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toodelusionalforreality · 7 months ago

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Arsonist

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: With time Azriel's feelings grow and become clearer. He struggles with the dilemma of revealing the bond to his lover and leaving it upto fate.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I've read this so many times for edits and I'm not even sure if it's any good. I appreciate all the love for Absolution, and this one offers a glimpse to their relationship in the past.

@theflowerswillbloom for you, love. Hope you enjoy.

Word count: ~5k

Warning: 18+ NSFW, intimacy+angst+smut, f!pleasures, p in v. [too many he/she/names??]

Documenting, filing, and cataloguing—the simplest of tasks for a seasoned Spymaster—should have taken no more than a few hours at best. And yet, Azriel glared at the stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk. As soon as he arrived home, he set out to clear them in hopes of sneaking out before any of his brothers pestered him about his recent disappearances, not that his affair was a secret. Half a day later, there he was in his gloomy office with nerves on edge.

A simple mission of surveillance had turned into a hunt of hostile outliers along the southern borders, stealing weeks from him. Luckily, he hadn’t promised N an early return. He felt guilty nonetheless for leaving her with no word.

A sadistic part of his heart wondered if she cared about him—lying awake in bed, listening for footsteps on her stairs, or rushing home to see if he was waiting for her.

Once, he returned from a similar mission earlier than expected and let his shadows stalk her for two days to see how she spent the days without him. That night, Azriel decided he was a twisted man.

Sometime after noon, he accepted his fate. He had half a mind to fling the papers into Sidra and run to N’s smithy to surprise her. How childish of him. A grown man excited to watch his lover’s face break into a kaleidoscope of emotions. N wouldn’t run into his arms, he knew, like the romantics fantasised. She was not a woman of such calibre.

N embraced every fleeting moment with a nonchalance that bordered on lethargy. And it seeped into their relationship as well. She loved him simply—with her generous compliments, intentional touches, and domestic ease around him. She always had a smile for him. Her hands always found his hair or cheek when they lay in bed together. Sometimes, they ventured as far as his scarred ones, brought them to her lips that delivered the faintest of kisses before she drifted to sleep. Her words were nothing but genuine and certain.

Azriel could vividly see the expression on her face if he materialised before her. She would look at him with sincere eyes, bright as the morning sun, and the corners of her lips would tug into a smile. ‘So how long do I get to keep you this time?’ she would tease.

Maybe, Azriel thought, that is enough.

Knowing she missed him dearly enough to mock his departure every time. But she also kissed him every time, she held him to her chest every time, and she looked him in the eye when they made love every time.

A cool shade fell over the room. His eyes strained to find the lines and curves he marked in black. Sweat trickled from behind his ears. Gone was the unforgiving sun crisping anything that dared set foot on the ground. With a roar of thunder that shook every stone in the walls, rains poured down. N. Azriel gathered the papers away in no order and left for the one place he knew her to be.

Standing in front of the locked doors, he felt like a fool. The rain beat down on his leathers, mocking him. The heat from the forge radiated out of the grilled window. She was there and had left not long ago.

What did he come here for? To protect her from a rain? Or did his heart latch onto the only viable excuse presented to him at the moment? Yes, he thought, that must be it.

Azriel headed down the path to her home at the centre of the square, a long walk from her shop on the outskirts of the town. I like to work in the quiet, she had said, imagine how tempting it must be when someone’s bothering you and you have molten iron in your hands. He knew she could fight, but the last thing he suspected of his delicate lover was making tools of death and destruction.

He hurried, short of sprinting, to catch her before she was soaked like a street rat, cold and wet. He let out an amused chuckle looking down at his own leathers. The things the woman made him worry about.

N had left earlier than usual. The way she moved, she should be home. But when Azriel’s steps faltered along the wet roads, he wasn't sure.

The streets were bare except for the few still seeking shelter from nature’s onslaught. Save for the stark silhouette of buildings and blobs of life that swished and slashed through, nothing could be seen past the wavering white veil.

A lone figure caught his eye. Edging along the walls, it braved the storm—an arm pressed to the forehead, another around the torso, shoulders hunched forward and face averted.

She looked worse than a drenched rat. Her clothes clung to her, too light to protect her from the prick of rain. The satchel across her body sagged and sagged, the seams threatening to burst at the bottom, pulling her down with it.

Azriel cursed himself. He closed the distance between them in quick strides and stretched a wing over her head. It didn’t offer much protection, but it allowed her to look up at the godsend cover and face him with a knowing smile.

The space between her brows furrowed and her eyes crinkled at the corners. Drops of water tugged at her eyelashes for mere seconds before making their descent down her pale cheeks. Her braid turned into a tangled mess, tendrils sticking to anything in their path like claws curling into her skin.

‘Want me to take you home?’

She nodded once, without hesitation, without a thought. He smiled and took her in his arms. She was shaking. Azriel preferred flying above the clouds, but he decided against it.

Between ‌her two broken breaths, his shadows dropped them on the landing in front of her house. N clutched his arms as her feet steadied under her. Letting go of him, she removed her satchel. Her arms strained under its weight. It hit the floor with heavy, contesting clanks. Probably leftovers of her day’s work that she couldn’t leave behind unfinished, even in her hurry.

‘When did you return?’ She asked, removing her muddied boots. The leather fought worse than her bag.

Azriel followed her cue and removed his own filthy one. ‘This morning.’ As he took off his other boot, N unbuttoned her pants. He lifted a brow.

She chuckled, her lips trembling from the cold. ‘I’d hate to clean the house in this weather. Take your clothes off too.’

He gave her a dirty grin before he looked over his shoulder. The staircase behind him led to the bar downstairs. He didn’t care to be seen naked. But N? She was only for his eyes. He adjusted his wings to span the width of the narrow space, hiding her from any intruders’ view.

‘No one comes up here at this hour,’ she said as she moved on to her shirt and the tunic underneath. Her legs gave a tremor even with his warmth next to her.

Just an inch of her bare skin made Azriel’s mouth water. And she stood there in her underwear. Mother, how much he missed her. His eyes wandered over her body—pale, cold, wet—unabashed as he undressed and tossed his clothes next to hers.

N shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. She opened the door to her one-room apartment, undoing her braid. He held on to her hips and trailed her, planting kisses on her shoulder. Her hand found his as she led him into the bathroom. It was bright, unlike his own, white and pristine. It was spacious but not enough for him, for his wings. And yet, Azriel followed her without a complaint, like a starved dog catching the scent of food after days of hunger.

Hot water hit their naked bodies. He traced his rough, scarred hands along her skin. Firm, littered with healed cuts and white scar tissue, still the softest he ever had the pleasure to touch. N shoved his hands away as she lathered herself, only to laugh when they found her again. Azriel didn’t mind that he tasted more soap than her skin on his lips with each kiss. Gods, was he desperate.

Usually, she queried him about his day, or why he took so long. Or made a crude comment about how much she needed him only to hear him growl with desire. That day, she smiled and cleaned them both in silence with no words to distract him from her soothing touch. A proper tease.

When he wrapped his arms around her stomach and tugged her against his chest, she smacked at him. His wings flared, sending bottles off the shelf nailed to the wall. His shadows caught them before they hit the bathtub on the other side of the room.

‘Stop it,’ she giggled, soft and sweet. ‘You’re wrecking the place.’

Azriel buried his nose into her hair. Covered in soap, he still smelled her past the fragrance of jasmine. Sharp and clear, with a hint of melting iron. ‘I’ll buy you a new place.’

She laughed. A full, open laugh that shook her body. Azriel smiled. His heart tightened in his chest.

The bond was meant to tie him to her, draw him to her. He was prepared for the craving for her body, the lust that devoured him. But this was deeper. This ran in his very soul—taking his breath away unless it was the same air she breathed.

N turned around and pushed him a step back. ‘A minute, Azriel. Give me one minute,’ she said through her little laughs. She stood under the shower, tipped her head back, closing her eyes.

She didn’t understand it. She wouldn’t know his need for her unless she felt it too. She loved him though. She never said those words. But he saw the signs. In the looks she gave him, in her smiles, in the way she cared for him sometimes after long missions.

Azriel waited for the bond to piece together for her. Eighteen months. And he hadn’t told her about his torment either. It was his to bear for the time being.

He held his breath and watched the heat bring colour back to her skin, her cheeks coming alive—supple and flush. Her hair shone brighter. Her body stopped shivering and yet she draped her arms below her ribs.

Divinely simple and utterly bare only for him.

‘Your minute’s up,’ he whispered and stepped up to her, his hands on her hips.

She opened her eyes. ‘Hi.’ She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Finally.

She pulled him close by his elbows. Water ran down his back and wings. She turned them around and backed away. Azriel blinked. Her laughs filled the room. N stood by the door and dried her hair.

‘You tricked me,’ was all he said. His hands were immobile by his side, too shocked by what she had done, by what he hadn’t noticed. He was a spy, for Mother’s sake.

‘I asked you nicely.’ She patted down her body, her teasing eyes on him. ‘Now get done quick. Or do you want to stand there all night?’ And she walked out.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at her form disappearing beyond the threshold. His wings twitched, and he rolled his shoulders. He was quick, alright. He turned off the water and was out and on her in a blink. N let out a yelp when her back collided with his dripping chest. Azriel sucked on her—her neck, her shoulders, her arms. He didn’t care. As long as he had her warmth and taste.

‘Fine, I’m sorry.’ Another laugh escaped her lips as she struggled to break free of his hold.

Crazed like an addict taking his first hit after withdrawal, Azriel gasped against her skin. ‘Only because you asked so nicely.’ He loosened his grip.

N faced him. She held the towel to his body—drying his neck, chest, arms, and back—slowly leading him to her bed. She left his wings untouched. She took her time while Azriel peppered pecks on her face. Anything to quench his thirst.

‘Do you care so much for me?’ He smiled into a kiss he left on her ear. Her attention made his heart flutter.

She grinned, ‘Gods no, I don’t want you to ruin my bed.’

‘Your bed gets ruined every time I’m here,’ he said, teasing the shell of her ear with his tongue. A shiver went down her spine, and Azriel basked in the scent that filled the room. Her scent. The one that cried out for him, desperate and needy as him.

N tamed her face, wearing the mask of a woman who had an agenda. She pushed him back and he fell onto the mattress. She moved between his legs, a knee perched at the edge of the bed, and caressed his cheek. Her eyes were soft and caring.

He wished for nothing more than to stare into them all his life. One look at them and every moment in his life he felt unloved and unworthy was erased from his being.

His wet hair stuck to his forehead, their tips scratching at his eyelids. N brought the towel to his head. She was as gentle as ever, but Azriel couldn’t waste a second without gazing at that beautiful face of hers. He shook out of her hold, ducking his head and turning.

‘Stop acting like a child,’ she laughed.

He grunted, ‘You’re smothering me,’ but it sounded like a whine to his ears.

‘Then stop moving!’

With a sigh, he gave up. Gods, what he wouldn’t do for her. He sat still and N allowed him the mercy to look at her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing circles with his thumbs. He couldn’t help the sighs that left his lips every minute. He smiled up at her, capturing every feature on her face with the eyes of a devotee graced upon by his benevolent god.

When N deemed him less of a sodden pup, she ran her fingers through his damp hair. She untangled each strand carefully, tugged them away from his eyes, and let them fall in their natural disarray. Her nails raked through his scalp, from his hairline to the base of his neck.

Azriel purred under her fingers. It took everything in his body not to fight against her ministrations and crush her body against his. His wings fluttered.

N looked at them and back into his eyes. Azriel nodded, his wings opening into a spread close to his body, close enough for her to reach. Droplets littered the membrane, too light to slide off under gravity. She barely touched the towel to his wing, and it twitched. She waited for a breath and tried again. This time, it held still. She repeated her movements, each time more careful than the last, from one spot to the next as gingerly as possible.

Azriel closed his eyes. His hands smoothed over her waist, his fingers digging into her tender flesh, and pulled her close. Warmth from her body hit his face. He leaned forward, resting his forehead between her breasts. He felt her heart beat under her skin. Steady, lulling.

That’s when he realised. It wasn’t lust that drew him to her or his bond. It was her—the solace she promised—a world far away from the treacherous reality he endured in his job, away from the nightmares of his past that haunted him, away from the loud and rush of this unjust one.

With her, he could be still.

With her, he could breathe.

With her, he could just be.

She froze every minute he spent with her, entrapping him in her delicately spun cocoon of comfort. She didn’t need her words, her touch or her body. She breathed and tension in his body and soul melted away. The ghosts that followed him around faded into nothingness. Every pain in his mind, forgotten.

She offered him life. Ecstasy at its purest.

The fabric that separated her from his wings was gone, discarded. Her fingertips grazed the outer curve of his wing. Azriel buried his face into her chest. If she allowed, he would crawl into her soul and stay there in its protection, in its everlasting, glowing warmth. He wanted nothing more than her in his life. He feathered his lips over her sternum. His wings wound around them, begging for more. He tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to her heart. The one he yearned to possess.

N settled on his lap. Her delicate body pressed against his desperate one. Azriel looked up. With a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, she nudged him out of his swarming thoughts.

‘You’re a handful, you know that? You don’t make it easy to care for you.’

He smiled. ‘I missed you.’ He smiled a lot around her as if she drew each one out from the very depths of him.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. She rolled her hips against his, ‘Oh, I can feel that.’

Azriel groaned and eventually laughed. ‘You’re naked in my arms. And you’re touching my wings. Can you blame me?’ His eyes darkened when she moved her hips again. ‘Kiss me. Now,’ he growled.

And for the first time that day, N obliged. She kissed him long and slow. Her lips were soft, plush, and pulsing with life. Her breaths warmed his skin. She pushed her body into his, and for the first time that day, she set her desires free. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers laced together on the back of his neck, pulling him close. She leaned back when he dipped and chased him when he pulled back. It was a dance she was a master at, syncing to his body’s rhythm as if she knew it better than him.

Azriel adored her tender love, but he needed more. He grabbed her damp hair into a fist. N whimpered into his mouth and he swallowed it whole. He was determined to lay claim to every inch of her soul if that’s what it took to make her his. He tugged her hair, and she arched her back with a long moan. He ran his teeth along her beautiful neck she offered for his taking. Her hands only pulled him closer.

His mate. His willing prey.

N wrapped her legs around his waist. Azriel crawled deeper into the bed and laid her down gently. He pulled back to admire her one more time, stroking her cheek as she smiled. He pecked her lips once and flipped her onto her stomach ripping a choked gasp from her.

‘Trust me?’ He breathed against her ear.

She nodded. He kissed the side of her neck, her shoulder, and all the way down her back, enjoying every shiver that rattled her to the core. He sank his teeth into her waist just to make her yelp and glare over her shoulder. When he soothed the spot with a lick, she rolled her eyes smiling. He kissed all the way up until he found her lips again. His body relaxed against hers with careful pressure. He sighed.

‘I missed you,’ he murmured below her ear.

Doubt crept into his pathetic heart every time she eluded his words. Once in a while her feelings crept over the string between their hearts like a spider, too little a thing for him to notice, but present nonetheless. Invisible and lurking, and always out of his reach. With the bond in place for him already, though he should have been able to feel her emotions, he barely did.

He needed to hear her words. He needed her to say those words and some more.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She asked, as breathless as he.

Azriel chuckled darkly, ‘Tell me you missed me.’ His shadows emerged for the play. They swept her hair aside for their master to suckle on her neck.

‘I’ll show you if you stop teasing.’

The seduction in her voice alone tempted Azriel to destroy her until she was a mess for him, whimpering and declaring her love for him.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face close. ‘Words first,’ he growled as his other hand closed on her breast. A thumb ghosted over her nipple before he pinched it between his fingers.

N looked over her shoulder, her eyes dark and wide. ‘I missed you,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, sucking on the skin she could reach. Azriel eased his grip and then she spoke again, ‘So much that I was dreaming of your fingers every night.’

Azriel laughed. His body shook over hers, the sound reverberating through her being. ‘Such a tease,’ he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the side of her face, ‘You sure do know how to get your way.’

He slipped his fingers between her legs and hummed as he ran a digit along her slit. N held her breath, her hands clawing at the sheets. He caressed the inside of her thigh until she whined. When he tucked his hand under her leg and pulled it aside, N gasped at the cold air’s kiss on her wet core.

Azriel breathed in her scent—a fresh, sharp, intoxicating sweetness that ensnared his senses right before she stole pieces of his soul. He teased her entrance with his fingers, her lips smooth and slick against his scarred skin. When he slipped them inside, her breaths shuddered into broken mists.

He worked her with slow and deliberate strokes, for his own sanity than hers. He etched every groove and bend of his favourite maze into his memory. He kissed her lips as he pulled his fingers out and spread her slick onto his neglected cock. The moan that tore from his throat was one he would be embarrassed for life. But her mesmerised eyes on his lips erased any notion of it.

He grabbed her hip and entered her slowly as she welcomed him with a sigh. He stayed still, listening to her stuttering breaths against the echoes of rain.

So intimate, so real.

N laced her fingers with his on her hip. ‘I missed this,’ she whispered.

This.

Not 'you'.

Ignoring the stab in his chest, Azriel grasped her hands in each of his and tucked them under her chin. He pulled out until the very tip and drove back in. Her moan pierced through the cries of the storm. He repeated his movements, sliding out with care and sliding in with fury. His breaths turned into groans, angry and beastly. He bit into her neck, her shoulder, between her blades to stop more desperate words from spilling out.

N touched his knuckles with her lips. She covered his hand with kisses, from his wrist to fingertips, worshipping every inch of his marred hand. She let her tongue slick over a particularly ragged part of his skin whose mere sight blurred his vision with vengeance for what he had endured.

Azriel pinched his eyes shut. Letting go of her hand, he clutched her jaw. ‘Don’t,’ he hissed.

Foolish woman. She leaned into his hand as if it wasn't that of a killer, as if it wasn’t capable of offering nothing but a sweet embrace. She carded her fingers through his hair, cradling his face close. And brushed her lips over the length of the fingers that ghosted over them.

‘Azriel,’ she uttered his name as if it soothed her. As if she had been waiting for this moment just like him.

His hip bucked. ‘Say it again, say my name.’

‘Azriel.’

‘Again,’ he said against her skin, his voice coated in desperation.

‘Azriel.’

And she chanted his name with each breath.

His thrusts faltered. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. He wasn’t a worthy contender for her vicious tenderness. Yet, she gave it to him in earnest. ‘Touch yourself for me,’ he whispered in her ear.

Her hand obeyed. She moved her leg higher, offering her every depth to him. She circled her clit slowly, with the slightest of pressure. Her slick trailed down her fingers and she writhed under him. She gave him her moans; she gave him her body; she gave him her pleasure.

‘That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good.’ He hummed at her misery, his cock delivering the faintest taste of what he suffered at her ignorance.

Her cunt pulsed around him, gripping him until pleasure laced with pain with each slide. N whimpered and arched her back, pushing her hips into him. His hand on her jaw slipped to her throat, the only thing that kept her from curling away from him. She stared into his eyes, baring her soul for him. Her legs trembled, desperate to close, and his shadows crept up to hold them in place. She gasped when a few wisps searched for her soaked fingers and circled her skin.

‘Shh,’ Azriel kissed her temple, ‘I know.' He pressed his tender lips to her cheek, a devastating contrast to his thrusts, ‘Come for me.’

And after a breath, she did.

The bond reeked of desire.

His and hers. His desperation, her relief. His longing, her content.

Azriel sank his teeth into her shoulder, hard—injecting the venom coursing through his veins into her, poisoning her with her own medicine, sharing the agony she inflicted upon him.

His heart was a house on fire, the mating bond a fuse, and she, the one with a match.

He pried her fingers away from her core and shoved them into his mouth. He purred at her taste, his chest rumbling against her back. With two staggering moves, he attained the same heavenly pleasure she did.

His hands wrapped around her, his legs intertwined with hers, and her body reaching out to his in a way that could only be described as a lover’s despair—the way they were meant to be. One and whole. Every breath, shared and stolen. Every touch, burning and soothing.

Their moans stopped and their breaths calmed. Finally, the sounds of the world rushed back to his ears. The distant echo of the angry rain, the soft music from the bar below, the ghostly whispers that never turned into anything coherent. N sagged into the bed, loosening her grip on his fingers.

Azriel eased her leg, massaging it with a careful hand. He kissed her cheek. ‘Talk to me,’ he said, ‘You okay?’

N nodded. ‘That was. . .’ she said between breaths, ‘intense.’

‘Good intense?’ He smiled against her shoulder, kissing the spots left by his canines where blood threatened to break through her skin.

‘“You should go on long missions more often” intense.’

He nipped her ear. ‘Say the word. And I will take you any way you want, whenever you want.’ He rolled onto his back, adjusting his wings under him. N looked at them with fascination. He pulled her to his chest, ‘Don’t unless you want to go again.’

She chuckled. ‘I can’t even look at them?’

‘You can do anything you want to them,’ he murmured to her lips, ‘Just give me a warning.’ His wing draped over her, the curved tip grazing up her leg as if agreeing to him, consenting to her.

They remained silent for a long time, tracing swirls on each other’s skin. A moment frozen in time, drenched in comfort and warmth. Azriel ran his fingers through the lengths of her hair, damp more from his sweat than their shared shower. Every inch of her was marked by his presence. He smiled.

‘Azriel?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Next time come by sooner so that I can stop worrying.’ She was watching the rain through the glass door that stood between them and the balcony. Before he could remark, she added smiling, ‘The weather is nice.’

Azriel glanced over his shoulder. Winds howled—changing course every minute, spouting rain in every direction. The metal bird feeder suspended from the ceiling rattled and screeched. It swayed wildly close to breaking off its hinges. Water trickled along the walls, moving steadily towards the threshold.

He looked back at her and lifted a brow. ‘Nice? You’re about to be flooded.’

‘Maybe,’ she smiled up at him. Pulling a blanket over their bodies, ‘But I can do this,’ she wrapped an arm around his torso, pressing into him with a long sigh.

Azriel trailed his index along her cheek, down her jaw. He ached to let his will crumble and give in to his impulse. He only did it thrice after the bond snapped for him, too afraid to feel the nothingness again. He called to her through the bond—a gentle caress, begging her to follow him, pulling her closer than his physical body allowed, breaking the laws of the real world.

He rested his finger on her heart hoping to feel something on her skin. An increase in heart rate, a hitch in her throat, or maybe the thrum of the bond’s stupid song that left him sleepless at night. Azriel would accept anything.

But her heart beat steadily, unaware of his desperation. The bond shimmered with his love, the light weaving through the thread until it met with her void again.

Ironic. The one born with the shadows had a heart aglow with love. And the other—warmth and light incarnated, had hers hidden in darkness.

N placed a hand on his chest and perched her chin on it. She looked at him with curious eyes. ‘What?’

You’re my mate.

The words were at the tip of his tongue. Three words and she would put him out of his misery. She would accept him, even if the bond never snapped for her. She would hold him close, kiss his lips, and tell him she loved him. She would rid him of some of his darkness.

A smile graced Azriel’s lips. He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

‘You hungry?’

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swansworth · 2 years ago

Text

My High Lady

A Darker!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You are Rhysand’s mate and he is not afraid to make an example out of any who dare harm you. And you are more than happy to let him stake his claim in front of the gathered crowd. After all, he is as much yours as you are his and they all need to remember that.

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, public sex, finger-fucking, rougher sex, mild breeding kink, semi-graphic torture and mutilation of a prisoner, biting/marking, Darker!Rhysand, mildly possessive talk

Word Count: 2,638

Author Notes: Just a really delicious idea that popped into my head and I had to get out. Considering this is my first time writing for Rhysand at length, I’m pretty content with this. Special thanks to @bubbles-for-all-of-us and @azsazz for being so lovely and encouraging me to write this.

Can now be found on AO3 here.

“I have to pretend to be someone I am not when I’m in the Hewn City,” Rhysand had once said, “Though, I will admit, it’s becoming harder and harder to determine where the real me begins and the persona ends.”

As you stared at him, his violet eyes almost black with fury, you wondered briefly if there had ever been a persona to begin with. However cruel the being before you seemed to be, you were not afraid. This being was born out of a soul-deep unconditional love for you; you would never be in danger of it. Your gaze returned once more to the elemental currently bound before you. He still smirked, as if he somehow had the upper hand in this twisted game he had thrust upon Rhysand. His mud colored eyes turned to focus on you and your fingers curled into a fist, ready to punch that smug look off his face if need be.

The growl that tore through Rhysand’s throat then, clawing its way out of his mouth—with a ferocity that you could only describe as carnal—was a clear message that the High Lord of the Night Court was done playing games. Rhysand flicked his wrist in a gesture so slight that to the untrained eye, it would have looked as if he hadn’t even flinched. There was a pause, and the elemental laughed at him, and you, not for the first time, felt a desperate urge to tear the bastard’s throat out with your bare hands.

The elemental’s laughter died suddenly, rapidly changing into a harsh series of screams as his body was overcome with a dark vicious-looking shadow that pulled and clawed at his flesh, tearing it slowly, mercilessly. Rhysand shot Keir a look and the Steward quickly stepped forward to put a small, opalescent, orb on a pedestal beside the restrained fugitive. A light burst from the orb, cutting through the shadow, projecting for all those present the crimes of the elemental and Rhysand’s violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Elemental you may be, Aldric Firedagger, but surely they taught you not to touch that which does not belong to you in the Elemental Planes?” His tone was deceptively calm and you looked at him, watched rage swirl in those eyes that so often held nothing but love and adoration for you. “You tried to drag my love, my mate, back to that cave you call home, You dared to lay your tainted hands on her, hoping that you could steal her from me and then touch her, claim her, in the most intimate parts of her being. That right is mine. As payment for your despicable actions, we ask you to pay with your hands.”

Aldric pleaded, “Please! I need my hands for my work!”

Poor thing.

Rhysand’s voice was clear in your mind, as smooth as velvet and just as comforting.

He hasn’t realized I’m not going to let him out of here alive.

You know that he didn’t hurt me, Rhysand.

You haven’t seen what was in his mind. Believe me when I say hurting you was the kindest thing he had in store for you had Azriel not found you in time.

Then do what you must, love.

There was a tug of affection through your bond and you offered a reaffirming tug in return. Aldric’s hands were gone an instant later; sliced neatly by the claw-like shadows. You barely noticed his screams, not when Rhysand was gingerly stroking against the wall you kept up, almost as if to distract you from what was happening.

Rhys, I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the mating bond.

I just don’t want you to see more than you have to.

You said that we would do everything together. I intend to endure this together as well.

You could almost see Rhysand’s smile in your mind.

That’s my girl.

His attention shifted back to Aldric. For his part, Aldric had stopped sobbing as if he had accepted the weight and consequences of his actions. There was a look in his brown eyes you couldn’t quite place and it was only after he spoke that you knew what it was. “Do your worst half-breed.”

Facing death had made Aldric bold. His challenging words caused a ripple through the court, a wave of gasped breaths reverberated against the carved stone walls. Fire elemental or not, you had never seen such a blazing look on Aldric’s face before and for a moment you worried that he was going to burst, to scorch you all to Hell. Rhysand, however, was unfazed.

“They say that it is a sin to covet, Firedagger. Yet, with your eyes you have lusted after many beings, my mate included. Fantasies of passion, both sexual and murderous have filled your gaze and thoughts. I have seen it. It’s all there in your mind, unprotected and exposed. Tell me, Aldric, why is that?”

“I have nothing to hide. I am not ashamed of my desires, no matter how dark and corrupted they may seem to be.” The burning was still there in his gaze as he lifted his head and squared his shoulders. He was emboldened and reckless and one quick glance to Rhysand’s carefully composed face told you that Aldric had just made his last move in this twisted game of theirs.

“For those crimes, we ask you to pay with your eyes,” Rhysand’s voice was deep, powerful, and you shuddered against him as the shadows made quick work of utterly wrecking Aldric’s eyes. His scream fell on deaf ears, none caring that this measly elemental was being torn apart by the High Lord.

You supposed it said quite a lot about who you had become that rather than be disgusted by this torturous, public, punishment you felt aroused. There was an undeniable heat pooling between your thighs as you watched your mate’s stronger, darker magic—the magic that made him the High Lord—tear this insignificant being apart piece by piece. It was a graphic display, a goreish show, that had many turning away. Even there in the Hewn City, it was almost too horrifying. You, however, could see it for what it truly was. In the most twisted way, it was a demonstration not only of the High Lord's true power, but of the undying, unconditional love he felt for you, his mate, his High Lady.

Try as you may, you couldn’t ignore that burning heat within you, that flame of arousal. You worried your lower lip between your teeth as you debated what to do. The logical solution was to be as patient as you were able; Rhysand always took such good care of you, knew exactly how to use his mouth, fingers, and cock to make you sing in pleasure. However, a larger part of you wanted to have him right there, audience be damned. Let them see. Let them all see how well Rhysand claimed you and how he was hopelessly yours as much as you were undeniably his.

It was a thought that certainly had its merits.

Your fingers wandered down the expanse of your abdomen, around your hip to your lower back where the fastens that held your skirt together resided. With a practiced ease you worked them open, sighing in relief as the immense amount of fabric fell down, pooling at your feet. You stepped out of the skirt, pushing it aside with your foot, and were happy that the cloak Rhysand had insisted on wearing was large enough to cover your now nude lower half.

You brought your hand back around to the small patch of hair resting just above your slick folds, dragging your fingers down to press against your entrance. A low hiss escaped you as they slipped in with ease, surprised by how wet you were already. Your gaze locked onto the slowly diminishing form of Aldric, each scream that erupted from his mouth sending a shiver down your spine because you knew that he was suffering because he dared to look at and touch something that was forbidden to him.

The scent of your arousal was evident to everyone present; they could smell your slick as you worked yourself open, quivering against your mate’s side and moaning into the darkness. You felt Rhysand’s grip on you tighten and all but shivered as he turned dark, hungry eyes towards you. He flicked his wrist again, his gaze solely focused on your face, and he watched as your pupils dilated with a desperate need at the sound of Aldric’s tormented wails. You could so clearly see the depravity in his violet eyes and eagerly met it with your own. It was a look that said I see you and I love you and accept you and Rhysand let out an almost choked sound at the sight of it.

You gasped as Rhysand turned to face you fully, pulling you close and grinding your bodies together as he bent down to lick his way into your mouth. His left hand wandered down the planes of your skin, joining your own at your dripping cunt. You cried out, using your free hand to grab onto the front of his tunic as he pressed one, two, three of his thick fingers into you, thrusting in and out alongside your own smaller digits.

You chanced a look back at Aldric and watched as his arm slowly came undone in perfect synchronization with Rhysand’s own gentle touch to your arm. The same happened again as Rhysand dragged his hand up to grip your chin, forcing you to look back at him as he surged forward and captured your mouth once more, his other hand still fucking you open relentlessly. The knowledge that for every inch of you that Rhysand touched Aldric would lose that part simultaneously produced an especially delicious-smelling gush of slick from you and you moaned as Rhysand brought an utterly soaked hand to his mouth and licked it clean.

“Rhys,” you pleaded, sighing in relief when his fingers entered you once more, “Please. Claim me. Mate me again. Show them we are equals.” The implication of your words was understood by all in attendance and Rhysand, who normally took a pause to verify you truly wanted to be ravaged so thoroughly by him, unleashed a sound that was positively bestial as he gripped the corset and blouse you were wearing and tore them asunder.

His hands gripped your waist, dragging you down to the ground with him, into the dust beneath your feet. It was a filthy thing, one that to many would be seen as unfit for a fae of his standing, but neither of you cared. The ferocity with which Rhysand flipped you around, edging you onto your hands and knees—soaked entrance on display like a bitch in heat—sent a full body shudder through you, getting a thrill at seeing your mate so unhinged.

The sound of Rhysand untying the fastens of his trousers was familiar and you pressed back harder against him, hoping to feel some of the cock you knew he was freeing. You could feel yourself gushing, slick spilling out of you as Rhysand rubbed the head of his thick cock against your wet entrance. Rhysand’s normally calm outward appearance was ripped away as Aldric let out a particularly blood curdling cry, his body disintegrating as Rhysand fucked into you in one fluid movement.

The lack of care you felt in that moment for Aldric should have, perhaps, frightened you. But the sight of his body blasting apart and then dissolving into ash and dust sent a shiver down your spine. It was a brutal, grotesque, thing, but it was a sign that your mate loved you, truly, madly, deeply. If the visual display from the High Lord of Night was not enough, the way he took you, claimed you, in front of all present, was another reminder.

You took in that glorious cock, moaning at the curve of it. It was a proud, thick, thing and you shuddered as you felt it throb within you. Then, you rocked back against Rhysand, urging him on, wanting more. The base part of your brain, that seemed fond of taking over whenever Rhysand was more feral, was desperate to be glutted with his seed, to be bred and filled with a new life in front of the ashen remains of someone who thought they could have you.

Rhysand was a bestial thing, his grip on your hips firm, keeping you still as he pounded into you. Growls tore out of his throat as his mouth moved against your flesh, biting and sucking all over to mark you, to show any who dared look that you had a lover, a mate, and that he had staked his claim. You were helpless, only able to angle your body to make the slide of his cock easier, allowing him deeper. The speed with which he took you was nearly too much, yet you were thriving, your muscles convulsing around him as he drove into you.

He thrust in deep and perfect and you threw your head back, exposing more of your neck to his mouth. You screamed your pleasure, and pleaded for him to continue, begged for him to finally claim you. He bit down and your’s eyes widened in surprise as you felt a sudden surge of his power course through your veins, pulsing through every inch of your being. His tongue darted out to lick at the traces of blood seeping out of his claiming mark and you hissed in delight at the sensation.

“I love you. You rare, beautiful thing. My mate, my wife, my High Lady.” Rhysand’s voice was barely recognizable, more of a growl than anything else. His hips stuttered as he spoke and he bit down once more as he emptied himself into you. The feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, stuffing you full of him, had you screaming as you came at last.

Rhysand’s mouth was licking and kissing along the mark he had made and you groaned as he shifted. You could feel him in every fiber of your being and finally felt complete. ‘This’, you thought, ‘this is what I was missing.’ Rhysand hoisted you up with ease, standing with you still stuffed full of his cock and seed. He moved you slowly, turning you so your legs could wrap around his waist and you wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it must have looked to your audience, but refrained. Instead, you gasped once more as Rhysand carefully pulled out, his cum leaking out of you and onto the ground below.

What a waste.

You couldn’t help but hum in agreement. Though that was a conversation for another time.

Rhysand’s hands were on your rear, keeping you supported as he looked around at the group surrounding you. There was a dangerous look in his eyes again, silently reminding them all to stay in their place.

“Someone clean up this mess,” Rhysand snapped, his voice rough and guttural and you delighted at the sound of it, “The High Lady and I are going to retire for the evening.” The High Lady. You grinned wildly at the sound of that. It was merely a title at the end of the day, but it spoke volumes and told all the fae in attendance that you were their ruler, that you were his equal and were not to be trifled with.

“Thank you, my darling,” You whispered against the shell of one of his pointed ears, your tone sincere and full of the love you held for him. You peppered kisses along his handsome face, neck, and shoulder and Rhysand gave an approving hum before whispering a promise, “For you, my love, my life, anything.”

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #acotar reader #acotar series #acotar reader insert #reader insert #c: rhysand #t: fanfiction #cw: smut #cw: torture #cw: voyeurism #ship: rhysand x reader #lit: acotar series #my writing

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sareeen · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

Here are all my fics, I had written so far :)

All the fics that are with a (~) are 18+

ACOTAR

Azriel x reader

The perfect look

Meaningful words

Unknown Touches for a Lady (~)

The charm of snow {part 2 but can be standalone}

Mini series:

Part one - Chocolate cake

Part two - Apple pie spiced with tears (~)

Eris Vanserra x reader

In the web of past: (series)

Part one - And we meet again

Part two - The Pair Choice

Part three - The Deal (~)

Part four - Soft melodies

#masterlist #acotar #acotar fluff #acotar reader #acotar masterlist #acotar smut #eris vanserra x reader #azriel x reader

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secret-third-thing · 1 year ago

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YOU ASKED AND I ANSWERED:

NSFW Bingo <3

I have never publicly written smut in my life so...

Here are my boundaries:

I will start next week since I have some IRL writing stuff due soon.

I will write in the order that I received the prompts and will do my best to update the chart so that folks know.

If there's a dupe, I'll still write it.

If I get a double bingo, I will write something extra evil special! DO NOT CHEAT AND ASK FOR AN ENTIRE ROW lol

No Brannagh or Dagdan requests pls. <3

Credit to @honeybeefae

#acotar #acotar fic #acotar smut #acotar fics #acotar reader #acotar bingo

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honeybeefae · 1 year ago

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ASKBOX WEDNESDAY IS BACK

Send me a number and a favorite character! Or multiple characters! And NSFW and SFW are both on the table!! Let’s do this!

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

List of random dialogue prompts

“I was never a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and you know… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.”

“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

“I fucking hate you.” “No you don’t. Take that back right now.”

“You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.”

“You look stupid as all hell right now.”

“I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can.”

“You’ve given me so many reasons to walk away.” “Then why don’t you walk away? It’s not like I’m keeping you hostage here.” “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s because I love you.”

“…Damn it all to hell, if I don’t get to have you tonight then I’m never going to be able to have you.”

“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”

“I think you and I make an amazingly stupid pair.” “I know! Our two brain cells combined together make for quality entertainment and a unique kind of stupidity.”

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

“Oh God, yes, right there— oh my God, just like that, please don’t stop.” “…Can you stop that? You’re making it sound like we’re in a porno and now I’m highly uncomfortable.”

“Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?”

“Fuck, you’re such a wreck, and because of me, too.”

“Can you stop moaning? I’m trying to help you relax but you’re making it hard for me to concentrate.” “Sorry, your hands just work a little too good.” “I’m going to pay for a masseuse next time if you keep doing this.”

“You are driving me insane and I’m this close to losing my shit because of you.”

“Is hating me your only personality trait?”

“Never scare me like that again!”

“Oh, don’t worry. I have every plan to make you submit to me.”

“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.”

“That could be us.” “That is us.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you— slow down, you’ll get what you want soon enough.”

“I want you to remember every single second of this.”

“Bet you they can’t make you feel the way I do.” “Bet’s on.” “Wait, what? That was not my intention—”

“Hm, but I think I like having you spread out like this. Such a gorgeous sight.”

“Come and get your fix.”

“…You’re an addiction I never want to quit.”

“I had nothing to live for, but then you came into my life. So thank you.”

“Why’d you— why’d you do that?” “B-Because I promised you I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you.”

“You think I wanted this to happen?!”

“Just when I was about to give up…”

“I trusted you with my life.” “Well, I’m sorry but you’re clearly very gullible.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You know, maybe you should bet on something else the next time instead of betting on someone’s fucking feelings.”

“You’re such a dork.” “Yeah, no wonder you’re so in love with me.”

“Does me doing all these things not account for anything?” “I never asked you to do those things for me, though, did I?”

“You nearly foiled our plan, you idiot!”

“I… I think I’m happy.” “You think? So you’re not one hundred percent certain?”

“Who’s laughing now?” “…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.”

“I’m tired of being on the sidelines.”

“You actually came back.”

“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”

“That was a bold move.”

“We’re going to be late, all because you couldn’t stop scrolling through that damn phone of yours while taking your damn sweet time to shit!”

“Kinda sucks that I can only have you like this.”

“I fell in love, so hard, and so fast, but a part of me knew it wasn’t going to last.”

“Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.”

#acotar #acotar smut #acotar reader #acotar imagine #acotar reader smut #ACOTAR fic #Rhysand #azriel #cassian #Feyre #nesta #eris #Lucien #Helion #Tarquin #Tamlin #Elain #Mor #Amren

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florencemtrash · 7 months ago

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He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now.

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor.

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep.

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it.

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object.

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke.

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence.

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down.

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes.

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful.

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home.

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you.

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter.

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out.

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.”

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—”

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant.

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow.

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.”

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud.

“Long day?”

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.”

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.”

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop.

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?”

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers.

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.”

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.”

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands.

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.”

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.”

You blinked once. Twice.

“Pardon?”

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.”

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.”

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon.

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked.

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.”

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey.

“What?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.”

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him.

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses.

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early.

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs.

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart.

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz.

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you feel safe with me?”

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside.

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.”

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #fluff #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #sleepy azriel is the best azriel #i swear i just need a man who wants to sleep with me all hours of the day and is a living furnace #is that too much to ask?

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prythianpages · 5 months ago

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Be Patient | Azriel x Reader

summary: After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, where he spends seven days patiently longing after you.

warnings: fluff, mild angst bc of Az pining and lowkey being a menace in day court and reader being a little dense, also this is really long, 11K, my longest one shot ever...

note: This is a part two to Be Safe but can be read as a stand alone too. Huge shoutout to @stormhearty , @daycourtofficial & @thecrowesnest13 & the sweet overexcited anon who helped me with this! This is set pre-ACOTAR events and I realized my mistake in naming Helion as High Lord because I think he became High Lord UTM? so for this fic's sake, let's just assume he was already High Lord..

Mate.

The realization crashes over Azriel like a tidal wave. It’s almost suffocating. Mine, the bond in his chest roars. Protect. The emotions swell, fueled by his shadows whispering and urging him on to go and keep you safe. Because who better to do so than him?

Before he knows it, he’s following you into Day Court, his shadows swallowing his form until Mor’s and Cassian’s laughter are distant echoes.

Piercing violet eyes greet him as soon as he steps out from his shadows, blocking his view. It’s almost as if he had been expecting Azriel. Talons rake across the shields of his mind and Azriel reluctantly lets him in. Go back, Rhysand asserts, holding the shadowsinger’s gaze.

I can’t, he nearly growls in his mind.

The thought of leaving you, not being by your side is insufferable. It’s this very thought that has some of his shadows dancing toward you, the shadow curled around his ear whispering to him about your whereabouts. You stand, a couple of feet away, speaking with Helion. You’re completely oblivious to the two Illyrian males glaring at one another.

What do you mean you can’t? Rhysand doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in his tone.

Azriel then shows Rhysand what happened just moments ago. The mating bond snapping into place right as you were winnowing away. He leaves out the part where Cassian and Mor had been teasing him but he suspects Rhysand was aware of that.

Rhysand lets out a sigh, running a hand down the length of his face. What appears to be exhaustion tears through his features before he leans in toward the taller male. “Really?” He whispers in an exasperated hush. “Right now?

Azriel falters with a huff, his head following the direction his shadows had gone. It’s only when his gaze lands on you that it softens. “You say it like I had a choice.”

But boy is he glad it is you.

”Fine,” Rhysand sighs after a long moment of silence. He knows he can’t do anything about it, the determination in the Shadowsinger’s eyes burning bright. He’d fear going against the Cauldron if he did. “You can stay. But—“ he lifts a jewel adorned finger in warning“—you distract her—“

Azriel’s head turns back to Rhysand and there’s a frown on his face. ”I don’t distract her.”

”Please,” Rhysand chuckles in disbelief. “Listen, I’m happy for you. Truly. But we didn’t come all this way for nothing and I need her to be able to focus. She can’t even think properly around you and if she finds out you’re her–”

“She thinks about me?”

Rhysand shuts his mouth with a withering stare.

Azriel’s shadows are then whispering madly, coercing him to turn his attention back to you. You’re giggling and smiling at Helion, cheeks flushed with a blush. Azriel flushes too but for an entirely different reason. Helion has your hand in his, amber eyes holding you captive, as he’s slowly lifting it up to his lips.

Shadows are coiling softly around your wrist and before Helion can kiss your hand, your hand is being pulled away from his. Helion’s brows furrow, hand falling to his side as one lone shadow floats in front of him. He is not fluent in shadows but the way it writhes at him gives one clear message.

”Oh, hi!”

Azriel watches, taking note of the small fond smile that forms on your face as you recognize the dark tendrils wrapped around your arm. Your eyes find him almost immediately and then you’re walking toward him.

“Azriel, what are you doing here?”

“Shadowsinger,” Helion purrs in greeting, a pleased smirk on his face that grows at Azriel’s indifferent nod. “I was not aware you were coming too.”

Rhysand places a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft, black leather. Don’t say anything. Rhysand warns in his mind. We’ll talk somewhere else.

Rhysand forces a charming smile onto his face and Helion’s eyes flicker with interest. “I apologize for the short notice but Azriel is here to… escort y/n.”

“Escort?”

Both you and Helion say in unison. Though Helion’s tone carries mirth, yours carries shock. Confusion clouds your features, worry flickering in your wide eyes. Rhysand must’ve eased your mind, for Azriel feels the tension leave your muscles shortly afterwards. Still, you inch closer to him, as if seeking the comfort of his presence. He instinctively mirrors your movement, the blue siphons on his leathers brushing against your arm and gleaming in response.

“You offend me, Rhys. I’ve welcomed you to my court with no ill intention.” Helion chides, though his voice is light with humor.

“y/n here is just very precious to us,” Rhysand says, choosing his words carefully. “I hope you can understand.”

Azriel’s shadows whisper the details of the scene around him, noting the apologetic look Rhysand sends to Helion. The High Lord of Day chuckles, but Azriel’s focus remains steadfastly on you. You turn to him with a questioning smile and he returns your smile, the warmth in his hazel eyes answering your unspoken question.

“I can see why,” comes Helion’s response, gaze lingering on you with an appreciative gleam.

Azriel’s head whips fast toward the High Lord of the Day Court and another sigh escapes Rhysand.

“Seven days. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s seven days too long, Rhys.”

Rhysand falters back, appalled by those words. He lets out a small laugh. “Too long? Seven days is too long but a whole century wasn’t?”

“It hasn’t been a century,” Azriel hisses and Rhysand raises his brows. “It’s been eighty nine years. Besides, it’s different now.”

You’re his mate now.

The mating bond had snapped into place with such force that he was still reeling from its impact. It was as if every emotion of his was amplified, sending a startling quiver through those golden threads in his chest. Jealousy jerked the most. It’s why every few seconds, his gaze flickered towards the hall you had disappeared into with the High Lord known for his scandalous appetites. One of his shadows had stayed with you and though he knew it would come back if Helion tried anything, it did nothing to ease him. He should be beside you right now. Not beside Rhysand, who seemed keen on keeping you from him.

“You saw the way she looked at you when you arrived.”

Azriel turned back to Rhysand, that image of you reappearing in his mind from Rhysand’s perspective. Surprise had flickered across your features, but like a passing storm cloud, it swiftly gave way to brightness. Your eyes sparkled, your lips curved into a fond smile. Without hesitation, you left Helion's side, drawn instinctively toward Azriel. It was as if nothing else mattered but him, as if there was no one else in the world but you two.

The bond in his chest sings in delight because overriding all other emotions swirling madly around, there is love.

Azriel had loved you long before the bond’s sudden manifestation. His feelings had grown silently over the years, nurtured through shared moments and unspoken gestures. He knew he had to confess his feelings to you–something that had been eating at him for years. Eighty nine years to be exact, as he pointed out just a moment ago.

But fear always held him back.

Fear that he had mistaken your kindness for something more. Fear that he would ruin the decades of friendship you two had built. Fear that you loved him but not enough to see past his scars.

He realizes now how ridiculous those fears sound.

The kindness you harbored for him was not the same kindness you showed others. Your friendship was strong and precious, something he would fiercely protect no matter what. Your hand always sought his, never showing disgust towards the marred roughness of his own. You had even dedicated so much of your time to researching Prythian’s herbs and treatment for burns, working with Madja to make a special concoction–a soothing balm to alleviate the inevitable pains.

By the Mother, he was a fool and it took the bond snapping into place to realize it.

“Yes. You both are.”

Now, the golden threads in his chest urged him to confess, to bridge that small lingering distance between you–

“But you can’t. Not now.”

“Get out of my head,” Azriel snaps, glaring at his brother.

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re thinking so loudly,” Rhysand replies, a touch defensively. “Look, y/n has been looking forward to this trip so much. If you tell her about the bond, it will consume her every thought and cloud that brilliant mind of hers. I know this is selfish of me but I need her to be focused and you to be patient.”

Azriel’s glare wavers. He knows how much this trip means to you. It was the first time Rhysand was entrusting a task upon you outside of the Night Court’s borders. Getting to see the magnificent library of the Day Court was also all your bibliophile heart could talk about. His desire to protect you and respect your focus battled fiercely with his yearning to tell you about the bond.

“Seven days?”

“Seven days,” Rhysand confirms, the tension easing from his face. “Then, she’s all yours. Just be patient.”

Azriel scoffs. “I’ll be so patient.”

But as they both join you and Helion for dinner, something tells Rhysand that this is going to be a long week.

Helion had hosted an extravagant feast for you all last night, even bringing out his finest, aged whiskey to celebrate. He had toasted it to Azriel, the surprise guest, with a cheeky wink. When his flirtatious efforts went ignored, Helion had turned his affections toward you. A notion that left Azriel seething and Rhysand on guard.

After dinner, Helion had given you a brief tour of the palace and introduced you to the fae you encountered along the way. To Azriel’s relief, the room he’d be staying in was right across from yours. His shadows had eagerly scouted the halls and both your rooms, becoming attuned to every creak and sound as an extra measure of safety. They fell asleep before he did and were the ones to wake him up when they heard you shuffling around your room.

As Azriel laces his leathers, the dark tendrils rush toward his door, peeking out underneath. It seems they are just as eager as he is to see you.

“Good morning!” You chirp happily, practically buzzing with excitement as you greet him at his door. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” A lie. Your joy is so contagious it’s easy to mask his exhaustion, his smile matching yours. “Did you?”

He had, in fact, not slept well.

How could he when his anxiety began to gnaw at him? Because what if you grew tired of waiting for him within these seven days and gave into Helion’s charm? Each time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed with images of you reciprocating Helion’s advances, and sneaking off into his chambers in the middle of the night...

You give a noncommittal hum in response, pulling him out of his inner turmoil and bring him back to you.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Az.”

Azriel’s shadows mirror your enthusiasm. A faint blush takes over his cheeks as you grasp his hand to tug him along with you. “Rhys has private business to attend to with Helion and I did not want to do this alone,” you say, waving your bucket list in the air with your free hand.

Of course, you had a list of things you’d like to do in Day. It instilled another fear into Azriel because what if you fell in love with Day and refused to go back to Night? He eyes all the bullet points on that list of yours and refuses to let himself make that fear come true.

Anything you loved here, he would make sure to remind you that the Night Court could do better.

“And who better to spend the day with than my loyal shadowsinger, right?” You remark with a playful glint in your eye.

“Right,” Azriel replies and there’s a brightness in his heart at your words. My loyal shadowsinger. His shadows dance in agreement.

But there is one thing the Night Court can’t replicate, a truth he reluctantly acknowledges as you both step outside into the warmth of the sun.

A radiant smile breaks out on your face as you bask in the bright sunlight. Its golden glow kisses your skin, highlighting every feature he adores.

His leathers are not meant for this type of weather. He can feel himself growing hot, his shadows already endlessly working to keep him cool. Though you were dressed in something lighter than him, a pale blue dress, some of them flit toward you to do the same.

Azriel allows you to pull him along, savoring the feel of your hand in his. The cobblestone streets of the Day Court’s market are narrow, flanked by vibrant stalls and lively vendors. He tucks his wings tightly against his back to avoid brushing against the bustling crowd. His grip on your hand is firm. He tells himself it’s to ensure he doesn’t lose you amidst the sea of fae, but deep down, he has no intention of ever letting go.

Your first stop is a quaint little shop that, according to your research, sells the best espresso in Prythian. Azriel prefers his coffee black but you convince him to try Day’s specialty, a honey lavender latte.

You watch him, awaiting his response.

“I hate it,” he tells you, though it’s surprisingly good. Really good. “Velaris has better coffee.”

You take your drink back with a shrug as you head to your next stop. The flower market. As you stroll through the market stalls, you point out a cluster of flowers, your voice tinged with excitement as you describe their origins and meanings. You’re like a living encyclopedia and Azriel has always admired this about you. He asks you more questions, even if he already has the answers. Just so that he can see the light in your eyes dance with every word you speak.

A beautiful pink blossom catches his eyes as he’s read about it before, already familiar with its meaning. An idea sparks into his mind. Maybe, if he starts dropping hints, it’d make his impending confession go smoother. He tugs on your hand gently. “And this one?”

“It’s a pink camelia. A symbol of love, adoration and longing.”

He tosses a coin to the merchant and then picks the prettiest pink camelia among the bunch. He tucks it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The shadows that cling to him, hiding from the sun, peek out from above his shoulders, stirring in anticipation as you look up at Azriel and smile.

“y/n, I–”

His words hang in the air, the tendrils too distracted by you to notice the merchant approaching. Suddenly, a hand appears between you both, golden bracelets dangling before your eyes. “A pretty bracelet for the pretty lady?” the fae male asks. “They’re one of a kind!”

Your eyes widen as you take in the shimmering jewelry. “How much?”

“Ten coins,” the merchant replies, but as his eyes roam over you, he adds, “But for you, five.”

“Okay,” you agree, not having the heart to say no.

You reach for one of the gold bracelets, its chain holding a gleaming sun made of amber in the center. Before you can even open your coin purse, Azriel shoves ten coins into the merchant’s awaiting hand, his glare sending the man skittering away.

“Thank you,” you say to Azriel, struggling to clasp the bracelet around your wrist. Azriel gestures for you to let him help, and you do, watching the subtle furrow of his brow as he fastens the hook. “But why did you give him ten coins? He said five…”

“I didn’t,” Azriel lies smoothly for the second time this morning, and when your eyes narrow in suspicion, he simply smiles and tilts his head toward the right. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the art gallery if we want to make it to the water fountain show in time?”

That gets you going.

Your hold on his hand tightens as you lead the way to the art gallery. There, you’re captivated by the various amounts of artwork from Day, one of them being a very detailed and very naked sculpture of Helion. Azriel can’t help but remind you of the beauty of the Rainbow of Velaris, tugging you along, using the water fountain show as an excuse to get you to leave quicker.

Afterwards, you visit a bookstore and many other stores, discovering that the bracelet on your wrist was not one-of-a-kind. They are available in various stores, each offering different variations. Instead of feeling disappointed, you find one specially for Azriel. Its chain is silver, adorned with a glimmering moon made from moonstone, a perfect complement to your amber sun.

By the time you both return to the palace, the sky is painted with hues of twilight, signaling it’s almost dinner time.

“Thank you for helping me carry all my stuff,” you say with a sheepish grin, glancing at the bags scattered on your floor, most of them filled with gifts for the rest of the inner circle members since they couldn’t come along.

“Of course,” Azriel replies with a soft smile, his eyes warm. He had refused to let you lift a finger.

Standing on your tip-toes, you aim to kiss his cheek but underestimate the height difference, your lips landing on his jaw instead. The touch has the same effect. Azriel blushes, his wings twitching slightly, and his shadows snicker behind him. He hopes you can't hear them.

“Are you sure–” he clears his throat “–are you sure you don’t need help packing them up too?”

Your eyes light up and then you’re pulling him into your room. Unfortunately, no more kisses came from that. However, the shared smiles and easy conversation made it all worth it.

Be patient, he reminds himself. But he can't help but think of the golden threads unraveling in his chest, giving them an experimental tug. There’s no response, yet he hopes that yours will entwine with his any day now, binding you together forever.

As the golden, morning light of the Day Court bathes the grand hall, Azriel waits for you to enter the place where you'd have breakfast together. When he hears your approaching footsteps, he turns.

Suddenly, he finds himself unable to think. Unable to breathe, even.

You were beautiful. He was well aware of this, always has been. But today, you were absolutely stunning, like a goddess descended from the heavens.

The dress you wore was different from your usual Night court dresses and though it screamed Day court fashion, Azriel couldn’t bring himself to care. The delicate ivory, flowing fabric draped elegantly over your body. His eyes trace every detail of the dress, from the plunging neckline to the high slits that reveal the soft and inviting skin of your legs. There’s a tightness in his throat when he catches a glimpse of the gold garter adorning your thigh.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile, a hint of shyness in your eyes despite the boldness of the dress.

"Morning," he barely manages to say.

“Good morning indeed,” Helion purrs as he appears behind you, Rhysand at his side.

Azriel, captivated by your beauty, barely registered the expression on Helion's face. Meanwhile, his shadows moved with a protective instinct, delicately brushing against your legs as if to shield you from Helion's lingering gaze.

As you approach him, Azriel's heart continues to hammer against his chest. He musters up a smile. Though small, it’s full of admiration and awe.

Helion chuckles. “My oh my, Rhysand. I did not know your Shadowsinger was capable of smiling.”

Rhysand lets out an amused exhale. His tone is light but it carries a subtle warning. “He’s capable of many things, including patience.”

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw as he falls into step with you. He doesn’t notice the small frown that takes over your features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, voice sweet despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

You shake your head in protest. “You look all hot and bothered.”

Azriel chokes on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“You’re already sweating,” you explain to him, reaching up with your free hand to brush his dark curls away from his forehead. His wings flutter in response to the surprise touch. “And it’s barely morning. Come on, you’re not wearing those leathers today. I’m sure Helion left some clothes for you too.”

Azriel heats up at the mention of Helion’s name, his mind briefly flickering to the thought of the High Lord leaving such a dress for you. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it further as you tug him back toward the room he’s staying in, mumbling about how Azriel has a death wish for wearing such thick clothing in the Day Court.

But it’s the High Lord of the Day Court who has a death wish, Azriel thinks.

“We won’t be long!” You call over your shoulder to Rhysand and Helion, who both give a dismissive wave.

Helion shakes his head in amusement. “Are they always like this?”

Rhysand lets out a snort. “Unfortunately.”

“Come. Let us have a drink. I believe we’re in very much need of one.”

“This early in the morning?”

“My friend, have you not had orange juice and champagne? Such a lovely, delightful combination. I call it a mimosa…”

Back in Azriel's room, you rummage through the clothes Helion had left for him. His eyes soften as you continue to fuss over him. Though he complains about it, he secretly loves when you fuss over him. He has to peel his gaze away from you when you bend down to pick up a top, his thoughts threatening to drift elsewhere if he doesn't.

Hot. Bothered. His shadows repeat your words from earlier to him and he eyes them with a glare.

Despite Helion’s wish for Azriel to wear a toga like he proudly does, Azriel is relieved at what you picked out for him. He’s also touched that you know him well enough to pick something close to his taste. “Here,” you say, holding up a pair of loose fitting dark trousers and a sheen, flowy white top with a deep v neck similar to the one of your dress. “This will be perfect for today.”

“Fine,” Azriel murmurs, reluctantly taking the garments from you. Your fingers brush against his, sending a spark through him.

“I trust you can dress yourself from here,” you tease, giving him a playful pat on his shoulder.

Azriel lets out a scoff, resisting the urge to reply with a roguish remark. He quickly changes into the clothes you picked out for him, not wanting to cut into your breakfast time any more than necessary. Today is a busy day for you, as you will spend most of it in the library, researching all about the death gods for an assignment Rhysand gave you.

When he steps out of the room, your eyes light up as they look over his body. His muscles flex instinctively when your gaze lingers on the tattoos swirling on his chest. You blink, and with a smile say, “Radiant.”

Azriel feels the blood rush to his neck. He’s received many compliments before but never something as bright as “radiant.” He suddenly yearns to hear more–only if they come from your pretty lips.

“Y/n, have I ever told you how much I—” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity, and he loses his resolve, Rhysand’s warning echoing in his head. “—appreciate you…”

Those were not the words Azriel had intended, and he lets out a defeated breath. Yet, your smile does not falter. Instead, you hook your arm through his, beaming up at him as you guide him through the halls.

“I believe you have but please, enlighten me again…”

Helion’s gaze fixes on you and Azriel as you finally joined them for breakfast. Dressed in resplendent Day Court fashion, the two of you look ravishing, and Helion cannot decide who is more captivating–you or the stoic shadowsinger at your side.

His affections have always met a brick wall with the Illyrian male. So naturally, when another pretty face shows up at his court, he focuses all his attention on you. He savors your sweet reactions and Azriel’s jealous ones, sensing more between you two. He’s determined to unravel it.

After breakfast, Helion sidles up beside you, flashing a charming smile. “Allow me to admire you more closely, Lady Y/n,” he says, his voice smooth and rich as he extends his hand.

Azriel’s jaw clenches, his shadows swirling restlessly when you take Helion’s hand. Helion’s smile widens, and then he gestures for you to spin. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

You gasp, eyes widening in delight and cheeks tinting with a delicate blush. “You know Shakespeare?”

“Know it? I live it.” Helion responds. “I have his original copies in my personal library. You can come take a look, if you’d like. Just give me a day to…organize things.”

Azriel’s eyes narrow, not liking the intonation in the High Lord’s voice. Helion can feel that primal instinct–the possessiveness Azriel feels for you–simmering beneath the surface. His eyes widen slightly in acknowledgement and then he’s turning to Rhysand.

"Helion,” Rhysand drawls, confirming his suspicions. “As y/n’s escort, you're making Azriel's shadows rather restless.”

Helion laughs, a rich, melodious sound that fills the room. "I can't help it if your historian is so captivating, Rhysand," he says, winking at you and delighting in the response it shakes from Azriel.

Azriel falls into step behind you as Helion guides you all toward the magnificent library of the Day Court. Sunlight streams through towering windows, casting rainbows across the marble floors. You had praised it as the biggest and most beautiful library in all of Prythian. As Azriel stands in front of the entrance, he reluctantly acknowledges that none of the libraries in the Night Court could come close if this is just how the entrance looks.

As Azriel moves to step inside with you, Rhysand stops him.

"What are you doing?" Azriel huffs, peering over Rhysand's shoulder to catch a glimpse of the awed expression on your face as Helion talks to you. "I'm Y/n's escort, remember?"

“There’s no need for one in the library. You’ll only be a distraction here.” Rhysand replies and sensing his apprehension, he adds. “She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

“But–”

“No,” Rhysand interrupts and Azriel’s gaze hardens. A playful glint dances in Rhysand’s violet eyes. “Go take a walk, a cold shower or perhaps, read up on some poetry.”

With that, Rhysand enters the library, motioning for the guards to shut the door. As the door closes, a single dark tendril manages to slide through.

I don’t resort to poetry, Azriel thinks bitterly and he swears he hears Rhysand’s chuckle in his mind.

That night, during dinner, Helion took all your attention as the two of you quoted and mused over poetry, Rhysand chiming in occasionally. Azriel remained silent, a muscle ticking at his jaw.

The following morning, Azriel didn’t get a chance to speak to you much either. You and Rhysand were deep in discussion, strategizing how to tackle the vast array of books about the old gods. Azriel hadn’t even finished his coffee when you abruptly stood from your seat, mouth still full of food, and hurried off towards the library. The golden threads buried deep in his chest stirred with your passion.

So while you spent your day in the library, engrossed in your research, Azriel decided to spend his day doing his own research. He had his shadows sneak into your room and retrieve one of the poetry books he is certain you bought with you. You read one every night before bed.

Azriel reads some of the poems, engraving the words into his memory, just in case. He ends up falling asleep in his room, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. His shadows stir him awake, hours later, pointing to the clock hanging across from him. It’s almost dinner time so Azriel freshens up and then makes his way toward the library.

“Hey, you,” you greet Azriel happily, two of his shadows trailing behind you, as you step out of the library. The second one had joined you this morning as the first one had been feeling lonely. “I think they like me better than you.”

“Keep them,” Azriel shrugs. When you're not looking, he gives them a knowing nod, though his voice feigns annoyance. “Traitors.”

“What did you do today?” You ask, falling into step beside him as you two walk toward the dining hall. “Anything interesting?”

“I learned something.”

“Yeah?”

Azriel turns to you, his expression serious as he clears his throat. "She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright... uh, meet in her something…eyes…?"

You blink at him, confusion furrowing your brow. "Something eyes?"

Before Azriel can explain, Helion chimes in, that cheeky grin plastered on his face. "It's 'Meet in her aspect and her eyes,’" he corrects smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, as he beckons for you to take your seats.

Azriel shoots a glare at Helion and Rhysand kicks him under the table in warning. Helion chuckles, unfazed by the death stare coming from Azriel as he continues.

“She walks in beauty, like the night. Of Cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

“Oh, Lord Byron!” you say in recognition, turning to Azriel with a look that soothes his embarrassment. “She Walks in Beauty. What a lovely poem. Did you know it was one of my favorites?”

“I didn’t,” Azriel replies casually, though inwardly his heart races and his shadows race to cover the blush delicately tinting his neck. Of course he knew it was your favorite. You had scribbled hearts all over the page in your book. “I just liked it and thought I’d share it with you.”

Your smile widens, touched by his gesture. “I thought you didn’t fancy poetry, Az.”

“I thought the same,” Rhysand says, eyes narrowing at Azriel.

"I'm full of surprises," Azriel says dryly, meeting Rhysand's gaze evenly.

“Well, let’s hope it’s the last of your surprises.”

“I believe I also have some of Lord Byron’s works. How about I finally show you my personal library after dinner?” Helion speaks, directing all attention back to him.

Azriel opens his mouth to protest, not liking the inviting gaze in the High Lord’s eyes, but Helion interjects smoothly. “No worries, escort, ” Helion says, his grin widening. “I’ll take good care of y/n.”

Azriel sulks, a bitter taste in his mouth from Helion’s effortless charm throughout dinner. He tries his best to keep you from leaving, insisting you try every single dessert laid out on the table. Barely halfway through, you slump back in your chair, claiming you can’t eat another bite without bursting.

His ears perk up and he sends a small prayer to the Mother that your full stomach dissuades you from visiting Helion’s personal library, his own stomach not being able to handle the thought. Tonight, it seems The Mother does not favor him. When Helion offers you his arm, you take it excitedly, oblivious to the sulking Shadowsinger you left behind.

Rhysand laughs, finding amusement in the entire situation, while Azriel shoots him a cold stare. If Rhysand hadn’t ordered Azriel to keep the truth of the bond from you until after your trip here, you wouldn't be alone with Helion now.

Yet, Azriel can't help but bitterly reflect that if he had only been upfront about his feelings from the start, he wouldn’t be tormented by such longing now, the bond in his chest roaring at the thought of you with another male.

“I think y/n is more than capable of handling a flirtatious High Lord.”

Azriel’s lips twitch into a brief, reluctant smile. “She is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Cheer up, Az,” Rhysand teases, lifting his glass in a mock-toast to his friend. “There’s always more poetry to practice. Or perhaps, you should stick to brooding. You’re much better at that.”

“Pass the whiskey,” Azriel replies tersely, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“Patience is a virtue, Az.”

“So is silence.”

You’re swooning, over the moon, after exploring Helion’s personal library. He showed you his special editions of Lord Byron’s and Shakespeare’s works, allowing you to take one back to your room with you to read. You clutch the book to your chest, humming softly to yourself.

When you reach the hallway, you linger there for a moment, sparing a glance toward Azriel’s room. The night is still young and you’re surprised to see no light seeping through the door. Has he gone to bed already? Worry knits your brows as you wonder if he’s okay. He has been acting strange since he arrived. He had quoted poetry at you for Cauldron’s sake!

You walk toward his door and knock. There’s no answer so you knock again. “Az?”

You frown when you’re met with silence and your hands itch to open the door but you hesitate. He could either be asleep, out flying or out training. He had been eyeing the training grounds of Day during Helion’s tour.

With a sigh, you step into your room and decide to get ready for bed, making a mental note to check up on him in the morning. The day had been long and filled with unexpected twists and tomorrow would only bring another long day. Your eyes were tired from reading so much fine print.

As you're fluffing your pillows, you hear the sound of heavy, booted footsteps. Your mind wanders to Azriel but it can’t be. His steps were always quiet, silenced by his shadows. There’s a pause in the steps and a brief moment of stillness.

Abruptly, your door swings open and you let out a small gasp.

You watch as Azriel stumbles in, your heart flying to your chest in relief. His usually graceful steps falter as if the weight of his massive wings is too much to bear. Shadows cling to his wrists, doing their best to keep their master steady.

A look of pleasant surprise softens his features when he spots you, his hazel eyes widening at the sight of you in your nightgown. He brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing it in an attempt to make the flush spreading across his cheeks go away.

“Y/n,” he hiccups with a pleased grin. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, stifling a laugh at his adorable state. “This is my room.”

Azriel’s expression morphs, his eyebrows furrowing and a slight pout forming on his lips. “Didn’t get to spend the day with you,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he sways slightly. “Or night… you spent it with Helion instead.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you jealous, Az?”

Another hiccup. “Maybe.”

Your stomach flutters at the way he admits it so openly. The two of you have always had a playful, flirty dynamic. It had never gone beyond exchanged glances and lingering touches, though. Azriel never let it, and a part of you feared it was because he was too kind to reject you outright. Now, you begin to wonder if you had misinterpreted the situation all along.

“Well, it’s still night,” you tell him, “And you’re here with me now.”

“I am,” Azriel acknowledges with a hint of surprise, as if realizing it anew. “And I know poetry too…”

He straightens up, attempting to appear serious again despite the slight slur in his words. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height... uh, something about sight, I think?”

Did he somehow know this was another of your favorites? It seems unlikely. In all the years you've known him, Azriel has never shown interest in poetry. Or at least up until two hours ago. You should check his forehead. What if he was coming down with something?

Instead, you clear your throat and help him out.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee–” your voice wavers at the look Azriel gives you, his hazel eyes shining with an emotion that threatens to weaken your knees. “–to the level of every day’s. Most quiet need, by sun and candle light…”

“I love thee too,” Azriel breathes, holding your gaze and stepping closer to you. “Freely–purely…no, freely as men strive for fight.”

“Right,” you correct with a laugh. “Freely as men strive for right.”

Azriel’s pout deepens, yet there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbles.

He continues to make his way toward you and you hold out your arms, worried he’ll lose his battle with balance. He ends up slumping face-first onto your bed, his wings splaying out behind him. “Can I stay here? Just for a little bit. I missed you all day.”

“Yeah,” you reply with a soft smile. You missed him too. “But can you make room for me on my bed?”

“Mmm,” Azriel hums, turning on his side. He pats at the space right in front of him, his shadows moving to rest behind him to give you space. “Come here, my pretty historian.”

You feel a rush of warmth course through you, momentarily flustered by the nickname. Looking at Azriel, you hesitate. It wouldn’t be the first time you two shared a bed but it’d be the first time you’d share one in a bed not meant to accommodate for Illyrian wings.

Maybe, it’s best if you help him to his room. Your eyes look toward his shadows and you notice them slowly curling around his back as if going to sleep themselves. They would be no help and neither would Rhys as you were sure he was sharing his night with a pretty fae or two. And you would definitely not be able to carry Azriel back to his room on your own.

So when Azriel pats the bed again, you join him. He frowns when you don’t nestle against him as he wished. Instead, you slip under the covers, resting on your side to face him fully. He adjusts to mirror your position, close enough that you feel his warm breath, noses and hands brushing against each other.

“You smell good,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Marry me?”

You smile, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Is that all it takes to marry you? To smell good?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter close, a contented sigh escaping him. “I’d marry you, even if you didn’t smell good,” he says, his words mumbled but filled with affection.

Your heart swells and you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, feeling exhaustion come over you when Azriel yawns.

“Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he murmurs, already drifting off to sleep, a peaceful smile on his face. “My sweet, pretty ma–”

A shadow, one of the ones that have taken a liking to you, crawls over you and rushes to Azriel, curling around his mouth to silence him. You are too tired to think about it, simply letting sleep claim you in each other’s comforting presence.

Azriel wakes up with a soft groan, still enveloped by your scent. His shadows stir as he does and he hesitates opening his eyes, not ready to face the aftermath of his drunken state. The impending headache is already breaking the surface. When he opens his eyes, he finds you missing. His worry is eased when one of his shadows brings a small piece of paper to him.

He shifts, moving into a sitting position. One hand rubs at his head while the other takes the note you left for him.

To my star breaking poet, you looked too peaceful to wake. I left some water, tea and bread on the nightstand. Enjoy.

-your pretty historian

His lips tug up into a smile. He turns his head, finding the drinks and food you left for him. He doesn’t dare touch them though, despite the bond in his chest yearning for him to. He then searches for the clock in your room and his eyes widen. It’s past noon. Azriel has never slept this late or felt so rested, especially after a night of heavy drinking.

Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to fall back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. He lingers there a moment longer before finally rising and heading to his room to bathe and get ready for the day. Knowing you'll be in the library all day, he wonders what to do with himself, having given up on poetry after his unsuccessful attempts.

Azriel makes himself busy by wandering the palace, feeling a bit uneasy walking so freely in the open. He’s so accustomed to blending into the shadows that this exposure feels unnatural. His shadows cling to him, hiding beneath his cloak, equally uncomfortable with the brightness. The day is cooler, so he’s donned his leathers, a small part of him hoping you'll fuss over him again when you see him.

He visits the markets, but they seem less vibrant without you by his side. He then goes to the training grounds of Day, catching up with his missed training and releasing his pent up frustrations with a training dummy. Upon returning to the palace and washing up, he heads towards the library. Though he can’t enter, he knows there are small tables and padded chairs just outside. He found you there during one of your breaks yesterday, so he sits at one of the tables, hoping you'll come again.

A newspaper rests on the table before him, so he picks it up to pass the time. After reading through it twice, he moves to a different table with a chess set, his shadows engaging him in a game. After losing to them three times, he leans back with a sigh. He really should’ve brought some of his unfinished reports to work on.

Overcome with the bond, he had followed you without hesitation, not anticipating that Rhysand would keep him from telling you about it. He didn't have a plan, so while he wasn't happy about it, at least it gave him time to come up with one. The minute you’d go back to Night, Azriel was set on visiting your favorite restaurant and making reservations. He’d surprise you with a day full of your favorites, ending it with his confession, where he hoped you would accept him.

It was one thing to love him back. Another to accept him as your mate.

Before he knows it, the sun begins to set, his shadows buzzing with life as darkness takes over. You still haven’t stepped out of the library. He wonders if you've eaten or had enough water. One of his shadows slips out from underneath the library doors and flutters back to him. It reports that the other shadow, still with you, helped you reach for books and turn pages. It had even wanted to brush your hair back when it fell loose from your tie but was met with an invisible force. High Lord, the shadow hissed and he realizes Rhysand knew him better than he thought. That unwanted chaperone…

When he learns you've skipped lunch, his worry deepens. He paces back and forth in front of the grand doors, his heart aching with the intensity of the bond. Every instinct within him urges him to protect and care for you. Unable to hold back any longer, he takes advantage of the darkening sky and slips into the library.

The shadow that had reported to him leads the way, darting ahead. His other shadows eagerly rush forward, reaching you before he does. They greet the lone shadow that had stayed by your side like long-lost friends reuniting.

Azriel’s heart calms when he finds you asleep, slumped over a desk and surrounded by a mountain of books. You're curled into yourself, goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of your arms. He gently removes his cloak from his leathers and drapes it over you.

You instinctively snuggle deeper into the cloak, half asleep. “Smells s’good,” you murmur, and the bond in his chest tightens.

He gently removes your glasses, the ones you wear when doing prolonged near work, and places them carefully into one of his pockets. There’s a faint glimmer surrounding you and he’s relieved that whatever barrier Rhyand had placed upon you was weakening by the second. Almost like clockwork. He easily breaks through the magic shield, blue siphons gleaming. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his shadows sighing in response.

His touch lingers on your face, thumb ghosting over your cheek. “It’s time for dinner.”

You let out a groan in protest, not wanting to move from your spot.

“You need to eat, Y/n,” he whispers softly. “And then, you can go to bed.”

You blink sleepily at him. “Will you carry me?”

“Of course.”

As he lifts you into his arms, your warmth and the scent of your hair envelop him. The bond in his chest thrums with joy, his shadows harmonizing in response.

Three more days, he reminds himself. Three more days until he can finally speak of the feelings swelling in his heart. Be patient…

After another day of researching death gods, your mind feels heavy with overwhelming knowledge. Exhausted, you keep to yourself during dinner. You can feel Azriel’s worry, can feel the way the shadows that linger in your presence caress the back of your neck in an attempt to ease you. Rhysand slips into your mind and after assuring him you were just tired and had a headache, he lets you excuse yourself. Helion, ever the caring and doting High Lord, sends you off to bed with a tea to soothe your headache.

You’re quick to wash up and change into your nightgown, slipping under the warm covers with the tea Helion gave you in hand. It has a rich floral scent and as you take your first sip, it brings instant relief to the dull ache in your head. When you’re done, you place the empty cup onto your nightstand and lay down, closing your eyes.

You find yourself trapped in a dark, oppressive forest.

The trees are twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. In the distance, you hear the sinister laugh of Koschei, the death god who you've learned loves to trap women. His voice is a chilling whisper, echoing through the trees, “You cannot escape me.”

Suddenly, the scene shifts, and you’re back in the Court of Nightmares, having to suffer through another court affair. Your hair is pulled so tight into a bun and the corset of your dress barely gives any room to breathe properly. The oppressive atmosphere presses down on you, taking even more of your breath away. You’re standing before your father, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“You will marry Lord Berbrooke.”

“No,” you whisper, eyes widening in fear as Lord Berbrooke appears at your father’s side. Your hands reach for your father’s arms, a desperate attempt to stay with him instead of leaving. You’d much rather continue to endure a life of neglect and solitude than a life that promised violence and bruises.

“Grandfather wouldn’t want this.”

Your father yanks his arm out of your grip, staring you down with a glare. “Your grandfather is dead. It does not matter what he wants.”

Fear grips you as Lord Berbrooke steps closer, a predatory smile on his face. You try to run, but your feet are rooted to the spot. He laughs, the sound chilling you to the bone. It morphs into the sinister laugh from earlier. Lord Berbrooke’s face flickers and shifts, morphing between his own and what your mind imagines of Koschei.

Panic surges through you, and you cry out for help, but your voice is swallowed by the darkness.

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps. Goosebumps prick your skin as the sinister laugh echoes in your mind, refusing to fade. Panic grips you, and without a second thought, you throw off the covers and rush out of your room, desperate to escape the haunting sound that seems to follow you.

Something deep in his chest stirs, flooding him with unease. The bond. Something is wrong. Azriel’s head instinctively turns to his door, shadows sensing your presence in the hallway. Though small and quiet, he can hear your pacing and sense your hesitation as you face his door.

Azriel rushes to the door immediately and opens it. Concern etches on his face as he takes in your trembling form, the way your hands are covering your ears and eyes stricken with pure fear.

His hands reach for yours, gently removing them from your ears. Your eyes remain frantic, scanning over him, as if trying to discern if he is real or not. Without another word, Azriel pulls you into his arms, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, and you cling to him.

“I had a nightmare,” you whisper, pulling back slightly and looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “About Koschei, and then I was back in the Court of Nightmares. My father… Lord Berbrooke…”

Azriel’s eyes darken with anger and protectiveness. You don’t need to say any more for him to understand. “You’re safe now,” he says firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words and the strength of his embrace begin to calm the storm inside you. You bury your face in his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Can I stay with you?”

“Always.” Azriel answers and then he’s guiding you into his room.

He helps you to his bed, tucking you under the covers before carefully settling on the other side. You nestle closer into his chest, your head finding its place against his heart again. His chin rests atop your head and neither of you speak for a while.

“Thank you,” you breathe, voice heavy with emotion.

Azriel knows your thankfulness extends beyond tonight. He had been the one to save you from that dreadful fate that night in the Court of Nightmares. He had been the one to bring to Rhysand’s attention of your grandfather’s forged will, helping you search for the real one. And when Rhysand had moved you to Velaris, Azriel had been your first friend.

“Do you feel better or would you like me to make you–”

“I feel better,” you interrupt, not wanting him to leave, even if it's to make you another tea. “Just your presence is enough,” you confess quietly. “You have a way of making me feel safe and at peace, Az.”

At those words, Azriel feels like he might burst with emotion. He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. If only you knew…

As you walk through the library of the Day Court, you take one last look around, letting your gaze sweep over the grand space. The high, arched windows allow streams of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow on the polished marble floors. There are rows upon rows of polished wooden shelves and books of every size and color line them, their spines creating a mosaic of knowledge and history. The scent of parchment and old leather, is one you’ll always hold dear.

Tonight is your last night here. A trail of shadows follows you, blending into the shafts of the light and shadows cast by the towering bookshelves. Rhysand, lounging in the entrance of the library, notices the once unusual sight that has now become routine..

“What are you, a Shadowsinger now?” he quips.

You glance back, catching a glimpse of Azriel’s shadows entwined with your own. They’ve become increasingly protective of you lately, always trailing close, whether you're heading to the library or simply going about your day. What you hadn’t noticed until now was how their numbers had grown since last night.

“I’ve never seen his shadows act like that,” Rhysand comments.

“Oh really?”

Rhysand nods, a glint dancing in his eyes. He gives a small wave to one of the tendrils peeking over your shoulder, lips curving upwards when it cowers away. “They usually stick to him, rarely leaving his side. It seems you’ve captured their interest as you’ve captured their master’s.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his implication. “I guess they like me,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rhysand’s grin turns knowing. “It’s more than that, Y/n. Azriel’s shadows are an extension of his will. They’re drawn to what he cares about most.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I suppose I should thank them for showing me such care.”

Rhysand chuckles. “Or thank Azriel.”

Rhysand’s words linger with you throughout the evening, much like Azriel’s shadows. A spark of hope blooms in your chest, daring to blossom into something more. You knew Azriel cared for you, but caring for others was in his nature. That’s who he was—caring and protective.

You glance at the shadows caressing your arms, a pensive frown tugging at your lips. In all the years you’ve known him, you had never seen his shadows linger on Rhysand or Cassian. Or Mor, who you were so sure held the Shadowsinger’s affections.

You recall the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the rare smiles he reserved only for you, the protective glances he shot your way whenever danger was near. Your heart races as the pieces start to fit together, a mixture of shock and elation coursing through your veins. Dare you hope that the man you had loved in secret for so long might feel the same?

The idea seems almost too good to be true, and yet…his shadows were here, with you, wrapped around your fingers. Quite literally.

You look down at the shadows twining with your fingers, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time, you allow yourself to entertain the possibility.

With this newfound hope, you head toward the Day Court’s kitchen.

After praising the chef one night, he invited you to his kitchen, offering to teach you how to prepare some of the Day Court’s delicacies. Eager to express your gratitude to Azriel for always being there for you and to Helion for being a gracious host, you decide to finally take up on the chef’s offer. Perhaps, you can even sneak in some of Azriel’s favorites into tonight’s menu.

As it was the last night of your stay, Helion had invited close friends and other allies of his court, filling the grand dining hall with laughter and conversation. You quietly took your seat across from Rhysand and beside Azriel, murmuring a soft greeting. Helion winks at you and the shadow around your arm tenses.

The High Lord of Day stands from his seat, at the head of the table. He raises his glass with a broad grin. “A toast to the Night Court, our cherished guests. It has been an honor to host you all, and I sincerely hope we may have the pleasure of your return soon.”

Everyone at the table raises their glasses, including Azriel—though only after a nudge from you. His expression remains flat and dry as he lifts his glass. You clink yours against his with a teasing glint in your eyes, coaxing a small smile from his lips.

Helion takes a seat and with a wave of his hand, tonight’s feast materializes in front of you. There’s a slight raise in Rhysand’s brow, betraying his mild surprise. Every single platter–from the appetizers to dessert seems to be a perfect blend of Day and Night delicacies with the names to match. There’s the bruschetta, the bread slices topped with sun-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and a hint of night garlic. Then, there’s the spinach artichoke dip made from sun-infused spinach, blended with moon-cheese and served with nightshade vegetables.

Rhysand looks up, turning to Helion. “Compliments to the chef.”

Helion’s eyes twinkle with delight as he meets your gaze. “And y/n,” he says. “She collaborated with the chef to create tonight’s dinner.”

You smile, a touch of pride warming your cheeks as you look around the table. However, the smile quickly fades when you hear a sudden spluttering. It’s Azriel. He spit his food out, his face a mask of horror and conflict.

“Azriel?” you ask in concern.

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his voice suddenly tight.

Your face flushes and a nervous laugh escapes you. “Relax, it’s not poison,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. But your attempt falls flat.

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats more forcefully, then turns and leaves the room, his movements stiff and tense.

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears, the hurt and confusion overwhelming you. You slump back into your chair. “I don’t think I’m hungry either,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Rhysand nudges your foot from under the table. “Don’t mind him,” he says softly, violet eyes filled with sympathy. “Please, eat. You’ve worked so hard on this.”

You nod, trying to muster the strength to lift your fork, but the sting of Azriel’s rejection is too much. You push the food around your plate, your appetite completely gone. The evening that had started with such promise now feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by whatever tension has now befallen between you and Azriel.

In the corridor outside the dining hall, Azriel leans against the wall, his heart pounding. He knows he’s hurt you, but the thought of unintentionally accepting the bond is too much for him to bear. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of the fragile line he’s been walking.

One more night, he reminds himself. One more night and then he can tell you everything.

He can only hope you don’t already hate him for tonight.

Tossing and turning, you let out a long breath as you stare up at the ceiling. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you hadn’t indulged in the dinner you had put so much effort into crafting. How could you, when the one person you made it for refused to have even a bite?

His reaction had been as clear as day. Repulsed.

Now, doubts flood your mind. What if you've completely misread everything? The shadows beside you, initially a source of comfort, were beginning to stir unsettling thoughts in you. Maybe Azriel sent them not because he cared so deeply for you but out of obligation and pity?

You're not a High Lord like Rhysand, nor a warrior like Cassian or Mor who fought in the war. You’re just a noblewoman from the Court of Nightmares who fled from a forced marriage. How typical and utterly helpless. That’s what you’ve been since you met Azriel. It shouldn’t have shocked you that he followed you into Day Court.

Any hope that had blossomed in your heart now withers. You were a fool to even entertain the thought. You’ve known Azriel for almost a century and in those years, he’s never hinted at seeing you as anything more than a friend so why would it change now?

Throwing off the covers, you sit up abruptly, gaze flickering towards the door. The urge to confront him grips you fiercely. He did not have to return your feelings but he didn’t have to hurt your feelings so harshly by spitting out your food. You had to settle whatever this was now, even if it left you broken-hearted.

Without bothering to change out of your nightwear, you leap from your bed. The shadows on your bed stir awake and your footsteps quicken, fearing his shadows would reach him before you could.

They beat you to it, even going as far as opening the door for you, allowing you to barge into his room. You’re not surprised to see Azriel wide awake. His shadows must’ve warned him beforehand. He sits on his bed, already facing you and you hate the way your gaze falls to his bare chest. Your eyes trail up the intricate tattoos etched there, slowly making your way up.

The words catch in your throat. You’re nervous. A foreign feeling around Azriel. It makes you want nothing more than to turn and run out the door. His shadows shut the door behind you as if sensing your thoughts.

You refuse to meet his eyes, fearing what you’d find in those hazel depths. “You hate me don’t you?”

The words tumble out unexpectedly, sending a chilling shiver through you. His gaze flickers downward, catching the way you nervously fidget with your fingers, before lifting with intent and searching for your eyes.

“What?”

The sound that leaves Azriel borders on what sounds like amusement, and you cringe, turning your head away. Tears prick your eyes, his shadows rushing to wipe them away gently, coaxing your gaze back to their master. When his eyes meet yours, all you see is concern.

A strange sensation creeps along your ribcage as he stands from the bed, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel states firmly and when his words don’t soothe you as he expected they would, he frowns. His hands replace the shadows brushing against your face. “What makes you think that? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question,” you laugh humorlessly, casting your gaze down. “Something has gotten into you. You’ve been acting so differently, and at first, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought as I seem to be wrong every time–”

“It does matter. Tell me.”

It’s now or never. Your throat tightens as you muster the courage—the last bit you have, having used most of it to barge into his room.

“We’ve been walking a fine line, you and I. For decades. Almost a century... And now, I realize you’ve simply been too kind to reject me. I’m sorry if running to you after that nightmare was too much, but did you have to spit out my food? I would’ve preferred if you’d just told me you didn't like me instead of showing me.”

“You’re not making any sense right now.” Azriel says.

“Neither are you.” You shoot back.

“I don’t hate you,” Azriel repeats, hurt flashing across his face at the thought of making you feel that way.

“You spit out my food in front of everyone, Az.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

You feel Azriel’s hand tense against your face. “I can’t say.”

Your breath hitches, and you take a couple of steps back, removing his hands from you. “Because you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes shut tightly for a moment, his head turning toward the window. He feels the faint warmth of the rising sun and inhales deeply. There’s something burning bright in his eyes when he looks at you again.

“Because you are my mate.”

Mate.

A vulnerable shakiness accompanies the word. The words hang in the air, heavy and shocking. The feeling teasing at your ribcage begins to crawl upwards. Your heart skips a beat as it meets your chest, awakening something deep inside you that you hadn’t realized you had.

Mate.

“I’m your what?” You gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as the golden threads of fate begin to unravel.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Azriel approaches slowly, his expression tense and cautious. “You’re my mate. The bond snapped as you were winnowing away. That’s why I followed after you. I wanted to tell you, but Rhysand asked me not to. At least not until we were done here.”

Your racing heart sinks into your stomach. More tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. “So you don’t want me as your mate either…”

“No,” Azriel’s eyebrows knit together so hard you worry they’ll stick, shadows swirling around him like storm clouds. His hand reaches out for you but you take a step back. “I’m happy it’s you. Relieved. I’ve loved you for so long...”

Your tears fall freely and he takes another deep breath, wings shuddering along with the timber of his voice. “Gods, do you know how agonizing these past days have been for me? Watching you fall in love with this court, with—” He hesitates, unable to say his name “—it’s High Lord.”

His words ignite a spark within you, fanning the hope that had begun to take root in your chest.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fall in love with this court," you begin and Azriel gives a subtle wince, looking away from you. "But Day is not my home."

Slowly, Azriel looks back at you, and a torrent of emotions floods over you. You're uncertain if they are yours or his, as the bond between you surges like a turbulent river.

“The Night Court is. That’s where my family is. That’s where you are. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even Prythian’s best library.”

Azriel’s eyes soften and when he takes a step forward, you don’t step back. A glimmer of hope lights up his features. “And what of it’s High Lord?”

“He’s nice but he’s not you.” You say with a soft smile. “I love you and only you.”

Azriel cups your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours. The smile that breaks out on his rivals the brilliance of the rising run behind him. “I’ve admired you, desired you for so long…I just didn’t want to rush you and when the bond snapped, I feared it’d overwhelm you."

You look up at him, the raw honesty in his eyes reflecting your own emotions. “So, what now?”

Azriel brushes the last tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent. “Be mine?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Always.”

And then you kiss him, the bond between you shimmering and glittering. A tangible, golden connection intensifying with every heartbeat.

a/n: I don't like the way I ended this 😭 not my best tbh, I just feel like it was missing something. I honestly wasn't expecting the high demand for a part two to Be Safe so I hope you enjoyed some of this as much as the first part. Anyway, here's a little meme I had made for this fic while I was procrastinating on finishing it.

here's a bonus scene.

tag list (tagged all those who commented and reblogged with tags, in case you wanted to read more. sorry if I missed some!): @jswizzlewrites , @hellodarling1357, @fxckmiup, @pricklepearbloom,

@tothestarsandwhateverend, @mika-no-sekai-blog, @cherryjain17, @illyrian-dreamer,

@darlingbravebelle, @katherinejess, @lady-of-tearshed, @daisesarelove, @beardburnsupersoldiers

@assriels, @sunshinepeachx, @buckyandgeraltsupremacy

@brieflyclassymortal, @thesunloveschips, @silver-flames-47, @ladybirdbeetle7, @everythingacotarbxm1012

@starlitlakes, @mxtantrights, @itsallacotar, @mother-above, @andreperez11

@coolepowersthings, @littlebookbengal, @lipstickmarks, @aneekapaneeka, @harrypottergirl162

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

@the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel fanfiction #be safe az

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parkerslatte · 5 months ago

Text

Different

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile.

It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away.

“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained.

Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”

“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased.

“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in.

With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything.

While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought.

Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said.

“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile.

“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”

“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”

“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath.

Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement.

However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument.

“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?”

Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.

The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion.

What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples.

“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled.

“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied.

“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel.

Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”

“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.

“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”

“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”

“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected.

“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”

Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight.

“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”

“She knows about us?” Nesta asked.

Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.”

Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass.

Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren.

Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen.

“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”

“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile.

“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”

“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”

Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed.

Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.

Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight.

“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys.

“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”

“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat.

Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”

“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”

“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.”

“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked.

“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”

Feyre frowned. “How so?”

“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed.

Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”

Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”

Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation.

“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said.

Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”

Cassian groaned . “Really?”

“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”

Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased.

Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.

“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left.

Rhys kissed the top of Feyre’s head. “Me too.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff

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honeybeefae · 7 months ago

Note

For headcanon monday, I have this one in my head that when Azriel finds his mate she’s going to be so SMALL in comparison to him, like just so short and little standing next to this big Illyrian warrior - but Azriel LOVES it, finding any excuse to pick her up/carry/generally hold her, constantly teasing her about her size, and omg how *protective* he is over her not only because she’s his mate but because of her size, and she is just a ball of feisty energy that clearly has no fear of a n y t h i n g

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE OMG

Azriel With a Short Mate:

Azriel was already certain he didn't have a mate. He asked the Mother every night for years when it was his turn, when he would join his brothers, but when they went unanswered, he finally turned away from the childish dreams.

So, color him floored when he catches sight of you, his chest tightening with something he was too scared to think of.

You were arguing with someone right outside of Rita's; your small stature was immediately noticeable compared to the tall man you were fighting with.

He felt a surge of protectiveness overcome his senses, his shadows already reaching out to you before the guy not so gently pushed you.

Everything seemed to slow as he stepped forward, fists already curled, until he saw your own fist raise and collide with the man's jaw.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, stepping to the side as the man stumbled back and fell to the ground.

Your breathing was ragged as you shook your hand, curling and uncurling your fingers as you finally looked up at him.

And everything clicked into place.

The two of you grew closer quickly and, within months, already moving in together.

In that time, you realized Az LOVED your height. You had opened up about it one night as being an insecurity.

He listened and then held you close, able to completely cocoon you in his wings as he stroked your hair and whispered to you how beautiful you are.

"You're perfect, Y/N. Look how well we fit together."

He might also say this during sex but that's a whole other post.

He loves to hold you when he takes you flying, enjoying the way you can bury your head into his neck when he swoops down suddenly.

He carries you whenever you have too much to drink, when you're too tired to make it to bed, when you're sick, really just any time he can. It's his favorite thing.

He makes sure to match his stride whenever you two are walking, holding your hand and gazing down at you with the most adoring eyes.

Everyone teases you about your height difference, especially the IC, but Azriel makes you feel so secure that you no longer mind.

Even Az teases you sometimes, leaning his arm on your head or holding this where you can't reach when you're being a little bit of a brat.

The best thing about your height though is how protective he is of you.

You can hold your own in a fight, everyone knows that, but Azriel is so quick to rush to your defense. He'll stand in front of you, basically hiding you from how much taller he is as his wings flare and his shadows whisper against your ear not to be afraid.

You are his life. His heart. You are too precious to lose.

And, despite his protests, you protect him just as fiercely.

You basically have scary dog privilege. And you love it.

#acotar #acotar headcanon #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel #azriel headcanon #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader acotar #acotar reader #acotar reader headcanon

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toodelusionalforreality · 7 months ago

Text

Arsonist

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: With time Azriel's feelings grow and become clearer. He struggles with the dilemma of revealing the bond to his lover and leaving it upto fate.

Word count: ~5k

Warning: 18+ NSFW, intimacy+angst+smut, f!pleasures, p in v. [too many he/she/names??]