't think you're a wanna-be Valkyrie. You are a Valkyrie. You've proven that a hundred times over."

You stared at him, mouth wide open. You had never heard him say so many words together, much less say more than one sentence at a time. In fact, the only time he really ever spoke to you was when he was offering words of instruction.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Azriel continued on, his head dropping slightly. "Not right now, at least. I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean anything I said."

"Why did you say them, then?" you asked through gritted teeth. "Have you never heard of the saying 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all'?"

Despite everything, a grin formed on his full lips. "I've never heard of that before," he admitted, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks, still bright against his tan skin. "Perhaps I should put it into practice."

You rolled your eyes. "You still didn't answer my question."

"I said it because-" he broke off, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "I said it because I was afraid. Afraid of how often you zone out in the middle of training, of how you completely lose focus when your life is on the line." He took a step forward, so close now that you could feel his warmth radiating toward you.

"Do you know the horrible things that could happen to you if you zone out like that in battle?" His voice was low as he spoke, so low that you wondered if you could suddenly hear his shadows now. "Do you understand what that would do to me? Knowing that I have trained you as well as I could, but you didn't make it because you started daydreaming?"

Your heart stuttered inside your chest as he spoke, your eyes scanning across his face. You hadn't realized how obvious your zoning out had been, always hoping that nobody had noticed.

You had been so fucking wrong.

"Why do you do it?" he demanded, though his voice was still heartbreakingly soft. There was a sheen in his eyes as he spoke, and your chest tightened at the blatant display of emotions on his usual guarded face. "Why can't you focus, little Valkyrie?"

Little Valkyrie. The nicknamed warmed your heart, sending heat through your chilled bones.

You didn't want to admit the truth to him, but how could you deny it when he was standing before you, pleading with you?

"I zone out because of you," you said quietly, praying to the Mother that, for once, his Fae hearing would fail.

Azriel blinked, a choked laugh escaping him. "Because of me?" he asked, placing his scarred hands on his chest. "How do I make you nervous? Do I make you afraid? Fuck, I never meant to scare you-"

"Azriel." Your voice cut through his babbling like a knife. "You don't scare me. Quite the opposite actually." You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, looking to the ground as you spoke. "I get nervous around you because I like you. I get nervous because one of the strongest Illyrian warriors is training me, and I feel so small in comparison. It doesn't help that you're kind and funny when you're not insulting me."

Azriel stared at you in disbelief, his hazel eyes full of something like surprise and... awe. "You like me?" he asked, a boyish smile gracing his face. It looked so ridiculous on him, this dark warrior, but you decided you would do whatever you could to keep seeing it.

"I do," you responded with a nod. "I have for a while."

Azriel furrowed his brows, his shadows reaching out to play with a strand of your hair. "And you thought zoning out in the middle of our training would make me like you back?"

"It got your attention, didn't it?" you said.

"It worked," he responded, that stupid smile still on his face.

You let out a breath, relief washing through you. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I know it can have devastating consequences, and I would never zone out in the middle of a real battle."

Azriel chuckled. "Unless I'm there, apparently."

There was the arrogant asshole that you knew and loved.

You slapped playfully on the shoulder. "Train with me tonight," you said, nodding your head over to the swords hanging on the wall. "Let me show you how badly I can kick your ass when I don't zone out."

You knew you would never be able to accomplish such a feat, especially not with him. But you liked this side of him. The one that you could tease and taunt.

Az grabbed a sword and threw it to you. You caught it with one hand, raising it up as he grabbed a matching one. He stood before you, his wings tucked in, his legs braced apart.

He raised a finger, curling it slightly in the air. "Let's see what you've got, little Valkyrie."

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @book-obsessed124

@scorpioriesling @olive-main @scarsandallaz

[risingmoonyue]

AU in which the chancellor dies in a freak (probably Zillo-beast related) accident. Everyone is attending his funeral and really, the Jedi are trying really hard to mourn but it’s incredibly difficult to when the entirety of the coruscant guard is apparently throwing a mental and spiritual party so loud in the Force Dathomir can feel it.

[rooksunday]

thinking about fox getting his first poll card after the vode get citizenship. the guard scattered after sithsplosion day, but he and a score or so that were functionally useless without each other, like nervous space greyhounds with military training, all ended up bundled together on some planet in the mid rim.

he’s been working on a book about his years at the senate. no one knows about it aside from thorn, who has been checking his basic, and advising him where he needs to wind the reveals back a little because libel. the rest of the time he does payroll for a number of small businesses, picking and choosing his hours, and delighting in sending invoices for his business: the shiny security fund, he’s called it, to continue the tradition in a more official manner.

(when they’d been on triple zero, the fund had been for rations. blankets. bacta. they’d conned credits from tourists and stolen them from senators and turned those credits into hope for the poor bastards shipped to the city that ate shinies before they could ever earn paint. these days, the fund was for whatever his guard wanted. aside from a pony. fox couldn’t figure out where hound would keep the pony.)

the book had been born from two lists. one was the blackmail and gossip the guard had collected during their stint on coruscant; that was where thorn needed to check for dangers, but since most of those senators had died in sith-related incidents, or had been jailed when the media got hold of their dealings, all fox was doing was providing context.

the other part of the book was fox’s List. thire sometimes called it a manifesto, because he had been studying for his degree and liked to show off occasionally. the list was a suggestion of changes to the republic, some small, some large. it was a silly fancy of fox’s, as the whole book was, but if he couldn’t indulge himself in his own karkin’ book then they might as well have punted him off the high levels back on coruscant.

yet for all that he’d settled—and paid taxes, even—fox hadn’t felt part of the citizenship of the planet. then the poll card had arrived. and suddenly he mattered in a tangible way. just like the bothan baker next door did. just like the twi’lek downstairs, the one with the noisy kriffin’ speeder, did.

thorn found fox in the kitchen, still staring at the scrap of card. he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

“you okay there, chief?” he asked. he’d been trying out alternatives to ‘sir’. “noise complaint again?”

fox shook his head. he didn’t look up. “voting thing. there’s an election.”

“oh! yeah, we got ours yesterday. are you— what’s that face you’re making. i don’t think i like it.”

fox raised his head and gleamed his smile at thorn, who backed away slightly, one hand drifting to where a blaster once hung. fox’s eyes felt very wide. he jabbed the poll card like a vibroknife.

“do you know what this means?”

“democracy comes in two postal batches?”

“no! well, yes, apparently, and that’s inefficient, but— no!” fox jabbed the card again. “this means i am a citizen and i am about to make that a senator’s problem. where’s my manifes— list, thorn? it’s time for an update.”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

To Be Known | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You’ve always been afraid to confess to Azriel about your feelings for him, but after a hookup gone wrong, everything begins falling apart, and he’s there to pick up the pieces.

Word Count: ~ 2.4k

Warnings: Drunk ppl, drunk fem reader, allusions to smut, std mentions, bloodwork (doctors), guy being an ahole + taking advantage of drunk reader, scars, angst to comfort

A/N: this request was so good (ty to anon!!), I feel like az always pairs really good with angst to comfort, anyways hope you enjoy<3 (also sorry for lack of posts recently I just had a math+science test back to back and have spent the past few days studying😭)

Requests are open!

Unlike the rest of your friend group, you weren’t special.

You weren’t a High Lord, Spymaster, General, High Lady, Seer, or any special title. You weren’t funny like Mor, witty like Amren, or even talented in much like all of your friends were.

But then again, like your mother had said, opposites always attract.

Maybe that was why had always had a small crush on the Spymaster who was withdrawn and secretive, the opposite of your friendly personality. You could befriend just about anyone, knowing their name, age, and at least a few background details on them in a few minutes, while Azriel was the exact opposite, getting his information on people through other ways.

With his job and his centuries of experience for two different High Lords, it was a wonder he didn’t already know about your crush on him. Maybe it was because, like everyone else, he was focused on the central characters in your friend group.

The three sisters and brothers. It was hard to overlook them, with all their achievements and accomplishments, not to mention the things they’d overcome and their pasts.

Tonight you were all out at Rita’s, Cassian telling awful jokes to Nesta as she rolled her eyes, playfully swatting him on the shoulder, Rhys and Feyre having a drinking competition, Azriel brooding somewhere in the corner, alone because of Elain visiting Autumn Court with Mor for “political purposes” even though everyone knew she wanted to see Lucien.

You were taking a sip of your drink, idly standing at the bar, elbows propped on the table as your eyes raked through the crowd, searching for someone who could offer a decent hookup. Drunk Fae stumbled about, laughing loudly with genuine joy that made your lips twitch up a bit, the music playing in the background also helping your mood as a cool breeze blew through the open area.

“Looking for someone?”

You choked on your drink, alcohol coming back up to sting your throat a second time before you swallowed it all backdown, one hand over your heart as you sighed in relief, looking at Azriel who’d somehow approached without you knowing.

“Mother above, Az, you scared the shit outta me.”

You replied, taking a few more breaths to calm down, turning to face him, back now against the bar table as the shadowsinger looked down at you, hair falling into his eyes in a boyish way that made you giggle as you tried to brush some behind his hair.

“Someone needs a haircut,”

You teased, and a hint of a smile graced his lips.

“I’ll make sure not to go to Mor this time.”

He said, grimacing for a moment at the memory of the awful haircut Mor had given him, insisting he needed it, only to butcher his beautiful dark locks. You could still remember how distraught he’d been after, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.

“I could do it, my mom used to cut hair, taught me a thing or two,”

You offered with a little shrug, taking another sip of your drink, one you’d already refilled by now. Maybe twice. You couldn’t remember, all you knew was that the hangover in the morning would be brutal.

A chuckle from Azriel made you rub your thighs together as he shook his head in fond exasperation. He swallowed, almost nervously, odd for him, before speaking.

“Maybe next time, though I wouldn’t object if you-“

He was cut short by another male strolling up to you a tad bit too confidently, one arm going to the right of you on the bar table as his eyes met yours.

An old partner. Particularly a fuck-buddy.

The best solution for tonight, really, since Cauldron knows you weren’t bold enough to push anything with Azriel. He was a friend, nothing more, or at least you tried to convince yourself. He still hadn’t gotten over Elain, or you thought he hadn’t yet, and you didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship or making things awkward between the two of you because of your desires the the crush you’d kept secret for years.

Your fuck-buddy’s eyes met yours, and you swallowed, glancing at Azriel as he watched the silent interaction the two of you had before giving a terse nod and walking away. You would’ve noticed how his eyes narrowed, or how he looked stiff if you hadn’t taken a few too many sips between talking with those at Rita’s tonight.

“Want to take this back to my place?”

The male drawled, arm sliding around your waist as he began guiding you to the exit around the side, where people could discreetly leave. Neither of you was beating around the bush, and you rarely did anyway. You both just needed a release, or at least you did.

“Mm..sure.”

You murmured, body hot now, thinking about Azriel instead of the male leading you to his old home, wishing it was Azriel’s hands on you, wishing you knew what it felt like to know him more, deeper than just the tip of the iceberg you’d touched.

~

Weeks had passed since that night, you’d woken up cold and alone in the male’s bed, gotten up, and collected your clothes before walking your ass back to the townhouse while your head had felt like someone split it open.

You had vowed not to go drinking for a while now.

And things had gotten weird between you and Azriel Joe, too. He was avoiding you, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, you could tell.

When he heard your footsteps, he left the room almost immediately, hell, even his shadows were avoiding you, not following you like loyal dogs per usual, just one or two to make sure you were safe at all times like he did for every member of the Inner Circle. His jaw was clenched every time he was in a room with you, and he wouldn’t look you in the eye, maybe couldn’t.

You barely remembered what had happened that night other than a few blurry memories of conversations and whatnot; so you didn’t know if you’d said something stupid and messed it up, or he thought you were a whore for going out with that other male and leaving him all alone.

The more you thought about it, the more you thought the latter was more likely.

It didn’t help that just a few days later, amidst all your worries, you’d decided to take a little walk through Velaris to get some outside time and a serotonin boost, only for the exact opposite to happen when you were met with your previous fuck-buddy from that night weeks ago screaming in your face, yanking you down a small alleyway to properly yell at you.

“Nasty bitch, gave me a disease! If you’re going to be a whore, at least keep your fucking viruses to yourself-!”

Horror shot through you at his words. You didn’t have any sort of STD, not that you knew of at least, and if you’d spread the theoretical disease to him…He might be an asshole, but no one deserves that.

Unsure what to do as tears welled in your eyes and fell, you began trying to ignore him as you turned and dashed out of the alleyway, the loose clothing you were wearing helping you to slightly outpace him through the streets, avoiding the children and Fae on them, not to mention the vendors and toys strewn about.

He pursued you, screaming still, and hot tears of embarrassment pouring down your cheeks as you began to sob, you didn’t even realize you’d outrun him until you were already at the steps to the House of Wind, ascending them, not even bothering to count out the 10,000 steps in your head.

Somehow, through either pure anger or sadness, you reached the top right when your knees gave out, only for Nesta to catch you right before you fell, dressed in her training leathers, weapons strapped to her. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and already-building anger as she saw you crying your eyes out.

“What’s wrong?”

She demanded, shifting to hold you up fully, carrying you bridal style as she started walking into the House, snapping her fingers once she got inside, and the House listened to her as always, making a warm cup of tea in your favorite flavor, and a comfort meal she knew you loved as she slowly sat you down at the table. The House must’ve deemed it necessary when it added a cushion beneath your butt on the chair, considering your aching legs.

You tried to blubber out an answer amidst the tears, but couldn’t manage to, and her eyes softened as she sighed, sitting down next to you on your right, before seeing that she wasn’t making much progress, and getting back up.

“Eat, we can talk about this later, I’ll go get him.”

You were about to ask who she was going to get, even though a part of you already knew as you saw her walking off in the direction of his room. You began slowly digging into the food, finding yourself to be much hungrier than earlier anticipated. Then again, you’d skipped out on breakfast, expecting to get a big lunch while out and about in Velaris.

Azriel arrived only a moment later, shadows swirling, concern evident on his face as Nesta gave him a stern look and pointed to you before she mouthed “You’re welcome.” to you, and strolled out of the door.

“What happened?”

He asked, smooth voice soaked in worry as he quickly pulled out the same chair Nesta had just been sitting in, sitting in it as it groaned under his weight. One of his wings stretched out in your direction, just barely curling around you.

You swallowed a bite of your food, tears coming back up.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You managed to croak out, and he shook his head.

“I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”

He pledged, and you trusted that promise as you sniffled again, wiping the wetness from your eyes with one hand.

“Me and that male from Rita’s, we slept together, and he just accused me of…of giving him an STD.”

You said, before breaking into sobs again, hands going to cover your face despite the warmth that burned in your cheeks from the shame of being in this situation. His large palm gently brushed over your back as he scooted closer, raising an eyebrow at the cushion in your seat for half a second before his wing curled fully around you; and he pulled you into a surprisingly warm hug.

“I’m sorry.”

He murmured, and your sobs slowly subsided until you had no tears left to cry, but you still held onto him in the hug, hands fisting the back of his shirt, the cloth bunching up beneath your fingers.

“What if I do, though? Have a..virus?”

He gave a little hum of thought.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, do you want to go get tested?”

You gave a sad little nod, a small pout on your lips that made him want to rip apart the male that made you feel this way. He gently picked you up, careful with your sore legs, figuring out what had happened rather quickly after some of his shadows informed him what they’d seen. They also quickly informed him on the full story, and what that male had done. Another job for another day, but he would make sure he paid for it.

Nearly two hours later, you’d had to pee in a cup for Madja to check, and now were getting blood taken to get that tested as well, as well as any other necessary bodily fluids. Symptoms were noted if there were any. It was uncomfortable at best, but Azriel held your hand the entire time, not even wincing when you squeezed his hand a bit too hard for all the scars covering it.

He quickly winnowed the both of you to the House of Wind afterward, having been told the results would take at least a day to get back. He winnowed the both of you straight into his room.

It was dark, curtains drawn and everything, with the barest essentials in it as well as a desk for work, a few maps hanging from the walls, and assortments of fancy knives you knew he must’ve collected over the centuries.

You turned to leave, but his hand grasping your wrist quickly made you turn, tilting your head sideways in mild confusion.

“Stay.”

He begged, looking terrified of what you might say, but also hopeful. You sniffled again, nodding and tentatively following him as he gently led you over to the bed, each move like a new dance, one that neither of you had practiced before, but were willing to try.

He slowly stripped his leathers off, letting you see his scarred body and wings for what it truly was. And for once, the sight of his bare body, while very attractive, didn’t just make you horny or craving him. It made you appreciate him, who he was at his core. The years he’d spent training and honing his body to protect his Court, the scars he’d suffered protecting his loved ones and serving them; even willing to take it to the end.

You appreciated him. Even in the bad lighting of the room, or the thick shadows swirling everywhere, you appreciated Azriel.

And so, in turn, you began slowly tugging your clothes off, leaving only your undergarments on. His eyes ran over you, respectfully as always, but taking in your vulnerability; who you were beneath the covers, before he gave a small nod.

He walked over to his dresser, pulled out one of his more casual shirts; one that was clean that he hadn’t worn in a good while, and walked over to you, standing in front of you as he helped gently tug the opening over your head, guiding your hands to the arm holes, adjusting it for you.

No words were exchanged, and none needed to be, not ad you both crawled into his bed under the blankets, and he enveloped you in an embrace; wings and arms wrapped around you with his head tucked into your neck.

And tonight, you knew for sure that you wouldn’t wake up cold and alone like that night so many weeks ago.

No, tonight, you didn’t need the warmth of passion or lust to keep you from the biting cold, now you had Azriel by your side, and that was more than enough.

[illyrianbitch]

Winner

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You and Azriel are both sore losers. But when you cheat in a game of cards, winning takes on a whole new meaning.

Warnings: alcohol mention, two competitive losers, a card game, a makeout, some wandering hands & fluff!!

Word Count: 4.6k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian threw his hands up in defeat, letting out a deep groan as he fell back further into the couch— wings sprawled out, spine slumped. He turned his head to Mor.

“Looks like Az and Y/N beat us again.”

She only groaned in response, rubbing her face with her hands before running them through her hair— taking a moment to smooth it down and tuck a few loose locks behind her pointed ears. 

 “You guys are relentless,” she said in disbelief, “I’m out. You two can have the winner's title.”

You and Azriel exchanged a look— a quick, almost instinctual, response. 

“No way.” You shook your head with a frown. “We can’t both be winners.”

From beside you, Azriel nodded. The movement was eager in agreement, but the alcohol in his body caused his motions to be slower than usual, sluggish, and Mor raised her eyebrow in response. 

“One more game,” he said, eyes tracking between both Mor and Cassian. “Just to settle this properly.”

But Mor only raised her hands in surrender. “Dear gods, no,” she responded, “I’m way too drunk for this.” 

You let out a small sound of disapproval but Morrigan ignored it, turning to give Cassian one last look of retreat before she stood up— unsteadily and disoriented. “Good luck with your showdown. I’m going to bed.”

Azriel gave her a scowl, a look that she matched with another brow raise. With no verbal response given, she turned to offer Cassian an outstretched hand. “You smell like a bar. It’s bedtime for you too, I would say.”

Cassian stilled, staring at her extended hand in a moment of contemplation. His eyes darted towards where you sat next to Azriel—meeting your gaze momentarily before jumping back to Azriel. His lips pursed, eyes narrowing for a second before he seemed to draw a conclusion and his face relaxed. 

“Yup,” he said with a decisive clap of his hands on his thighs. He pushed himself up and grabbed Mor's hand. "I'm outta here. I still have a fun buzz and Az's seriousness is going to kill it."

You let out a small sigh, lips falling into a frown as Cassian met your gaze once more. "Come on, Cass, just going to give up like that?"

He gave you an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Y/N. You two can fight amongst yourselves.”

“She can't,” Azriel began as he turned to look at you. Something sparkled in his hazel eyes and the corners of his lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk. “The only reason she plays so great is because you two make her look better with how awful you are at this game.”

Your mouth fell open and an offended scoff left your mouth. You smacked his bicep. "That is not true."

Mor chimed in, "Yeah—we aren't that bad."

It was Cassian who responded with a raised eyebrow at her. She scowled at the gesture. 

“Whatever,” she muttered, waving him off with a casual hand as she began walking away. “It’s bedtime."

“Night.” Cassian gave you and Azriel a lazy salute as he stumbled towards the exit. “May the best competitor win.”

You both watched as they left the room, emitting subtle groans as the weight of their drinks began to manifest in their bodies. When their figures disappeared from view, you and Azriel brought your gazes to one another at the same moment, eyes narrowing in on the other. The room quieted around you. 

“I know I can win,” you said, straightening yourself, “I’ll show you.”

Azriel stared at you for a moment, eyes darting around your face before holding your gaze again. A smile grew on his face— confident and slightly lopsided, and his shadows swirled slightly around him in response. “Alright. Let’s keep going.”

You hummed as you cleared the table from the previous game, grabbing a deck of cards and setting the scene for Speed— the perfect game for a winners victory. It required quick reflexes and sharp focus. 

You threw a glance at Azriel, whose eyes were already on you. This felt like a routine. 

Azriel was extremely competitive. He made everything a competition, whether it needed to be or not. Who could get somewhere the fastest, who could get Cassian to say a specific phrase first. And out of everyone, you were the one able to match that energy the most. 

You knew you were competitive. It wasn't something you tried to hide—not that you could. And when you were around Az, it tended to come out the most. But on nights like these, drinking and playing card games, it seemed to come out even more, like a monster at night feeling the strength of the full moon. Except the monster was your inability to accept defeat and the moon, in this case, was the glass of wine you had downed alongside Mor.

Your eyes shot to the empty glass of whisky Azriel had nursed before smirking at him.

“Ready?” 

Azriel's expression turned serious and he nodded slightly, the movement tousling a loose strand of hair on his forehead. You found yourself momentarily distracted by it before quickly snapping your attention back to his intense gaze.

"You sure you’re up for this?" he teased, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "Last time, I seem to recall you complaining about my unfair advantage."

You rolled your eyes. "Unfair advantage, my ass. Just because you have shadows whispering in your ear doesn’t mean you’re unbeatable."

Azriel chuckled and his eyes gleamed with the sound, something bright and warm, golden like honey. "We'll see about that."

With a final shuffle, you placed the deck between you. "I’ll start.”

You began the game, cards flying between you as you tried to outpace each other. Your fingers moved swiftly, eyes darting between the cards and Azriel’s focused face. 

"Is that all you've got?" you teased, slapping down a card.

Azriel gave a low, deep chuckle. "Just getting started."

You matched each of his moves with your own, feeling your competitive fire burning bright within you, a simmering, insatiable adrenaline that made your heart beat faster. The sound of cards slapping against the table echoed through the room, mingling with your rapid breaths and the occasional muttered curse. You bit your lip, tightening the hold on your card.

"You’re slowing down," Azriel taunted in a melodic, light tone. You could hear the grin in his voice and you resisted the urge to look over at him. 

"Wrong," you shot back, eyes darting to the next card. “I’m just giving you a chance to catch up.” 

He snorted beside you, a sound so casual and childish that you bit back a laugh at it. He scooted closer to the table, moving forward to place another card, his arm brushing against yours in the process. 

It only took that one movement for you to become acutely aware of the closeness between you, of the heat of his body radiating into yours. Each time he grabbed or placed a card, the sensation built, sending a nervous flutter through you— a flutter too strong to be attributed to the alcohol alone. His shadows brushed against your skin and you bit back a shiver. 

You tried to ignore it, focusing on the game, but his scent—dark and intoxicating—kept pulling you back in, his body continuing to brush against yours—his knee, his arm—each touch subtle yet electrifying as he drew his hand back.

You briefly considered moving away to regain your composure, but the thought of disrupting your flow and losing concentration on the game held you in place. Then Azriel moved again, placing another card down, and you found yourself fixating on his fingers more than the card itself. The card faded into a white blur against the dark wood table as you stared at the ridges of his scarred hands, his slender fingers, his tan skin— they were attractive. Real attractive.

Azriel was attractive. This was a fact. And if you were being honest to yourself, you always harbored a crush on him—- though, you'd never acted on it, even if there were times where you could've sworn he felt something for you, too. You were good friends, great friends. You never dared to think about it too much. There was no use in entertaining unrealistic ideas. 

But Azriel looked even more attractive now—laid back, hair tousled, cheeks tinged with an alcohol flush, shadows stilled, and determination set in his grin.

You blinked.

"What the hell am I doing?" you muttered under your breath.

Az turned to you. "What?" 

"Huh?" you responded, feigning innocence, but Azriel narrowed his eyes, scanning your face intently.

"What did you say?" 

"Nothing," you replied quickly, trying to regain your composure. Azriel’s gaze steadied on yours, probing and assuming.

"You seem distracted."

“Me? No. I don't get distracted," you asserted, straightening yourself and sizing him up. Azriel raised a brow, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"No?"

"No.”

He leaned back slightly, his smirk widening.

"Then why are you losing?" he asked casually.

Your eyes widened as you snapped your head to the table, a movement so swift and abrupt that a dull ache pulled at the base of your neck. Sure enough, you were losing. Az was one card— two if you were lucky— away from a clean victory. You ran your tongue along your teeth, forcing a smile as you tossed a glance back at him. 

"It's part of the plan.”

"Right,” Azriel quipped, the amusement seeping through his dimpled grin. “The plan to lose?”

That competitive fire flared within you. Damned him and that smile— that arrogant, smug smile. You couldn't let him win so easily, couldn't let him win at all. You rolled your eyes. 

"Are we gabbing like old ladies or are we playing?" 

He raised a brow but pulled himself even further to you. “Neither,” he murmured, “I’m winning.”

You gave him a mocking smile as he placed his next card, falling into another quick-paced round. You were bound to lose— a reality that had begun to manifest right before your eyes, solidifying with every card Azriel placed down. 

You needed to see his cards to strategize, to figure out your next move. But Azriel was laser-focused, his determination etched into his features like details in a finely crafted statue. Each time he brushed against you, a subtle heat ran through your skin. You stilled, shifting your gaze to his face. 

"Oh, Az, wait," you murmured softly. He glanced at you, brows furrowing in slight confusion as you leaned closer to him. Bringing your lip between your teeth, you bit down on it lightly to contain your growing smirk, voice softening as you continued, "You have something."

Azriel frowned and you seized your opportunity, bringing your hands to his face and lightly brushing the corner of his mouth with your thumb. It was a feigned gesture, as if you were wiping away a crumb or a smear of chocolate from the pastries you all had enjoyed earlier that evening. 

There was nothing there, of course, but it served your purpose well.

You made sure to let your thumb linger there for a moment, to brush the pad of your finger against his lips as you pulled back. You held his gaze— a burning, deep hazel. His eyes danced across your face and you watched as he swallowed hard. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of your lips but you fought it away, letting your hand fall down. 

You stole a quick glance at his cards before you leaned back, casually examining your own cards as you pretended to ponder your next move. He remained still beside you and you ignored the flutter in your ribcage, the strange, trickling sense of excitement that filled your gut. 

You placed your final card down on the table, the sharp snap of it breaking the momentary silence. Azriel snapped out of his reverie and looked down at the cards, then up at you. You leaned into him once more, a playful grin now tugging at your lips— smug and confident. "Speed," you declared confidently.

He blinked and shook his head slightly as he leaned in further to the table, examining the cards laid out before him. 

"Looks like I win.”

He dropped his cards onto the table and his gaze shot up to meet yours.

"You cheated.” 

You leaned back slightly, a mock hurt expression crossing your features. "I did not.”

Pointing an accusatory finger in your face, Azriel's voice grew firmer. "You're a cheater." 

You swatted his finger away, feeling the brush of his shadows swirling around it. "Get your finger out of my face.”

Azriel looked down, seemingly addressing his shadows in a murmured aside, before his gaze returned to yours. 

"It's not my fault you were so distracted," you teased, goading him with a sly glance.

"You distracted me!" 

Casting a nonchalant glance to the side, you shrugged casually. "I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, leaning back into the couch with a playful grin. "You're just mad I won."

"No, you didn't win," Azriel insisted, his jaw tightening in determination. “Because you're a cheater.”

Waving him off dismissively, you rolled your eyes. "There's that word again. Blaming me because you were distracted is such a sore loser move, dude." 

“Dude.” Azriel scoffed.  "You'd be pissed if I did the same thing.”

You innocently shrugged again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I would never get so distracted.”

He raised a brow and a sense of challenge flickered across his face. “No?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

It was a flat, bolstering lie. You knew it well. A simple brush against you had you so distracted that you nearly lost. And gods, does he look good like this, flustered, focused entirely on you. His furrowed brow, the intensity in his eyes—it was all so alluring. Some being, some butterfly must be trapped in your chest because the fluttering deep within your ribs intensified. 

Azriel didn’t move, his eyes scanning you in a manner that made you itch— made you feel naked and completely bare before him. 

"Don’t move," Azriel said, his voice low and teasing. You felt it against your skin like it was something tangible. "I think you... you have something here."

He leaned in closer, bringing his hand to your face, fingers poised to wipe the corner of your mouth just as you had done to him earlier. The movement was slow, sensual almost, and your heart nearly stopped when his eyes moved from your lips to your eyes. 

You held your breath and the corners of Azriel’s lips twitched. 

"Oh, nevermind," he murmured, withdrawing his hand. "Guess I'm seeing things."

You traced the path of that lip twitch, watching as it grew into a subtle, sly grin. The game had shifted now and Azriel seemed to think he was in the lead— seemed content in his victory. 

Absolutely not.

You let out a small hum. 

“Aw, Az,” you said, softening your face at him. You brought a hand to his bicep— he was dressed casually tonight, a simple black, short-sleeved shirt adorning his frame. His eyes widened slightly at your boldness but he didn't pull away. You placed your palm on his exposed skin, tracing a light, delicate path up his arm. “Always so thoughtful.”

He tensed underneath your touch, and his shadows curled over his shoulders, still and curious, peering down at the motion. Goosebumps ran along his skin and you felt him shudder underneath you, an almost imperceptible reaction. 

When you met his gaze again, Azriel’s eyes were molten. A muscle feathered in his cheek.

You gave into your urge, delicately brushing a small strand of hair away from his forehead and tucking it back into place. In truth, it felt like an excuse to touch him, to feel the softness of his hair beneath your fingertips. You heard a quiet, sharp intake of breath as his shadows moved slowly around his shoulders, watching your every move just as precisely as he did. 

“Well,” he said, and the sound came out as a croak. He cleared his throat as he brought his hand up to yours, wrapping it around your wrist as he lowered your hand with his own. “I’m thoughtful when it comes to you.”

His words didn’t feel like they were said only to get under your skin, nor did they seem like words chosen merely to rile you up—they felt like a confession. You fought to balance your reaction as you felt yourself being pulled in three different directions.

His words made you melt in a strange, almost pathetic way. They felt tender, caring, and you thought about how true they actually were, how much Azriel cared for you, and how often he made that care known. It was one of the reasons you liked him as much as you did, why it was so easy and comfortable being around him, why you felt so emboldened to distract him, to play with him, in such a manner that you did.

But then there was another emotion, a spitfire of competition that felt as if he had exposed a very vulnerable, very delicate nerve. That he was winning this game, that you were so openly affected by simple words and his hand around your wrist.

And finally, there was something else, something as strong as those flutters, something warm and hot that filled you with an urge to run your fingers through his hair, to pull him against you and feel those hands somewhere else. 

You scanned his face, watching as his expression seemed to soften a bit, as a crease formed between his brows. He was thinking too—deeply, intently, thoroughly thinking. It was almost the same look he wore in every game when he was strategizing, but this felt more intimate, more charged. You tried to reel yourself in, tried to throw every thought away and pull your mind together, fix your scent, your posture.

But then his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heartbeat quickened and something fluttered in your chest, deep within your ribs— that damned caught, trapped butterfly moving in a frenzy. Your eyes dropped down to Azriel’s lips, and when you met his eyes again, he mirrored your actions. You took in the dark, thick lashes that adorned his eyes—lashes that you were able to see so clearly as he looked down towards you, towards your mouth.

The next moment was a blur. You weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours. They were warm and soft and swallowed you completely— mind and body. 

His taste was intoxicating, a blend of the whiskey he had been drinking and something uniquely him. There had been small fantasies of Azriel that had creeped past your restraint over the years— images and thoughts about his lips and how he mustve felt pressed against you, how he fucked the countless women you’d seen him with.

Even this simple, heated and frenzied kiss was better than your most detailed dreams. 

You felt his hand slide up to cradle your face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek as he deepened the kiss. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned into him. 

This felt better than any win you’d ever experienced.

You needed to cheat more often.

You pulled away for a brief second, gasping for breath, but the separation was short-lived. His eyes, dark and filled with a desire that mirrored your own, locked onto yours before he captured your lips once more. This time, the kiss was hungrier, more urgent. Azriel's hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head slightly to deepen the kiss. His hands— those large, rough, and beautiful hands— roamed, one staying at your neck while the other slid down your back, drawing you even closer.

The world narrowed to just this moment—  to the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his hands felt on your skin. His hands guided you, and before you realized it, you were laying down on the couch, Azriel hovering over you, his lips never leaving yours. His body pressed against yours and his shadows threaded through the strands of your hair, the silky, air-light touch of their movement contrasting with the warmth of his skin— a heady mix that sent shivers down your spine.

He broke the kiss, lips trailing down your jawline, planting soft kisses along the way. You felt a deep, thrilling ache as he kissed the sensitive skin there and you tilted your head back, giving him better access as your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch. You circled the base of his wings, admiring how they stretched out above you, and he shivered under the touch, leaving a small playful bite on your neck in response.

“Finally!" 

A heat of panic ran down your skin and you pushed yourself upright— a movement so quick that it sent Azriel falling back onto his side of the loveseat. You caught a brief glimpse of him—disheveled, lips swollen, breathing heavy—before your gaze snapped to the intruder.

Cassian stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" you managed to gasp, your own breath coming in shallow pants.

“This.” Cassian pointed a finger between you and Azriel. "Fucking finally."

You casted a glance at Azriel who stared at his brother with a single raised brow. 

“How long have you been standing out there, Cass?" He asked.

Cassian shrugged, still grinning. "Long enough.”

“A bit too long, actually,” Mor’s voice rang out as she rounded the corner, now adorned in a comfortable sleep set. She settled into a stand next to Cassian, offering a small, sheepish smile. “I was starting to feel like a pervert.”

You cringed, a heat flushing your cheeks as you glanced over at Azriel, who met your gaze immediately. But he only sighed, running a hand through his hair as a lone shadow moved down the couch to wrap around your ankle. You ignored the skip of your heart.

"That's real weird, guys," you said.

Just a semblance of dignity is all you asked for.

Cassian waved it off. "Trust me, I've seen more than a handsy makeout with Az."

You grimaced, scrunching your face in distaste. Mor gave Cassian a pointed look. "Cassian—"

He shrugged, unperturbed. "I gotta admit, though, I didn't think we could get you to go that far. I thought maybe a realization—but holy shit!"

Mor’s eyes widened and she smacked his arm with the back of her hand. "Cassian!"

You threw a glance at Azriel but he didn't meet your gaze this time. Instead, he sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing at his brother. It was both unnerving and incredibly attractive—oh gods, focus.

You sat up straighter. "What do you mean you could get us that far?"

Cassian gave an unsure smile before responding, "Oh, you know, just a friendly little push." He looked at Mor, who looked equally guilty but offered you a sheepish, dimpled smile. 

"We were just trying to help you two along.”

Cassian pointed a thumb at her. "Her reasons are selfless, mine are selfish. I just couldn't deal anymore. It's like shoving two dolls together and making them kiss." 

He brought his hands up, mimicking the motion of holding two dolls and repeatedly mashed them together while making loud, exaggerated kissing sounds. Mor watched him with an unamused, scrunched face. 

You furrowed your brows and opened your mouth to talk, but Cassian cut you off, falling into a tipsy ramble.

 "I didn't anticipate how much we needed to drink, though. I thought I was going to get alcohol poisoning before you even touched."

Mor rolled her eyes. "Alright, that's a bit dramatic—"

"It is not," Cassian interrupted, turning to her.

"We barely—"

“You call that barely?”

"—We had one bottle—"

"-— A family-sized—"

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, eyebrows slightly raised, lips twitching with barely suppressed smiles. His eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and mirth as Cassian and Mor continued their bickering. Leaning back, you extended your hand toward the shadow near your feet. 

Azriel groaned. "Guys—" 

They kept talking.

"Guys!" 

They finally stopped and turned to face him, the room plunging into an awkward silence. Azriel sighed deeply, then said, "Get out. Please."

Mor's eyes widened. "Right! Sorry," she said, giving you a sheepish smile. Cassian, however, turned to you with a grin. 

"You're welcome," he said, and then turned to Azriel, winking. "You're extra welcome."

Mor scoffed, pushing Cassian out of the room. She turned around as she left, flashing you another smile and giving you two thumbs up. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, and your fingers tightened around the shadow on your hand.

When they disappeared from view, you exhaled deeply and turned towards Azriel. His gaze softened as he looked at you and the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. The room felt quieter now, more intimate, and your heartbeat began to slow—  the fluttering in your chest giving way to a warm, steady pulse.

He let out a breath. “Well, that was..." 

"Something," you finished for him.

You locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the room. 

"I love your laugh," Azriel murmured, his voice low and intimate.

You went breathless, the last note of your laughter leaving your tightened chest in a whisper. 

"Yeah?" 

A flutter filled your chest. 

He nodded and your smile widened as he edged closer, his hand gently cupping your face once more, drawing you to him. 

“They interrupted us," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You swallowed and your cheeks flushed subtly with a blush as you leaned further towards him.

"What a shame," you murmured back, your words a soft invitation.

"A shame indeed." 

Without any further hesitation, his lips found yours again. The kiss was filled with an undeniable urgency—a promise and longing that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. You melted into the sensation, every nerve ending electrified by the closeness, by the brush of his shadows against your skin.

He pulled away for a second, his breath warm against your lips.

"You were really good at that game, by the way."

You frowned.  "I was losing. Badly."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "Not originally. I was."

His thumb circled gently along your cheek. "But who knew all it took was a couple of brushes against your arm to get ahead again."

Your eyes widened in shock and you let out a small gasp, pulling back further to observe his face in full.  He met your gaze with a smug smirk, and despite yourself, a grin of impressed disbelief spread across your face.  

"You dirty little cheat!" you exclaimed, half in playful protest, half in genuine admiration.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his touch still caressing your cheek. "I'd say it worked out."

“Does this mean I win—" 

He cut you off softly, "Just let me kiss you."

Your protest melted away into a sigh of surrender as he closed the gap between you eagerly. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, falling lax in his touch as he moved to hover you again. The world around you faded into insignificance. 

You definitely won tonight. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

idk why but this is one of my favorite lil moments ive written, it gave me butterflies writing it (i am touchstarved and a sore loser)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli

azriel tag list 🫶🏻

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder 

[xlovellydreams]

Reuniting

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⟡ ☾ ⟡ 𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Summary: Reuniting with Rhysand after Under the Mountain

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Words Count: 4.7k

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

Note: Hi guys! So, as you can see, this is my first work here – and the first one that I do post fully in English (mhm, as you can guess, English is not my first language, so let me know if you find any mistakes so I can correct them quickly). Anyway, I hope you will like it, and let me know if I should maybe do a part 2?

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⟡ ☾ ⟡ 𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

It had been fifty years. Fifty years since you last saw Rhysand. You slowly started to begin thinking that you’d never see him again. That you’d never touch him again, hear his laugh, see his smile. You were drowning yourself in expensive wines, just for distraction between mourning his absence and taking care of the Night Court.

The morning was rough for you. Waking up early after drinking so heavily with Cassian last night made your head spin, and your eyes dry and red. You decided to wake yourself up a little. Wrapped in one of his robes you walked out of your room, right into the balcony.

And then, so suddenly he appeared in front of you. Just like that.

You and Rhysand just stared at each other in silence.

His skin was so pale, nothing left from his beautiful tan. On top of that sickeningly pale skin, the dark shadows underneath his dull, violet eyes made him look like he hadn’t slept at all for the last centuries. Those violet eyes, that you knew so perfectly didn’t shine like they used to. No spark in them.

You didn’t know what Rhys had endured Under the Mountain. Didn’t know what Amarantha had forced him to do. You were just standing there, shocked.

“Y/N…” Rhysand finally broke the silence.

You took a small step back, shaking your already spinning head. Your eyes were wide, and you needed to blink rapidly as you just could not believe it.

Rhysand took a step forward. You could see that he was trying to hold back his emotions. His eyes looked pained, so so pained.

“Don’t run from me, please… it’s me. It’s really me…” his voice was shaky.

“Gods” your voice cracked as you shook your head again. You did not even care about that headache anymore. “I shouldn’t have drunk with Cassian. Gods, I am hallucinating.”

Rhysand chuckled under his breath. It sounded hollow, humorless. He took another step closer. He was standing right in front of you now, his tall, lean body mere centimeters away from you. He was so so close to you. You could smell him. He smelt the same. Just like you remembered. Citrus and sea, and you were slowly breaking.

Rhys reached out a hand, carefully taking one of your own.

“Does this feel like a hallucination?” His voice was soft like silk. The voice that you had always known.

You choked out a small cry, tears in your eyes already building. “Holy shit, that wine was freaking strong” you mumbled, brushing your fingers against his. Not believing that you were touching him again. After so long. You honestly were not sure if you were not hallucinating.

Rhysand laughed. That same warm, rich sound that would melt your insides. He took another step closer, his body against yours and he wrapped his lean, strong arms around you, crushing you against his broad chest, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He breathed in your scent and sighed deeply.

“Gods, I thought I would never get to hold you again.”

You shattered.

 A loud sob escaped your lips as you immediately wrapped your hands around his neck. Hugging him, holding onto him as your knees buckled and you were sure you would have fallen to the floor if he was not holding you. But he was real and he held you up, not allowing you to collapse.

He was real. Not a hallucination. Not a dream.

Rhysand’s arms tightened around you as you began to cry. He held you as close as he physically could, and he had to bend down so he could bury his head into your shoulder. He pulled you even closer, his body shaking with emotion as he breathed you in. You felt his mouth on your shoulder, his lips pressing into you, a silent apology.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you…” Rhysand repeated over and over again between ragged breaths.

“I won’t drink with Cassian again. It feels too real” you sobbed into his neck, holding onto him for dear life.

He laughed.

A weak laugh was huffed against your shoulder. “Please refrain from drinking with my brother if it’s going to affect you this much” he sounded so much like Rhys you knew. Gods, you had missed that so much.

His body was shaking violently, his emotions overflowing. But it was as if he was desperately trying to appear strong. He slowly pulled his head away from you, pulling back far enough that he could look at your face. His hands came up to gently cup your face, his fingers wiping away the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. He examined you with his violet eyes, taking in your face, your eyes, your hair. He was drinking you in.

“You’re more beautiful than I remembered.” Rhys breathed.

Those words snapped you back into reality.

Rhys was really here. He was really back after fifty years, after disappearing so suddenly.

Within seconds you feel the same anger you had felt that day. You gathered your strength, pulling yourself to stand straight and free yourself from his arms. Without thinking twice, you turned, reaching for one of the pillows from the small armchair you were always using while sitting on the balcony. And you threw it at him, hard.

Rhysand had relaxed the moment he saw recognition in your eyes. Then, before he could register what was happening, you’d freed yourself from his arms and swung a pillow at his head. Rhys stumbled backward as the pillow smacked him right in his face. He let it fall to the stone floor of the balcony, looking at you surprised, a small frown appearing on his face.

“What in the Cauldron was that for?”

“What in the Cauldron was that for?!” You snapped angrily, reaching for another pillow, throwing it at him again.

Rhys managed to catch the second pillow you threw at him before it hit his face. Again, he dropped down the cushion looking back up to you.

“You couldn’t have just said ‘welcome back’ like a normal person?” He sighed when he saw you reach for ANOTHER pillow. “Come on, put the pillow down.”

“Idiot! Prick!” You threw that pillow, the one he told you to put down.

Each pillow that hit him, Rhys caught with ease. And each time he caught a pillow he looked at you with a scowl on his face.

“Idiot? Prick? Bit harsh, don’t you think?” he grumbled before another pillow hit him in the chest.

But you were too angry, your eyes filled with tears, as you kept throwing pillows. You were a little glad, that you had spent a lot of sleepless nights on that balcony, buried in blankets and pillows, talking to the stars, praying for him to be back.

“How about you stop throwing things at me and we talk?” He tried to reason with you, but you were having none of it.

“Stupid. Selfish. Thoughtless bastard…” you muttered as you picked up another pillow.

“That’s it. Enough is enough.” Rhysand growled and he stalked towards you.

The next thing you knew, he had wrapped his arms around you and he picked you up as if you weighed absolutely nothing. He was now carrying you off the balcony and into your bedroom. He walked over to the bed and flung you down on it, your body landing on the soft mattress with a thump.

You groaned softly, immediately sitting up, and reaching for a pillow from your bed but his hand stopped you.

Rhys quickly straddled your thighs, using his hands to push you back down onto the bed so you couldn’t get up and grab the pillow. His knees on either side of your legs and, with his hands on your wrists, he pinned your arms above your head. He was above you, looking down at you with an intense expression.

“Do I have to tie you down?” Rhys threatened, narrowing his eyes.

Looking up into his violet eyes you slowly calmed down, taking a deep breath, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“Let me sit up” you murmured softly after a few minutes of silence.

Rhysand watched as your breathing started to level out, your chest slowly rising and falling. He still held you pinned to the bed, your wrists still in his firm grip. He didn’t respond right away, he just silently took you in. He could feel you calming down beneath him, the anger and frustration that had been in your chest earlier now starting to ease.

Finally, he released your wrists. “No more throwing pillows at me,” he told you firmly.

Instead of throwing a pillow this time, you threw yourself, burying your face in his neck, letting out a small sob again.

Rhysand’s arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He felt you bury your face into his neck, your tears staining his shirt. He held you against him closely, his arms like a vice as he practically crushed you to his body. He buried his face in your shoulder, his own body still shaking from emotions.

Rhys was finally holding you again after fifty freaking years.

“You are so pale” you sniffled into his neck, not letting go of him.

Rhysand chuckled at that, though it was humorless. “Fifty years in the darkness of the mountain will do that to a person” he tried to joke, but the humor seemed to be lost when he spoke.

He held the back of your head with one of his hands, his other hand resting on your lower back. Pulling you even closer if it was possible.

“I’m sorry-”, he whispered into your shoulder, his lips pressing against your skin. He repeated it over and over again like a mantra. His body shook with emotion as he continued to hold you tightly to him. After fifty years of hell, he was finally home. He could finally hold you again.

“Don’t apologize” you tried to stop him, but of course, he was not listening.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Rhys’ words were a whisper. He was breathing you in, his nose buried in your shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to spend fifty years not knowing what had happened to me. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to hold you or comfort you or laugh with you or dance with you or do any of the things I was supposed to do…” Rhys’ words caught in his throat and he shook his head slightly.

Rhysand didn’t listen when you kept telling him to stop apologizing. He had spent fifty years in the darkest hell possible. He had missed you so much. Had thought about you all the time. Wished every single day that he could be free, that he could come home to you. He continued to whisper his apologies into your shoulder. His apologies for disappearing without a trace, his apologies for taking so long to get home to you.

“Stop it Rhys” you begged softly, pulling his face away from your shoulder, your cheeks red from crying. “You are home. Thank you for coming home.”

Rhysand reluctantly let you pull his head back from your shoulder, his body still shaking. He met your eyes, his own filled with tears, though he was fighting to keep them from falling. When you thanked him for coming home, his throat tightened and he swallowed. Felt another wave of guilt and shame wash over his body when he saw the tears streaming down your face and he had to hold back a whimper.

He didn’t deserve the warmth and kindness in your eyes, not after what he had done while he was under the mountain.

You brushed away the tears from his pale cheeks, as you still sat in front of him, wrapped tightly in his robe.

“You look awful,” you said without a hint of hesitation.

For a second, a hint of a smile appeared on Rhys’ lips. There you were, blunt, sarcastic, honest… He had missed you so much.

“Don’t hold back on the insults, please,” he said sarcastically back, his eyes meeting yours.

“You deserve it”

A small, huff of laughter escaped Rhysand’s lips and he shook his head slowly. He supposed he did, after everything that had happened.

He winced a little as you brushed the tears from his cheeks so softly, so tenderly. He didn’t deserve your softness. Didn’t deserve your kindness.

Rhysand was supposed to be tough, the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. But under your watchful eyes, he felt weak, broken. He felt raw.

“I feel awful. Physically and mentally, I’m exhausted” he took another deep breath, his eyes not leaving yours. There was so much he wanted to say to you. So much he wanted to confess. But he was tired. Too tired to talk about it all.

You didn’t answer, biting your cheek a little harder as you kept running your fingers against his cheeks, trying not to burst into tears again. Later, you promised yourself to ask him later, not now.

Rhysand’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you brush your fingers against his cheek, the sensation shooting straight to his heart. He could see you biting your cheek, could practically feel the tears building up in your eyes. He knew you were trying to hold back your emotions. He didn’t want you to hold back.

He could barely remember the last time someone had touched him with such care, with such tenderness.

His heart ached in his chest as he looked at you. He hated himself for what he had done. Hated himself for leaving you, for making you worry for fifty years. “You can scream at me,” he spoke quietly, “Go on. Scream at me.”

You were trying desperately to keep it together. This was the first time you had seen him since he had disappeared. You had no idea what had happened in the mountain. You had no idea what he’d endured for fifty years. Just looking at you was already killing him. Rhysand just sat on the bed, letting you sit on his lap, his hands resting on your hips. He sat quietly as you touched his face, his eyes flickering over your, taking in your small little movements, your actions.

He wanted to say something, wanted to keep talking to you, but he couldn’t find the words. All he wanted to do was keep holding you close to him, to bury his head in your shoulder, to hold you and never let you go again.

“You left us” you whispered, your thumb still against his cheek. “Just like that. You left your city, you left Cassian, Azriel, Mor, Amren…”

You left me.

Rhysand heard the pain in your voice, as you spoke. Your eyes weren’t looking at him anymore, your gaze was fixed on your own fingers as they touched his cheek. He slowly brought his hand up, gripping your wrist, forcing you to meet his eyes.

Yes, he had left his friends. He had left his city. But he had also left you. You. His mate. His own beloved. He hated thinking about it. Hated himself for leaving you.

“I had no choice,” he said quietly, reopening his eyes and looking at you.

“We would have found another way!” You snapped at him softly, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

Rhysand reached up with his hand, gently wiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks. His fingers, which had always been so gentle with you were now trembling slightly.

“There was no other way, you know that as well as I do.” He spoke, his voice quiet and resigned.

He wanted to fight with you, he wanted you to lose your temper. Gods, he wanted you to snap at him. He didn’t deserve your softness. Did deserve your anger, deserved your rage. He was more used to you shouting at him, swearing at him, throwing pillows. Wanted you to shout and yell and curse. He didn’t want your soft voice and your soft touch.

But Rhys also knew you too well. He knew that you would have fought tooth and nail, and risked your own life if you had to, in order to find another way to get rid of Amarantha.

He knew you would fight for your friends, your family.

“You would have gotten yourself killed” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then opened them again and spoke quietly. “You’re smarter than all of us, you know that… But you wouldn’t have found a different way”

“So what” you huffed. “If it meant saving you, I would have done that.”

Rhysand’s heart ached at that response. So casually saying that you would have sacrificed yourself. You would have gotten yourself killed. Willingly sacrificed your life if it meant finding another way of getting rid of that monster... He wouldn’t allow you to do that. Wouldn’t allow you to get yourself killed.

“You are an idiot,” he told you simply.

You were his everything. The light in his darkness.

“One of the stupidest people I’ve ever met,” he continued, his voice getting a little louder as his annoyance with you grew.

“You just said I am the smartest” you huffed, your eyes softening a little at the hint of annoyance in his voice.

Rhysand looked at you, a small smirk appearing on his face as you huffed. His eyes quickly darted down to your hip, where his hand was still gripping you tightly, keeping you on his lap.

“Smart? Yes. Stubborn? Definitely. Idiotic? Abso-fucking-lutely”

You couldn’t help it anymore, letting out a small chuckle.

“Says the prick himself” you pushed his shoulder gently.

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of your chuckle. Gods, he’d missed you. He’d missed your fire, missed your temper. He’d missed listening to you swearing at him.

“Still calling me a prick, aren’t you?” He asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“You deserve it” you mumbled softly, resting your forehead against his. Still sitting on his lap, in his robe as he did not let you go for even a second.

Rhysand couldn’t help but close his eyes as you rested your forehead against his, the gesture so incredibly intimate. His face so close he could feel your breath on his lips. He hummed in agreement as you mumbled that he deserved it. Gods, he did deserve it. He deserved all the insults you wanted to throw at him.

He had dreamed about this so many times under the mountain. So many days and nights of wishing he was at home, with you. Wishing he was holding you instead of being the monster’s plaything.

His grip on your hip tightened again as you continued to sit in his lap. The smell of you, the feel of you… it was driving him crazy.

Closing his eyes, he savored the feeling of being close to you again. “Perhaps I do deserve it” he muttered, a slight edge to his voice. “You still won’t throw a pillow at me again, will you?”

“I should be throwing more pillows at you” you murmured almost against his lips. “Hell, something heavier.”

“Like one of those books on your shelf, perhaps?” He teased, his eyes still closed as he held you. Relishing in the feeling of you against his body, the soft scent of you filling his nose and he inhaled deeply, trying to commit the moment to memory. He never wanted to forget what it felt like to hold you, never wanted to forget the sound of your voice or your soft laugh.

“One of my daggers, perhaps” you teased him back, running your fingers through his hair.

“Mmmhm” He hummed lazily, a shiver running through his body at the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair. The touch so gentle, so careful. It felt so good, so soothing. Like you were trying to soothe all the pain and trauma away. “Are you threatening your High Lord, darling?”

“I am threatening my mate” you whispered looking straight into his violet eyes.

His mate.

The word mate coming from your lips felt like a jolt to his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he heard you say it, the word wrapping around his heart and squeezing it tight.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his smirk fading and his expression changing to that of something more vulnerable.

Rhys didn’t think he’d ever become tired of you saying that. The fact that you were his mate, that the Mother had bound you to him in such a beautiful, special way. He was a High Lord. A powerful immortal. But here he was, sitting in your bed with you on his lap, your legs on either side of him. So vulnerable, a side he didn’t let others see.

“Say it again,” he spoke, his voice quiet and firm.

He had to hear you say it. Had to hear that word roll from your mouth once more. He needed confirmation. Needed to hear you say it again and again, over and over, just to remind himself that this was real. That he wasn’t still under the mountain, trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

You moved your fingers from his hair, to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his pale skin.

“My mate. My High Lord. My soulmate. My other half” you whispered softly, tracing the lines around his face.

As you repeated the word, his breathing hitched slightly. He could feel his body getting warmer, his chest aching and a lump forming in his throat.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

The word was running through his head over and over again, as if it was the most important word in the world. Rhysand felt like he could cry at the way you were speaking, the way you were touching him.

He’d spent fifty years in hell. Fifty years he was stuck under the mountain, being forced to become that woman’s plaything.

And here you were. Touching him, caressing his skin, calling him your mate. After everything.

“Again.” He knew you didn’t know what he had endured and he hated that. He made sure to keep his shields up, to keep you away from his mind even now. Hated the fact that he couldn’t pull down his mental shields, couldn’t allow you to see what that witch had made him do.

But he was so damn scared you would hate him if you ever found out.

You chuckled a little, snapping him back.  “Later, I will spend the entire night whispering it to you, but now, others are waiting for you too. I bet Cassian and Azriel will be here any second”

Rhysand almost whined as you said you’d whisper it to him later. He wanted you to say it right now, to hear it again and again until he was sure it was real.

But he knew you were right. The idea of seeing his brothers again, of seeing the looks on their faces when they saw that he was home made him smile a little. You mentioning Cassian and Azriel brought a brief sense of relief that flooded his chest. They were alive. They were okay. His family was safe.

Then again, later, you had said. Later. A promise of tonight.  Of lying so close to you all night, in his bed, whispering those words to him over and over again.

He let out a breath, reluctantly accepting the fact that you wouldn’t say it again. Not right now.

“You are cruel, you know that?” He grumbled. “Making your mate wait.” He took a moment to take you in, you sitting in front of him on his lap, your skin almost glowing in the sunlight as the light streamed through the windows. You were beautiful. More beautiful than he remembered. “How do I look?”

You burst into loud giggles at his question.

Rhysand watched as your body shook and your laughs filled his ears, and for a moment, he just stared at you in utter disbelief. He couldn’t believe the sound of your laughter. The sound he had missed so dearly while he was away.

When he finally found his voice, he spoke, a sly smirk on his face. “Is that your way of telling me that I look terrible?” His grip on your hip tightened.

You kept giggling softly, nodding your head as you just couldn’t even speak.

Rhysand feigned hurt at your response and your nods, a dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he spoke. “You are insufferable, you know that?” Hearing you giggle at his question, and seeing the gleam of pure happiness in your eyes. He felt as though he could get drunk off the sound and sight of your joy.

Letting out a small fake gasp, cupping your cheek “Here I am, finally returned home after fifty years stuck under the mountain, in order to be greeted by a giggling, stubborn mate of mine who is insulting my appearance.”

You only giggled more, making his heart melt, “I am sorry!”

“Apology not accepted,” he said, feigning sternness. He gave your hip a little squeeze. “Say something nice to me, then I’ll consider letting you off.”

Instead of saying you leaned, capturing his lips in a soft and gentle kiss.

Rhysand froze for a moment.

Your lips, soft and gentle against his, filled him with a feeling of warmth he’d not felt in years. He’d had fifty years of Amarantha forcing herself on him, fifty years of being touched by an unwanted hand.

But your touch, your soft, gentle lips against his own, suddenly filled him with a sense of calm. A sense of being home.

He reached up with his other hand, letting go of your hip, to place it on the back of your neck as he kissed you back.

Before he could have even deepened the kiss, before you could have fully lost yourselves, you pulled away, breaking the kiss.

It had been fifty years since he’d felt the feeling of your lips against his own. Fifty years since he’d kissed you, held you. It was agonising to have to stop the kiss so suddenly. Rhysand couldn’t help but let out a small, almost whiny sound of disappointment as you pulled away from him. He could feel his mind going fuzzy, already addicted to the feeling of your lips against his own. He just wanted the moment to last longer. Wanted to keep kissing you until he couldn’t breathe. Wanted to keep kissing you until you were breathless.

“Why’d you stop?” He was not done kissing you, “Come back here.”

“You need to change” you murmured.

Rhysand huffed, but begrudgingly removed his hand from your cheek.

“Fine,” he mumbled, a hint of annoyance in his voice. But his eyes were on your lips again. “Can I expect that I’ll get to taste those lips again once I’m done changing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smiled, so softly as you shook your head. “Later, for the night I am all yours. But now I want you to just, take a bath, relax a little and then come downstairs,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek “because your family is waiting.”

There was that word again. Later. You were really testing his patience here. Rhys stifled the urge to pout as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering on his skin for a moment longer.

Even though he really, really just wanted to stay in your embrace, his family was waiting for him.

He huffed again, the sound turning into a small chuckle. “You are cruel to me” he murmured, begrudgingly letting go of you. His family were waiting, he knew that. He could sense his brothers close; could sense their worry and eagerness. And that’s why he didn’t want to leave you, to leave this room. He didn’t want to leave this bubble that was just you and him.

“Rhys?” You whispered softly, before he could disappear in the bathroom.

Rhysand heard you whisper his name. His name, spoken in your soft voice. Gods, he had missed the way you said it. How you’d say it like a prayer, like a promise.

He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he responded. “Yes, darling?”

“Welcome home”

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Fix You (Azriel x healer!reader)

summary: Azriel falls for the healer and finds new random reasons to see her, but he never let’s her help when he’s truly hurt.

wc: 3.8k

a/n: warnings: mentions injuries and blood

Never in a million years would you have dreamed of such an opportunity presenting itself to you, but after the battle of Velaris, your healing magic became rather well known among the locals. Eventually, word of your abilities reached the high lord, and he requested to meet with you. Now, ten months later, you are learning about tonics, salves, the anatomy of illyrian wings, and so much more to use along side your magic.

“One last thing. Rhysand said that Azriel is requesting assistance. Could you go tend to his injuries before you go home?”

You hide your laugh and agree to go. This is the fifth time this month that Azriel has requested a healer. It would make sense that the spymaster of the night court would need healing after missions, but he never asks for help with that. Most recently, he came by the infirmary to ask you for a cream that will help with sore muscles. Sometimes he asks for healing after training when Cassian roughs him up a bit too much, but even then, its minor injuries. One time he even used Cassian as an excuse, claiming the general needed some medicine for a cold, but later that day Cassian seemed perfectly fine to you.

Your friends think Azriel must have a crush on you and that’s why he always seeks you out, but that’s crazy. And besides, you heard a rumor that he has feelings for the high lady’s sister, Elain. But who could blame him, she's perfect.

You arrive at the House of Wind and head for the shadowsinger’s room. The house was quiet, meaning Cassian and Nesta must be gone. As you walk towards his room, you see a shadow dart across the floor, brushing against your ankle as it flies by and making you giggle. Before you can even knock, Azriel opens his door, apparently alerted by the shadow.

“Good evening. You requested a healer?” He nods and opens the door wider to invite you in and sits on the corner of his bed.

“Cassian accidentally cut me with his sword when we were sparring this morning. The skin has healed, but it’s still hurting. I figured you could use some of that fancy healing magic on it so I’m not slacking at training tomorrow.” He extends his arm, and just like he said, theres a jagged pink scar running up the length of his tan, muscular forearm.

You agree and sit next to him, taking hold of his arm and placing your hand over the scar. A warm sensation spreads from your palm to his arm, and moments later, the raised scar is nothing more than a faint line. You hold on for a few moments longer than necessary, your eyes fixated on his hands. There was something you found so beautiful and alluring about the scars, you didn’t even notice your fingertips slowly trailing towards his hands. As soon as your fingertips brush against the edge of the scarred skin, Azriel jerks his arm away and stands up.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ you trail off.

“It’s fine.” He snaps, avoiding your gaze to look at the wall behind you. “Thanks for the help.” His voice is softer now, but you can tell he’s upset. You hesitate, trying to figure out how to resolve this uncomfortable situation, but inevitably, you decide it’s best to leave.

“Happy to help. Have a good night.” You leave quickly, trying to avoid making things more awkward.

The entire way home, you berate yourself for doing something so foolish. One of the first things you learned about healing is to not make your patient more uncomfortable when you heal them. And there you were, touching something that obviously would make him uncomfortable. You don’t know the details about how his hands got so scarred, but with his fae healing, it can’t have been pretty. It reminds you of a patient you had a few years back with similar burns. You were constantly making cream to soothe the residual pain for them. You wonder if Azriel’s hands still hurt from time to time…

———

Azriel’s POV

“Do you plan to injure yourself again during training today, brother?” Cassian teases. “I see yesterday’s cut has healed already. Did a certain healer come by your room last night?”

“Shut up. It doesn’t matter.” I say gruffly and continue eating my breakfast.

“Why won’t you just ask her out?” He speaks with a mouth full of food, earning an annoyed look from Nesta.

“Because there’s no way that someone like her… it doesn’t matter. I’m over her now. Moving on.” I keep my gaze locked on the plate in front of me.

Last night, I tried to work up the courage to say something—anything, really. But when she touched me and I felt that magic run through me, I couldn’t think of anything but how beautiful she looked. I can’t help but remember the feeling of her hands on me, warm and comforting. And then, when she touched my hand, every horrible thought and insecurity ran through my head. How could someone so perfect ever want to be with someone so… damaged?

That’s also why I never seek her out when I return from missions. I don’t want her to see who I really am when I leave Velaris. One look at me with enemy blood on my hands and my own blood on my body, and she will run scared just like everyone else does. I’m just not ready for that rejection yet.

“I don’t believe that for a damn second, Az. You’re just scared. Take a chance, it could work out.” Nesta tries to be supportive, but she doesn’t get it. None of my friends do. I pretend to agree, but only to end the conversation quicker and move on to a new topic. Cassian gives a skeptical look, but moves on to discussing the evening’s plans.

———

Your POV

Two weeks pass, and you haven’t seen or heard from Azriel. It shouldn’t bother you this much, but you can’t help but miss his occasional visits, the way his shadows swirl around your ankles, the sound of his voice, the way he towers over you. Maybe you should find a reason to visit him. After all, he’s spent months coming up with ridiculous reasons to see you, you can do the same, right?

You look around your workstation at the various creams, tonics, and salves, eventually finding some that he would maybe find useful. Heading to the House of Wind, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous.

When you arrive, you see the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, walking through the foyer. “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me find Azriel. I have something for him.” You try to sound confident, but her smirk tells you she sees right through you.

“He’s at the training ring. The Valkyries and I just finished training, so it’s probably just him and Cassian up there.” You thank her and head that way.

When you arrive at the training ring, you are immediately stopped in your tracks by the sight of Azriel and Cassian sparring. You had always known the general had a nice body; you had healed it several times before. But Azriel… you have never seen such a glorious sight. The way the corded muscles of his back ripple when he moves and the way his wings, which were much larger than Cassian’s, were spread wide, you couldn’t help but stare. Eventually, Cassian notices you. He smirked, and then immediately moved to disarm Azriel, nicking him with the tip of the blade.

“What the hell, Cass? Why did you-“ Azriel turns and sees you. He turns back to Cassian, who has a shit eating grin on his face.

“Good thing your favorite healer is here to help.” You can’t help but blush at his words. Did Azriel talk about you to Cassian? “I’ll leave you two to it.” He saunters off, leaving you alone with Azriel. Azriel stands quietly for a moment, just staring at you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the silence is killing you, and it’s taking all of your strength to not stare at the sweat dripping down his muscular body.

“I brought you something. You had mentioned once that you get headaches a lot. I have this tonic that can help with that. I figured I would bring it by.” You awkwardly fumble through your bag for the bottle, handing it to him. He looks at the bottle, then at you, a confused expression on his face. “Did you want me to help with that cut or…” you trail off, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks. And thanks for the tonic. I’ll be sure to try it next time I get a headache.” He sits on a nearby bench, and you sit next to him. Reaching towards the cut, you realize you need to avoid what happened last time and ask for permission to touch him.

“May I?” He nods, and you place your hand over the small cut on his jaw. You feel his shadows swirling around your hand, almost curious about your actions. Your fingers trail over his sharp jaw line in admiration. “All done.” You stand and step away, waiting to see if he will say anything. You were about to leave, but you apparently can’t leave well enough alone, so you dig through your bag again.

“I have this other stuff you might want.” You find the soothing cream. “I had a patient a few years ago with burns similar to yours. She told me her scars would hurt occasionally, so I would make this cream for her. I don’t know if that happens to you as well, but if you want it, it’s yours.” You reach out to hand him the cream, but he just stares at you.

After a few moments, you awkwardly set it on the bench next to him. “Okay then. I’ll see you around.” You turn to leave, eager to end this train wreck of an interaction. You hurried out so quickly, that you didn’t hear the faint “thank you” coming from Azriel.

———

Several days pass without seeing Azriel. Gods, you were definitely so out of line with the cream. He probably doesn’t like to talk about the scars. You shouldn’t have gone to find him in the first place. He was obviously avoiding you. The bell above the door rings, indicating a patient has entered.

“One moment!” You call from the back of the workstation. When you make your way to the front room, you are surprised to see Azriel.

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly.

“I’m sorry for my rude behavior the other day. I didn’t know how to respond to your kind gesture. No one has ever…” he trails off, setting the empty container of hand cream on the counter. “It helped a lot. I was wondering if you had any more?” Your face lights up, causing him to smile as well.

“Of course! Wait right here, I’ll go grab it.” You rush excitedly to the storeroom. It was always such a wonderful feeling to help a patient feel better, but having been right about this made you feel so happy. You return with three containers of cream. “This one is the same as the one I gave you. This one is infused with lavender. And this one is infused with eucalyptus.” You explain excitedly. He chuckles at your eagerness.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know which smell I like best.” He smiles softly. “And thank you for before. For noticing. No one has ever taken notice like that before. People usually don’t like to even look at my hands, nonetheless, ask about it.” You blush.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get the burns? It may help me formulate a more customized soothing cream for you in the future if I know how you got them. Only if you’re comfortable sharing.” Azriel sucks in a deep breath and looks at his hands.

“The details are… unpleasant.“ He hesitates. “Oil was poured over my hands and lit on fire. My bro-“ he pauses. “The people who did this ensured that I healed as they burned, so that the scarring was worse. Now I’m stuck with these ugly scars.” You try to hold back the tears in your eyes. How could somebody be so cruel and vicious as to do that to someone? “The pain is usually a sharp ache around my knuckles and fingers, if that helps.” He mutters quietly, avoiding your gaze. You hesitantly reach for his hand. He looks surprised by this, but lets you. You hold his large hand in both of yours and look deep into his eyes.

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. No one deserves such treatment. And your scars are not ugly, they represent what you have overcome.” Azriel blushes. A small shadow glides over your hands as you hold his, pulling a giggle from you. “The shadows are kinda cute.”

Azriel looks at you with surprise again. “Most people are afraid of them.” You watch a shadow weave between your fingers, letting go of Azriel’s hand to play with the shadow.

The two of you talk for a while longer before he eventually leaves. A smile stays on your face for the rest of the evening.

———

A week later.

You’re awoken late in the night by a chilly feeling across your skin. Assuming you forgot to shut your window, you groggily open your eyes to stand, but when you do, you see several shadows swirling around you and your room.

Panic immediately sets in. You have never seen Azriel’s shadows move in such a way, almost frantic. And the shadowsinger himself is nowhere near Velaris, supposedly on a mission, according to what Cassian said days ago. The shadows swirl around you, tugging you to stand. You throw on your coat and follow the shadows, praying to the gods that you don’t find what you think you will.

Upon arrival at the House of Wind, you hear panicked voices and yelling. You rush towards the commotion, finding a bloody mess when you arrive. You run towards Cassian and Nesta, trying to see what’s wrong, but when you look down, you see it.

Azriel. Covered in blood. Several arrows sticking out of his abdomen and wings, reeking of faebane. You immediately crouch and begin to inspect the damage.

“Cauldron, what happened? How long has he been hurt? Where is Madja?” You fire off a string of questions, not bothering to wait for an answer. Azriel groans in pain, barely conscious, with his eyes shut.

“He just winnowed here like this. We don’t know what happened, he pretty much passed out as soon as he got here.” Cassian looks at you nervously. “I tried to pull one of the arrows out, but the wounds won’t heal. The arrows are dipped in faebane.”

“Go get a bucket of water, a washcloth, and bandages.” You order to no one in particular before assessing the best plan for removal. When Nesta returns with the materials, you begin to remove the first arrow from his abdomen. Luckily, it didn’t hit any vital organs. When the arrow finally is removed, Azriel yells in pain.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just stay still and it will be over soon.” You try your best to use a soothing voice, but the shakiness is still evident. You get the second arrow out of his abdomen and begin to clean the wounds, working your healing magic as you go. Cassian and Nesta are standing over you, watching nervously, which only makes you more anxious.

“I got the worst of the injuries handled, he’s going to be fine. I still need to work on his wings, which may take a while and won’t be pretty. You two may want to go for now.” You say, not looking away from Azriel. Cassian and Nesta reluctantly leave, promising to return with the others in a bit.

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry.” You warn Azriel, who’s still unconscious, while you grip the arrow in his upper left wing and work to remove it. As soon as the arrow moves slightly through his wing, his eyes open wide and he howls in pain. He looks at you, just now noticing that it’s you tending to his injuries, and looks panicked.

“Wh-what… how are you here?” He rasps, wincing as the arrow is fully removed. He tries to sit up, but you force him to remain laying down.

“Your shadows found me. I figured you sent them.”

“No. They’re supposed to find Madja or Feyre if I get badly injured. I don’t know why they went to you.” He says gruffly. You try not to get upset by his words as you begin to stitch and heal the wound. Something about his demeanor is vastly different from how he usually acts, colder even.

"Well, you got me instead. Sorry to disappoint.” You mutter, trying to hide the hurt in your voice. You can tell he wants to say something else, but as soon as you grab ahold of the second arrow, all he can manage is groans and curses.

After you remove the third and final arrow, Azriel speaks. “You’re not supposed to be the one who handles my major injuries.” You can’t hide the pain in your eyes, so you look away to focus on working your healing magic on the final wound and bandaging it.

“I can handle more than basic tonics and minor injuries, you know.” You say quietly, cleaning away some of the blood with a washcloth. You gather the bloodied cloths and arrows, moving quickly to dispose of them.

“I know you can. I just don’t want-“ his words are cut short by the high lord rushing in, immediately requesting a status update. Azriel didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was about to say. He doesn’t want you here. You turn from Azriel to give Rhysand a full briefing on the injuries and the expected recovery process. After calming a bit, he begins to help Azriel up and to his room.

“It looks like you’re in good hands. I’m going to go update Madja on the situation so she can manage your recovery.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact. Before he can say anything else, you’re gone.

———

You avoid Azriel for a couple weeks. Every time he tries to come to the infirmary, you send another healer to take care of him. You couldn’t help asking Madja how his recovery was progressing, but she refused to tell you, stating that you were perfectly capable of asking him yourself. You know that you aren’t as skilled as Madja in some aspects of being a healer, but you never thought that Azriel would doubt your abilities. You guess that’s why he never asked for your help after missions. Maybe those months of ridiculous requests were just a joke to him, something to laugh about with his friends.

The sun goes down, signaling that it’s time for you to head home. You say goodbye to Madja and leave out the front door.

“Y/n.” You immediately turn toward the voice. Waiting by the door, you find Azriel. You look him up and down, assessing for injuries and observing his healing progress. The scars on his wings are only faint marks now.

“You look like you’re healing well. If you need medical attention, I suggest asking a more skilled healer, like Madja.” You say bitterly, walking past him. He sighs heavily.

“I didn’t mean to upset you that night. You weren’t supposed to see me like that.” He follows behind you, catching up quickly due to his long legs.

"Yes, you made that very clear. You didn’t want me there, you don’t trust me to handle your manor healing. I heard you loud and clear.” You refuse to look at him.

"No, that’s not-“ You turn down a side road suddenly, trying to evade him. “I know you can handle healing my more serious injuries, I just didn’t want you there.” You stop and stare at him, slightly in disbelief at his words. Is he really this cruel, or is he just really this bad at speaking to people? He reads your expression and backtracks.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want you around, I just don’t want you there.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Gods, I’m just making this worse. Can I start over?” You don’t respond, but he takes the fact that you aren’t walking away as a yes.

“I didn’t want you to handle my major injuries because, when I’m focused on my missions, I am a completely different person. I hate who I am outside of this city. I hate what I have to do, but I do it to protect my court and protect my family. When I get back, it sometimes takes me a while to get back to normal. I didn’t want you to see me like that, so I wouldn’t scare you off. It seems I managed to do that anyway, so I guess I was right to stay away.” You finally look at him. Who treated him so poorly to make him think so low of himself?

You take a step closer to him and look into his eyes. “I wasn’t scared of you that night. I was scared that you could’ve died. I was scared of the way you pushed me away. But never of you. I’ve healed fae from all over with horrible histories, grusome wounds, and severe PTSD. You’re job is hard, but you shouldn’t handle that burden alone.”

“You spend enough of your time fixing people, I don’t want to be another person you feel like you need to fix.” He says in a self loathing tone.

“You aren’t broken, Azriel. You don’t need fixing, just support.” You take his hand. “Let me be there for you. Let me be your friend. Please.” He stares at your hand holding his for a few moments.

“What if I don’t want you as my friend?” You frown, and he immediately realizes how that must have come across as you attempt to pull your hand away. He tightens his grip on your hand. “What I mean is, will you go to dinner with me? Like, on a date?” You look at him surprised, blushing hard. “Cmon, y/n. I thought I was pretty obvious that I have feelings for you with my dozens of ridiculous injuries and requests.” He chuckles.

“I would love to get dinner, Azriel.” He gives you a wide smile. The two of you begin to walk side by side down the street. After a few moments of silence, Azriel speaks.

“Now that you’re no longer mad at me, can I have more of that soothing cream? I’ve been out for like a week, but I’ve been too afraid to ask you for more.” You laugh.

“Of course you can.”

Have a great weekend everyone!!