#azriel x shadow!reader

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow Azriel x Reader

a/n: quick little idea/drabble i had (that could honestly get turned into another series) idk if this has been done before, if it has let me know please, I'll probably delete this. I hope you enjoy :)) <333

synopsis: azriel takes you for granted

Warnings: angst

pt.2

He thought it was poetic, the way the shadows disappeared around Mor. She brightened up his life, literally.  

Never did he think he’d find someone else capable of doing such a thing. Until he met Elaine. 

The change was gradual, so gradual he hadn’t even noticed. 

They stayed with him, at first, treating the once-human girl like any other person. But then she was turned fae, and Azriel’s visits with her began. With each visit, less, and less, shadows joined him. 

He was completely unaware, she stole his focus. 

He felt protective of her, like a precious flower he had to keep from wilting. That protectiveness slowly became something more, a yearning. Even more so when Cassian discovered he was mated to the eldest Acheron.

Though the night Elaine kissed him, everything changed.

They’d sat outside, in her garden, and even though the sky was already dark they’d stayed. Getting lost in conversation. She told him about things she cared about, and he listened. She asked him about himself, and he answered.

 At some point she ended up in front of him, gazing up at his lips. 

She looked so beautiful, illuminated by the stars, surrounded by her lovely garden. A sight he felt lucky to witness. 

When she leaned forward he couldn’t stop himself. He met her halfway, so softly, so gently. But as soon as his lips touched hers, all those feelings for her died. He felt nothing.

The switch in emotions almost gave him whiplash. It was dizzying. 

Underwhelming didn’t feel like the best word for it, but it was the only thing he could come up with. Nothing was exciting about the kiss, nothing revolutionary. It wasn’t like it felt wrong, but it didn’t feel right either. 

Disappointment was what Azriel felt. A little part of him was hoping that maybe the Acheron sister would be his mate. 

It seemed fitting, right? Three brothers, three sisters. But now that her lips were against his, he knew it wasn’t right.  

The spymaster pulls back, taking a step away. Looking at the beautiful woman. Any feelings beyond protectiveness had vanished from his body. Not even a tickle of butterflies when she smiled at him, so obviously delighted with the kiss they shared.

It wasn’t her fault, any male would be lucky to have Elaine. But it was clear to him, that male couldn’t be him.

“It’s getting late, we should head in.” Her face drops at his words, he doesn’t even look at her as he begins leading her inside and back to her room.  

He should say more, apologize, and tell her how he feels so she at least has a reason. Not just silence. But his brain was still reeling from the drastic change in emotions—or lack thereof. No words leave his mouth.

He walks Elaine up to her room. Bidding her a short goodnight before leaving the frowning woman to her own devices.

He kicked himself for hurting her, for allowing it to get that far. Elaine was just so tempting, and he was so hopeful. He kicked himself for that too. 

Of course he wouldn’t have a mate. 

He couldn't even give the poor woman an apology.

It wasn’t until he made it to his room, all the way up in the House of Wind, that he realized no shadows were with him. Not even a whisper reached his ears.  

They’d been with him as long as he could remember, and now they were just gone. 

He couldn’t place the feeling they left in their absence. But he knew he didn’t like it. 

*****

You knew it was unfair of you to be jealous. He didn’t know how deep your devotion ran.  He didn’t see life the way you had, you didn’t even think he saw you as anything other than a servant. 

It wasn’t unfair of you to feel sad about that. 

You’re nothing but shadows to him. When he’s always been everything to you. From the moment he first called to you, when you were barely a flicker of darkness.

But he would never see that. 

Azriel is sound asleep when you slip through the cracks of his door and into his room. 

He hadn’t even called to you. Did he even care you were gone? 

You find yourself taking form, a form of something he could relate to. A beautiful woman, someone like Elaine, or Mor. But you knew you looked nothing like them. Your darkness couldn't captivate beauty like that. Bold and enchanting, like the Morrigan. Pure and innocent, like Miss Elaine.

A sigh leaves your mouth as you curl up in your designated corner, looking at the hands that felt alien to you. Even if you showed him this form, saw him face to face, would he see you any differently?

You doubt it. You’d always be shadows to him.

You were so busy wallowing to yourself in the corner you didn’t see the shadowsinger stir at your sigh. Didn’t see him blink awake, or sit up and look around. 

But you felt it when his eyes settled on you for what felt like the first time. Heard the gasp that left his mouth. 

Your heart stops, frozen in fear for half a second, before it starts again, and you collapse into clouds of darkness.

*****

It was the middle of the night when Azriel woke Rhys up, shouting at him from outside his mental barriers. The worry in his voice was what had the High Lord jumping out of his mate's arms, waking Cassian, and heading to the abode carved into the top of the mountain. 

Azriel paces around the office room, running a hand through his hair. If he wasn’t so stressed he would’ve noticed that his shadows don’t try to comfort him like usual.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asks as he and Cassian walk into the room. Both are in different states of undress with looks of concern on each of their faces.

Cassian immediately notes Azriel’s distressed state, a rare sight considering the spymaster had long ago mastered staying calm and stoic in the face of trouble.

Cassian almost doesn't want to know what has the male so bothered.

“There was something in my room.” 

“What?!” The reactions are simultaneous. Any sign of sleep was immediately gone from both of their faces.

“I think it was a woman… I don’t know I didn’t get a good enough look. It disappeared right after I woke up.”  His fingers grip his hair. Heart still beating fast from the interaction. No one has ever snuck up on him like that. 

He's usually the one doing the sneaking.

His shadows, which had returned sometime after he’d fallen asleep, hadn’t even noticed the stranger, if they had they certainly didn’t warn him. He tries not to feel the nerves that fact struck in him.

“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?” Cassian asks.

“Exactly what it sounds like, Cass. One second it was sitting in the corner of my room, the next it was gone.” Which made absolutely no sense, the wards surrounding House of Wind forbid winnowing of any kind. 

This was obviously a serious issue, the wards could either be faulty or someone could have found a way around them. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a vivid dream?” Cassian asks, just trying to come with any better explanation.

“Was your encounter with Bryaxis just a vivid dream?” Azriel snaps. There was no way he imagined it. No way.

Rhys diffuses, stepping in with hands raised in surrender. Silently telling Azriel that they were on his side. “What did it look like when it disappeared? Did it look like it was winnowing?” 

The spymaster thinks about it. No. No, it didn’t. 

It was like its body blended with the darkness. Became the darkness. Almost like… Azriel’s eyes widen.

A shadow. 

“What? What is it, Az?” Rhys asks, probably noticing the revelation he was having from the look on his face. 

The shadowsinger's face becomes neutral, as calm as a person with his features was capable of looking. He shakes his head. “Maybe it was nothing. Sorry for waking you guys up. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Then he left without another word.

Rhys and Cassian share a look. A mix of bewilderment, concern, and exhaustion filled their features.

Azriel waits till he reaches his room to say anything, making sure to close the door behind him before a single word can leave his mouth. “Are you jealous? Is that it? Is that why you always leave around Elaine and Mor? Why you thought it would be fun to scare me and my family? Because I don't give you enough attention?” 

His shadows scatter, detaching from his body, hiding under his bed and in the darker nooks of his room. 

“Don’t hide now. I know it was you, that��s why you didn’t warn me.” He gazes into the dark corners of his room, glaring. How could they keep something like this from him? Hide the fact that they could take form? “Show yourself.”

There was an eerie pause, Azriel’s heart began beating faster. Then the fae lights started to flicker.

With each flash more and more shadows gathered before him. Building on each other. The lights went out completely.

When he turned them back on you stood before him.

The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

Pure darkness rose from your body, looking like black smoke. It encapsulates you, different from the way it encapsulates him. The darkness wasn't an extension of your body, it was a part of you, was you, moved with you like it was just another limb.

“My intention was not to scare.” You spoke in a whisper he’d heard many times. A whisper that was most loyal to him. That fulfilled his every beck and call.

Azriel was at a loss for words. You were stunning, a word he'd not known the true meaning of until he laid eyes on you.

“For years, centuries, I’ve followed you. I chose you as my singer. I answered your call.” Tears fill your eyes, but when they fall they dissipate into smoke. Blowing away with a wave of your hand. “I have shown you nothing but loyalty, and care. I’ve sat back while watching you love others and I’ve made peace with it, I’ve accepted our differences.” You suck in a deep breath and steady yourself. “But when I leave, you don’t care, don't even notice.” Your lips tremble, voice breaking as you ask him a question he couldn’t even think to answer. “After everything I’ve done, how can I mean so little to you?” 

Azriel’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He has so much to say but his vocal cords are tied. He did care, though it was clear he hadn’t shown it enough. He found himself thinking about all the little times the shadows had been there for him, comforting him, caring for him. And now he could put a face to those moments, it wasn’t just shadows, it was you that’d been there for him over the years.  

“So yes, I was sad and mad, and maybe a little jealous... But I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just- I don’t know! Imagining? Yearning for a life I can’t have?” 

 The fae lights began blinking again making his heart jump with every flicker. He doesn't want you to disappear yet. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. 

“You don’t have to say anything, I don’t want an apology.” You lift a shadowy hand, wiping your face and steeling yourself. “Don’t fret, shadowsinger, I’m still your faithful servant. I couldn’t refuse your calls even if I wanted to. And I’m okay with that, it’s what I chose. Just don’t expect me to be there for you in moments where you can't even acknowledge my existence.” 

The lights flicker again and you're gone. 

Leaving Azriel to wonder if he’s lost you. Although, he never really had you in the first place.

next->

[azmageddon]

I Can’t Lose Him

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian’s twin!healer!reader

Summary: When Azriel is injured during the war with Hybern, will your healing abilities be enough to save him?

Warnings: blood, injured az, needles, detailed medical treatment (let me know if I missed anything!), Painfully inaccurate to the original storyline

a/n: this is my first fic! I would love feedback and let me know if you’d love to hear more! This could be part of an ongoing universe where Y/N is Cassian’s twin sister and a healer.

The sound of the heavy cloth covering the entrance to the medical tent being whipped open caught your immediate attention. Your head jolted up from the wound you were currently cleaning from a warrior. Blood and dirt had oozed from his leg, but you had managed to hold pressure long enough to staunch the bleeding. Now, as you sewed the ends of his skin back together, your eyes darted around the tent, looking for whomever it was that entered in such a panicked hurry.

You saw Rhys at the entrance, looking around wildly for something, or maybe someone. When his wild eyes met yours and stayed there, your heart skipped a beat, knowing it was your worst nightmare coming to life.

You quickly handed your stitching task to one of your healers. “Finish for me, Jessina,” you asked, before rushing to Rhys’ side. There was only one reason he would be in the medical tent.

“Who is it?” You asked hesitantly, afraid of what his answer might be. When Rhys didn’t immediately respond, you knew it must be bad. “Cassian? Feyre? Please, Rhys, say something.” You avoided saying the one name you feared most out loud, as if merely saying it would make it true.

But Rhys shook his head and you knew your silent prayer for your mate would go unanswered.

“Y/N,” Rhys began, gripping your wrists, “it’s not good. Cassian is trying to get him out.”

“How bad is it?” You whispered, afraid your voice would give out.

You felt sharp talons scraping at your mental shield, which you lowered just enough for Rhys to slither through. Immediately, a scene played for you in your mind, consuming all your senses. You knew you were watching Rhys’ memory.

Azriel flew with the large Illyrian legion above him, their great wings sounding in unison like the beat of a war drum. Headed straight for the group of winged Hybern enemies, the two armies collided in a tangle of swords and wings and limbs. Rhys watched as warriors from both sides suffered injuries, but it wasn’t until a certain Shadowsinger caught the wrong end of a Hybern sword that he faced a fate of plummeting hundreds of feet to the hard ground below him. Faster and faster Azriel fell, twisting in the air with the Hybern enemy he refused to untangle himself with, clearly vowing to take down whoever he could with him. As the couple dropped closer and closer to the ground, Rhys knew the fall alone would kill his Spymaster. At the last moment, Rhys flung out his power, hoping it would create at least some type of force field between Azriel and the ground before he hit the dirt with a sickening thud, and moved no more. Rhys, too far away to make it to his brother in time, immediately called out to Cassian’s mind to retrieve him and ran to the medical tent to alert the best healer he knew.

The vision ended with Rhys slithering quickly out of your mind. “Oh gods,” you whispered, a hand flying to your mouth in disbelief. Immediately you opened your end of the bond and were met with a severe onslaught of pain, agony, and fear. The force of the emotions hit you like a tidal wave, and would have forced you to your knees if Rhys wasn’t there to steady you. It wasn’t until you closed your side of the bond again that you were able to breathe and think normally, instead of being all-consumed by the pain.

“Incoming, Y/N,” Rhys warned, and almost immediately the tent flaps whipped open again, revealing a wild eyed Cassian and a writhing, screaming Azriel in his arms. Blood covered the Shadowsinger and Cassian, dripping steadily to the floor where they stood. Feyre, Mor, and Nesta pushed through the tent flaps behind Cassian, effectively crowding your tiny medical space.

Every instinct told you to reach out for your mate, to fall at his feet and beg anyone, anything, to save him. But you forced yourself to take one look at a sobbing Azriel, and you turned away, screaming for Madja.

“Get the surgical supplies ready!” You screamed as you raced for the metal table in the back of the medical tent. Reserved only for emergent needs, the metal table was hidden behind a large white sheet to hide the horrors that happened there from the other onlooking wounded.

You turned back to your mate, thankful that Cassian had the sense to follow you. “Put him there,” you ordered, pointing to the metal table. “Gently Cassian, on his back. Watch his wings!” You closed your eyes as Cassian settled his brother on the table. The innate part of you that felt the panic rising in fear for your mate’s life had to be pushed down. You felt it coming in waves, but forced yourself to keep it contained. You knew that if you let your instincts get ahead of you, then it was a death sentence for you mate.

The sharp talons scraped again, and you let Rhys in fully this time, allowing him to speak to you.

“He needs you, Y/N. You can do this,” Rhys whispered into your mind. You sent your gratitude to him mind-to-mind, and allowed him to stay inside your metal shields as a form of comfort and communication for what lay ahead.

When you opened your eyes again, Madja was at your side, setting up the supplies you might need. Digging deep into your power, you reached a hand out to Azriel, who lay on the table writhing in agony, blood quickly pooling around him and dripping off the cold metal table to the floor below. When you touched your hand to his chest, you let out a full blast of your power, giving him a jolt of pain as he felt it singe all of his senses. He cried out as your power raced through his body to assess for wounds and injuries.

The information relayed back to you was horrifying. Multiple cuts and bruising littered Azriels skin, including a deep laceration to his scalp, which was the source of most of his bleeding. Thankfully, the head injury seemed to be only skin deep, preserving his skull and brain from damage.

The same couldn’t be said for his left hip and leg, which lay at an odd angle from the multiple fractures beneath the skin. His hip, completely dislocated, and lower leg were broken into multiple pieces. A dislocated right shoulder and a few cracked ribs were the extent of the injuries on the right side of his body. His wings were badly damaged from the fall, with snapped bones and holes in the delicate membrane, but they would have to be fixed last. You could only rightly assume he had fallen to the ground and landed on his left side, because most importantly was the multitude of broken ribs on his left flank, two of which were folded inward, puncturing and deflating his left lung completely.

Rhys, who has been quietly sitting at the back of your mind, accidentally let a blast of his own terror into your mind as he felt your power relay the information back to you. You immediately caught eyes with the High Lord, and from your shared mind, you knew he was thinking the same thing you were.

The broken ribs and punctured lung was the same injury that killed his father when you failed to save him during the first war with Hybern.

“Things have changed since then,” Rhys reassured you. You kept your eyes locked as you silently communicated, pushing the rising nausea back down deep into your belly. “You’re the best healer in all the courts. If anyone has will save him, it will be you.”

“Y/N!” Nesta shouted from beside you, pulling your attention away from your silent conversation and back to reality. “He’s losing a lot of blood, you need to do something!”

“I can’t move,” Azriel gasped between sobs of pain. “I can’t move!”

You realized with a quick jerk of your arm back that you had kept your hand on his chest while conversing with Rhys, accidentally paralyzing him in the process as your power rippled over him. Now that you had removed your hand, he began thrashing again.

With a quick flick of your wrist, the bleeding from Azriel’s scalp stopped, the capillaries fused shut. “Head wounds bleed a lot, but that’s not his problem,” you said to no one in particular as you turned to look at Madja. “It’s his lung. It’s like before.”

Madja, who had been with you at the time of the previous High Lord’s death, immediately understood. “Get ready to turn him,” she said, turning her attention to Cassian and giving him instructions.

“His legs,” you said, reaching for his shattered hip. “I need to stabilize them before we move him or he may never walk again.”

A deep, pained groan left Azriel’s mouth as you ran your hand along his legs, purposefully paralyzing them this time. Forcing the bones straight, the once stoic shadow singer let out a gasp of agony as the bones ground against one another.

“You will walk again, brother,” you heard Cassian whisper, as he prepared to follow Madja’s instructions to turn him.

“You’ll have to keep him still, Cassian,” you warned your twin, “I’ll have to cut him open.”

With a quick nod and a count to three, Madja and Cassian log rolled Azriel onto his right side and positioned him to give unrestricted access to his left flank. The fighting leathers were easily cut away from his body under Madja’s expert tools. Whispering a quick spell under your breath, you felt your hands clean and sterilize themselves in preparation for the first cuts.

“Put him to sleep, Rhys,” you said out loud. The High Lord quickly approached the table and put his hands around Azriel’s head, trying to break into his mind to effectively knock him out.

When a few moments went by and Azriel was still gasping in pain and cursing under his breath, you began to worry.

“What’s going on?” You asked Rhys in your head.

“His shields,” he responded out loud, “he’s too high strung to relax long enough for me to break through. They’re ironclad.”

The rising panic threatened to overwhelm you as you faced the impending reality of having to cut through your mate’s skin to his lung while he was awake.

“You have to do it,” Madja said, confirming your worst nightmare. “We can only hope he’ll pass out from the pain.” Her arm extended toward you, scalpel in her hand for you to take.

Please pass out, please pass out, please pass out, became your internal mantra as you took the blade from Madja. Taking a deep breath, you lined it up with Azriel’s tanned skin. “I’m sorry, Az,” you whispered as the blade sliced through skin and muscle and tissue, eliciting screams of pain from your mate that echoed through the medical tent.

“Keep him still, Cassian,” you ordered as you continued to cut through to Azriel’s lung. He was still conscious, beads of sweat dripping from Rhys brow as he attempted to break through his mental shields.

When you had successfully reached the damaged lung, you extended an arm into Azriel’s body, spreading your powers through him again, concentrating on that particular area. When your powers shot through his body this time, he flinched again, nearly falling off the table to the ground.

“Damnit, Cassian!” You shouted. “Keep him still or I’m going to kill him! I’m elbow deep in his body! What’s going on, Rhys?”

“I can’t get through!” He responded, fear lacing his words and working its way into your mind. You pushed him out of your head, reestablishing your own mental shields. You had enough of your own fear, you didn’t need someone else’s in your mind as well.

You made eye contact with Feyre from across the room. Panic danced in her eyes but she opened her mind to you immediately when you made eye contact.

You send an image into her head of a small box hidden well in yours and Azriels shared tent. “Bring it to me,” you commanded. Within seconds, she was gone.

You continued to work on Azriel’s wound, using your powers to close the wound and reinflate the lung. With the wound still deep and oozing blood continuously, Madja handed you the supplies to stitch the lung closed. All the while, Azriel fought Cassian on the table, awake and writing in pain.

You sensed Feyre’s arrival back into the tent and at your side the moment she returned. Madja recognized the box and nodded her head in agreement. Without taking your eyes off your work, you instructed Feyre with the next steps.

“Take the needle out and draw up the clear liquid in the red vial. It’s an extremely strong pain tonic. I save it for emergency cases, and it’s incredibly potent.”

Feyre did as instructed and drew the liquid into the syringe. You pulled one hand out of Azriels chest and pointed to a spot along his left shoulder muscle. “Stab the needle there, and make it deep. Inject the tonic there.”

Feyre hesitated, her hands shaking the needle she held. “I’m not like you, Y/N, I can’t do something like that.”

You finally looked up at your High Lady and caught her eye. You briefly let your instinct take over and let the panic be heard in your voice as it cracked. “Please, Feyre,” you begged. “Please, I can’t lose him.”

With another cry of agony from Azriel, she eyed the spot you had marked with a bloody finger on his shoulder and plunged the syringe in deep, pushing the pain tonic into his muscle.

Within seconds, Azriel’s body laid limp underneath you, his screams of pain cut off and erratic breathing stopped. You felt your own heart stop in your chest as you feared the worst had happened. If your hands weren’t inside his chest so close to his beating heart, you would have thought it had stopped all together.

“It’s just me!” Rhys shouted, sensing the panic from everyone in the room. “The medication relaxed him enough for me to shatter his shield. I knocked him out.”

Relief flooded you and you returned to Azriel’s chest to finish your work, praying you had learned enough in the last 350 years to save him.

[surielstea]

Wedding Crasher

Based on this request.

Paring: Azriel x Fem!Reader (mates)

Summary: Reader is forced into an arranged marriage, and when the day of union comes it is interrupted by two familiar Illyrian warriors.

Warnings: Toxic relationship with parents | forced marriage | Azriel threatens a life | but pretty much all fluff <33

2.4k words.

My white dress hung heavy on my shoulders, my corset too tight, my heels already making my feet ache.

The plastered smile on my face hurt my cheeks, and the thorns in my bouquet prickled my sweaty palms. I released a shaky breath as the music of the string quartet began to play, an unmistakable tune meant for happy brides ready to walk down the aisle.

Which is what I was supposed to be, happy, ready. Heads turned in my direction and my back straightened, my brows creasing the slightest fraction.

My husband-to-be waited at the end of the walkway, his smile broad and malicious. My stomach churned.

I didn't want to be here, here on this beach getting married to some guy twenty years older all for an alliance my parents forced me into. My self-sovereignty for what? For a few pieces of gold and a minor title?

I took a steadying breath and began walking forward, keeping in rhythm to the strum of the music. The groom reached his hand out towards me, my own shook as I took it and he pulled me the rest of the way to the altar.

The officiant began the reading from his script, and with it, my ears began to ring, I tuned the priest out and my eyes fluttered closed. My fiancé's hands squeezed mine, not in a comforting manner, but a warning. I snapped my head up and looked at the officiant, I blinked at him with creased brows.

"Do you, take Rhen Talor to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do you part?" He repeated each word adding another pound of weight to my shoulders.

"I—" I look between the oblivious officiant and the groom, Rhen, to my parents who were watching with narrowed eyes. "I..." I wanted to say yes, I was going to say yes, but the pounding in my heart could be heard in my ears and I got the sneaking suspicion that I was about to vomit all over my white gown.

An unnatural wind blew my hair back as if nature itself was beckoning me to step away, to run.

I looked in the direction of the wind, my hands slipping from Rhen's as I spotted two towering, familiar winged figures in the distance and I realized the pounding in my ears was the beat of their wings.

The crowd murmurs at the intrusion as the two Illyrians casually stroll towards us, arrogance and power in each step.

"Excuse me for a moment," I say, gathering my skirts in my hands and rushing over to the two males as fast as I can in my heels that seemed determined to get stuck in the sand.

"What in the seven hells are you two doing here?" I seethe, looking at the fae warriors who were smiling at me with wicked amusement. Some part of me relaxed to feel anything besides fear and nausea, even if it was anger taking over.

"We're here to save you, what else?" The shadow singer arches a brow, dark shadows swirling up the pure white of my dress.

"I don't need anyone's saving, especially not two Carynthian warriors," I argue and Cassian snorts, taking in my appearance.

"I only came along because Az promised there'd be a buffet," The lord of bloodshed shrugged.

"Not for— this is wildly inappropriate, even for the two of you." I groaned but Cassian only continued walking, towards the guests that were scrambling away from the sight of his seven siphons. Leaving me and Azriel, our words drowned out by the crashing of the waves.

"You're too late. I already said I do," I cross my arms over my chest.

"Liar," He narrows his hazel eyes on me. "You know better than to try and fool me, Love, I could feel you tugging at the bond, you were in distress," Azriel took a dangerous step forward and I sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of the bond, not accepted but not rejected either. A bridge between us that I both refused to sever and to walk across.

H grabbed my hand that was prickled with the thorns of my bouquet, shadows soothed over my palm, relieving the sting of my minor wounds. "You shouldn't be here," I frowned but his smile remained.

"No, probably not, but I can't let you marry him," He said, his voice brooking no room for argument, ever the cool and collected male.

“Go home, Azriel,” I speak quietly, but not weakly.

“Come with me.” He matches my tone, his scarred fingers intertwining with my manicured ones and the sensation was so different than the feeling of Rhen’s grip. "Why did your parents arrange this? What are they gaining from this union?" He asked, voice slightly stiff at the idea of selling me off for their own personal achievement.

"Money, the Talor's have a small title and crop of land, it'd be enough to last us a few centuries,” I shrug. I loved my parents, despite their twisted and corrupt ways, I loved them because they fed and raised me, I loved them because they put clothes on my back and told me bedtime stories. I never assumed I’d have to pay them back, not this way, at least.

"I'll give you every cent to my name if that's the price of my mate's freedom, if money is what they want, they can take mine." The shadow singer stated, his words certain that it made me realize that I’ve never been as sure about anything as he was about this.

"I can't ask you to do that." I shake my head, slipping my fingers from his, knowing the lingering guests were watching.

"You don't have to, I want you to be happy, let me buy you then set you free." He implored, allowing my hand to fall to my side only because he moved to cup my cheek. "And if I'm lucky you'll fall in love with me along the way." He shrugged with a smirk of pure fae male arrogance.

"Az," I deadpan, the words half a growl.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, I'm asking you not to marry him." His eyes flick back to the male watching with furious eyes from the archway. "If you tell me to I’ll leave, and you can walk down that aisle again— but let's not kid ourselves, you never wanted this, never wanted him,” His hand on my face made me melt slightly, and he was right, despite wanting to pay my mother and father back, this is nowhere near anything I wanted.

I swallowed thickly, weighing the options. If I married Rhen my parents would be happy and this would all be water under the bridge— but I’d suffer a life of being both a housewife and broodmare with a male who did not truly love me.

If I went with Azriel my parents would likely attempt to cleave us, unless Azriel paid them as he said he would, as long as gold was placed in their hands I doubted they’d have much argument— and I could be free to choose what I wanted with my life, I could accept my mating bond.

"But where will I go? What will I do?" I ask, my mind filled with questions that could only be answered by my future self.

"It's entirely up to you, you can live with me, or you can move to another court, whatever you choose. You'd be free." He stresses and my mouth gapes open, then closes. I look to the waves crashing against the shore only a few yards away, shouting at me to flee, to go with him.

All of it was too good to be true, Azriel coming to be my savior with this plan. It couldn’t be real and I needed him to punch me so I could wake up from this dream.

"Though I'd prefer if you stayed close, it's painful having you so far even right now— and you're only a city away, I can’t imagine a whole court,” He added and I looked back to him, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips.

"I haven't even accepted the bond yet and you're already desperate." I tease.

"Yet?" He arched a scarred brow.

I flush a soft hue and avert my eyes again, this time settling them on the approaching figure that formed a knot of anxiety in my stomach.

"You're out of line, get your hands off my bride you bastard." Rhen spat and I flinched at the way he cursed the word, Azriel didn’t so much as shift, in fact, I could’ve sworn there was a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Out of line? No, I'm exactly where I should be, you're the one that's in my way." The shadow singer smoothly replied, Rhen snarled at his retort and grabbed me just above my elbow, his grip as tight and immovable as iron.

"Don't touch me." I gritted out, tugging at my arm but he didn’t budge and simply pulled me back towards where the officiant stood, uneasy on his feet.

"Come on, be a good little wife, and finish the damned ceremony," Rhen growled, and before I could take even another step towards the archway my fiancé halted, freezing in his footsteps as shadows wrapped around his limbs, his neck, encasing his body and shoving into his open mouth, restricting him of oxygen.

"She told you not to touch her Talor, so I'd highly suggest you let go or you won't have a hand anymore." The Spy Master’s voice was death incarnate, I had never heard anything so paralyzing in all my immortal life. It chilled me down to my very bone, and I thought that I might be carrion if I was ever on the receiving end of my mate's deathly stare.

Rhen’s hand releases me if only to grasp at his own throat, silently pleading with his eyes to have mercy.

The shadows released him and Rhen was sent running, sprinting as fast as he could away from the male that stood before me, now looking at me with an incredulous grin. Insane, he must’ve been insane— and I must’ve been too, to be so in love with that smile and the dimples that came along with it.

"You were seriously going to marry him?” He scoffed, hand coming to my arm and inspecting the area Rhen held me for any injury.

"Well, it wasn't really my choice," I grumble under my breath as Azriel lets go of my arm with a gentleness that rivaled his vicious exterior that occurred only moments ago.

Azriel’s eyes flicked over to the few remaining guests and I turned in the direction he stared, at my parents who were staring with both helplessness and fury in their eyes.

"Me and Cass will deal with them later, let's get you out of here, alright?" He tugged at the tether between us and my head whips back to him.

“Okay,” I nod and reach out, my hand finding his. His eyes soften as he pulls me into him, wrapping a wing around me and cocooning us in darkness before he utilizes his shadows to pull us into another realm entirely, it was only a brief moment of darkness and an empty void before my heels were on a hardwood floor and the sweet citrusy smell of Velaris flowed through my nose.

"We left Cass," I say, glancing around to find the second Illyrian nowhere to be found.

"He was in the midst of stuffing his face with bread rolls, I think he'll be just fine." Azriel half scoffed, half chuckled. He pulled away but before he could completely slip from my grasp my hand tightened on his and his brows lifted a fraction, eyes lighting with intrigue.

"Thank you." Is all I can manage to say.

"Don't thank me." He shakes his head. "I should have gotten you out of there far sooner." He spoke as if he was more dissatisfied with himself than anyone else.

"But still, when it mattered you came for me," I utter, taking a cautious step forward.

"You're my mate, even if you haven't accepted the bond, it's my duty to keep you safe— you shouldn't have even been out of my sights," He says, his voice soft as he looks down at me, hand squeezing mine.

"I wasn't, not really." I hum, gesturing down to the shadow that swirled around my ankle, the one that would always remain there.

He smiles at the thought, then says, "You look beautiful, by the way." His eyes flick down to my white gown and I follow his gaze, smiling softly at the dress, it had been the only thing that was my decision in this entire endeavor.

"I only wish that it was your choice to put that dress on, this morning," He added, as if reading my mind, and for a moment I wondered if the mating bond allowed him to see how I felt.

"It will be, one day," I nod confidently and his brows raise with insinuation. A gentle smile blooms across my lips and I cup his sharp jaw. “But for now, baby steps,” I suggest rising up onto my toes, leaning closer, placing a kiss on his adjacent cheek.

When I pulled back he was beet red and I giggled at the sight, it was a wonder that this male, who flushed at a chaste peck on the cheek, was also one of the most feared in Prythian.

“Right,” he swallowed down the lump in his throat, his hand only a phantom at my waist, hovering. "I'll have money sent to your parents by Dawn." He says, then quickly adds, “Even if they don’t deserve it.”

I smile brightly and pull away. “Thank you, Az,” I murmur.

“Anything, for you.” He confessed, and I knew he meant it. I smiled, thinking that in the morning I might reward him with some breakfast, in turn, accepted that golden tether between us and finally allowed myself to be happy, with a mate.

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[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

tags below!

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[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Unchained[*]

A/N: it’s a mess because I had no idea where it was going when it started 😭

Warnings: Masturbation, shadow-play (absolute menaces), slight voyeurism, hand job + blowjob, smut, soft!Az?, biting, forced proximity?

Word count: 4,408

You glare at the shadows as they twine up your thighs, nudging your book out the way.

Rolling your eyes, smile on your lips, you return to your story, having just settled down to read. The second you remove your attention from them however, they’re knocking at your book again, flicking between your fingers, eventually loosening your grip enough it falls into your lap. Brow scrunches as you peer at the shadows, “what’s gotten into you today, hm? You’re normally so docile?”

The darkness dances around your fingers, nuzzling against the dip of your palm, making you laugh. “Is your master ignoring you again?” Lips stretch at the imagery—they sometimes get a little antsy when he buries himself in work, feeling lonely and neglected. As if in answer, the shadows scoot up your arms, wrapping around your shoulders, pushing between your shoulder blades. A laugh huffs from your mouth as you raise to your feet. “Okay, okay,” you chide, softly, “lead the way. But you know how he is, I doubt I’ll be able to do much other than maybe play with you for a little.”

A shadow lightly brushes the crest of your cheek, making you smile despite the nerves building beneath your skin. He won’t be upset with you for disturbing him, will he? The last thing you want is to distract him. But if his shadows are the ones calling you… Teeth prod into your lower lip. Warmth dusts your cheeks, getting to see him.

Mindlessly, you allow the shadows to guide you through the hallways of the House of Wind, feet padding quietly along the floors as your lead deeper into the residence. Strangely, you note, they don’t seem to be taking you to his office—walk you straight past the door. Heart spikes as you realise the direction they’re pushing you in.

Hesitantly, you come to a stop, shadows carrying on for a little before halting, turning to watch you.

“Are you sure about this? Won’t he want privacy if he’s in there?” You murmur to them, worrying your bottom lip. Brow scrunches deeper, “he’s not bringing his work into his bedroom, is he now?” You ask, slightly exasperated. His private chambers should be where he’s allowed to relax for the little time he allows himself.

The shadows don’t reply. Merely press against the small of your back, gently encouraging you forward.

Reluctantly, you follow their guidance, a little unsure. But it’s his shadows; they wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t be happy with. Reassured, you obediently pad along with them. Until you reach his door.

It’s already peeked open a crack, and his shadows drop to your feet, sliding off your body with a feather-light touch. Slinking across the floorboards, returning to their master.

Quietly—so as not to disturb him if he’s resting—you inch toward the door. It’s not wide enough for you to peer through the hinges, so your eyes find the mirror that reflects the wide expanse of his bedchambers. A strange scent catches your attention—deeper than what you’re accustomed to…muskier? You wish you knew what it meant, but you haven’t been granted enough access to him to figure it out. It’s not distressed, though, you note. That scent, you’re well-accustomed with.

Softly, you push the door a little wider, just a centimetre or two, revealing just enough of the mirror for his whereabouts to become apparent.

Eyes widen as you hold in your breath of shock.

He’s propped up on the bed, wings pinned behind his back to the headboard, arms bound near the base of his spine, and…and he’s—… There’s not a scrap of clothing on him. Save for the blindfold tied across his eyes.

Tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you take him in, blood spiking in your veins. Traitorously flushing your skin.

His shadows sweep over the muscled planes of his heavenly body, grazing his chest, threading through his inky black hair—head tips back ever so slightly, craning into the touch. His canines prick into one corner of his lower lip, skin whitening with the pressure as his back arches, stomach gleaming with sweat; flexing as his darkness—

You nearly stumble backward, exhaling a soft breath.

Mouth goes dry, watching his shadows swarm his cock, squeezing their master torturously. His cheeks flush with colour, a guttural moan ripping from his chest as they twist mercilessly. A low curse growls from his mouth as the darkness fists in his hair, dragging him backward to expose the strong column of his throat.

You shouldn’t be seeing this. Dear gods, you should not be seeing this.

Throat rolls, and you move to take a step back, when something else catches your attention.

At your feet is a small key, the kind that fits into each of the doors in the house. Azriel must have locked up before starting. But if that’s the case, how did—

Shadows build at your back, right as you piece together how eager they had been to drag you over to their master. Shove between your shoulder blades, forcing you to stumble into the room in order to right yourself. A yelp breaks from your chest as you collide with the door, tripping over your feet as you nearly topple over.

Instantly, you smack your hand over your mouth, but he’s already heard. Body stiffening. Shadows halting their games.

“Who’s there?” He snarls, letters ripping viscerally from between his teeth, arms flexing as he makes to remove the blindfold but— His shadows aren’t cooperating. They should have already unchained him by now, yet they’re remaining neatly wrapped around his cock, unwilling to halt his pleasure entirely.

Mortification flushes your cheeks, and you spin. Just in time to see the door slam shut, lock clicking. Key returned to its home.

You stare at the shadows as they slink away, darting back across the floor to reach him. Azriel.

The shadowsinger straightens, awareness lighting his skin as instinct kicks in—but not the one he needs. Arousal is still spiking his heart, shifting his scent, making his mind muddy and unclear. Opposite him, your eyes are darting about the room, trying desperately to find something to explain away the situation. Anything save for admitting you were watching him, then his shadows caught you. Though technically it had been them that had gotten you into this predicament. Surely that counts for something…

“I said,” he repeats, so rough it’s difficult to decipher, “who’s there?”

Heat flushes your cheeks. Maybe if you sneak to the exit…

“Cassian, you’re a dead male if you don’t fucking get out,” he snarls, making you halt. You sometimes forget how close they are. How peculiar their bonds are, too. You could never imagine being so comfortable with someone else.

Silently, you turn back to the door, tip-toeing forward, reaching for the key. Shadows bat your hands away, abruptly surging forward to lock around your waist, firmly guiding you back to the centre of the room. Just a few feet from the foot of his bed.

Azriel’s brow dips when he doesn’t get a reply. “Cass.”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. It wouldn’t surprise you.

Shadows snare your ankles, and you inhale sharply, staring down as the writhe at your feet, pinning you in place. Azriel stiffens when your noise reaches his ears—definitely not Cassian. Nor Rhys.

Blood practically freezes when your name slides from his tongue, voice thick and rough. How did he figure it out so quickly?

You swallow, praying to the mother he’ll believe you that his shadows pushed you in here. Pushed you in, and unlocked his door. Then relocked it.

No way.

“Yeah…” you answer, voice catching. Clear your throat. Shadows stutter at the sound of you, squeezing his cock, making his jaw tense. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump first. “Azriel I swear I didn’t mean to see anything,” you say, words pouring from your lips like they’re made of wildfire. “I was just—Your shadows were telling me to come see you, so I did, but then we went past your office and I was worried I would interrupt you, but they kept telling me to go forward, and then we got here, and I— They pushed me in, and I’m so sorry, I promise I… I’m so sorry…”

Humiliation crawls down your spine, carefully averting your eyes from between his legs.

Again, he opens his mouth to talk, but instead a sharp groan drags from his mouth, teeth biting his lower lip as shadows pulse around his cock, flicking over the slit in his head. Arousal zaps between your legs, skin buzzing as you try your hardest to think of something to keep your scent from shifting.

“Uh… I’m really sorry, but the door’s locked, and they’re not letting me—” You gasp as they raise higher, suddenly snaking up to your calves, crawling up to your thighs. “Azriel…” You squeak, freezing as they brush beneath your skirts.

The shadowsinger shakes his head, almost in dismay. “They do this sometimes. Misbehave when I let them off,” he bites out, chewing his lower lip—slightly swollen. “I need you to remove the blindfold. They’ll cooperate when they know I can see them,” he mutters.

Heat pools in your lower belly, but when you make to move forward, the shadows allow it. “Untie the blindfold and you’re sure you’ll be fine?” You mumble, quietly padding forward, skin tingling as you try not to look at him too much. How devastatingly hungry he makes you.

Azriel nods, oblivious to your inner thoughts.

Despite shaky fingers, you make quick work of the blindfold, silk slipping easily from the knot, allowing your eyes to lock with blown out hazel. Pupils dilated from the darkness. You look away hastily.

Yet things only seem to get worse, much to your mutual embarrassment.

“I don’t know what they’re doing,” he grits out, sending a scathing glare to the idle darkness, content to remain snug around his cock, unwilling to click the key in the lock of his chain. You shake your head, “I’ll just undo them. Then you’ll be good to go, right?” Eyes lock again at the poor choice of words, and heat flushes your cheeks.

“If you’re comfortable…” he hedges, colour dusting his skin. At least you’re not alone in the awkwardness.

Nodding once, you crawl onto the bed, getting to your feet. The only way you’ll be able to reach the lock is by going down between his wings, as they’re blocking your access from the side. You try to ignore the heat that’s steadily building between your thighs. Pray Azriel won’t be able to tell as you lean over him, feet either side of his hips as you attempt to avoid the great wings at his back. They’re really fucking big though.

Fingers fumble, feeling for the chains, but darkness is shrouding him, making it nearly impossible to actually see what you’re doing. “Is there any way for you to at least remove them from your arms? I’m struggling to see what’s where…” You brush skin, then zero in on it, tracing down to his wrists. “Wait— I think…” You lean further, his shoulders tensing, head shifting to make room as you reach for where you assume the iron is. “Okay… I can feel the locks,” you report, squinting in attempt to see what you’re touching. “Do you remember which one has the key in, Azriel?” You ask, trying to feel your way around.

Beneath you, the male has gone silent. Body rigid.

“Azriel?” You repeat, halting your movements. Pull back. “Azriel, what— Oh my gods.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re not—” He cuts himself off, hissing your name in warning. Just a second too late for you to register as his shadows hook around your hips, having crept up the backs of your thighs. You’re roughly yanked away from the chains, pulled with enough force to make you—

“Motherfucker!” You hiss, collapsing into his lap, shadows still working him with agonising slowness.

In any other scenario, Azriel would have released a surprised laugh at hearing the foul curse coming from your mouth. Instead, his cock twitches, unaccustomed to hearing such a filthy word on your tongue.

Both of you stiffen with the proximity, eyes locking and widening as scents twine. Gazes break, hastily snapping away. Clear your throat.

“Should I— I mean, should I get Cass? Or maybe Rhys’ll know what to do?” You manage, voice heavy and thick. Azriel shakes his head. “They’ll never let me live this down,” he mutters, muscle flexing as he shifts beneath you. “Maybe you should just let them continue…” you murmur, heat flushing your cheeks as hazel cuts to you. Swallow once. “I mean, that’s what they’re doing, right? Trying to get you to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he grits out, colour tinting his skin. Hisses when his shadows squeeze him in reprimand. Then stop entirely. Stubborn things.

Azriel’s chest rises up and down, sweat gleaming in the low light, your temperature increasing.

“Do you… Can I help?”

Hazel stares at you, making you want to steal the words back from the world. Open your mouth to apologise…

“You…” Muscle feathers in his jaw. Eyes flick to his shadows. One curls around his ear. Attention snaps to you, nostrils flaring delicately. “I would appreciate it,” he manages stiffly, still staring at you.

Mother strike you down.

Push away embarrassment, shifting in his lap, settling between his legs. Swallow once, wapping your hand around him. “I’m not sure what… Please tell me what you like.” Azriel sucks in a shaky breath, sending a free wave of his arousal wrapping around you, clouding your mind. “Firmer,” he instructs after you move your hand over him. He shudders, darkness stuttering at his back, brows digging together. “More,” he manages, sounding strained.

You grip him tighter, repeating the action, heart pounding as you watch his responses. His teeth biting into his lip, eyes pressed shut in attempts to manage his pleasure. Why is he wanting to stay in control when the whole point is to lose it?

That certainly won’t do.

Again, you shift, lips parting as your tongue flicks over the slit in his head, tasting the moisture that’s gathered there.

Azriel swears under his breath, feeling the weight of his attention on you. Exhilaration lighting your blood at being the centre of his arousal. Legs part, allowing you more access, and you settle more comfortably—one arm wrapping beneath his thigh, free hand pumping what you know you won’t be able to swallow.

Shadows flicker, then yield entirely as you slide down onto him, taking him into your mouth, tongue shifting against the underside. Tension melts from his body, slumping slightly against the headboard as he twitches. A guttural moan rips from his throat as you flick your wet muscle just beneath his head, hand pumping his base, fingers soothing brushing against his hip bone. Gentle and torturous.

Your name slips from his tongue, deep and rough. “I can’t—… I’m—” You hum comfortingly, encouraging him along. Shadows flick over the backs of your thighs, spurring you to take him as deep as you can, throat flexing around him as he twitches. His hips buck, causing a small gagging sound to whimper from you, and he groans. Without hesitating, he repeats the action, bucking up into your mouth, needing a repeat. Throat contracts, squeezing him as you whine, tears building at the edges of your vision.

When you pull to his tip, then slide back down, his restraint snaps, cum spurting from his tip as he sinks back against the bed, head tipping to expose the strong column as it bobs. Chest rises and falls deeply, panting as euphoria concentrates his blood, blinding pleasure coating his skin. Eyes flutter as they roll upward, spine curving as you take him.

Slowly, you pull back, tongue flicking over your lips to catch anything you missed, lapping the remaining moisture from his head. Blown out hazel cuts into you, temperature spiking at the hunger he greets you with. “Where did you learn that?” He pants, eyes narrowing. You swallow; he tracks that, too. “It’d be a little embarrassing if I didn’t know at my age, don’t you think?” You counter, trying to bite back the heat that’s turned liquid between your thighs.

His throat rolls, eyes flicking downward—raking over you. Reassessing.

“Well,” you say hastily, “you should be good to—” Bite your tongue as shadows curiously play beneath your skirts, a single tendril sneaking beneath the band of your underwear, snapping it against your abdomen. His jaw ticks at the sound, knowing exactly what the darkness is doing to you. Right before his eyes.

“Will you…” Mother above, it’s much more difficult than he anticipated. With almost any other female, he would have no concerns at all. Shakes his head, straight to the point. “You enjoyed that.” He’s rewarded with the sound of you softly cursing, heat warming your skin, enough for him to shift with pleasure at the thought of sinking into you. How wet you must be from your scent.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I can’t help it.”

Azriel swallows thickly. “Act on it.”

Eyes lock, breath catches in your lungs. “What?” The male shifts, wings twitching as he rearranges them. “I know you want to,” he breathes, eyes fluttering slightly as he pulls your scent into him. “So I’m giving you the okay.” Shadows flick against your inner thighs, making your head dip. He’s saying it’s fine…and Gods you want him so badly.

Azriel nearly sighs with relief when you hesitantly settle your palms on his shoulders, nearly groans with delight as you fully put yourself over his lap, thighs either side of his hips. For so long he’s been waiting for you to open yourself up to him, gently plying you apart with incessant determination. And now here you are at last, crawling into his lap, ready to take him. Sends a quiet prayer to the Mother, thankful for the relief sweeping in.

Pleasure builds beneath his skin as you pull your skirts up, inadvertently displaying yourself to his hungry eyes. How the cotton is suctioned to your heat, undoubtedly a patch of darkened fabric at your entrance. He can scent your arousal; guess at how wet you are.

Fingers dip between your legs, shadows pulling your skirts taut against your pretty hips, allowing you to push the cotton aside, letting his tip slot against the soft dip between your thighs. He exhales a shaky breath, chest rising and falling heavily, attention glued to your cunt, watching as you brace both hands on his shoulders, heart spiking at the contact. Feel as you try to slide down, taking him slowly, swallowing his head.

Teeth bite into your lip as you begin to settle your weight over him, already feeling how big he is. Suck your lower lip in, spine curving as you rise up, then settle down, repeating the actions until you can fully sit yourself in his lap. Hips pressed tight against the backs of your thighs. Mouth opens in pleasure, eyes fluttering as you clamp down around him.

“You okay?” He breathes softly, feeling how tight you are around him, despite the wetness that’s dripping down onto him. Nod your head, though your eyes are still slightly rolled. You look numb with pleasure, and he needs to grip your hips, be in control so he can slam you down onto his cock. Abuse the spots inside of you he has yet to discover.

Azriel calls your name softly; you try to blink away your stupor. Straighten your spine, weight shifting over him, moans pouring from your lips as he grazes a part of you that—fuck.

Shadows twine around your back, letting you rest against the tops of his thighs as you pant heavily, heat buzzing beneath your skin—clothes need to come off. “Azriel…” you whimper. “Azriel, can you…?” Darkness flicks over your hips, skating up your stomach, pulling loose strings and dragging the fabric away almost in the blink of an eye. Lips part in pleasure as you slump a little in relief, cock pressing deeper.

“I need you to untie me,” he whispers gently, colour flushing his cheeks. “Can you do that for me?”

Peek your eyes open enough to latch onto hazel, pupils blown out. Moans softly whine from your chest—how intimate he looks. Swallow, then lips part. Shake your head, smiling softly. Azriel’s hip buck with need, urging you to rethink your decision. Back arches, a louder moan bursting from your chest. Forcing him to watch as you come apart while his shadows slink across your skin. Tongue flicks out to wet his lips as darkness plays with your perky nipples. Pinching. Biting.

“Azriel…” you moan. He growls in frustration, tugging on the self-inflicted restraints, begging for them to magically undo. Furious with his shadows for daring to put him through this kind of torture.

“I need you to untie me, pretty thing,” he groans, watching as you swirl your hips, exploring how his cock can make you feel. “Untie me, then we can have some fun. Wouldn’t you like that?” Lips part as your eyes lift into a smile, a mix between a moan and a laugh bubbling out. Shift so your full weight is over his hips, forcing his head to tip back against the headboard, eyes squeezing together as he tries to keep his sanity.

“You’re the one who tied yourself up,” you purr drowsily, arms gliding over the broad expanse of his shoulders, briefly attaching your mouth to one of the many paths of ink trailing across his chest. Teeth drag across hot, tan skin, tongue flicking over his nipple, hips bucking sharply, a quiet gasp huffing from his nipped-raw lips. Again, canines dig into the skin, attempting to quiet himself, but he has neither his hands nor his shadows to aid him this time.

You lean forward, mouth opening over his own, taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging lightly. Hazel locks onto you; you purr. Spine curving, breasts softly pressing against him, almost aching with pleasure. Roll your hips.

He gives you a dark glance, peering at you from beneath a narrowed brow, dark locks of hair curling. You moan, hands greedily exploring the muscle of his shoulders, dipping down his back. Hazel widens as you brush his wings. Lips slant against his own, tongue flicking against him, and he opens eagerly. Unable to form a defence against you now the soft pads of your fingertips are stimulating him in such an intimate way.

“Like that, Azzie?” You ask lazily, rolling your hips onto him. Mind numbing from pleasure. Cock nestled so deep inside of you. “You like this sort of thing, don’t you?” Pull away to peer at him, moving with lethargic grace. A mix between a groan and a whimper hums at the back of his throat, and you grind against him in response.

“Please…” he breathes, “untie me, torturous thing.”

The grin that spreads across your mouth has hope vanishing, forced to watch as you lean back onto him, weight again shifting. Forced to watch as you ride him to your own pleasure, unable to move you how he wants, watch as your eyes roll back. Nails dig into him, lightly catching the edge of his wing as you retreat, and he nearly reaches his high right then and there. But you retract, chasing your own orgasm, and then you’re fluttering around his cock, cunt spasming as pleasure concentrates in your veins.

It’s only once you’ve slumped back against his thighs that shadows click the key in the lock. And all at once, he’s free. Free to touch you, to grip and grope. Unchained.

A high-pitched moan spills from your mouth into his as he flips you onto your back, hungrily devouring you as you’re pressed into the bed. Hands grip your wrists tight, simulating the torture of his own experiences, pinning you to his bed as he cages you in. Hips drawing back, then slamming in. Tears spill from your eyes, running back into your hair as he fucks you within an inch of a second orgasm.

“Azriel!” You gasp, breath having trouble entering and exiting your lungs from sheer pleasure. Slams in to the hilt, hips grinding against you as he halts his movements. Back arches, bowing off the bed, baring your chest for him to put his teeth over. Canines close around one nipple, pulling and tugging while keeping himself nestled deep in your wet cunt. Tongue circles and flicks over the sensitive peak, suckling lightly before giving his attention to your other.

“Azriel, please…!” You pant, crying out for him to continue, attempting to buck your hips. Trying to stimulate some friction. Pulls away from your breasts, gleaming from attention of his hot, wet mouth. “What do you want?” He growls, hissing from the way you clamp around him at the deep, syrupy pour of his voice, how it licks between your thighs, zaps pleasure to your clit.

Eyes lock together, your own set bright and gleaming from tears. “Move…please. Go harder.” A rough chuckles drags from the back of his throat, carnal and animalistic. Spawning butterflies in your abdomen, fluttering wildly at this untamed side of him. Canines push into the supple skin of your neck, stamping in his mark, printing his ownership onto your body.

Hips drag back. Then slam in.

Mouth parts in pleasure, muscles trembling as the second wave crashes over you, eyes rolling back as he pounds into you. Overstimulation breaks across your skin, the same time you feel him twitch, hot spurts of cum spilling into you. Pumping you full as he continues to abuse you over and over, causing you to shake and tremble while he keeps you pinned to his bed.

It’s only when the last aftershock of pleasure has subsided that he allows you reprieve. Rolling you over so you’re atop him, lazing together in the aftermath of pleasure. The tangle of limbs you’ve created, the mess sticking you together. Shadows lick and flick over your skin, wanting to play. Wanting another turn.

Azriel’s tempted to let them, after the torture you put him through.

Let them return the favour.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

[solbaby7]

Hi! Could I have a piña colada with a salt rim? And make it neat please 🫶

[“are you crazy we’re in public” “then you’d best be quiet” + smut + azriel ]

Shame on you for being foolish enough to feed a starving animal.

For looking past his threatening exterior, greeting him with kindness and coaxing him closer instead of shooing him away like you were supposed to do with rabid animals. Not offering him the warmth of a home and a bleeding heart with endless love to give. How ignorant of you to assume that offering up warm meals or sweet desserts and soft sheets with fluffy would ever be enough.

Not when the only prize to Azriel—was you.

That greed shows when you’re led along the sidewalk, nudged down an alleyway and pressed up against a brick wall swathed in inky shadows. “Az,” You address him breathlessly, heart instinctively hammering just a little harder in your chest as you register the intimidating loom of his stature. “Baby, what are you doing?”

He nearly laughs, letting free a low rumble of a chuckle that has his wings rustling gently at your sides. “What’s it feel like I’m doing?”

You feel as if you’re melting like ice on a sweltering summer day under his borderline obsessive attention. His touch is possessive against your jaw, tilting your neck to make more room for the claiming kisses that trail down, down, down. It’s impossible not to give into it—to lean into the pressure of his mouth on your skin, his teeth nipping at sensitive flesh and his hands.

Gods, his hands.

All searching and filled with a ravenous need as they graze over the thin fabrics of your dress, tracing over familiar curves until desire overrides rational thought and that soft material is all but disintegrated in his grasp. It takes a second too long to notice that the cool breeze is cutting against bare breasts and by time you do realize, Azriel’s already pinching at perky nipples, sucking marks into supple fat and robbing you of a clear conscious as pleasure zaps up your spine. “Are you crazy?” You weakly scold, arching into his touch when wandering fingers graze scandalously lower. Low enough to slip past the protective barrier of flimsy undergarments. “We are in public—someone could see.”

The very mention of it makes his mouth curl into a wolffish grin; makes him cruel as he runs a thumb through your slit, collecting slick and spreading you open with two deft fingers. “Then you’d best be quiet then, hm?”

“A-Azriel.” You attempt to close your legs but obedient shadows keep you how he wants you; all presenting and pliant before him. “Wait—fuck!” The helpless yelp is silenced by the pressure of his thumb on your clit, rubbing devastating circles that leave your thighs shaking and stomach contracting as you clench around nothing. Rough brick digs into soft skin, catching on silky hair when he’s forced to lean forward to plant a kiss that dampens your desperate whines down to breathy whimpers.

It’s a little messy, teetering the edge of frantic with his teeth nipping at your lips. Tongue tracing over the roof of your mouth while skilled hands fall in sync with the desperate roll of your hips as you chase your high. His cock throbs at the trust you put in him—completely exposed and yet you don’t even acknowledge it when chatting ladies and tipsy gentlemen stumble just a little too close by. If anything, he swears it makes you grind down just a bit harder. Manicured nails rake over the broad line of his shoulders, one leg hooking over his waist for better stability. “More,” You keen, cheeks burning with a blush at the lust in your syllables—the downright indecent sound of your arousal fucking singing against his fingers.

It’s wrong. Improper. Unladylike. Undoubtedly more than a little grimy and yet you’ve never been more turned on. It practically leeks out of you, dripping down the same scarred fingers that keep switching between rubbing and teasingly tapping at the sensitive bundle of nerves between supple thighs. “How quickly your tune changes when I’m touching your pussy,” Azriel muses, tone going dark and misty while his ego inflates fifty times too large from the way he leaves your chest heaving and eyes rolling in the back of your head without even need to pull his cock free from his breeches. “Thought you were worried about someone hearing?”

“I was—I am!” You really really try to hold out, to listen to the very reasonable fears you’d had about being caught but when he makes you feel so good it’s difficult to find the room to give a fuck if some random stranger saw the High Lords shadowsinger guiding you to your orgasm. “Fuck! ‘m gonna—mmph.” A hand smacks over your mouth, teeth biting into the flesh of your palm.

“There you go, sweet thing.” Pleasure simmers on a pot in your gut, its contents boiling and bubbling; fighting the constraints of its confinements until everything spills over. “Feels much better when you just let go, doesn’t it?”

Shame on you for being foolish enough to feed a starving animal—now all it knows how to do is take.

“Don’t fuss,” Azriel commands, the hard length of him finally freed from its confines and throbbing with the desire to carve a space inside you, branding your walls with his name. “Just want one more.”

[readychilledwine]

Size Kink

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

A Size Kink is a general term for being aroused by being smaller/larger than your partner. It can be height, muscle mass/weight in general, cock size, ect. This is generally a kink we associate with subs having, but in my humble 5'1" experience, I've met more Doms with this kink than subs (hence my 5'11" baby daddy who thought he'd never have someone short enough to enjoy this kink with.) This kink has several subgroups that fall into it and sex acts that fall into it, but my personal favorite to write is height difference and body frame difference. So tall muscular male, short female (curvy or lean.)

What I love about size kinks is that it's so focused on specific aspects, and ANY body type gets to play with it. Little hands? Little legs? Luscious curves? Member of the Itty bitty titty committee? There is someone out there with a size Kink who is into your body and thinks you are a piece of artwork and sexiest thing on the planet. It's so beautiful because it is a body type kink that does not discriminate, and as a sex positive and body image positive person, I think that's super important and comforting for some people.

💕Peep the Valentines Day list here💕

As always NSFW below the cut

Azriel x short!reader

Warnings - reader is VERY petite, smut, p in v, slow stretching

A/N - So, I actually have a request for a size Kink with Cassian sitting in my drafts as well from before I decided to do Valentines Day Bingo. Since I picture Cassian as an absolute unit, I used a more Megan thee Stallion vibe for that reader (tall and thick) so I decided to go very short and thinner built for this one to ensure they'd be different. I apologize if that bothers anyone. I will try to get that Cassian request finished asap to post it and make up for this 💙

Ps- with how quickly I am cranking some of these out, and how.... spicy some of them are getting, I don't have my normal outside editing all of the time. Baby daddy proof read this one. Before staring at me and going, "that wasn't fair." So, I apologize for any errors, as always, I will catch them on my fresh reread after it's posted 🫠

Azriel was slowly losing his mind as he watched you use a chair to be closer to Cassian's height and argue with him face to face.

You were just so… small. So little compared to the two Illyrian males. They towered over you. They dwarfed you. Hell, he and Cass had discussed several times how easy you'd be to manhandle, considering they were both so sure their large hands could almost touch if they were wrapped around your waist.

At 6’8” and 7’ it wasn't hard for him and Cassian to own a room or be the tallest males, but Gods when Azriel stood next to your 5’ frame, when he saw Cassian pick you up like you were no more than a doll. It did something to him. It made him feel like a God, like he was powerful, possibly invincible.

He had been further spurred on by over hearing you and Nesta yesterday. She had asked you about how, if the opportunity presented itself, you would manage to fuck an Illyrian, and you, you with your never back down attitude had told Ness, “Mountains were made to be climbed.” He did not know if you had meant that in regards to him, but his hand found his cock quickly that night.

Azriel walked over to where you and Cassian argued over cereal. The fight wasn't serious, but he just needed to remind you that even with a chair below you, you still fell a few inches short.

“Get down before you fall and hurt yourself, angel.” He put a hand to you, offering to help you down. You glared, but put your hand in his.

Offering to help you was a mistake.

He felt the blood rushing to his cock as your little hand sat in his.

He shared a knowing look with Cassian when you looked away to step down and get back on the floor. The argument resumed instantly, your hand still in his.

It stopped as soon as Nesta walked in. Her mate and you going silent and agreeing to disagree.

Well, at least you thought you had agreed. Until Cassian turned around, Nesta in his arms waiting to fly into Velaris. He looked between you and Azriel before smirking. “You know, y/n, you might have shit taste in cereal, but at least you're the perfect height for some things.”

You didn't get it until you turned to Azriel, plush lips parted to ask what Cassian meant.

The blush that spread your cheeks was sinful.

Another image Azriel would save when he imagined it was your mouth around his cock tonight.

Azriel's room was across the hall from yours, so he knew you were being subjected to the same torture he was.

He was sure all of the Night Court could hear Cassian and Nesta. He rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his face and sighing.

You were so small, so sneaky, he hadn't noticed you come in and shut the door until you were sitting on his bed.

And fuck being in his custom made oversized bed made you look so little. “Hello angel.”

He made room for you, welcoming you under the blanket you laid facing him, watching him. “Do you all never.. get worn out?” He chuckled. “Because humans do. Males typically finish, then they're like, done, and asleep.”

He looked towards you, laughing and smiling so hard his dimples were showing. “Is that your way of telling me you didn't enjoy rolling in the sheets while you were human?”

That blush spread your face again. “I had plenty of fun before Hybern did this to me. Thank you very much, sir.”

You had done it. Azriel shut his eyes, growling at the nickname as he did. “You cannot call me that when you're laying in my bed, y/n.”

You looked at him, snuggling closer to him. You knew what you were doing to him. You had known for a while. You always tracked his eyes when he'd watch you take your heels off, biting his lip thinking no one was looking. You noticed him hide his arousal behind a mask of indifference when you would climb things around the House of Wind. You had also noticed Azriel and Cassian taking every chance they could to lift you.

You had even know Azriel was so sneakily listening to you and Nesta the other day, and you had meant it. Azriel was a mountain you intended on climbing. “Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to have to use those big hands to keep me quiet.”

The growl that echoed through the room had your thighs clenching. He was on you in an instant arm between your breasts, so it rested on your neck. The other hand sat on your hip, inching forward. “Do not tease me.” You could feel him pressed against your back, mind immediately lost in how that would fit.

You may have been biting off more than you could chew.

But fuck it.

You had never backed down from a challenge. Why start now?

You wiggled further into him, grazing his cock with each movement. “What if I'm not teasing? What if this is an offer, sir?”

“You're going to regret that, little one,” Azriel's hand immediately was in your shorts, his other hand squeezing your throat. A thick finger ran your soaked core, pulling a moan from you. “Going to have to go slow,” Azriel ground his hips into you, needing that friction on his aching cock. “Don't want to hurt you, angel.”

That one finger entered you without warning. It was already a stretch, but one you welcomed.

You loved how everything about Azriel was so big. His hands, his muscled chest and arms, his wings. Of course he'd be big there too. Anticipation began to replace the fear. You relaxed into him, tilting your head and pulling him into a heated sloppy kiss.

Azriel swallowed your moans and cries as his finger opened you up for him. You were tight, so damn tight. His hand moved from your throat to your breasts, loving how they weren't even a handful for him. You were so petite and slim, he reminded himself. He pulled your tank top off, maneuvering the best he could to get you fully below him. He pushed in a second finger, watching as you squirmed so helplessly below him. “So fucking little,” he moaned. “Mother above you're perfect. Just perfect.”

He leaned back, fingers increasing speed the best they could with your shorts in the way while he toyed with your breasts, pinching your nipples and smacking the tender flesh as he saw fit. “Cum for me so I can sit you on my cock, angel. You can do it, y/n. Show me how tight you'll be squeezing around me.”

You felt like you were floating as you came, whimpering Azriel's name as you watched him rut against the mattress for some friction, hazel eyes damn near lost in lust.

He pulled his fingers out of you, wasting no time ripping his sweatpants off and using those juices to coat himself. Your shorts came next, torn to shreds as he pulled you to the edge of the mattress and rested one leg on both sides of his chest.

He was as perfect as you imagined. His cock was long and thick. He was running it along your folds, soaking up at the slick he could before smacking the head of it against your clit.

Azriel could help but to stand with his hips flush against yours, admiring how it looked like his cock would be damn near in your stomach. “Gonna go slow,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Can't risk hurting my little angel.”

He pushed the head in, keeping an eye on you as you moaned out a long fuck before relaxing into his bed. He sat there, only a few inches inside of you, feeling as your walls stretched out to accommodate him.

He pulled out and slowly reentered, pushing a little more inside of you. Your back arched off the bed, a whimper of pleasure ripping through your throat. The burn of it felt so good. You felt yourself drooling already, mind numb, and lost to anything that wasn't Azriel.

He continued his motions over and over until he was flush against your hips, and you were screaming for him. You had cum just from him slowly getting inside of you, and now he could see the bulge he had created, the slight swelling inside of you as your body made room for him.

Azriel put a hand on the bulge, feeling himself inside of you as he began thrusting. You were squeezing him so tight, hand struggling to find him to hold on to something.

He felt himself losing control, pace growing faster and faster as he watched you squirming and moaning below him. His arms went behind your hips and back, lifting you off the bed and manhandling you in the air for a little while. He brought you to his chest, moving you to be against the wall that shared his room and Cassian's.

A silent brag, and message, that he could now accurrately inform Cassian how easy you were to toss around like a doll.

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you became a babbling mess. Your silky core was twitching and tightening around him all over again, indicating to him how close you were, how ready you were. “Az,” you panted. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of your head. “Bet it feels so good stretching you out, doesn't it, baby?” You couldn't respond as a certain angle had you becoming pliant in his arms. “Fuck I know it does.” He was practically lifting you on and off of him, watching as you stretched around his cock. “You're close, aren't you, angel?”

You nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw fallen open to the perfect o. “Gonna cum.”

“Then cum. Squeeze my cock. You wanted to climb the mountain, right y/n? Fucking climb.”

You hit that peak on his command again, clinging to him tightly as he continued using you and stretching you out.

It took Azriel a few more moments, but he stilled inside of you, head thrown back in a loud growl as he came inside of you. He pressed you back against the wall, panting slightly as he stared into your eyes. He lifted you easily, allowing his cock to fall out of you and you to whine at the sudden emptiness that took place where he had filled you.

“This can't be a one-time thing,” his voice was almost desperate as he moved to set you on the desk, forehead finding yours. “I need more of you. All of you.”

You couldn't help but to bit your lip, nodding so quickly with a growing smile. “I like how little you make me feel. How safe you make me feel.”

Azriel's eyes almost rolled back completely as they shut. “Gods you are perfect.” He leaned in to kiss you, only to be interrupted by his door slamming open and Cassian and Nesta barging in.

A massive wing snapped between you and them, blocking your body from their view.

Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “We want to know how exactly that worked. Show us. Please.”

“Show you?!” Your voice cracked as you turned to a smirking Azriel.

Azriel kissed your forehead. “Bend over the desk, angel. Gotta give him a show since he asked so nicely.”

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb  

@justasillylittlegoofyguy

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again- Part Three

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: The inner court has many questions about Y/n and her world. Missing home even more, all she wants is to fly and clear her head, luckily, her babysitter indulges her

Series Masterlist

-Part Three-

Azriel knew this was going to be a long day from the moment he woke up. Surrounded by his shadows who would not shut up for three gods damned seconds. She’s awake, awake, awake, upset, won’t eat, upset. The little busybodies had snuck off while he slept, and apparently they were very concerned about the state of the female next door for whatever reason.

He found himself dressed and in the hallway waiting for any sign of her, when he didn’t receive one in the ten minutes he’d stood there he’d finally crossed the hall and knocked three times on the door.

She was still in there, he knew that from the way his shadows kept trying to slip through the cracks towards her. And he could feel the shield of air she’d placed around the room, hiding the sounds of her approaching footsteps.

The door swung open and Azriel couldn’t explain why his breath caught in his chest. The house had gifted her new clothes, the traditional night court style that Amren preferred to wear, in the deepest darkest night court black. The silk cropped shirt hugged her curves, and the flowing high waisted pants left a small sliver of skin on display. Beautiful, pretty, black suits her. His shadows whispered again and again and again, he was about ready to lock them away for a moment of peace.

“Here to take me to the dungeons yet?” She asks, lifting her arms towards him as if expecting cuffs, amusement glittering in her eyes as she watches his eyes lift from her waist, “what’s on the table today? Just some light interrogation? Maybe a bit of torture?”

“Breakfast actually,” he replies dryly, “the others will be here shortly.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she pouts, dropping her arms to her sides, “lead the way then, shadowsinger.”

The title rolls off her tongue, that accent swirling and dripping with charm. A small smirk on her lips as she notices his hesitation, turning his back on her still felt like a bad idea, even though he didn’t glimpse a single dagger on her, he’s sure she wouldn’t need it.

She seems fine, less tense than the night before, a mask of cool amusement and charm, yet his shadows seem concerned, upset, they’d whispered all morning. As they walk he keeps one eye on her, taking in the way she examines every surface, every turn, every nook and cranny. She was mapping out the halls in her head, memorizing the ways out, smart. If she wanted to she could shift into that magnificent hawk form and fly through the halls and off the balcony before he could even try to catch her.

They turn into the dining room, Rhys and Feyre already sat at the table. The table set for several people, Azriel assumed the rest of the court would be here soon, Cassian flying them up from the River House. Elain would stay back with little Nyx, her mate there to protect them both.

“Good morning,” Feyre says, voice reserved yet kind, “I’m Feyre.”

Y/n grants her a small smile, bowing her head slightly in greeting. She doesn’t say anything, opting to examine the room around them like she’d done in the halls, nervous. She didn’t let it show on her face, but Azriel could tell, could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Please, sit,” Rhys says, gesturing to the seats across from them, “the rest will be here shortly.”

“Should I be worried about that?” Y/n asks, her tone is light, that cool amusement hiding the faint look of panic that flashes through her eyes.

Azriel’s shadows writhe at his sides when he sees that look, something about it settles wrongly. She had nothing to fear from them, but how would she know that? Strangers who had found her vulnerable, who had tried to look into her mind, who she knew next to nothing about.

Feyre laughs lightly, “no, no, of being talked to death perhaps, but I swear, no harm will come to you.”

That seems just good enough to Y/n to coax her to sit across from Feyre, her eyes glance warily at the foods laid out between them and instead of filling her plate like the High Lord and Lady across from her she simply leans back in her seat and watches. Azriel takes the seat beside her, pointedly filling his plate with mounds of eggs and bacon and bread with jams.

She won’t eat, eat, eat, eat, she needs to eat. Shadows angrily whisper in Azriel’s ears but he forces them away as he hears the sounds of his family grow closer down the hall, Cassian’s booming laugh echoing into the room. He can see the moment Y/n tenses, her body readying for a fight that would not come.

“A rambunctious lot you’ve got here,” she says coolly, that mask of indifference slid into place.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Rhys sighs.

Cassian is the first to come through the door, followed by Nesta who rolls her eyes at her mates back.

“Is this the female who handed Azriel’s ass to him?”

The tension in Y/n’s shoulders slip every so slightly and Azriel feels himself relax too. He was prepared to leap inbetween his family and her, to protect which one he wasn’t sure.

“You say that like it’s such an impossibility,” Mor says as she and Amren step through the doorway, “I’ve seen plenty of females hand you your ass, Cassian.”

“But it’s Az,” Cass laughs, “Mister dark and broody spymaster caught off guard by the second female falling on his lap.”

“She did not fall into my lap,” Azriel sighs, “she was in the-“

“Whatever,” Cassian interrupts, waving his hand, “close enough.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, recognizing them for what they were, a way to break any tension, to make this seem like a simple breakfast instead of the interrogation it was sure to become. One glance at Y/n told him she wasn’t buying it for one second.

Her eyes travel over them all, stopping briefly on Nesta as their eyes lock. Both females had that cold stare that could freeze oceans. Though she’d given back a majority of the cauldrons power, it still lurked behind Nesta’s steely eyes, that silver fire rolling in warning. Y/n looked just as lethal, those cold eyes almost glowing with the power lurking below her skin, wether it was ice or fire, Azriel wasn’t sure he wanted to find out which she’d use first.

Nesta seemed satisfied with whatever she saw in Y/n’s eyes, grabbing her mates hand to drag him to their seats beside Feyre. Mor slipped into the seat beside Azriel, Amren taking the seat beside her.

“Well,” Rhys says with that charming grin, “now that everyone is here I’d like to introduce our lovely guest, Crown Princess of Terrasen, Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.”

“Now that’s a mouth full.” Mor whistles as she piles her plate full of sweet pastries and fruits, “lovely to meet you, Princess.”

“Y/n will do.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the fangs,” Cassian says when her sharp canines peak through her lips.

Azriel keeps one eye on the female next to him as he pretended to be interested in the food on his plate. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, her mask not slipping despite the eyes weighing her down.

“What is this place?”

Rhys raises a brow at her, “would you like to eat first before we get to the nitty gritty?”

Y/n nods towards the food, “I’d like to know exactly who and what I’m dealing with before I accept food from fae I don’t know. Didn’t anyone ever teach you stranger danger?”

Eat, eat, tell her to eat. Azriel tries to quiet the shadows, getting annoyed with how insistent they were. As if she heard them, Y/n glances at him, frowning at the little wisps that stray to close to her.

Rhys looks ready to give her a sarcastic response but Feyre rolls her eyes and butts in, “you are in Velaris, the heart and soul of our territory, the Night Court.”

“You’re the leaders of this place,” Y/n states more than asks.

“High Lord and Lady, few of many on this continent,” Feyre nods, “how’d you know.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of royals,” Y/n shrugs, “Queens and Kings, Lords and Ladies, Emperors and Empresses.”

That peaks everyone’s interest, Azriel can feel the curiosity in the air. When Quinlann had arrived, she’d been at war with the Asteri, the ruling power of her world, despite having kings and queens, they all answered to the immortal, intergalactic parasites, as Quinlann had put it. She and her mate had succeeded in ridding their planet of the monsters, but who knew where else these creatures lived.

“What is your home like?” Mor asks, the question seemingly harmless, but depending on the answer could bring a whole world of consequences.

Y/n examines her, not missing the hidden question beneath is your world a threat to our own, “much like your own it would seem. We’ve been at peace for the last 25 years. Until a gate opened up and ripped me away from my family.”

There’s the briefest change in her then, that mask slipping just enough that Azriel recognizes it, grief. She’s upset, homesick, won’t eat. It made sense now, she’d said she’d been with her father when the gate had taken her, when she’d been dumped onto a foreign land surrounded by strangers she couldn’t understand. She must have been terrified.

“Before you ask, I have no idea how or why the gate opened, or why it took me,” she continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible. None have been opened since the lock was forged during the war.”

“War?” Cassian’s brow raises in question, “what lock?”

It seems to set her back into a memory, her eyes not entirely focused on the male who’d asked, “the war against the Valg. Demons from another world who liked the taste of ours. The fight against them spanned over centuries, over multiple wars, my ancestor was able to lock the King away with a stolen object not meant for her to use, but for that there was a price demanded from the gods who’d made the lock in the first place, an heir of her blood to forge a new lock, to open a gate and send them to their true home, my mother. Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, she almost died paying their price, and in the end they betrayed her anyway.”

Anger simmered in her eyes, Azriel could feel heat radiating off of her, that fire under her skin wanting to come out.

“What became of them?” Rhys asks.

She takes a moment to rein that fire in and then she meets the High Lord’s eyes, “she killed them all.”

A silence ripples through the room, her mother had killed her world’s gods. Were they like Midgard’s asteri, Prythian’s daglan, or maybe their own kind of nightmare.

“She locked the gates, fell through time and space, through hundreds of worlds, guided back by my father who would not let that mating bond slip through his fingers. When she’d come back, she had a fraction of her power left, the power that could end the valg Queen and King and save them all.”

“How did they win?” Nesta asks in the quiet that follows.

A smile, not a smirk finds Y/n’s lips and Azriel’s shadows dance towards her. He barely keeps them in check, one resting on the edge of her chair before it was reined back in. He catches the curious look sent his way by Rhys. He’d surely hear more of that later.

“My Aunt Yrene,” she says, “a healer, the valg were vulnerable to their touch, she took the evil shriveled soul of the valg King and turned him to nothing but a black stain on the floor. We put a rug over it.”

A surprised laugh slips out of Mor, “please tell me it’s hideous.”

“The tackiest thing I’ve ever seen, they let me paint on it as a child. It’s covered in bad stick figures of my uncles.”

They’d asked her questions until it was nearing lunch time. Cassian had about fallen out of his chair when she’d told them of the witches and their wyverns. From the look in Amren’s eye, Y/n knew that if she’d ever met Manon, the world would tremble in fear.

Rhys had been particularly interested in her mother’s journey through worlds, he had an uncanny feeling about it that he couldn’t quite explain. Feyre and Nesta had been shocked to learn that her mother was half human. Mor had asked her millions of questions that she could barely keep up with.

During it all, Azriel had been silent at her side. No questions on his lips but she could see the wheels turning in his head, could almost hear the whispering shadows that danced closer and closer to her every chance they got. She’d felt one drifting over her elbow for a moment before Azriel had glared right at the curious little shadow and it flew back to his side.

They’d slowly stopped their questioning and then they left one by one, Amren had left to look into this worlds knowledge on Wyrd markings and gates, Cassian and Nesta had said something about a training session, Rhys and Feyre needed to go relieve the third Acheron sister from babysitting duty and Mor had desperately wanted to see her nephew.

And just like that, it was down to Y/n and Azriel. She assumed he was still on babysitting duty, despite their apparent trust in her. She didn’t blame them for being cautious, Wyrd knows she’d not let a single one of them out of her sight if the roles were reversed.

Y/n stood stretching out her sore muscles, an involuntary groan slipping past her lips as she lifted her arms above her head. They’d been sitting there for hours and her body still aches from the events of yesterday.

“You didn’t eat anything,” his cool voice startles her, deep and slightly gravely.

She glances down at him, noting the way his eyes drag up from that small sliver of skin at her waist. The clothes we’re comfortable, yet much more revealing than anything she’d been used to. She can’t help the smirk that rests on her lips as she looks down at the handsome male, she could get used to clothes like this.

“I’m not hungry,” she shrugs, moving through the room, glancing towards the huge windows that showed the vast city far beneath them.

“You haven’t eaten since you’ve been here,” he says, eyes tracking each of her movements.

“Oh? And how would you know that,” she looks pointedly at the shadows, “I thought I told you to keep wandering eyes to yourself.”

He simply shrugs, “they do what they want.”

“Clearly.” She turns towards the door, “are you to play babysitter all day? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

She’s out the door before he’s has the chance to reply. The place was massive, she’d memorized the walk from her room to the dining hall, but the amount of halls that laid around told her she’d only seen a small portion of what the place had to offer.

“Would you care for a tour?” Azriel’s suddenly standing to her side.

“Babysitter and tour guide,” she snarks, exploring down the hall, “A double threat.”

“I’ve been told to keep any eye on you.” He looks down at her, “and that’s what I plan to do.”

“Oh I have no doubt about that.” She turns into a large living space littered with comfortable looking couches and chairs, a doorway leading to a balcony against the far wall. “I’m sure you’re a male who takes his duties very seriously.”

She moves towards that door, towards the open air beyond, Azriel following close behind. She could feel the wind beyond, begging to caress her wings, she’d shift and fly for hours and hours, maybe she could fly home.

“You could make this easy for both of us,” he says, letting a shadow block her path, “and quit trying to run away from me.”

“Now who said I was trying to run away,” she flashes an overly sweet smile over her shoulder, one that she can tell gets under his skin.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he almost growls, “but if you choose to make this harder than necessary, I have no problem tying you to a chair.”

She snorts, “Kinky, but no thank you, I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t respond, that carefully crafted expression not shifting an inch, though his shadows give him away. They writhe around him, reaching for her and pulling back over and over, like he was trying not to strangle her.

“Tell you what,” she says, “I’ll stick around you like glue if you let me go for a quick flight.”

She doesn’t hide the longing glance she gives the balcony, whenever she was stressed or upset her and her father would go flying, they would fly until she was ready to talk about what was eating at her, or until she tired herself out and he would take her home and tuck her into bed just to go fly the next morning. Y/n couldn’t think of a time she’d been more stressed than now, stuck in a foreign world with no way home, surrounded by powerful fae who she didn’t trust not to bury a dagger between her shoulders the second she turned around, depsite how kind they had been.

“Fine.”

Her eyes meet with warm hazel, surprise not hidden on her face. She would’ve thought he’d fight back harder, keeping her here, where she couldn’t fly away was safer, easier. But he’d agreed, and she gives him the first genuine smile she’d had since she’d arrived and says, “Thank you.”

He nods once, “after you.”

She’s out the door in seconds, shifting with a flash of white light, and diving over the edge of the balcony towards the city far far below.

Azriel was regretting his choice to let her fly, simply due to the fact that she was so damn fast. Despite the chill in the air, she flew over Velaris with such speed, the air biting his wings as he tried to keep up. She zigzaged over the city, following streets up and down, from the cliffs of the house all the way to the open mouth of the Sidra. They flew over the bridge into the Rainbow, the artists quarter and almost like an invisible string tugged her towards it, they ended up at one of the many amphitheaters.

Music of practicing artists flowed out, preparing for a concert later that evening, there was no single melody, a mesh of different tunes that somehow melded together into a new song of its own.

Y/n landed on a high wall of the amphitheater, that flash of light, and then she was sitting precariously on the edge, as if there wasn’t a steep drop directly behind her to the streets below. Azriel landed next to her, carefully sitting down with a comfortable distance between them. It felt wonderful to rest for a few seconds, letting the sun warm his wind chilled wings.

He watches her, the way she leans towards that music as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. There’s a longing look in her eyes, a sadness that cracks that carefully constructed mask to pieces. Azriel wants to comfort her, he’s overcome by the sudden need to fix whatever is wrong, but he was never good at that, so he just sits beside her, mouth firmly shut.

“One of the first things my mother did after the war was rebuild the theaters,” she says quietly after several minutes, “my earliest memory is sitting in the Queen’s box, they’d written a symphony about the final battle, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I can still hear the horn that signaled my mothers arrival.”

Azriel listened carefully, “Your mother seems to be a brave warrior.”

“She didn’t have a choice but to be,” Y/n whispers, “Most of my family didn’t.”

“You seem to be a warrior yourself,” he says, “were you given a choice.”

Her eyes don’t stray from the players below, “Yes and no, my parents insisted I train, they wanted me to be prepared for anything, I wanted to anyway, mostly because I wanted to grow up to be just like them. My father is one of the strongest fae warriors in the world, Rowan Whitethorn, soldiers talk about him around camp fires like he’s a myth. He and my uncles, his cadre, oversaw my training. My mother too, she’d once been a renowned assassin, I’d begged and fought with her to teach me everything she knew until she got sick of me and relented.”

He could see that, the way she struck fast and quietly during their first encounter, she moved with the grace of a dancer, struck with the strength of a warrior.

“Quite the family,” he says, searching for anything to lighten the mood, something Rhys or Cassian would say, “I’m sure bringing home boys was interesting.”

She laughs, and he can’t help but enjoy the sound, “you have no idea, not only do you have to impress my parents, but also the kings and queens of several nations. I made the mistake of bringing a boy home when Manon was visiting from the witch lands. She tried to introduce him to Abraxos, I don’t think I ever saw him again.”

From what they’d heard of the witch Queen, Azriel hoped the boy had just fled the kingdom, instead of becoming dinner.

She goes silent, and a shadow whispers in Azriel’s ear, she wants to go home, sad, very sad.

“Would you care to eat now?” Azriel asks, raising to his feet, “I know flying works up my appetite.”

She flashes him a saccharine smile, one that does its best to hide the pain but it can’t hide her eyes, “are you asking for a date? I thought I told you I’m not interested.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the slight twitch of his lips, “Trust me, Princess, you’re not my type either.”

She climbs to her feet, and Azriel finds that stretch of exposed skin at her waist as she turns to him, the scent of pine, snow, and embers drifting towards him on the wind.

“I’m everybody’s type.” Her tone lowers, dripping with charm, the kind that could make men and women crawl on their hands and knees. “Think you can keep up this time?”

Without warning she jumps off the back of the tall amphitheater. Azriel has a brief moment of panic, shadows whipping out to try and catch her, wings flaring as he goes to dive after her. Then, brilliant white light blinds him for a second, and that red tinged hawk shoots past him, letting out a cry that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

He swears, jumping off that ledge and shoots into the sky behind her.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

SUMMARY: When Beron invites the Night Court to his Autumn home in an attempt to strengthen bonds between the two courts, Azriel and his companions are suspicious of potential ulterior motives. They are, ultimately, correct to think this, as Beron does have a reason for his invitation.

Y/n Vanserra, the Autumn Court's untamed princess, needs a bodyguard, and who better than one of the Night Court warriors who helped command the armies against Hybern?

Y/n's untamed spirit clashes with Azriel's reserved nature, leading to unwilling adventures and forbidden explorations of the Autumn Court's hidden corners. And Azriel slowly stops finding himself able to say no - not when she flirts with him to get her way, or teases him for being a 'broody old male.'

And though he knows he shouldn't, he finds himself falling for her. It will jeopardise everything, and yet he can't help it...

But it's okay, because she's falling for him too.

GENERAL WARNINGS: swearing, violence, descriptions of injuries and blood, smut (18+ mdni), um... yeah

Chapter i - The Proposition

Chapter ii - The Bodyguard

Chapter iii - The Princess

Chapter iv - The Tavern

Chapter v - coming soon

Chapter vi - coming soon

[yourlittlebunnyy]

kitty cat azriel x f!reader

main masterlist - azriel masterlist

summary: meow meow meow

warnings: fluffiest fluff🥹

w/c: 1.6k

enjoy! 🐈

"i kinda want to adopt a kitty." you say out of nowhere. cassian, who was blatantly talking about some new illyrian techniques, immediately shuts up.

"woah, why? you know im allergic to those things." he says brushing off his shoulders some invisible hair, always with his theatrical behavior. you roll your eyes, faking annoyance. "dont talk like this!"

"like what?" he asks confused. your little shopping walk near to an end as you take the street that will lead you to your house.

"you're talking about kitties as they were things. like, bad things." you explain, pointing an accusatory finger at him. he shrugs his shoulders.

"look at you," he chuckles, some dimples appear on his cheeks, visible through his beard. "acting like my opinion would change yours."

you smirk, an idea popping into your mind like a blinding light that you cant ignore. "you know what? you're so right."

"told ya." he winks. "so, what now? are we going to buy a cat?" he stops walking, waiting for your answer. you dont even think twice.

minutes later, you're in front of a pet shelter. "stupid me. i would have thought id die in a battle as a warrior. turns out im gonna die because of some stupid beasts." you ignore him, deeply offended by his little comment. instead, you look at him with a glare. "what? im stating the truth!" he shrugs his shoulders once again.

the little place is cosy and filled with cute pets. as soon as you open the door, a little bell informs the owner of your presence. cassian decided to stay outside, fearing an imminent death. you find it incredibly ironic, the general of the Night Court forces, an Illyrian warrior, scared of some cute little pets.

it doesnt take you long. with the help of the sweet owner, who turns out to be a old lady, you immediately find what you were looking for. as soon as you saw her, a lovely little cat sleeping in her kennel, you knew you had to give her a home.

"found it?" cassian is on your side the moment you step out of the shelter. a smile brightens your features. "yeppy!" you exclaim, excited and incredibly proud of your choice. the little cat rests on your arms umbothered, occasionally purring when you give her some soft caresses under her neck. "isnt she just so adorable?" you squeal.

cassian looks at you, then at the animal between your arms, then at you again, a look of disgust on his face. "whatever." he says. you roll your eyes at him, this time not faking annoyance. "you're so boring." you protest. "i dont wanna see you for at least a week."

"goodbye to you too, y/n." he laughs, waving with his hand as you enter your home. "and good luck with Az."

telling your mate you adopted a cat will be a funny mission. you know he wouldnt actually be mad, but you like to play with him too much. and he, unfortunately, likes when you play with him too much.

"azzie, how mad would you be?" you're laying together on the bed, the morning sun enters the room, kissing with warmth your skin.

"depends, love. what have you done this time?" he murmurs against the skin of your neck, his face hidden in your collarbone.

"wait, why do you always assume i did something?" you complain, putting some space to look at your mate straight into his pretty hazel eyes, a dramatic look on your face.

he smirks, a relaxed yet sleepy expression painting his face into the most beautiful shade of happiness. you can only believe you reflect the same emotions on your skin. "hmm, well, then tell me what would make me mad."

he shifts, trying to reposition himself closer just like moments ago. "let's suppose i feel alone when you work." you start.

maybe the choice of words wasnt the best one, since the look on your mate's face when you said that was pure horror. "i dont mean that!"

"dont ever do that again, please, love." he whispers, pressing a kiss on your naked shoulder. you always loved moments like this, slow and full of love and softness. its a shame, really, that you have to admit this little thing to azriel. "okay, azzie." you say, placing a sweet peck on his lips.

"go ahead, then." he encourages you. you smile trying to hide the fact that you're nervous, but of course azriel can feel it. "love, are we still supposing?"

you look at him in the eyes, biting your lip. "no, i guess you were right. i did something."

"its okay." he reassures. a scarred hand gently caresses your face. "just tell me. wont be mad, i promise." his words are muffled by your own skin.

"i was feeling alone, as i said." he nods and the gesture gives you time to take a deep breath. "i know its always been you and i..."

you can literally feel his heart skip a bit, and you almost laugh. "y/n... you said-"

you force yourself to fake guilt. its true, you did something, not as horrendous as bringing a third to your lovely relationship, but this doesnt mean you cant play a little with your mate. "i know, im sorry."

this time its his turn to put some space between you two, the pure look of betrayal makes your heart clench. it doesnt last long, tho. his face quickly changes in something more raw, rage fills his eyes.

"azzie..." you try to explain.

"how can you lay on this bed?" his voice is deep, cold. you know what he's trying to do - shutting down all the emotions, playing the spymaster role. "how can you-"

"azriel." you try again. he shakes his head, moving until your bodies no longer touch. it leaves you cold, and guilt fills you head.

"i... i need a moment." he explain, even tho he doesnt owe you anything. your hearts clenches in your chest.

"let me explain." he looks at you while he gets up to find some clothes. you dont let your gaze wonder on his perfect sculpted body, instead, you hold the eye contact. "its not what you think."

"its not what i think? and what should i think?" his words are red with rage, filled with venom. "you were feeling alone, and-" at this point, you cant hold a little giggle. "oh, you're laughing, now?"

"my love, you completely misunderstood!" his forehead wrinkles with confusion. he opens his mouth, ready to speak and probably ask for a further explanation, but you dont let him.

you get up, uncaring of the state you are, naked and vulnerable, and quickly disappear behind the door of your room. you appear seconds later, a nightie covering your body and your hands hidden behind your back. "little friend." its all you say.

"y/n, you better-" you show him what you're hiding, and he stops in the middle of the sentence. you can see how quickly his expression changes, you can feel every emotion he's feeling.

the first look is surprise, then confusion, then an adorable smile adorns his pretty face, lightening his eyes with joy. "love, i thought-" a laugh interrupts him, contagious to the point you let out a little giggle too.

"surprise!" you smile, bringing the little animal to your chest, cuddling it with little caresses between its ears.

his eyes soften, watching the scene with adoration. he walks until he stands right in front of you. "a cat?" he asks, he raises his hand tentatively and let him cuddle the little pet too.

you look at him through your lashes, putting on the sweetest and most innocent expression ever. "i was feeling alone..." he rolls his eyes jokingly.

"i hate you." he teases. you tease him back, a smile adorning both your faces. "nuh-uh. i know you love me, azzie." he chuckles, placing a naive kiss on your lips.

you carefully pass the cat to him. "so you're not mad?" he shakes his head. you watch as he caresses the cat's fur with his fingertips, the touch so soft its barely there. you swear you fall in love with this man more and more every day.

"do you already have a name?" he asks, but his eyes are still concentrated on the little creature he is holding. its so small that one of his hands is enough to cover it all. "no. all i know is that its a she. but isnt she so cute?" you squeal, hugging the both of them, careful not to squeeze the kitty.

"shes purring!" azriel realizes, he looks at you like a little kid that just got the present he wanted for so long. gods, you really love this man.

"she already loves you, azzie. look, she is also sleeping."

"and?" he asks. you answer as its the most obvious thing in the whole Prythian. "means she trusts you!" you press a kiss on his cheek, then a little kiss on the top of her little head, feeling the vibrations of the purr on your lips.

you stay silent for a bit, just enjoying the little moment and the new member of your family. its azriel who breaks the silence first. "kitty."

"what?" you ask confused.

"we could name her kitty. 'cause she's a kitty, you know." you giggle.

you repeat the name, tasting the sound on your lips. "kitty cat." you say almost like a proud mother. "i like it."

hope you enjoyed♡

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you. 

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW 🦇🌟

azriel x reader smau!

status: completed!

pairing: azriel x reader, slight eris x reader

includes: humor, angst, fluff, modern au, coffee shop au, college/university au, strangers to lovers (for azriel x reader), childhood friends to lovers (for eris x reader)

description: being a childhood friend of the archerons and vanserras; you happen to keep running into a certain member of the inner circle at velaris university, but pursuing a new relationship with someone else is hard when you struggle with commitment issues from your first love.

content warning: contains themes of azriel’s canonically toxic family life, mentioned/implied homophobia for mor’s arc (chapters containing these will have a warning)

00 profiles: y/n’s group exiles cafe inner circle

001: “ i blew things out of proportion ”

002: “ i pinned your hands behind your back ”

003: “ thought i had reason to attack ”

004: “ fighting with a true love ”

005: “ boxing with no gloves ”

006: “ this ultraviolet morning light ”

007: “ chemistry ‘til it blows up ”

008: “ tells me this love is worth the fight ”

009: “ tell me that you’re still mine ”

010: “ why’d i have to break what i love so much? ”

011: “ it’s all me, in my head… ”

012: “ i’m sorry that i hurt you ”

013: “ but it’s not what i meant ”

014: “ i don’t wanna lose this with you ”

015: “ just wanna lift you up, not let you go ”

016: “ i lived like an island ”

017: “ tell me that it’s not my fault ”

018: “ i don’t wanna do this to you ”

019: “ i’m the one who burned this down ”

020: “ just don’t go ”

021: “ meet me in the afterglow ”

bonus chapters:

002.5: “ who’s that barista guy? ”

013.5: “ why are you calling me your babygirl? ”

021.5: “ the wedding ”

[utterlyazriel]

—whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn)

FIC MASTERLIST

A story about one shadowsinger who did his time in the Illyrian Mountains and one warrior waiting out her own— who will do anything to keep her wings… even if it means posing as a Male.

fem!reader, mulan-esque au

1. STRANGERS

Someone in the Illryian Mountains has been making a name for themselves— a bastard like Azriel and his brothers, ruffling the feathers of a war camp's Lord. But they seem to have no loyalty to the fighting legion, or much to anyone for that matter.

2. ALLIES

Azriel trains you and is particularly unforgivable about it. Together, you tackle tonics. Azriel ponders the unmistakable pull he feels and you try your best to keep your secret under wraps.

3. COMPANIONS

Azriel leaves for Velaris. You reflect on old choices and everything that you lead you to where you are now— and realise it's been awhile since you had anyone to miss.

4. FRIENDS

You return to regular training for the first time in a month. Azriel asks a favor from Rhys and finds you in a less than stellar condition when he returns to camp.

5. CONFIDANTS

You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.

6. BETRAYERS

A secret you vowed to never reveal gets uncovered and Azriel struggles as all he's known is turned on its head. An unfriendly adversary from the past comes knocking.

7. MATES

Azriel mourns a mistake that will haunt him for eternity as he races back to you. You play the leading role in one of your nightmares, but you can't seem to wake up.

8. STRANGERS (AGAIN)

You wake up somewhere entirely new, a long, long way from your home.

9. FRIENDS (IN OTHER PLACES)

Adjusting to life in Velaris means learning to train with new, friendly faces. A tentative friendship forms. Azriel keeps his distance.

10. SHADOWS

Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

to be continued…

chapters 10/?

[littlest-w01f]

AZRIEL NSFW ALPHABETS

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Cw: Nsfw stuff, 18+ MDNI

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Depends on the nature of your relationship, he doesn't care much to care for you after if it's a random hook-up.

But if you're in a relationship, he'll always make sure you are comfortable after, hydrated and clean.

He'll ask what you need at the moment and won't hesitate to give it to you until he knows you better than you know yourself and provides you with everything you need by your tells.

B: Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

On him, it's his cock, straight up, a damn cocky little bastard he is knowing he's hung, loves the look in your eyes when you see the size of him every time, and loves how you always struggle to take him.

On you, It's your legs, love how they feel when they're wrapped tight around him to keep him close, loves feeling them up and down, your thighs, and calves.

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Loves to cum on your skin, mixing his scent with you so that people know you are his for as long as possible.

Loves when you cum on his face and tongue so he can taste you directly from the source

D: Dirty Secret

He's been to many orgies in his times in Illyria, taking more males there than females, has dominated both Rhysand and Cassian.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's got 500 years of experience in pleasuring his partners, he knows exactly what he's doing.

And he's very good at it.

F: Favorite Position(s)

Good old missionary, loves to look at your face contort in pleasure as he takes you.

Cowgirl, he loves watching you on top, bouncing on his cock, gripping onto the talons of his wings, head tipped back.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

He's always been serious during sex, especially during a scene with you.

But if something goes wrong, he's started to make jokes about it after making sure you are alright and to make a lighthearted atmosphere.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)

A mess of hair as a teen, didn't much care for how his hair looked.

Grew to properly groom his hair, and doesn't really care how you keep yours.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Is very loving and gentle during soft sex.

Not so much expression on his face during play.

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't really have to use his own hand when he had yours.

Only masturbates while he is on a mission and away from you

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Corruption - He had a thing for messing up the innocence of his mate, loves how much of an experimentalist you are, willing to try most things he suggests

Bondage- Leathers: loves Illyrian leathers on you, loves the feel of the leather.

Chains: likes to chain you to his bed and his dungeons, chains over your throat for breath play and he licks over the cold chains on your neck.

Ropes: Hogties you on his bed, loves watching you struggle knowing the ropes would leave burns, then after, kissing over your wrists and ankles.

Dacryphilia - Your tears turn him on, loves your tears streaming down your face whenever he takes you rough, at a punishing pace mostly when you try to flirt with other males to get a rise out of him.

Erotic asphyxiation - Loves forcing air out of you, with his hands, pulling on chains to mark your neck up.

Gagging - Gags you with his fingers and cock, loves the sound of you choking

Blood play/Knife play - Uses truthteller on you, cutting your skin just enough to make you bleed, watching the blood spill and healing back up, carving his name into your abdomen.

Shadow play - His shadows LOVE you, just as much as he does, they love to play with you, make you cum, tie you up, and keep his cum inside you.

Public sex - Fingering you anywhere, making you be quiet as he makes you cum on his hands, then walk away nonchalantly.

Sadism - Adores seeing you in the constant pain and pleasure that he causes.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Prefers his bed and his dungeons, but will take you anywhere if he is horny enough, and has taken you everywhere at least once.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You, just you, everything about you gets him going, especially your eyes and the way you look at him

N: NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He will be wary of anything you aren't downright enthusiastic about.

Will stop if you close your bond with him during play, he needs to have you open your bond with him at all times so he can feel what you're feeling.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves both, has an obsession with hearing your whines as he keeps making you cum on his tongue.

And with the sound of you gagging on his cock.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

He prefers to be rough in most settings, it's the Illyrian rage he fucks out on you.

Is sensual when it's intimate, soft lovemaking for your anniversaries, important times for you both.

Or when you ask depending on what you want.

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Prefers to take his time with you, and make you cum hard over and over again.

Will have a quickie if either of you is in a hurry and doesn't want to pass an opportunity to taste you.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

You two take so many risks in your sex life.

You love the thrill of getting caught.

He prefers to sometimes fuck you on the door of Nesta and Cassian's room so that you can cry out directly in their room, as payback to everything they kept him up with their noises.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

Loves nothing more than being inside you.

Things don't end until you want them to, until all your holes are dripping with his cum, your legs shaking hard for hours after

T: Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Less "Toys" and more like torture devices, he uses those things to bind you up.

Paddles, whips, vibrators, dildos, gags, he had everything you might want.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He's very fair, a little too fair, things didn't end till you cum so many times it's painful.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not really loud, but growls and groans in your ear

W: Wild Card

He loves sharing you with people, Nessian, Feysand, Eris, Lucien, and anyone you want.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

MUSCULAR

Every inch of him has muscles, thick arms, legs, cut torso.

Biggest wingspan, obviously.

When you first gripped his cock while busy making out with him, you thought it was his arm.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very High

Especially after accepting your mating bond

He needs to be inside you as much as possible

He is dtf anytime, unless you don't want to

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He first wants to make sure you're comfortable.

After you are, he sometimes helps you sleep, whether singing to you or giving you a small massage.

He falls asleep to the sound of your comfortable breathing.

{General taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria}

{Azriel taglist - @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch}

[solbaby7]

*walks towards the bar*

Ummm can i please a

Neat Espresso Martini with salt and sugar rim

it’s givinggggggg fuckbuddies to lovers 🤭

[ “kiss me like that again and I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me” + smut/fluff + azriel ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Everything starts out casual—just a little fun.

Heated make out sessions with Azriel’s tongue rubbing against the roof of your mouth. His hands cupping at the fat off your ass, squeezing; prying it open to make room for the middle finger that nuzzles between a clothed cunt.

It’s the perfect arrangement for mutual stress relief and you weren’t exactly complaining if the byproduct involved earth-shattering orgasms from a hot male with stamina to spare. “You’ve been avoiding me.” He mumbles into the curve of your neck, palms groping at the softness of your hips, thumbs digging into the crease where waist meets thigh.

“I’ve been busy working, insatiable boy.” It’s instinctive to lean into his touch; body plaint under his command. “Not all of us live in mansions atop mountains with shadowy servants to do our bidding.”

“Do you want to? All you have to do is ask—already got an empty drawer with your name on it.”

You struggle to ignore that and the many other mindless proclamations that begins to roll off his tongue once your tits are bare in his face. Every time without fail, Azriel catches you off guard with the sly comments of how you’d never have to wait so long for him if you’d just lived together. “If I did that then how else would I keep you so desperate for me?”

He groans, answering your question with the rut of his cock along your abdomen. He’s rock solid in his breeches and you’ve barely even touched him—a physical testament to his uncontrollable desire for you. “Somehow, I doubt that will be an issue.” Nowhere in his features do you find embarrassment, only a controlled confidence that allows him to be so fucking crude as his tongue explores places you forget is attached to your body.

Love bites are suckled into the swell of your breasts, teeth biting their imprint along your ribs hard enough that it makes you yelp. It was going to leave a mark but for some reason you figure that’s Azriel’s whole plan. There’s no inch of skin he leaves untouched and it’s not until your thighs are trembling with want does he work his way back up.

The gusset off your panties are ruined and Azriel remains perfectly content with his mouth slotted against your own. Manicured nails take through the thick of his hair, palms grazing against the neat taper along his nape. “Keep kissing me like that and I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

“Good, I thought I’d been obvious enough before.” He’s down bad, that much is clear when his cock fucking throbs at the girlish giggle you let free. “Truly, would that be so awful?” The line of his nose drags along the length of your neck as he takes a greedy inhale of you, memorizing body oils and lotions, perfumes and the lingering of incense—committing it to memory for if this were to be his last time with you then he wanted every moment of it branded in his brain. “You and I?”

There’s a brief bout of fear that churns his belly but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Worry and strife have no residence here in your presence. Not when you cup his cheek so tenderly, thumb stroking along the line of his jaw as if he were fine china to be treasured. “No, wouldn’t be awful at all.”

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again

Azriel x Rowaelin Daughter Reader

Summary: Azriel has a bad habit of finding random females falling onto the River House lawn. This time, the female in question catches him off guard, and she seems to be even stranger than the last.

Series Masterlist

-Part One-

There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. He would’ve thought just that if it hadn’t been for the keen wisps of shadows at his shoulders whispering in his ears, outside, someone’s here, outside, here, here, here, here.

The room filled with his family was non the wiser as the shadowsinger shifted towards the door, all of them talking and laughing by the fire place. Feyre and Rhys cozied up on the loveseat, little Nyx nestled in his mothers arms. Nesta sitting on Cassian’s lap, the sisters talking about the recent books they’d read, his brothers admiring their mates. Mor sipped on her third glass of wine, listening to Elain talk about her blooming garden while she absently fiddled with her still full glass, Lucien sitting comfortably by her side, content to just listen to his mate talk. Amren was nowhere to be found tonight, Varian presumably in town.

Azriel found it easy to slip out the back door, ready to deal with the supposed trouble without disturbing his family’s peace. His shadows didn’t seem alarmed, persistent, but not noting any imminent threat. Despite their ease, he found Truth Teller in his hand, ready to deal with whoever he found if necessary.

It was dark outside, the brisk night air dancing over his fire warmed skin. Calm, no sign of that subtle shift, nothing but his shadows urging him towards the garden, towards whoever was out here causing the small disturbance.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, what he was expecting to find. Maybe a drunk who wandered to far from the main streets of Velaris, maybe a curious young fae who just wanted a glimpse of the inner circle. He’d dealt with his fair share of both, gently warning them away from the home.

But whatever he’d been expecting it certainly wasn’t what he found. A female laid on the ground, clothes and skin covered with dirt and blood, her body sprawled like she’d been thrown down without care. He could sent fresh blood on her coming from a wound on her head, the stream of it dripping down onto the stones beneath her. Her breathing was steady, her heartbeat strong.

Azriel clenched the blade’s hilt tight in his hand, drawing closer to her slowly. Her scent drifted towards him on a phantom wind, pine and snow, like the mountains of Illryia. Despite his resentment of the people who lived there, the scent reminded him of home.

His shadows curiously trail around the female, finding more and more injuries, a cut on her thigh, bruising across her abdomen. Whoever she was, she had seen her fair share of violence. She was high fae, her ears arched into delicate points, though he could not discern which court she may belong too. Her clothes were to disheveled to detect a distinct style, black leather pants and a long sleeved green shirt beneath a leather vest sheathed with knives like a bandolier. Clothes that could belong to any court, maybe even from the continent.

So busy examining her he didn’t detect the change in her breathing until it was to late.

The female launched up with such speed he was almost to slow to block the attack. She’d pulled one of those knives from her vest, it’s wickedly sharp edge to close to his throat for comfort. Truth Teller blocked the blade, the metal singing against her dagger. The female was quick to pull back, not lunging again like he thought she would but reaching for a smaller knife at her ribs, it was flying through the air faster than he could blink, aiming for his eye with remarkable accuracy, Cassian would be proud of a throw like that. The only reason it didn’t take his eye was due to a shadow darting out to grab the blade midair.

The female is a blur as she lunges again, going for the arm holding his blade. He dodges back, the strike missing him by a hair. She’s fast, faster than most fae he’s fought over the centuries. He catches her next strike, a blow to his side that could’ve left him bleeding out on the floor. She pulls back and retreats a few steps, her stance shifting back like she might jump at him again.

“Stop,” he snarls at her.

She hisses, baring her teeth at him, teeth with unusually sharp canines, and then she speaks, a language he’d never heard before. And that’s when the pieces start to click, when his shadows start to whisper, not of this world, another, another world, another, another, another.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he grounds out, “not again.”

The female only snarls, reaching for another of those small wicked blades. She flips it, pinching the sharp tip between her fingers.

“Wait,” he says, sheathing his dagger at his side, “just wait.”

Her eyes track his movements, the ice cold look in them enough to make him shiver. It felt like the air around them tried to freeze under her gaze, the wind no longer a soft breeze but an ice kissed howl.

His head cocked to the side, that was her, she was controlling the wind. The air swirling around them faster and faster, colder and colder.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said though he was sure she couldn’t understand him.

He held his hands up so she could see them, willing his shadows away so he could look as unthreatening as possible. When the last unknown female had landed on this lawn, she’d fallen right in front of him, he’d been able to get his blade angled to her throat before she had anytime to react, this female on the other hand, had managed to get the jump on him first, a fact that his brothers would never let him live down.

The wind bit at his wings, discomfort sooner turning to pain if it kept up like that. It felt like the moisture in the air was turning to ice, slicing into his skin.

She repeats her words, her voice hard and unforgiving just like the wind around them. A shield, he realized, a casing of wind to block all sound, to keep others out and to keep him trapped.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, hoping she can understand the plea in his tone.

Her head tilts, examining him from head to toe, a predator studying its next meal. In that moment, Azriel had never felt more like prey in his life. She had an intensity that rivaled Nesta and Amren, like she knew she was the most powerful creature in the room and she’d be happy to prove it. This female was dangerous, strong, fast, and from another world just like Bryce Quinlann, he could only hope she’d turn out to be an ally as well.

Blood still drips down her face, the cut on her brow deep and jagged, like it had been ripped across a dull object. The scent of her blood filled his nose, laced with that pine and snow, and something warm, like an ember drifting from a fire. Again, it smelled uncannily like home.

Those cold eyes flare wide, the frost bitten wind warming a fraction. Something in her posture shifts, no longer in fight mode, but flight.

“Stop,” he pleads, “hold on.”

Her voice shifts when she speaks, lighter and less harsh, he still can’t understand any of it. His confusion must be evident on his face because she scoffs, lowering the dagger to her side, still not sheathing it. The wind fades away, replaced by a warm gentle breeze that thaws his near frozen wings.

Azriel sighs in relief and she cocks her head at the sound. Her eyes take in his wings, noting the frost on them that slowly melts away. The air seems to get even warmer then.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head to show his gratitude, all while keeping an eye on her.

Though she seems to be less hostile, he wouldn’t let his guard down for a second around her.

He felt it then, the gentle prying talons on his mind, ones he instantly let in. Showing Rhys exactly where he was and who was before him.

Not again, Rhys sighs.

That’s what I said, Azriel replies.

And then that night kissed power settles around them, the female’s eyes hardening back to ice, dagger already raised and ready to defend herself. Azriel was half tempted to tell her it wasn’t worth it, that there was little she could do against Rhys, but he kept his mouth shut as his high lord appeared before them. Giving the female that cool charming look that had most ready to eat out of the palm of his hand.

She didn’t have that kind of reaction, instead she lifted that dagger towards his high lord, a snarl on her lips, those vicious canines on display.

“Well that’s interesting,” Rhys says, coolly looking her over, “high fae, but not one of ours.”

She snaps at him, words he couldn’t understand but by the way she ground them out Azriel could tell they weren’t niceties.

“I’m sure that was her way of calling me a prick,” Rhys chuckles, “I’d recognize it in any language.”

Azriel eyes the two of them, he has no doubts that his high lord could defend himself against the female, but after the last encounter he’d had with a foreign fae he didn’t want to underestimate her. Rhys seems to agree, Azriel can almost see the invisible attack he launches, and he sees the exact moment Rhys hits a wall of pure ice around her mind.

His high lord hisses in pain at the exact moment a bright blue light flares from the female, a mark shining on her brow. The mark like those in the book of breathings, like the horn on Bryce’s back.

The female swears, free hand touching that mark as if she could will it back beneath her skin. Her dagger is aimed for Rhys, but her eyes dance between them both, watching for any movement from Azriel, ready to take both of them on in a heartbeat if it was necessary.

“Go get Amren,” Azriel says, “and bring one of those damned translators.”

Rhys is gone within a split second, and the female is angling that dagger at Azriel instead, a warning to stay back, she makes no move to fight nor flee, her frozen stare colder than before though the air continues to stay warm.

Azriel simply holds his hands in the air, “We mean you no harm.”

She responds in that soft swirling language, his shadows writhe in answer, almost like they could understand her. She frowns at them as they travel across the ground towards her, a soft snarl from her lips has them skittering back. Interesting, the way she seems almost familiar with them, he wonders if she’d encountered fae like him before, maybe like Quinlann’s brother.

Rhys and Amren appear in that night kissed darkness, the female’s attention snapping towards them. Amren curiously examines the girl, that mark that still simmers faintly in her brow.

“Are you collecting more strays?”

Azriel doesn’t respond to the jab, watching as Amren takes the small silver bean from her pocket and throws it towards the female without warning. She catches it with ease, glancing between it and Amren with a raised brow.

“Eat,” Amren commands, miming the action, taping on her mouth as she speaks, “to understand.”

Her eyes find Azriel’s, brow quirked in confusion. He simply nods, mimicking Amren’s actions. She seems to understand that, as she lifts the translator to her mouth and swallows it down.

And just like that she erupts, not with that ice cold wind, but with fire, hotter and stronger than that of the heirs of Autumn. Maybe even hotter than Beron’s himself. A shield from Rhys traps the explosion of power though he winces from the effort of keeping her contained. The fire rages, the earth below her turning to ash in an instant. She burns so hot that the flame around her starts to turn blue. She burns and burns and burns, so bright Azriel shields his eyes, so hot that the shield around her can barely contain that heat.

Rhys does not remove the shield until that fire stops its raging, until all that’s left is smoke and ash. She had collapsed on the floor, her dagger red hot against her skin yet it doesn’t burn her hand. That mark burns brighter as she glares up at them, vibrant blue that lights up the world around them.

“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she snaps, her voice tinged with that soft accent of her language.

“Hard to do that when we don’t speak your tongue,” Amren snaps back. “Who are you?”

Her ice cold stare is unsettling as it examines them all. She stands from the ground, that red hot blade lifting towards them, the air warping from the heat.

“My name is Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius,” her voice is steady, regal, “Crown Princess of Terrasen. And I’d like to know which one of you opened the gate that dragged me here.”