#azriel the chaperone

[nightcourtlady17]

Azriel is the best chaperone in my opinion 😂😂

[lucienarcheron]

narrator: indeed dear reader, Az was not enough to chaperone these two horndogs 😂

[brainrotcharacters]

any Nessian children is automatically protected by Azriel I said what I said

[rosenecklaces]

He's such a fucking cat that hiss

Underrated Shadowsinger quotes:

—

[“What did I do wrong?"] "Aside from the tree?"

"Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand.. good luck."

"Did someone... push you?"

“Did something happen that I, as your chaperone, should know about?"

"Fifty, and I say within thirty minutes. Started by Autumn."

["I don't see you spouting poetry, brother."] "I don't need to resort to it."

"If you're going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast."

"It's almost like you two tried to make it as ugly as possible."

"Pathetic, Cass."

"You two need a chaperone up here?"

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season

Azriel x Reader

An angsty little one shot. Azriel’s mate is tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities.

Update: Due to popular demand, this is being made into a series!

Part 2

The air’s getting heavy and we both know why

There was a time when an evening like this brought solace to my weary soul.

Azriel’s hand wrapped around my waist, caressing my stomach, pressing soft kisses to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hair tickling against my sensitive skin as we hid under blankets absorbing the incessant melody of drip, drop, drip, drop and the echoing pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. His warmth seeping right through to the coldest depths of my soul.

I’d turn around, pressing my bare breasts against his muscled chest. Our breath hitching as his sunburst eyes of brown, amber, and gold bore into mine, his soft lips whispering promises of forever.

Say that this storm is just passing through

But Azriel wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for 6 days, 23 hours, and 50 minutes now. It would have been laughable, comparing the past to now, if it weren’t so damned sad. In the beginning there’d been long, doting love notes with risqué quips regarding his intentions upon coming home, little gifts that he couldn’t resist bringing back from his travels, and the stolen hours where he’d sneak in a visit during the intermittent downtime on his missions. As a realist, I knew that it was not sustainable long-term but relished in it as the gift it was. Newly formed, passionate love that exceeded anything I had ever imagined upon finding my cauldron-blessed mate.

As the years went on I understood when the love notes became briefs and the thoughtful gifts became pecks on the cheek as he hurried through the door to exchange his leathers for clean ones, wipe down his weapons, and rest before his next mission. But time went on, as is inevitable, and distant were the memories of stolen moments away from missions, the desperate caress of his hands roaming my body as if he couldn’t quite believe I was fully corporeal before him - needing to touch me to reassure him that this was real. Now the touches were detached, perfunctory, another task on his never-ending to-do list.

Drop after drop we’re destroying this house and eachother.

The boiling point had been simmering for a while, left on the fire with reassurances of “Things are just busy right now”, “It’ll slow down soon”, “I would stay if I could, love. You know I would. I have no choice.”

But we both knew all too well that there was always a choice. There were times when Rhys let it slip that Azriel had volunteered for missions that his other spies were perfectly suited for, times when all I wanted in the world was to be curled up and listening to the rain with my mate.

Missions became tasks with the Valkyries, “chaperoning” Cassian and Nesta, and emotionally supporting the lovely doe-eyed fawn - Elain - who was the delicate cherry blossom of spring opposite of my wild summertime storm.

It wasn’t her fault. The trauma inflicted upon her, the loss of autonomy that came with being thrown into the cauldron and having her mortality stripped away without her say. The powers she never asked for overwhelming her senses. Hell, maybe it wasn’t Azriel’s fault for responding to the traumas of his past and the need to overcompensate for every ounce of blood he’s drawn by saving anything and everything that needed rescuing.

The problem lay with the fact that where Elain is a “seer”, my ability to “sense” when things are amiss was strong and Azriel’s intentions with her were becoming blurred. Feelings of lust had become more frequent down the bond along with flutters of joy and adoration. When it began I thought maybe things would look up in our relationship - he was missing me, fisting his cock to fantasies of taking me over and over when he returned home - but he only became more distant. He’d return more often than not smelling of jasmine and honey. The strength of the scent coating him correlating with the increase in enamored feelings slipping through the bond.

Six days ago when I’d asked him to skip out on training with Cassian and Nesta and whatever it was he and Elain would do - that was when the thunder clapped and the sky opened. “I can’t just stay home and cater to you all the time. I have duties to this court. Why can’t you find a hobby to occupy your time? Nesta reads and trains with the Valkyries, Feyre paints, Elain gardens and she evens bakes! Why can’t you be more like-“

He caught himself too late, immediately reaching out to place a gentle hand on my shoulder and apologize but it was too late for that.

Please, make it stop

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a forgiving or understanding person. i appreciated his dedication to his court and family and those in need but…

“Why can’t I be more like what? You can stop mid-sentence but you already said it all.” I looked down, shaking my head as silver lined my eyes. Gods, I hate that I’m an angry crier. “You want to know why I can’t be more like Elain in your eyes, Azriel? Because I exist in your fucking blind spot! I have been helping Feyre AT the studio, volunteering at a food pantry in Velaris, and teaching self-defense classes to women and children at the park but you wouldn’t know because you never ask me what I’ve been up to while you’re gone.”

He started to speak but I wasn’t finished. “The reason I cannot be more like Elain, or Feyre, or Nesta is because I’m none of them. I am ME. And you know what? I like me. I don’t want to be anybody else.” Trying and failing miserably to hold my head high I pathetically fell to my knees, shuddering as tears of rage flowed freely.

Warmth enveloped me as Azriel knelt down to soothe my quaking form. I let him if only because I didn’t have the composure to tell him otherwise as he began pressing kisses to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I have been a terrible mate. I love all that you are- I- I’ll stop with Elain. She’s doing much better and Nuala and Cerridwen can keep an eye on her, so can Rhys and Cassian, and her sisters. It will be okay.”

That consolation attempt only drove the blade of bitterness deeper into my heart. Elain had so many in her corner and who did I have anymore? My chronically absent mate? The family I left behind to move to Velaris with Azriel? There was nobody close by.

“I think you should leave.” I sobbed out.

Azriel ignored the shaky command, continuing to hold me. Fuck - is this what it took for him to notice me? Breaking my heart so he could stitch it back up again?

“Azriel.” I stated firmly.

He met my eyes.

“You should leave.”

His look grew puzzled. “I thought you wanted me to stay - to spend time together? Please, Y/N. Let me make this better.”

“I need space. Give me one week.”

“But-“

“One. Week.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, head hanging low for several minutes before realizing that my decision was firm.

“I love you.” He said before heading out the door.

——————

Like clockwork as 7 days, 0 hours, and 1 minute were up, the front door to our home opened and Azriel’s footsteps padded in behind me, my gaze remaining fixated on the rain falling outside the window. A lump formed in my throat as I avoided turning to meet his gaze.

So dance one more dance and tell one more lie.

Azriel stepped around me, wordlessly extending a hand, patiently waiting as I avoided his gaze a moment longer before taking it. His shadows began humming faintly, increasing their melody and reaching a crescendo as Azriel began dancing with me through the room.

Say that you love me even if it’s not true

I let myself melt into the warmth of his chest. The thick air remained heavy upon my soul but I could have this. I could let myself enjoy this moment.

We wordlessly danced through the room in the soft glow of the fae lights.

We made our way through the hall into our shared bed that had become so neglected.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured as he laid me down, stripped bare underneath him.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

——————

Wish I could just say it and words were enough to keep you from being the one giving up.

The middle of the night left me restless as he lay soundly asleep beside me. My senses tugged me toward his bag that he’d discarded at the entryway. I brought out his dirty clothes from the week only to be greeted with the fresh scent of jasmine and honey.

Like the sky letting go for no reason

I packed my essentials and voyaged out into the pouring rain. Its patter on my skin washing away the salty tears streaming down my face. Following my senses to where the love was true back to my Summer Court home, my family. As free as a summer storm.

It's just the rainy season.

—————————————

A/n - I know there are plenty of Azriel x Reader and Elain fics out there. It was rainy and dreary here yesterday and this song was in my head for the first time in like 10 years so…. I wrote this.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (8)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angst, pining, injury

a/n: I appreciate thoughts and reactions more than you know!!! <333 Italics indicate flashbacks.

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The next two weeks were interesting. 

In the first few days after the accident—the ones filled with confusion and incorrect suspicions—you had spent most of your time alone or sleeping. Mor visited your bedroom every morning to share limited information about your past, but there was no routine beyond that. Everyone tiptoed around you, too afraid to set off the timebomb they assumed was your mind.

But Helion had disputed that assumption. 

You were allowed to know who you were, to become the person you had been. 

So, a routine began to form. 

Breakfast early in the morning, usually with a random assortment of the inner circle. Mor was always present, keeping up with her responsibility of telling you about yourself. Cassian joined more often than not—an early riser, he deemed himself. Azriel made it when he could. He was always busy in the morning. Doing… something, everyone told you.

Rhysand would join you after the meal, whisking you away for an hour or two to work on the powers you still could not call upon. He would have a different objective in mind every day and it was your job to parse out what it was. 

You failed. 

Obviously. 

He started bringing in random Velaris citizens instead, but you still felt nothing. It was nice to see the smiling strangers; they were all kind to you, all apparently knowing who you were. The vagueness surrounding them leveled the playing field more. They didn’t know your whole life story and you weren’t supposed to know theirs. 

“You’ve explained it to me before,” Rhysand had said. “It’s a vibration, sometimes a light or a color. You see it around them, feel it. You understand a deep part within them that they don’t even know they’re revealing.” 

Well, there was never any light or vibration or color. You could never tell that the fae were lying or that Rhysand was planning something big for his anniversary with his mate. None of this otherworldly intuition that the Night Court seemed to value so highly. It was all just stagnant. 

After spending some time failing with Rhys, you got to explore Velaris. You had insisted that you didn’t need a chaperone, and your family believed you—for a time. You had three whole days of walking around the city alone before that privilege was revoked.

Granted, it was your fault that it was revoked, but that was neither here nor there. 

It hadn’t been your plan to get lost, just as it hadn’t been your plan to get caught up in a street brawl over a cart of potatoes. But when you weren’t at the designated meeting spot for Cassian to bring you back up the house, and when he found you with a bleeding nose an hour later, what you meant to do didn’t matter. 

“Y/n?” you heard a voice shout, heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath you. “Shit—y/n, look at me, you okay?” 

Warm hands enveloped your shaking ones, drawing them back and catching sight of the red staining your fingerprints. It was Cassian, you realized, with his broad wings cloaking you in their shadow. The General’s expression hardened when he took in your face.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low, comfort combatting fury. “Where have you been? We have about 10 people looking for you, sweetheart.” 

You grimaced—both at the pain in your nose and the notion of your family scouring the streets of Velaris. “I’m so, so sorry, Cassian. I got turned around and then I was in this alley and there was a boy—” 

“Hey!” Defeat washed through you at the sound of another voice in the alley, all hopes for a peaceful return home washed away. “Is your girlfriend over there gonna pay for the product I lost?” 

The Illyrian before you paused, body going still at the accusatory tone. Cassian’s jaw clenched and he turned, keeping you well behind him. You still caught a glimpse of the scene from between his legs, and the merchant—to his credit—had the mind to stop his taunting. 

And to look afraid. 

Really, truly afraid. 

“You did this to her?” Cassian growled, fists clenching at his sides. 

The merchant swallowed. “You’re—and she’s…” 

“Did you. Do this. To her?” Cassian asked again, words broken up by malice. 

A beat of pressing silence, only whispers of the street meeting your ears. The merchant took several, shaky steps back, but the movement damned him. His hands swayed with his backtracking feet, and red glistened on his knuckles. 

Cassian’s wings flared at the sight. It only took a small uptick of his brow for the smaller man to fall to the floor in a plea. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! I didn’t know who she was. Don’t turn me over to the Shadowsinger, I won’t make it! I have a family to care for—a wife! I was only trying to protect my crops and she butted in. I didn’t want to hurt her!”

The General hooked his chin over his shoulder and sent you a questioning gaze, one you were sheepish to answer. With a harrowing breath, you revealed, “There was a little boy stealing potatoes. He was going to hit him. I stepped in the way.” 

A tug at your chest had you gasping as Cassian turned back around. The feeling had been persistent the moment you got lost, increasing after you’d been implicated in the merchant’s conflict. It pulled and pulled, a desperate winding around your ribs that you didn’t know how to relieve. 

It had to have been fear. Or stress. 

Cassian eyed the man crumpled to the floor. “Is the boy okay?” he asked, the question meant for you but directed across the alley. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, pressing your hand to the blood running down your chin. “He ran away.” 

Cassian grunted, sent a harsh warning to the man, and then crouched back down to your place on the ground, shaking his head in frustration. “Let’s get you home.” And then he grumbled, “I might get my ass kicked but…” 

Cassian had not gotten his ass kicked when you got home, but many other things happened. Mor just about cried in relief, her arms thrown around your neck followed by a string of commands to never do such a thing again. Rhys rubbed at his jaw as tension lifted from the House. He also had a command—that you wouldn’t be traveling alone anymore. 

And Azriel… Azriel looked like he would vomit, his shadows flitting angrily around him before bridging a path to you. He had cleaned the blood from your face, eyes haunted by misplaced grief, and pure guilt replaced all else in your myriad of emotions. 

You agreed an escort would be better. 

Azriel volunteered. Every day. 

And so you got to know Azriel. 

Mor had described him as reserved, not one to offer the intimacy of touch or personal information so readily. That was not your experience with the Shadowsinger. 

Fleeting touches had become commonplace between the two of you, whether it was his hands or his wings or the brush of his thigh as you sat by the Sidra. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously, but you welcomed the familiarity. You found he did it most when he wasn’t paying attention—when he was deep into a story about your past or listening to your opinions intently. 

He was open, sharing pieces of himself you didn’t have to pry to receive. He told you about his mother, about his scars, about how he overcame them. He shared with you how important you were to him many, many times, slipping it into conversations so causally. A thread connected the pieces of his life, and you, it appeared, made up the spool. 

He did not speak of his mate, despite being prompted. 

A sadness came over him at any mention of her, one so achingly melancholy that you told yourself you wouldn’t ask again. 

He loved her deeply, but something had happened there.

You tried not to get too close. This was friendship, a deep familial love that he relied on. That you seemed to have relied on for so many years.

And Azriel was hurt. Even if he and his mate were no longer intertwined by their bond, he didn’t need the onslaught of emotions his amnesiac friend was suddenly overcome with. 

Because you were—overcome by emotions for him. 

It was wrong. 

You wished you had the context to separate those feelings. If you understood your history—if you had memories beyond the few weeks of sweet stories and brushes of his fingers along your hair—maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe your heart wouldn’t beat painfully against your ribs each time he entered the room… each time his eyes met yours as if he could feel your admiration for him within his own chest. 

You wouldn’t be feeling this way, surely. Because no one had told you that you should be. 

You only had the recounts of your friends, and the three of them had made no insinuations about you and Azriel. 

You wished you could meet the rest of the inner circle. 

There had been plans to, but then you came home with blood on your face and a disorientation in your eyes and that was suddenly off the table. 

After your time exploring Velaris, you read. 

Mor would pile your favorite books beside you in the small reading room you had come to love and rave about how great of an opportunity this was for you.

“You would kill to be able to read these for the first time again,” she’d laugh. “So have at it!” 

Reading felt easy. 

Books did not pressure you to remember things you weren’t able to. 

You could see it all in their eyes, the way your family clung to each of your words for even a hint of reminiscence. They’d make a joke and hold their breath, desperate for the laugh that should be bubbling out of you. But you never got it, never making the connections that they did. 

Azriel was the only one who’d catch the shame you felt at your lack of deliverance. Although he was the one with the most torture in his expression, he was also the one with the most understanding. He’d lean his head down and whisper what you needed to know in your ear, and then you’d giggle—for show—and hope would return to the room. 

But nothing had returned to you. 

You were still a shell.

~~

“What do you think?” 

Cassian’s question blanketed the table, forks halting their movements atop plates. Breakfast had just begun and you were dressed for a morning in Velaris at the theater, this time with Cassian. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Mor questioned, eyeing the General beneath a raised brow. 

“Were you there last week when I brought her home all bloody? I think it’s a great idea. Rhys agrees.” 

“And Az?” 

Cassian continued his breakfast, reaching for his drink. “Cassian—”

And so you found yourself steps away from the roof of the House of Wind—no longer in the comfortable daywear you’d been sporting—squinting into the morning sun. Leathers fitted for your body were laced up at your back and waist, stretching with a groan as you reached up to block the light from your eyes. Although the pain in your head had subsided to practically nonexistence, it often flared up in brightness or in times of stress. 

Like when you stood atop a mountain and stared into the sun. Or got punched in the nose by a potato merchant. 

“This is where I go while you go galavanting around the city,” Cassian chimed in, a grin evident in his words. 

“Charming,” you muttered, still adjusting to the jarring assault of the sun.

The sound of grunts and clashing metal oriented you quicker, and as your eyesight settled you were met with the image of Azriel. He was bare-chested, leathers donning his legs as he pressed further and further forward, the knife you always saw at his hips hacking away at the metal dummy before him. 

He moved so quickly that it was difficult to track him, one swipe after another, so carefully skilled and practiced. Sweat beaded down his tattooed skin. His wings rippled and spread in time with his footwork. 

He was mesmerizing, a force of nature only halting as his shadows wound around his ear, whispering. Azriel whipped around, sheathing his knife at his side and staring out beyond the training ring with a narrowed gaze. He spotted you instantly, without looking near or around—a magnetic force. 

Until he wasn’t looking at you, instead glowering in Cassian’s direction. “What are you doing, brother?” he bit out. The back of his hand made a quick pass along his forehead. 

Cassian didn’t look the slightest bit sheepish, ushering you to the outskirts of the ring. “She’s going to train. Now that we know she won’t break at the slightest thing.” 

Hazel eyes slid back to you, a softness overcoming them as you quickly averted your gaze from the broadness of his chest. You were not ogling him. 

You bit into your cheek to stave off the embarrassment. 

“I thought we agreed—” 

“Az, come on. It’s been a couple of weeks now. We need to get her back in the swing of things.” 

A crack of defeat edged its way onto the Shadowsinger’s face. 

What had they agreed on? To wait it out? To treat you like glass until you were their version of yourself again? Something ugly licked up into your chest, something raw. 

For a moment—just one—you stood on the sidelines and felt pathetic. While the two Illyrians stared at each other, a silent conversation between eyes, you let yourself feel like an outsider. They had had discussions about you, but not really about you. About the you that they loved—the one with memories and reciprocation. 

“Will you be careful?” Azriel’s even voice snapped you out of the spiral you had initiated. His expression was uneasy, a hand pressed to his chest. “And tell us if you need to stop? If your head—” 

“My head has been completely fine for a while now,” you assured, hands coming up to grasp the rungs of the training ring. “Promise.” 

Azriel pressed his lips into a line but motioned you in with a nod of his head. 

Despite the conflict still raging within your mind, you smiled at Cassian, the two of you letting out a small cheer and high-fiving before the General lifted you by your hips and past the rungs. You regained your footing and stood before the spymaster, meeting his level gaze with your own. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Cassian began, a loud clap resonating behind you. “Muscle memory is going to play a big role here, but I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you’re just with this guy for now.” He patted the shoulder of the dummy Azriel had been practicing with. 

You scoffed, dropping your hands to hang by your thighs. “What? I still have the same muscle tone from before and last I checked my face was beaten in by a real person, not a chunk of metal.” 

“And that will not happen again,” Azriel cut it. “Ever. But especially not when you’re… in this state.”

You ignored the unsettling remark. “Okay, well I think sparring one of you would be more effective in the prevention of that, don’t you?” 

“Cassian and I could hurt you.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“We can’t guarantee—” 

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your view of Azriel partially obstructed by the shadows that wound up your body. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Let me do this, Az.” 

The male before you faltered, his eyes darting quickly between yours. His chest, gleaming in the sunlight, rose and fell with strenuous effort. A clench of his jaw. Another pass of silence. 

“Okay,” he nodded, gaze roving over your features. “Okay, y/n. Get warmed up and we can spar.” 

You warmed up with Cassian, stretching and relishing in the feel of your body moving. He went over a few basic maneuvers with you, and you tried your hardest to pay close attention to how his feet slid around the ring. 

It was a rather hard task, seeing as Azriel had continued his blade work on the dummy. Still shirtless. 

After the General was satisfied with your progress, he passed you off to his brother. The Shadowsinger’s posture had softened a hair from when you first entered the ring, his wings coiled back and his shadows creating uneven shapes along the floor. He kept his hands by his sides, his feet relaxed—not a fighting stance in the slightest. 

“Come on,” you teased, cocking your head to the side. “You have to at least try, Az.” 

“I did not spar with you often before your memories were lost,” he admitted. “I do not enjoy the thought of hurting you.” 

Guilt immediately flooded you. You hadn’t even thought about what this would be like for him, too caught up in your own strife. Your stance dropped, the fists at your chin loosening and falling. 

“Oh, Azriel, I’m sorry. I can have Cassian—” 

“No.” He dragged his left foot back. A ghost of a fighting position. “Only me.” 

You took a painful breath in. 

He didn’t move, allowing you to lead. 

You shook your hands out and then your body moved of its own accord. 

You swiped at his legs first, unsurprised when he leaped back with practiced grace. The two of you fell into a dance of drawn arms and calculated shifts and you were almost unnerved by how your body moved without you willing it to. 

Cassian had said that muscle memory would play a role. 

It seemed to be the only thing driving you.  

You went for his knees, but in a way that maneuvered past his wings. 

You used his shadows as cover, taking advantage of their familiarity with you and cloaking yourself in their mist. 

Azriel swung a halfhearted punch at your shoulder and you bypassed the motion, grabbing his wrist and twisting at his back. 

It felt right. Your actions were not your own but they were ingrained in your being. 

This was your body. 

Something that remained unchanged. 

In your newfound joy, you missed the open palm Azriel carefully directed at your chest. The impact caught you off guard, stealing your breath from your lungs as you were pushed to the ground. As your back hit the floor, another shocking burst of air was ripped from you. 

You laid frozen for a moment before a shadow cast over your body, the sun no longer beating down on your skin. Through the ringing in your ears, Azriel’s voice flowed through. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—y/n, take a breath.” A scarred hand rubbed along your clavicle. “Breathe. You’re okay. Breathe.” 

A startling gasp of oxygen entered your lungs. You were fine, completely unharmed, only shocked and disoriented. Azriel bowed his head as you continued to circulate the air into your body, and it was then that you saw it. 

A chain hung between you, dangling from his neck and brushing against your chin. It swayed back and forth, a grounding point as you blinked back the tears lining your eyes. The ring glinted in the sun, rubbing against the golden chain, looking as if it did not belong there. 

Azriel tracked your gaze as he raised his head, looking down at the object of your attention. He sat back on his ankles and the diamond followed him, resting close to his chest. 

You raised yourself to your elbows. “Who’s—” You coughed. Azriel winced. “Is that yours?”  

A stupid question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. A guarded look passed over the Shadowsinger’s face and you regretted it instantly. He reached up and clutched the necklace in a closed fist.  

“No,” he responded. “Are you okay?” 

He didn’t release the ring. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed. “I’m not hurt. It just knocked the wind out of me.” 

Azriel nodded. A grim line formed between his brows. 

“Hey! She alright?” Cassian called. He had moved clear across the roof when you began to spar with Azriel, mentioning something about inventory or knives or something you hadn’t paid attention to. You had been too focused on the warmth you felt from being so close to Azriel’s skin. 

The sound of Cassian’s voice did nothing to break the hold Azriel’s eyes had on you. 

Another beat of silence passed. 

The wind blew a strand of his hair across his forehead. 

“I—” 

“I have a mission. I was supposed to meet with Rhys before midday.” He spoke the words apologetically but his hand shook when it lowered to his knee. 

The sun was already past the high point in the sky. It was no longer midday. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I want to thank you for—” 

“Don’t thank me. Please, just—Be careful. I have to go.” 

A quiet collection of parting words fell from your lips and Aziel twitched, looking as if he would move forward but thinking better of it. 

But you had thoughts too, and they worked against Azriel’s

You raised to your knees and brushed the hair on his forehead back, a small smile gracing your face, trying so hard to melt some of the tension that had grown between you. Azriel’s breath caught as you moved, but you only doubled down, softly dragging your nails along his scalp. 

He shuddered, eyes falling shut for a brief, unguarded moment. 

His shadows consumed him. 

Azriel was gone. 

[readychilledwine]

Pleaseee please could you do obsessive acotar boys who can’t get enough of reader please?

Obsessed

Clingy ACOTAR boys headcanons

Warnings- suggestive themes, mentions of abuse, possessive vibes, death, different ideas I either tossed out or was too insecure to post in short form (including an AU where Feyre doesn't destroy Spring and Tamlin isn't turned into what he's turned into), Beron, abuse, the Weaver, Ianthe, pregnancy

Rhysand

The bond snapped after Feyre freed them from the mountain. You were walking with her, giggling about heading home to Spring.

Of course, his mate was his enemy's little sister, and of course that only further the obsession.

Rhys wanted to free you from under Tamlin's grasp, and it became his mission.

It started with daily letters that you ignored.

Then gifts brought to you by shadows.

Then he'd show up in your room. Smiling as he leaned back against your headboard. "Hello y/n Darling."

You caved after 2 weeks of his nightly visits. Allowing him to plan your "kidnapping"

He rips you from Spring with Feyre. Having convinced Tamlin that if he was so worried about his bride to be, he should send his baby sister as a chaperone.

Once he has you in his home, in your home, those soft touches you two shared at night were no longer enough

His lips were on your body constantly. Your hands, your neck, your own soft lips.

Speaking of hands, I hope you like physical contact, because he has to constantly touch you.

In public, the placement is so respectful. Lower back to the lower side, resting just about your hips, guiding you as you shop and spend his money.

When you finally warm his bed, he cancels all plans the next day to ensure he has proper time to explore your body.

He memorized every freckle, every stretch mark, every scar. He doesn't stop until he knows every ticklish spot, every spot that makes your toes curl.

His love languages are gifts and physical touch, so once you opened that box, you opened a whole can of worms.

You are pulled into unused bedrooms, his office, Azriel and Cassian's offices when they're away, supply closets. He doesn't stop until he's tasted you on every surface and in every room.

I wish you luck during the frenzy. He won't stop until you are throughly spent and bred. How else will he ensure you never leave him?

Cassian

He had admired you while you two were growing up together in Windhaven.

He watched you do your chores and got his ass kicked for it more than he wants to admit.

Even at a young age, Cassian courted you. He didn't care that the flowers he was pulling were weeds. He still turned them into a bouquet or had Rhysand's mother weave them into your hair.

That didn't change as you two grew older together. By 18, it was known you were his, and by that point, everyone knew not to fuck with what's Cassian's.

He wouldn't touch you until your chores were done, wanting to spare you what little pain he could from your father's heavy hand.

Cassian wasn't respectful with his hand placement. The male has always had high sex drive, and he found his match in you.

You and Cassian shamelessly fucked in places that had your dear mother crying. The weapon storage shed. The forest. The mess hall once it was empty.

It was no shock to anyone, especially not you and Cassian, when the bond snapped right as he was leaving for the first war with Hybern.

When he came home to you and took you to Velaris, all bets were off. Rhys settled you two into the House of Wind, Azriel into the Riverhouse, and he took the townhouse.

The two of them never flew to the House of Wind without warning you or Cassian first. To do so had them risking walking in on you riding or Cassian with his head thrown back as you screamed for him.

Cassian can't stop touching you. He can't stop talking about you. He can't stop being in love with you. Even if the only way he knows how to show it is physically.

Not that you're complaining. You didn't need to walk anywhere today.

Azriel

Azriel worshipped you the second Rhysand's mother brought you back to the cabin.

Your voice became salvation, your scent became home, and your hands healed part of him he did not even know was broken.

The bond snapped young for you two. He had just turned 18, and you were still 16. He took his distance then, allowing you to explore the world much to your own protests. You understood why after two years.

It was the most selfless thing anyone had ever done for you. He allowed you to grow without his influence, despite how painful it had to have been watching you with other males.

Your father sees this whole relationship and mateship as a benefit to him alone. He takes you and Azriel to Velaris during the war.

He unknowingly allowed the relationship to go to heights he had already said were off limits to Azriel.

The number of times you had to mask your scent during dinner because a shadow was all too happily playing in your skirts was almost comical.

The relationship between you two is never able to go beyond heated kisses, stolen touches, and lingering glances.

Even in death, Azriel comes to you, speaking to you when he's lost and lonely.

He still obsessed over you, wishing he had more time, wishing he was with you. But the pain lessened.

Being ripped from the Cauldron by Amren was painful and terrifying.

You had a new body, modeled after your old one. You were slightly taller this time, and your face was still able to send males to war.

As much as it pained Azriel, he allowed Rhysand to be the first to you. He allowed your brother to be the one to hold you as you cried, confused and asking where you were. He let Mor go next, then Amren listening as the ancient being told you it was okay and that your purpose was not finished, so she was told to bring you back. Cassian dropped to his knees before you. Holding you as he apologized.

But Azriel waited. He walked beside you in silence as you were taken to the warcamp.

All bets were off once you were in his tent.

You don't know if you rushed to him first or if he came to you, but that reunion kiss was rough. Too much teeth and tongue. Tears falling down both of your faces.

He took things slowly with you. Your first life granted you powers like the world had never seen before, and this time was no different. You could move the stars at will, silence the connect other fae shared with their magic without even having to loosen a breath.

It was final confirmation of what many already knew. Rhysand was high lord due to his cock, not his power, and that sheer fact had Azriel on his knees for you once you were ready.

You are his living goddess, and Azriel is always ready to worship.

Lucien

Eris saved both of you. He had sent you to Spring long before you could be ripped from the market in autumn.

Lucien joined you soon after. Crying to the Mother in gratitude the second you came out from hiding behind Tamlin.

You were a rare breed of lesser fae. Your kind looked similar to the high fae by all means, but your kind had the ability to communicate with every living being.

You knew the names of each tree, of each flower, every critter. You could hear the winds whispers, see the colors he asked you to, and tell them all the meaning.

Your kind had been hunted for years, much like the shadowsingers.

It made Lucien almost unbearable when it came to his protective streak. But so did this new freedom.

Lucien is shamelessly in love with you. As an emissary, he gets to travel places you will never see. But he always brings you something back because you are always on his mind.

He brings you ornaments from Winter, jewelry from Day, sea shells from Summer, clothing from Dawn.

Lucien will speak about you for hours on end. It makes Tamlin crazy at times, but seeing how naturally you two fit together quickly makes the sting of jealousy fade.

Lucien purposes under a willow tree. Your absolute favorite one that you go to for guidance. Even if the bond does not snap, he wants you as his wife.

And boy does being his wife make things interesting.

He is suddenly growling at any male who studies your body for too long. Holding you from behind at all times. Showering you with even more things.

The bond snaps after Amarantha mutilated him. It snapped as you were nursing him back to health. Reminding him his beauty has nothing to do with why you love him, but instead it is his kindness and his soul.

You two become mutually obsessed from that point forward. More often than not, you will send a bird to shit on someone if they harm Lucien in any sense.

You both can not keep your hands to yourself anymore. It was as if that scar actually sealed his place as the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes on.

He sends you away to the forest when the 50 years is coming to a close. Not caring if he dies for it.

You would be his last thought if he did. And during that second trial, you were his only thought.

Everything he had done was for your safety, and if he ever saw you again, he would whisper those one thousand words he wanted to say as he laid between your legs, and he would never let go again.

Eris

Childhood best friends to lovers? Anyone? Anyone?

Well... kind of childhood best friends.

You met Eris when he was 6 and you were 5.

Your parents were one of two shadow hound breeders, and Beron was desperate to get his hands on one of your family's pups specifically.

You had this special talent that you could use from the moment you were able to. You seemed to know which hounds needed to be bred together to create the most powerful litters. And you did it all without inbreeding.

Your family quickly took hold of the other breeder's dogs, and you, your father's pride and joy, made their lives better.

Eris becomes obsessed with you from that day forward, and Beron knows it. Hence why you two are married at the young ages of 18 and 17.

Eris is madly in love and in private is very expressive of that.

He shows his love through praise.

"You look absolutely stunning today, little fox," is a common greeting as he brings you a tray of fresh fruits, eggs, breakfast meat of choice, and toast.

The sap cuts your toast into a heart.

He's a hopeless romantic, and it kills you that no one is able to see how he is with you outside of his mother amd your parents who are waiting for the day they get to go to war for him.

The second you end up pregnant, Eris's love turned into true obsession and not the healthy normal kind between partners.

He becomes possessive and overprotective. Your suddenly moved to one of his private hunting cabins with a guard detail and private healer assigned to you and you only.

He has to have his hands on you at all times. The only exception is when he is at the Forest House.

It is love. You know that deep down, but Gods, you are lonely.

You understand why this is happening, though, when he shows up beaten and bruised, limping into your arms for any sense of comfort.

His obsession is your safety. The safety of the lives you carry.

Once you birth his twins, the game changes. The obsession is now on him not being able to get enough of your new body.

Your mom body lives rent-free in Eris's mind. He's stroked himself in his office to the thought of your fuller breasts and supple hips more times than he'd like to admit.

He loves to squeeze your hips, loving the soft feel of them.

He would have gone to war for you beforehand. He does it now.

He wants to see a crown of leaves and berries on your head, sparkling but failing in comparison to the gem he has in his bed.

He crowns you high lady during his coronation.

You are his, and he is yours, regardless of that bond never snapping. You two do not need the Mother nor the Cauldron to decide you are each other's equal and other halves. You already know.

Tamlin

You knew you were Tamlin's mate long before Amarantha. You were a well kept secret, hidden out of fear of Rhysand coming to take you as well.

You made home in The Middle. Becoming friends with the Weaver was interesting, but you two forged a relationship. You bring her food, she offers protection, so yes. You kept her fed.

Tamlin comes back for the second he allows Rhysand to take Feyre.

You two spend the week she is there in bed, fucking like rabbits until he was content.

It's dead silence when Feyre comes back. He had expected Rhysand to keep her, not hold up his end of the bargain, and he also believed their relationship to be over.

Rhys was an idiot if he thought Tamlin couldn't scent the mating bond. He was willingly handing her over, and the High Lord had to aggressively whisper that to Rhys one night in his office to get it through the other male's thick skull.

It took Tamlin tugging the bond for you for Rhysand to understand.

The Lord of Night was almost disgusted by the love and mutual need you and Tamlin shared. He felt the two of you marked him in the scent of roses and petrichor.

The two of them sat Feyre down 3 days later, and she eagerly went to Night after Tamlin finally got her to understand that while he loves her, he cannot help her and love her the way Rhys will be able to.

That freed you two up, much to Ianthe's anger, to make up for lost time all over again.

He lives between your thighs. No one can change my mind, but Tamlin is a munch, and he cannot get enough of the taste of you.

When you find out Ianthe put her hands on him, on Rhysand, on Lucien you and Feyre become a force. Ianthe selling Feyre's sisters to Hybern had been enough for you and Tamlin to begin the process of banishing her. But much to Tamlin's delight, this made you feral.

Feyre crippled the priestess, and you dragged her by her bleach and tone blonde hair to the Weaver, smiling to Stryga.

"Feyre's apology present for stealing the ring, dear friend." Feyre held a breath, fingers squeezing your wrist as the Weaver moved, scenting Ianthe's fear, blood, and tears.

"And what is this?"

The two of you look at each other, mirrored cruel smiles before speaking in unison, "Dinner."

Tamlin, Lucien, and Rhysand watched from a distance as Feyre retreated to them, and you stayed to ensure the priestess did not somehow escape. "I can see why you love her," Rhysand started slowly. "She's-"

"Everything," Tamlin stated softly. "She is everything."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Love You In The Dark

Azriel x Reader, based on Love You In The Dark by Adele :/

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.4K

“Don’t look at me like that.” Your voice was no louder than a whisper, but he didn’t miss how your words came out trembling, or how your dry throat constricted as you spoke. 

He shook his head. You had always known he was a male of few words but you didn’t know that he, in that moment, didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew his words would come out broken, shattered on a muffled scream. He had to blink away the tears just to watch you stuff clothes into your bag. 

You were ashamed, truly, that it had come to this. That the only solution you could find was to pack your bag and go. No matter how many nights you lay awake, convincing yourself that you were the crazy one, making up stories and rumors, you’d come to the same conclusion. 

Leave before he does. 

But what you couldn’t do was go without a goodbye. You knew it would be easier to hastily grab your most valued items and disappear into the high mountains of the Night Court without any words exchanged between the two of you. 

But you couldn’t. 

And he couldn’t stop watching.

Azriel grabbed for you - he reached out those scarred hands, the ones you loved so much - encircled your wrists and tugged you closer to him. But you stood firm, squeezing your eyes shut and shook his hands off of you. And that hurt him, you knew it, shrinking away from his touch like it burned you. He knew the feeling all too well. 

You didn’t mean to, after all. You were being cruel to be kind. 

It was hard to navigate the small cottage that had become your shared home. His clothing had taken over your wardrobe - you’d fumbled through piles of neatly folded sweaters and shirts that had belonged to him, that smelled so strongly of night and rain, in search of your own items to stuff in your bag. 

In the past few years you and Azriel had been dating, he’d moved into your little cottage. It turned into his reprieve, after spending most of his adult life moving around, he’d never had a place to call home. The winged male spent his time flitting between the House of Wind and the townhouse, the Riverside estate and the cold Illyrian war camps. Once he’d spent a few nights with you, it quickly turned into your shared home. 

He still spent time away from you, when his High Lord had ordered him as chaperone for their brother and the moody Fae female, but those nights were some of the longest you’d felt. It was no longer just your bed, it was too roomy and far too cold without him. The kitchen no longer smelled of tea first thing in the morning, and everything felt too spacious when there wasn’t a pair of leathery wings taking up all the space. 

The male trailed you everywhere you went. He followed you step-for-step as you turned all around the bedroom in search of your clothes, so often strewn about the tiny area; his broad shoulders filled the doorframe as you swiftly grabbed your soap and salves from the bathroom. You knew he could do more to stop you - he was so much stronger than this. He could grab you in those big arms, hold on to you and never let you go. He could cocoon you in those dark wings and wrap the both of you in warmth - safety - like he used to do in the beginning.

But he didn’t.

And that’s why you continued. 

He still wouldn’t leave you alone after what you told him. Once you said you were leaving, he hadn’t left your side. He tried to talk you out of it, to promise things would change, that it would get better - he hadn’t known you’d been thinking about this for the past few months. How you were left with no other choice. 

It would hurt the male now - the normally stoich, proud Illyrian whose poker face never faltered. You told him late at night, when you were hoping the darkness would conceal the way his lips parted in surprise, the way his brows furrowed in confusion. But those hazel eyes glinted in the moonlight, and you could have sworn you’d never seen them so shiny. You spent the next few seconds - that moved like centuries - convincing yourself that those weren’t tears brimming in his eyes. His arms moved to constrict around you, to reach for you in the bed that you felt go cold many moons ago. You were too quick, already reaching for your bag and shoveling things inside. 

You’d bitten your tongue long enough about it, the two new females that had entered your boyfriend’s life. Not only his, of course, but his family’s - and everyone seemed dead set on playing matchmaker. Not in front of you, for that matter, but you heard them talk behind your back about how perfect these other females were for him. 

Gwyn, an angel seemingly sent from the Mother above, who so often trained with him, would be the perfect match - body, mind, and soul.

There was an unspoken bond between them already, one that nobody else on the land was privy to knowing besides them. It was something forgotten long ago, but something you saw renewed in those golden blue eyes each time Gwyn looked at Azriel. She gazed at him with admiration, both his fighting style and his calming presence.

If they weren’t discussing training lessons for the day, it was the jokes poking fun at his brother - how he absolutely drooled watching anything Nesta did - or about the newest book she was reading. Azriel, who had seemingly read every book in existence, nodded along, even adding his own commentary on the novel. 

He had built up quite the collection between the books he brought into your shared home, a mix between his old worn favorites and the stacks you had lining the walls and tables. But you soon noticed the fantasy and romance books he held on his lap before bed, the pages were worn and well loved, even the paper smelled different. What was sharing books between friends? There was nothing to it - but you couldn’t help but feel the tinge of jealousy turn your chest red. 

Then there was Elain, the third Archeron sister, the perfect opposite to Azriel. 

You often heard the High Lady whisper to her mate and newfound family: “Three brothers and three sisters - how perfect is that.” Something Azriel just shook his head about - but never outright refusing. You just listened quietly as if you’d never heard anything at all. You pretended not to see the way he gazed at her - the Seer - or the way his fingers brushed hers when she handed over a plate or pastry. 

It was those fingers you knew he didn’t like people to see. The hands that you’d spent years trying to get him to touch you with, to not care what they looked like or how rough they felt. They grazed along her pale skin, so smooth and flawless, in the same soft manner he’d touch you - your thighs, your stomach. And as his eyes held her round ones, you wondered if he imagined the way her body felt, the supple curve of her breast or her straight spine. Azriel had an appreciation for the arts, why would he not be with the most beautiful of the sisters?

She always baked for him. She baked for everyone, really, but always insisted he - it was always him - try her treats. Azriel never complained when it came to food, but he never was one for gushing over how sweet the rolls were or how delicious the jam was. But her insistence with feeding him - such an intimate act in Pyrthian, to any Fae, really - didn’t sit right with you.

You hadn’t felt further from him. It seemed that everything was changing. You were, too. Even though you spent nearly every night together, you felt defeated, unable to compare to the new excitement he must have felt with these two females, both fawning over him. His family only encouraged it, too. Even when you spent those nights together, wrapped tightly in his arms, you felt the space between you grow. 

Azriel had given you the world - you never thought that you’d have to spend another day of your life without him. But you couldn’t shake that feeling from you. The feeling that he thought about those other females, that he’d wonder what it would be like to be with them, to spend time with them. Those rare times when you’d join them for parties or intimate dinners, you saw their eyes linger on him, on you. And those hazel eyes next to you often fell to one of the two. 

You’d never dared to ask him about them.

You knew leaving wasn’t fair. You didn’t bring any of it up until the day you decided to go. He’d only brushed it off, expressing that he wasn’t actually interested in either of them, but rather in the conversation. There were nights he’d stay late at the River House, where you knew all of them resided together as a family. They’d stay up late drinking and laughing, sharing intimate stories and overly friendly touches. 

Once he returned home, he offered you a kiss and then crawled into bed next to you, not pulling you into him or laying half-sprawled over your chest like he normally would. You swore you smelled roses on him that night. 

You knew he’d never touched either of them. He wouldn’t disgrace you like that. But his family so often brought it up. Possibly being mates with someone they already had known and loved - let it be the Archeron sister or the favored Valkyrie - they all had much more in common anyway, and it would be far preferable than him spending eternity with an outsider such as yourself.  

But that wouldn’t stop him from wondering. 

You couldn’t carry on like everything was fine.

So you packed your bags, offering Azriel his fair chance at finding who he might think is his mate. Either one of them would be lovely to him - you knew both the females would offer him the world on a silver platter. 

The hardest part would be choosing which one. 

“Please don’t go, (Y/N),” he whispered, tilting his head down closer to you. He’d followed you from the bathing room back to your bed, and one of his hands fell to your hip. 

“Stop asking me to stay,” you replied, ignoring his touch and continuing with your packing - you were almost done. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat - you saw it. His eyes flitted between the two of yours, dragging down to your lips. “And stop looking at me like that,” you added, breathlessly. So you had to break the trance, blinking away any tears that threatened to pool in your eyes.

Azriel almost laughed. The breath came out jagged, loose from his lips, but he could barely stifle the exasperation. “There will never be a day when I don’t look at you like this, (Y/N).” His voice was low but unwavering. 

“It’s not you, Azriel,” you huff, resisting the urge to throw everything in your arms to the ground. “It’s not the way you look at me or how you don’t - it’s how you look at them.” His brows knitted in confusion. “The way you treat them is the same way you treat me and - ” you huffed a sigh. “I can’t do it anymore.”

He did lose it - he grabbed your arms - palms hot, burning with emotion. “They aren’t you, (Y/N).”

You stared up at him, anger washing over your sadness. “But you treat them like they are!” Everything fell from your hands as you shook out of his grasp. Taken aback, Azriel straightened and watched you closely. “Do you know how long it took for us to get here? For you to even talk to me? Touch me?” You stifled the urge to pull at your hair. “I feel so defeated - watching you joke and laugh with them. You and I are so far apart now - you’re a whole new person!”

He shook his head, black hair shifting slightly with the motion. “I’m not - we should talk about this. You can’t bottle everything up and then just leave.”

“I’m not just leaving, though, Azriel.” His heart thudded at how you said his name - how you spat it like it burned our tongue. “I’ve been in the dark for so long - you never bring me around your family - because you know they don’t like me.” You cut him off before he could interject. “They keep trying to set you up with Elain or Gwyn! I know what they say behind my back, Azriel, you aren’t the only one who knows the secrets of that River House.”

Azriel’s chest heaved with each stabbing breath he forced into his lungs. His hands flexed at his sides as he held himself back - he wanted to grab you, throw you onto the bed, cage you under his body so you had no choice but to hear him out. He wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to tell you that you were so fucking wrong and he would always choose you over them - over his family. 

But he couldn’t.

And he didn’t.

So you took a step back and grabbed the leather bag from the bed. Whatever you already had was good enough - you could rebuy whatever else you needed. Besides, it would probably be better to leave anything that would remind you of the male you were leaving behind. Mother above - if that were the case, you’d truly be leaving with nothing at all. 

“I meant what I said, Azriel, every word.” He was surprised at your sudden shift in tone, as your voice fell to a whisper. His shadows hissed in his ears, expecting more yelling - hell they were about to start screaming at him, too. “I love you - I don’t regret a gods damned thing.”

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice cracked. Those hazel eyes were glazed over with silver, finally realizing you’d had this prepared. It was premeditated, you’d fallen out of love with him long ago.

“But I want to live, Azriel. Not in anyone’s shadow, and not while every one of your family members tries to arrange marriage for you.”

Azriel had never lied to you. He wouldn’t start now. There was nothing he could do to stop their silly gossip, to stop wishing for their friends to flirt with him - not without breaking the family he’d worked so hard to build. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“You’ll survive.”

[writingsbychlo]

avoidance | azriel

summary; things are getting real between you and azriel, and a slight panic ensues.

word count; 2421

notes; idk man I just got out my laptop to write down a little drabble idea and out of nowhere this happened? 0 plot, 0 context, just somethin' cute, I guess?

“You’re avoiding me.”

You jumped, almost dropping the yoghurt pot in your hands, teeth clanging on the spoon as you pulled it back. Twisting to face the man now casually leaning against the counter, your eyes narrowed, wondering when he’d snuck up on you, and just how long he’d been there.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“What- I am not!” You spoke through your mouthful, wincing a little and deigning to swallow it, even though the previously sweet treat now felt like a spoonful of sand in your throat. “Why would I be avoiding you?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.” 

“And now I’m asking you.” You deflected, nose scrunching a little as you turned your back on the man you most definitely were avoiding a little bit, Putting down your yoghurt, you attempted to seem busy as you stared out of the window at the gardens beyond, the sunlight flittering through the leaves and lighting up patches with a golden glow. 

“We haven’t spoken for two days.”

“I’ve been.. busy.” The lie did not roll off of your tongue as easily as they did his, and you knew that he’d picked it up. Catching sight of him in the reflection of the window, you watched him shuffle, arms crossing over his chest, shadows coiling tighter around his body as his smirk fell away. Then his gaze met yours in the glass, and you gasped, refocusing on the garden beyond. 

“You haven’t been to training all week, either.”

“I’ve been to training, I just had to fit it in at different times!” Not technically a lie, you had been going to training, just at the most unusual possible hours you could think of, to be sure you wouldn't bump into him. His silence stretched on, uncomfortable and stifling, and you knew every trick in his book to get people to talk, this was the easiest one, and yet you caved, after barely thirty seconds. “I’ve been, y’know, chaperoning Lucien and Elain!” 

With one arm, you motioned to the couple outside, now wandering past the window, a pink flush on her cheeks to match the colour of her dress as they ambled along arm in arm, Lucien talking animatedly, a smirk on his face at her expression. They took no notice of you both. “I wasn’t aware they still needed a chaperone, what, with being officially mated, and all.”

Your lips pressed together, brows furrowing. “Well, you never know.”

Silence, again. Then, an arm was snaking around your waist, your gasp lost to a shaky breath as a kiss was planted to the space between your shoulder and your neck, another over your pulse. Soft and tentative and fragile, Azriel peppered barely-there kisses along your skin as his other arm looped around you too, pulling you back against him. 

“Az..”

“Why are you avoiding me?” He pressed again, this time, rather than cockiness at having caught you off-guard, a twinge of vulnerable pain lay in his voice. He moved up, the tip of his nose dragging over your jaw, a soft kiss pressed there too as he nudged your head to fall back onto his shoulder, as he squeezed his arms around you a little tighter, wings drooping over the sides of your body. 

“Because- because, we can’t.” The words tumbled from you, a confession you’d never actually wanted him to hear, and he froze, before turning you gently. Despite letting you go, he kept you just as trapped here, in the moment, hands locking onto the counter on either side of your body to keep you in place as he lowered himself enough that you didn’t have to tip your head up just to look at him. No excuses to avoid his gaze, then. “We can’t do this.”

“Oh, we most definitely can. And we did, in fact, we did a lot more than this, multiple times, on this counter, just last month.” When a grin broke free, despite your rolling eyes, a smile finally made itself known on his face. “We’ve established that we can do this, and that we like to do this.” Your mouth opened, and he shook his head. “Uh-uh, I know you liked it, I had scratches down my back that proved it.”

“Ego, much?”

“So, now that we know we can do this, why shouldn’t we?” He was serious again, dark brows pulling together, a wounded frown on his face, and you hated that look on him. Wanted to hold him, to use your fingers or lips to smooth away every mark until he looked happy and peaceful once again. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I can’t talk to you! That’s the whole point! You were my best friend, and you were the person I spoke to about everything, but I can’t do that anymore, and it scares me. What if we fuck up, and ruin our friendship? What if something goes wrong? What if you change your mind or this spark fizzles out, and.. and.. yeah..” You puffed out a sharp breath to follow it, unable to hold his stare now no matter how hard he tried. 

Only a second passed by, before he was huffing out a breathy laugh. One that soon transformed into a full-body chuckle, the deep sound vibrating over your skin, and a flush bloomed on your cheeks. “You’re freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out!”

“Oh, you are freaking out!” You reached out, shoving at his chest to get him to back up, storming away being the number one thing on your mind now, and that only made him laugh harder. So hard, his arms went weak, and he toppled a half-step closer to you, bringing him in so close his breaths were puffed over your hairline, and you had to look up to scowl at him now.

“You’re being a jerk.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” He took a shaky breath, daring to look down at you, calming himself into being able to at least offer a small smile to you. “I thought I’d be the one to freak out. I’ve been waiting weeks for it, since that very first night. I waited for you to wake up and tell me it was a mistake and for me to panic, and I waited after that first dinner to panic, and after the walk around the Sidra, and the picnic, and-”

“Don’t recap every date we’ve been on. It’s been months. We’ll be here for hours.” You grumbled, and if there had been enough space to do so without elbowing him in the ribs, your arms would be crossed over your chest. The thought of doing it purely for that reason flickered across your mind. 

“Listen, the point is, you’re freaking out. About us. I thought I was gonna’ freak out.” He was teasing, one thumb lifting from the counter by your hip to swipe gently at you, a test, to see if you were ready yet for his touch again. You were missing it.

“Stop saying ‘freak out’.” 

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna freak me out!” The snap only made him laugh again, tipping forward to hide his face on your shoulder as he cracked up. You were mad at him, and scared, but above all else, your chest was all but bursting with affection at the way his body shook against you as he hid his amusement against your skin. When he was strong enough to pull back, he shifted, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rose that had warmth racing to your face once again. 

“Look, you’re freaking out because we were friends first, but we didn’t stop being best friends when we started doing more.” His smile was genuine now, soft and caring and you gave a little sigh, a lump forming in your throat at the overwhelming emotions. He took one of your hands in his, rough thumb swiping over your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your best friend, and I want you to talk to me, about everything, still. The only difference is that now, sometimes I get to kiss you, hold your hand, take you out on dates and call you ‘my girl’ when I introduce you to people instead of ‘my best friend’.”

“Oh, that’s the only difference, huh?” 

“Well, it’s the only difference for now.” His murmur was soft as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your other cheek, the tip of your nose. “One day, hopefully soon but I can wait, the only difference will be that instead of hanging at your place or my place, we’ll hang at our place. Maybe, one day, the only difference will be that instead of telling people you’re ‘my girl’, I’ll get to tell them you’re my ‘wife’. We can just be two best friends, who stand up in front of all our other best friends, and promise to be best friends for all of our immortal lives.”

“You’re really not freaking out about this?” You questioned, all of it sounding so wonderful and perfect and terrifying at the same time, and you expected Azriel to have been flying for the hills by now.

“Not even a little bit.”

“You know, I’m high-maintenance.” You pushed, and he only huffed in response.

“No, you’re not. You like to stay in bed and read for dates, or go on walks, and you almost cried that time I brought you a postcard back from my assignment.” You poked at his ribs, and he shrugged. “But, fine, you can become as high-maintenance as you want. I’ll be more than happy to maintain you.”

“Well, I’m an annoying drunk.”

“I know, I’ve been friends with you for an eternity, I am well-equipped to handle your drunk antics.” He smiled, leaning in, breath sharing with you as you watched him near, golden gaze tearing you apart with its intensity. “Anything else?”

“I will yell at you for leaving socks on the floor, and you will have to be the strict parent because you know I will cave, and I get bitchy on my cycle sometimes, and-”

“Shut up, I’m not going anywhere.” His whisper was only for you, so low that had he not been so close you’d have missed it, before his mouth was sealing over yours. Soft and warm, his lips move slowly, coaxing you to kiss him back, until you couldn’t take it any longer.

When you lifted your arms, wrapping them around his neck, he sighed happily against your mouth, letting his body fall entirely against your own, pressing you into the counter. He licked along your lower lip, tongue teasing, waiting for permission. You gave it, mouth opening for him as you scratched lightly through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He was barely holding himself up against you, his tongue smoothing against your own, dragging slowly, tasting what you’d denied him for days now. 

He shifted, hands tugging at your thighs to lift you onto the counter so he could step between them, step closer to you. With one hand smoothing down his neck, you could feel his pulse thrumming under your touch, his head tipping a little to kiss you deeper. Unhurried, loving and tender and sweet. He tasted like the lemon water Cassian had been making everyone drink after training lately, he smelt like sweat and faint spices, and he felt like home. 

He pulled back, a gasping breath before diving right back in, groaning as your lips met again and your giggle was swallowed entirely by his mouth over yours, hands squeezing at your thighs, sliding up to your hips, Then, he was tugging you closer, wrapping your legs around his waist before looping his arms around your lower back, much like a hug, holding you to him. His lips left yours, dotting kisses along your jaw as he caught his breath, your head tipping back for him, until he settled with his face in your neck once again, and you could feel his smile. 

Bringing a hand up from where they’d settled on his shoulders, you wove your fingers through his hair gently, a rumble of pleasure at the act shuddering along his body. “See? We’re still best friends, just with really good benefits.”

“They were pretty good.” 

“I, for one, happen to love the benefits.” He settled happily, adjusting you until you were pressed as close as you could get, your heart thudding a steady rhythm against his shoulder, beating all for him. 

“Yeah, well, I happen to love you.” Your words were a whisper, but you knew he heard them, and after a second, he stiffened in your touch, holding his breath on full lungs. Your fingers paused their movements in his hair. “What?”

“We’ve never said that before.” He pulled back slowly, eyes wide, a shocked look on his face, and for all of one second, panic flared up within you once again. Until he was smirking at you. “I think I might have to freak out for a second.”

“You’re such an asshole!” Your legs unhitched from around his waist, but he made no move to step back, a work of art between your thighs as his head tipped back in laughter. Sunlight from the window behind lit up his golden skin, adding an extra sparkle to his eyes as he looked at you, lips spread wide in a heart-stopping grin. “I take it back. I don’t love you anymore, and I don’t even want to be your friend. Get off.”

“Nope! You love me, and we’re gonna’ be best friends for the rest of our lives, and we’re gonna’ make lots of cute little babies and live in a cute little house, and-” You cut off his teasing by pulling his lips back to your own, a handful of his shirt over his chest and one hand on his shoulder, and his words were muffled, your smile hidden, as your lips found each other again. 

He might have been a cocky, teasing asshole, but he was all yours, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Shadows swirled happily around the both of you, cold tendrils brushing against your skin and through your hair as they hid you both from the outside world, a bubble made for only the two of you, where only you got to see him like this. So carefree, so happy. 

Into the kiss, as his hands slipped up to hold your cheeks, fingers tangling in your hair, he mumbled, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

[extremely-judgemental]

After reading the books it's obvious SJM doesn't give much thought into relationship dynamics and shifts. She often goes with the most obvious and stereotypical reactions. Now that being said, I don't think SJM even tried to make Elain manipulative and self-serving. Her betrayal was wholly to confirm Feyre and Rhysand's decision to imprison Nesta instead.

Both Feyre and Nesta resist the idea of being confined. Both refuse to take orders from someone. Both are cruel with their words and actions to the ones who choose to imprison them. But one is justified over the other. The distinguishing factor between the imprisonment of Feyre and Nesta is the support from other characters.

When Tamlin locks Feyre up in their mansion, every one is against him. His best friend Lucien, his loyal servant Alis, his sentries—all of them condemn his outrage and choice. Even before when he orders her to stay inside and not leave alone, that reasonable request is also seen as an extreme measure by all of them. Lucien stands by Tamlin in those instances but expresses disdain towards his friend. Ultimately all of them comply only because Tamlin is their HL but it’s evident none of them truly support his decision. Everyone is in favour of Feyre. Tamlin himself expresses his actions are wrong but willing to do the unthinkable for her sake.

But in Nesta’s case, no one pities her or advocates for her. On top of having no tangible cause to imprison her, they all unanimously agree Nesta should be kept away from the city and people. Rhysand and Amren come up with the plan to trap her. Cassian is sycophant. We know Morrigan is gladly in favour of throwing her in Hewn City like Amren. Azriel doesn’t exactly have a say and even then, not sure he would have disagreed considering he didn’t have problem playing a chaperone. Feyre is on Rhysand’s side, no matter how much she asks him to back off, she still gives in to his whims.

The only tipping point against Nesta is Elain. Though her opinions barely hold any stand here, she’s the proclaimed angel in the series. Making her support her sister in all this would imply there’s some truth to Nesta’s defiance and the IC(read Feyre) were just cruel. Every time Nesta fights, there would be cause to doubt if she’s reasonable, from refusing to train, to search for the trove, to seduce Eris, to revealing truth about Feyre’s pregnancy. But now all of it is just wrong because everything Nesta does is wrong and she is out of control. That’s why even her sisters are against her. If everyone is against her, they must have some justification to hate her and wanting to make her submit. And there’s nothing wrong with locking her down like a feral animal.

So yeah, SJM honestly doesn’t give two fucks about character here. She instead used Elain to validate Nesta’s imprisonment in the eyes of the readers.

[glossamerfaerie]

I feel like a lot of people focus on Nesta’s reaction to Gwynriel’s relationship once they go public. Maybe Nesta threatens Az to keep her girl safe. Maybe she tears up with joy for her BFFs. Maybe she’s speechless because she didn’t see it coming. And so on. But no one ever talks about how Cassian will react other than the obligatory joy and merciless teasing. “Surely he’s going to take revenge for Az’s disruptive chaperoning!”

Except… I don’t think that’s quite right for Cassian. He’s watched his brother pine after their mutual friend for 500 years. He feels incredibly guilty for sleeping with Mor just because he was jealous of Az’s crush. He’s been acting as a buffer in a fucked up situation that only ended recently. He knows how desperately lonely Az is. How much Az wants to find love. How fragile Az’s heart is despite his broody spymaster exterior.

I like to imagine that Cassian finds Gwyn in the Library, asking for a private word. He’s happy for them, of course, but he asks Gwyn for a favor. Cassian explains that he will support whatever Gwyn wants in this relationship, whether it’s being with Az or breaking up if she’s unhappy. All he asks is that Gwyn be gentle with Az’s heart and devotion, especially when it comes to ending things. Just… be careful not to shatter his heart.

Everyone assumes that Az can withstand any pain or blow. But Cassian knows better. Everyone else is worried for Gwyn in this relationship, but only Cassian is worried for Azriel. 💔🥺

[tsunami-of-tears]

So High School headcanons

Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris & Tamlin

Specifically the part where she’s being touched in front of his friends and stifling her sighs…

A/N: Just something short and sweet to get me back in the groove. I usually get pretty severe PMS, but apparently I get the ovulation sads as well. SO FUN!!

Warnings: Sexual themes, the males are horny 

Rhysand

Rhys may be the most powerful high lord, but there is nothing subtle about him. The male makes thunder noises when he winnows for god’s sake. 

If he’s touching you in public, everyone knows. 

He does it everywhere, using the smallest excuse to show off what is his (respectfully)

You have two thrones in the CoN, but yours doesn’t see much use. Rhys would rather have you sitting on his lap. 

Cassian 

Okay side note - Travis gives me such Cassian vibes (he’s an athlete who’s obsessed with his lady). Don’t tell me Cass wouldn’t be making friendship bracelets with the Valkyries 😭

Anyway - I bet you and Cass have a running competition. How far can you go before someone notices? 

His hand will be inching up your thigh further and further under the booth at Rita’s. 

A gasp slips out and eyes are straight on you.

Busted - Cassian’s hand returns to your knee, starting the game again. 

Azriel

Az will be scout’s honouring you without even using his hands. 

Dancing at Rita’s? Shadows are caressing the curve of your butt.

In the CoN? They slink under your dress, rippling up your legs.

At family dinner? They’ll be holding your legs open under the table as they slip inside. 

You have a similar game to Cassian but if you lose the game with Az, he’s not as nice to you. 

The second you moan out loud, you know you’re in for a rough night when you get to the privacy of your bedroom…

Lucien

Lulu is so traumatised, I feel like he’d be so loving with his mate. He’s also a total gentleman so he keeps his hands to himself when with company. 

That doesn’t stop the two of you slipping into a quiet room in between meetings. 

Or maybe even right before, trying to finish before the other High Lords and courtiers enter and sit around the table you’re currently lying on. 

You quickly fix your skirts as the handle turns. Lucien will brush aside any hairs that have fallen out of place for you. 

You take a seat, knowing your scent is all over the room. Brows are raised as people enter, but no one says a word. 

Eris 

Like Lucien, Eris is traumatised. After Beron’s death, he starts to open up a lot more, finally able to show his court a softer side. 

He made you his High Lady, so you attend every single meeting and ball together. 

He’s shy about PDA at first but after taking you in the throne room (privately), he realised he got a thrill from the possibility of being caught. 

From there, you couldn’t sate him. Anytime you’re by his side, his hands are all over you. 

Tamlin 

Tamlin is the king of outdoor sex. 

Calanmai, in the forest, in the garden, by the pool of starlight… 

He takes you on romantic strolls around the court and it always ends with him between your legs in some picturesque location. 

At least Lucien doesn’t have to chaperone you…

[theseeingfawn]

My Elriel Subscription list on AO3

Below are the MANY Eriel fics I am currently subscribed to and DYING for more of…

🌹A Court of Blooming Sight by katkos96

Summary: Post ACOSF and HOFAS Eriel fan fic! This fan fic will try and stay as canon as possible, with theories based off of many lovely creators as well as my own. There may be some head canons involved, as we have not had a book come out yet, but any theories and the minds behind them will be tagged. This is duel-pov between Elain and Azriel!

🌹A Court of Sunlight and Shadows by Ahimadala

Summary: Just when Elain thought she had found balance since her life was turned upside down, someone begins to doubt the true nature of her powers. Koschei threatens the fragile peace that has settled over Prythian with his search for the cauldron. However, its power is now inextricably linked to the one who has been gifted by it.

🌹A Match Baked In Heaven by NikeTheStatue

Summary: Elain Archeron, owner of the prestigious Marigold Agency, which specializes in exclusive matchmaking has a new and very challenging client. Azriel Night, football superstar, 'stubborn as a mule' (according to his brother Cassian), handsome womanizer is under pressure to find himself a wife. At stake--a 230 million inheritance.

🌹A Shot in the Darkest Dark by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: It was always those who understood fate the least who spoke most freely of it, as though the future were a path carved of marble, all roads leading in one direction, and one direction alone.

It was always meant to be this way, they said, never understanding that fate was chaos and not order, madness with no clarity. And fate could be changed, if you knew which strands to pluck.

🌹Chiaroscuro (Series) by Meraki_Moonglade/a>

Summary: A collection of beautifully told stories on the budding relationship between Elain and Azriel.

🌹Cruel Summer by slythrhys

Summary: With a broken heart and a bruised ego, Elain tries to survive a week living alongside Azriel in her family's summer home, where they all gather to celebrate Nesta and Cassian's wedding.

🌹Everywhere, Everything by duskandcobalt

Summary: Two close friends, one crossed line… After a decade of friendship, Elain and Azriel are left to navigate the fallout following an encounter that's far from platonic. or A friends to lovers fic about denial and longing.

🌹Forgotten Bonds by noedovenest

Summary: After the events of ACOSF, Elain is torn between exploring her bond with her mate and her growing affection for Azriel.

🌹Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow by Violetasteracademic

Summary: A week after Solstice, Elain is lost and heartbroken by Azriel's rejection. A surprise encounter with Lucien in the townhouse leads to an offer Elain wasn't expecting, and a readiness to face the future.

🌹High Infidelity by tswaney17

Summary: Elain and Azriel are fuck buddies, nothing more. But when a word slips out in the heat of the moment, their entire relationship comes to a screeching halt.

🌹Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: Fresh off a brutal break-up, Elain is in need of a distraction. A casual fling. One no strings bad idea, with a guy she definitely won't get attached to, so she can finally move on. Azriel has lost count of the number of women who've come to regret meeting him. But while he may be the worst idea Elain has had in a while, he's determined to prove that she won't regret him.

🌹Satin and Steel by airelemental

Summary: Princess/Knight alternate universe. Elain Archeron is on her way to visit her sister, the newly crowned queen of Prythian. With no romantic prospects and a new inheritance of all of her parents' land and most of their wealth, Elain wants nothing more than to lead a quiet life where she's finally in charge of her own destiny.

Upon her arrival, King Rhysand appoints his highest ranking knight, Sir Azriel, as her royal guard and chaperone. She thinks he's a brute and is appalled at the idea of someone following her around everywhere she wishes to go during her stay. He finds her spoiled and can think of a thousand different ways to better spend his time.

🌹Shining Through That Moonless Night by tealeaves_and_rosepetals

Summary: Good intentions went wrong on the night of Solstice, and ever since, Elain and Azriel have struggled through days that felt darker and colder without the joy of the secret love that grew between them. Yet for both of them, a tiny glimmer of hope remains, bright and unyielding.

[freyjas-musings]

@thebeginnersclock ,

Here is a little post of appreciation for you my friend. Your Gwynriel works has been a bright spot on a lot of difficult days in my life. Unless I am really stuck doing something very important I always spend time reading whatever you have written as soon as it's posted and it's never once failed to bring a smile on my face.

So , I made a little master list of all of your works ... It is also a little something for every Gwynriel who hasn't discovered your page yet... to go through the rich treasure trove of Gwynriel goodness you have gifted us . Thank you for the time and effort you take to write for us 🤗

MASTER LIST - GWYNRIEL WORKS

Someone to stay

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The Priestess

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Clueless shadowsinger

Part 1

Part 2

Night Talks

One shot

Azriel's Bonus

Drabble

Frost and shadows

Drabble

Voided Echoes

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

House of healing

Drabble

SparksAwaken

One shot

The New chaperone

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Nobody

Drabble

Oleanna

Part 1

Part 2

By the rivers of Sangravah

Drabble

Rainy Reunion

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

Part 3

Fluffy Wing

Drabble

Payback's a bitch

Drabble

First kiss

Drabble

Game night

Drabble

Gwyneth babydara

Drabble

Spill the tease

Drabble

Light and shadows

Part 1

Part 2

We accept the love we think we deserve

Part 1

Part 2

What's your favourite food

Drabble

Survival of the fishiest

Part 1

Part 2

Sellyn Drake

Part 1

Part 2

How I met your mother (ongoing)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 ||

Lightsinger

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Too Late

Drabble

Lullaby

Drabble

COUCH

Drabble

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 7

Sinner

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: History

Word count: ~3.1k Warning: Mild NSFW, 18+, m!pleasure

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. (This is for the two kind souls who responded to my ask. It's not much but I tried y'all)

It’s a joke. Staring down at the closed door, Azriel reassured himself. 

Spying on his mate was never his intention. But Raya had stolen Ayla away before he could ask what she meant. If that wasn’t torment enough, he was invited into the bar only in the company of others. So now, like a lurker, he waited for hours on the rooftop of the inn across from Pharus. Azriel was beginning to truly hate the bartender. 

Ayla was his mate. It shouldn’t be a crime to want a moment alone with her, nor should he need to hide in the shadows afraid of her chaperones. From his family to Orvin to Raya, everyone seemed eager to decide his fate with her. Everyone except his mate, who was content playing oblivious to the bond between them.

Patrons walked in and out of Pharus without restriction and anger coiled in his gut. Until he saw her heading towards him—no, her home. She walked the long way back from the smithy, stopping at the warm-lit bakery and offering a pastry to the boy skipping up and down the street who in return handed her something that looked suspiciously like a pebble. 

Azriel knew it was the moment he had been waiting for. Yet, his body refused to move. Even his shadows that called for her day and night fell quiet and clung to his shoulders. Helpless, he watched Ayla round the brick building and disappear through the backdoor. 

The house remained in the dark though a silhouette floated beyond the white veil framing the balcony. It grew darker and darker. . .and collapsed onto the bed. 

A soft chuckle escaped him.

Then, he came around—tanned skin and stark hair and all muscles. Had he entered through the front, he was merely a regular to the bar. But faelight flickered to life upstairs. One silhouette met with the other and they shuffled around together. When they almost merged into one, Azriel turned away. He slumped to the floor and watched the sun slowly descend behind the mountains, then, the sky turn a deep red to violet to black.

Five hours later, the male left in the dead of the night, as tidy and proper as when he had walked in. But it was his satisfied grin that irked Azriel.

.

Though he stayed away from Pharus and the inn and the alley, his shadows didn’t. Until they sought Ayla on their own, he hadn’t known they could split away from him. They had always been a part of him—an extension. Most nights, they returned shortly with a faint buzz and whispered Alone in his ears. On other nights, they stayed with her longer. When they reappeared, they skittered in a corner refusing to come near him, and they were quiet—eerily quiet.

‘Angry with me again?’ he would ask.

The shadows would freeze in the air, tendrils poised high and darkness rippling, enough to send a chill down his spine as if the void glared at him.

‘I warned you,’ he would tease, though deep down, their silence sliced through his heart.

Usually, this ended with them smothering him or abandoning him as he lay awake in bed, wondering if Ayla was truly with someone else.

That night, when his shadows left him again, Azriel pulled a bottle out of the dresser beside his bed. Pale linen squares peeked from under his folded leathers and he slammed the drawer shut. Enclosed within the sachets was a blend of herbs and spices that smelled close to the scent lingering around Ayla. 

Knowing he had traversed the lands and collected each one himself only made him feel pathetic and desperate. Even Rhys didn’t know the reasons for the delay in his last missions.

Azriel took a sip straight from the bottle and let his senses accustom to the horrid taste. 

Since his banning, Uri supplied him with their brew every two weeks, although he wouldn’t admit to guilting the poor male. None of their customers preferred it and the server was thrilled to please the only one who appreciated his craft. It still tasted wretched. But the familiar fragrance took Azriel back to that evening and the memories it held were sweeter.

A glass thumped on the lonely book on top of the dresser, a subtle reminder he wasn’t truly alone. Wariness crawled up his spine. He knew better than anyone what it felt to be watched. Unlike his brothers and Mor, he never preferred the house’s magic. And with its recent sentience, its presence overwhelmed him. It saw everything, it heard everything.

His skin still prickled but the book pulled his attention, its binding simple and unsuspecting. Azriel was very aware of its content. Yet, he picked it up and settled into the bed. As he flipped through the pages, a sigh escaped him.

What started as indulging Nesta to ease her into their circle turned into a monthly ritual. A romance written by a female couldn’t be worse than the drag Cassian cherished. 

But Azriel realised his mistake the day he joined Nesta in the library. While he read her favourite book, her fiery eyes flicked to him at every page turn. Even his shadows sheathing him to cool his skin wasn’t enough to tame his breaths, and Nesta snickered, ‘Having trouble reading?’

Oh, these women had better restraint than him. Thankfully, his friend delighted in these readings alone with her Valkriyes, and his discomfort was not a public spectacle.

However, when he admitted to enjoying the book, her eyes lit up, and her smiles came easy. Thus began their private tradition—Nesta picked a book for them, and once he finished, he listened to her talk about her favourite bits.

Lately, he had been missing more of these conversations, and he hated it. Azriel was failing as a mate; he would, at the least, secure his standing as a good friend.

Crisp air breezed through the windows carrying omens of changing seasons. And with it, crept in his ‘companions’ as Ayla called them. They wavered by the window as if waiting for a sign to leave again.

Despite the dying flames in the fireplace and the cold air, his skin began to warm. Azriel removed his shirt and tossed it across the room. His wings stretched and folded over once as he rolled his shoulders. Bringing his focus back to the book, he leaned against the headboard.

Darkness twitched in the corner of his eyes. Azriel merely took another sip, and they guttered out.

Were his shadows with her again? Would they go too far without him and expose themselves? Would she know, and if she did, would she blame him? Sometimes, he wished he lacked conscience like them. He would seek Ayla without guilt too, no matter what she did, who she did. 

A groan left his lips. Thinking of her was the last thing Azriel wanted to do. Her eyes burning with challenge as she uttered those sinful words. Seven. Ayla was choosing to be with seven males before she accepted him.

Would she though—accept him, or would she discard him after a night’s company?

No. Azriel was her mate, and soon, she would realise it. And this, this was only a game. She was taunting him for leaving after their kiss. She was punishing him for the ones he touched instead of her.

But, Ayla had known about Mor. Maybe, she was punishing him for Mor.

Azriel exhaled deeply and reached for the drink again. The burn numbed his senses and the ache in his chest. He flipped the page, careful of his wandering thoughts as he read the detailed rendering of an. . .intimate exchange. A strange sensation bloomed in the pit of his stomach. 

His eyes were on the page, but his mind trudged behind. With every word, the vision grew clearer and clearer—a male, a female, a whole lot of naked—and he hated the faces he saw. 

Casting the book aside, he took a sharp breath. His fingers traced aimless circles over his heart and they stuck to his skin. Blood pounded in his ears.

A carnal need pulsed between his legs begging him for the one he yearned for. Gods, it was a mess. His mate was fucking another male and his body craved her.

It started as a speck in his chest, the urge, something he could suppress. With each beat of his heart, it rippled and flared through every nerve in his body, demanding to be felt, to be satiated, to be released. A moan escaped his lips, soft and low.

His hand trailed lower and Azriel pressed his fingers into his stomach. Even the pain of his nails clawing into him morphed into pleasure, dark and twisted, coaxing him to give in.

‘Please,’ the word uttered between broken breaths. ‘Not tonight.’ Not when he knew she was with someone else. Not when he knew she wouldn’t be thinking of him.

The gold string of the bond felt like a barbed wire around his heart. Azriel yielded. What was he but a mere man.

As his fingers smoothed over his crotch, his breath caught in his throat. The slightest graze of the fabric against him when he inched his pants low had his hips jerking. He closed his hand over the tip and a shudder coursed through him.

He intended to stop there.

His other hand remained on his chest, where the only connection to her in this world lay. His heart drummed under his fingers, steady and rhythmic, yet, he felt another racing beneath it—an illusion of his mind. Or perhaps the effects of the drink.

Azriel closed his eyes.

Her intense gaze peered back.

She stood at the foot of his bed. In the moonlight, he could see the smooth curves of her body under the shirt that caressed her bare legs as she walked over to his side. She sank beside him, nuzzling against him. A gentle smile curled her lips, as red and swollen as when they fell prey to his own. And her eyes hinted mischief.

There was no escape from the one who haunted him in life and dreams alike.

‘Were you thinking of me?’ She asked, her voice breaking into little laughs. 

Azriel hummed.

His grip tightened as the guilt did around his heart. Ayla was a gift from Mother herself. And he was sullying her existence, reducing her to one of his fantasies. He sucked in a breath.

‘Let me see you,’ she whispered as her eyes made a cautious descent down his body.

He let go with a hiss. ‘Do you see what you do to me?’

She blinked slowly and trailed her fingers down his bare arm, upto his wrist before making her way back up. ‘But isn’t this what you wanted?’ Her lips feathered against his cheek, ‘Touch yourself for me. Properly.’

Azriel obeyed. Pleasure shot through his veins ripping a gasp from his throat as he wrapped his hand around his cock. He rubbed himself slowly, teasing and torturing.

‘You know,’ her breaths echoed in his ear, ‘I dream of you too.’

He chuckled, ‘Liar.’

‘I do,’ she whined looking into his eyes. Moonlight flickered in hers and somehow it deepened her gaze. ‘Did you think I’d forget our kiss?’ She drew closer, stopping a breath away from his lips, ghosting her thumb over them. ‘I think of it every day,’ her voice lilted, ‘and night.’ 

When he leaned in, she turned away, instead nestling against his shoulder. ‘I wait for you, hoping you’d come for me.’

She did. She lingered in the bar often and worked until Raya and Uri took over. She was a masochist like him, longing to relive a moment so gone in the past.

‘And what would you do if I came for you?’ he croaked out. Her fingers moved to his torso carving a path onto his abdomen, so close to where he needed her. The cold breeze raked over his skin, but it was her nails that drew the shiver out of him.

Ayla looked up at him. ‘What do you think?’ She shot a glance at his hand moving steadily along his hardness and smiled. ‘Definitely better than what you’re doing.’

Azriel laughed at her arrogance. Although, he suspected a mere touch from her would be his unravelling. ‘I’m holding back,’ he said, reaching for her face, ‘I want to keep you for a while.’

Her fingers crossed the threshold past his hips and caressed the back of his marred hand while her eyes distracted him from her vicious deeds.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she murmured as her hand closed over his, guiding him. She shifted close, her body pressing against his arm, her leg draping over his. ‘I dreamt of feeling you like this. In my hand, on my lips.’

Azriel pressed his fingers to her mouth, feeling their softness and warmth as they trembled. No, not her lips—delicate as a flower, they were only worthy of kisses and praises, he decided.

Her breaths grew heavy, chasing his own and drowning the crackling of fire. ‘Please.’

It’s she who chose other males over him.

‘You want this?’ Ayla nodded at once. ‘Then why are you with him now?’

A sound escaped her, like a whimper. ‘You know why.’

Azriel hummed. ‘Tell me,’ he taunted still, ‘Is he enough?’

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her words skittered over his skin as she spoke weakly, ‘You know I only want you.’

Even in his dreams, she dodged his questions. Azriel gripped her chin and coaxed her to look at him again. ‘But you’d fuck anyone who walks through your door.’

Ayla laughed, her hand slackening over his. ‘You’re the one allowing it.’

She pulled away. Her shirt no longer tugged against him deliciously, her toe no longer traced his leg, and he no longer felt her heat.

Azriel held a hand out, the one that caressed her face. ‘Come here.’

Ayla shook her head. 

‘I thought you wanted me.’

Her face crumbled and she lurched towards him, her body flush against his again. Azriel sighed. 

‘You know they wouldn’t be the one with me now if you’d just take me.’ Her eyes bore into his, almost pleading. She ripped his hand away and grasped his cock—her smooth, soft skin such contrast to his scarred one.

His head fell back as he gasped a silent moan.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, tearing his attention from the pleasure radiating through him. ‘One night, please,’ she fisted him, deliberate but firm—just enough to take him to the precipice, ‘Let me prove it to you.’

Her heart raced in tandem to his. Her cheeks flushed. Her hair swayed with their mingled breaths and stuck to his skin.

Ayla licked her lips and almost his too. Her eyes fluttered when she spoke, ‘Don’t you—don’t you want me?’

The way her voice cracked broke his heart. Azriel caressed her face and pulled her closer. ‘I do,’ he said, ‘more than anyone in my life. It hurts to be away from you.’

She drew in a quick breath. ‘Then why do you deny me?’ 

Ayla wasn’t twisted like him. She was pure for she touched his skin without perversion and kind for she didn’t judge him for what he’d done. She wouldn’t torment him if she knew the truth of who she was.

Then, why did he stay away?

Before he could find the answer himself, Ayla racked her nails along his length. Azriel sucked a breath through his teeth.

‘You’re a tease,’ she grinned as though she were innocent, ‘making a poor woman wait.’

When she punished him with her grip, he grunted, ‘I’m sure it’s hard for you,’ earning a laugh from her.

Ayla kissed his cheek once, twice, thrice, trailing lower each time. She licked the corner of his lips, ‘You taste good.’ She did it again and under his jaw. ‘You taste this good everywhere?’

‘Gods.’ Azriel laughed, and then groaned as her mouth made its descent down his chest. He pulled her face back to his. ‘I can’t let you do that.’

Guilt flooded him at the sight of her lust-stained face, a travesty of his sinister dreams, dragging him from the pleasure that threatened to consume him.

‘I need you,’ her voice wavered. Azriel shivered. ‘How shall I prove it to you?’

‘No,’ he rasped, brushing his thumb over her cheek. He had even perverted her thoughts. ‘You never have to prove anything to me. When this is over, I’ll make you mine.’

Her movements ceased and her eyes hooded. A sigh left her lips, then a series of whispered yeses. His cock throbbed and she took charge again, stroking him faster and determined. 

‘Let me have this,’ she said, ‘Let me feel you tonight.’

Her hands drove him to the edge but it was her words that destroyed him. Shocks of pleasure went through him, one after the other. 

With their breaths still echoing in his ears, Ayla brought her hand to his chin. Her wet fingers, drenched in his essence, grazed under his lip. ‘Come to me, Az. Isn’t it your turn now?’

Azriel opened his eyes. Pages rustled in the breeze. His shirt lay rumpled on the floor beside the fireplace, with only the embers to hint at the fire long dead. Moonlight bathed his empty room.

His messy hand rested below his chest, where the desire and rush ebbed away, slowly baring him as shame began to corrode him. Once his heart settled, he tried to cleanse the filth residing in him with a cold shower. He knew it wasn’t enough.

Shadows danced outside the window when Azriel returned. He placed the culprit back on the dresser and folded his discarded shirt over the armchair. He picked up the bottle and liquor sloshed at its bottom as he strolled over to the window. He needed to visit Uri soon.

Velaris was a beauty to behold at night. From the mountains, it was more so. Lights glittered in every corner of the city like stars on land—each one a promise of life and future. Right in the middle of it was her house, a smidge somewhere in the vibrant square alive with music and laughter. 

Water dripped down his back, yet heat lingered under his skin. 

A tendril curled over his ear. Alone, it sang while another added, Asleep. Azriel heaved a sigh. Ayla was safe. Satisfied, his shadows draped over his shoulders returning to their home.

He took a sip and a smirk pulled at his lips. ‘Kiss her for me.’

There was stillness for a moment, then, the invisible weight lifted.

What harm could one more sin bring to a sinner?

[oristian]

I was chatting with @acourtdelaluna and have not been able to stop thinking about this.

There was no reason to retcon Azriel being the one to rescue Gwyn from Sangravah—they would have met anyways during the Valkyrie training. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel all managed to meet their mates during the same frame of time with this change in the narrative. The mating bond between Gwyn and Azriel must have snapped that night, given all of the foreshadowing that the reader has been able to pick up on.

Azriel being placed at the HoW during ACOSF was a choice that did not have to be made by SJM—Cassian could have trained Nesta on his own just fine; a chaperone was essentially useless. Azriel being drawn to Gwyn during the bonus chapter, his shadows reacting positively to her, remaining at the HoW long after the training intensified—the mating bond is encircling both him and Gwyn.

His shadows are the only ones that know.