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utterlyazriel · 1 year ago

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how long have i searched for you?

azriel finds his mate in the most inopportune time and he convinces himself you haven't sought him out for good reason. he couldn't be more wrong. word count: 4.6k & god bless @strangerstilinski for making this fic ever get written <3

Though he'd deny it if ever asked, most of all to Cassian, there was a part of Azriel that had spent years upon years yearning for what it would be like when he met his mate.

A chance encounter. A friend of a friend. A shared look across a crowded room, your eyes catching, where you both suddenly just know.

A thousand possible ways to meet, to find each other. Azriel had run every scenario through his head, ten times over, both soothed and aching at the dreadful mixture of hope and doubt he had. With his rotten luck, he was probably doomed to a life without ever finding his mate. If he even had one.

However, in all his years of hoping and wishing, not once could he say that he'd imagined meeting his mate the way he did.

In a flash; a brush up during the battle of Velaris, where you, a healer, had stumbled into his life. There had been only a moment amongst all the chaos, where this deep strong pull had risen in his chest, glowing and hot like he'd never felt before.

His head had snapped around, finding the source in a heartbeat. Everything leading to you.

But it hadn't been the time, no matter that you had clearly felt it too, the glow, the pull, given away with your wide eyes and parted lips. Battle was being sieged on Velaris and despite every instinct in Azriel that roared at him to stay with you, to take you from the danger, he had a duty to fulfill.

And then, even once the battle finished, the war was waged and won, when was there time? Azriel could feel it in him, the yearning that seemed to sing from his very blood — he itched to go find you. However, there was still much to do, still orders from Rhys to carry out, mission and meetings to attend to.

Besides, you hadn't sought him out either.

So, when the chaos calmed finally and he finally had time to breathe, Azriel did not seek you out. He waited. He longed.

But if you wished to stay away and never see him, then Azriel would respect it. He would never impose on your life if you did not wish it, no matter how long he had waited for his mate.

One month of quiet life rolled on.

Today, the weather in Velaris greatly contrasted his state. Exhausted from his mission and a tad more scratched up that he had hoped to be, Azriel feels like a cloud on the city's sparkling sky. He's dirty, half soaked, and probably dripping blood and mud all over the tiles.

Gods, he was tired.

The fly back to the House of Wind had been harder, his landing a little ungraceful due to the slices he bore on his wings. Not the worst of his injuries but still, they throbbed painfully and Azriel felt the rivets of rain and blood trickling along them. His wings gave a little shudder and even his shadows seemed to droop.

"And he returns—" Cassian's voice announced his arrive before his feet had even touched onto the balcony. Upon the sight of his brother, hunched and not his usual self, his tone shifted quickly. "Holy Cauldron, what happened to you?"

Azriel bristled, schooling away his sneer at the thought of the fight he just won. He rolled his shoulders back, biting back his wince at the tenderness of his wounds, and grimaced.

"Same thing that always does, brother."

Cassian frowned, his concern evident with the furrow between his brows. "You're going to see a healer."

His tanned hand gestured to Azriel's drooping wing. His question was more of an instruction. Azriel felt apprehension roll through him, torn between the sweet relief he know would come with having his wounds tended to and the first healer he could think of: you.

He shook the thought away. Nearly two months since he'd first seen you had passed and he found himself infuriated with how his brain seemed intent on taunting him. You pervaded his thoughts just as frequently as you did on that first day, even with your distance.

"Madja does not reside here anymore."

"So?" Cassian pressed. "Gods, I will take you myself if I must."

Azriel huffed. He knew Cassian could make good on his words and as another ache rippled through his back, making every slice on his skin known, he let himself relent. Besides, what were the chances of his healer being you?

"I will go." Azriel replied, straightening up his slumped shoulders. A hint of smugness crossed Cassian's face before he smiled, genuine as he lay his hand on Azriel's shoulder.

"Before you go," Cassian said, beginning to grin. "Did you wipe the floor with them?"

Azriel's lips quirked, a semblance of a smile. He inhaled, preparing himself for one more course of travel before he could rest. "Of course."

—

The second flight had agony clawing deeper within his wings, a protest with every strong beat of them, as he flew to the Apothecary down amongst the city's heart. The surging pain fought for his attention, like a poison writhing beneath his bones, and Azriel was nearly embarrassed at his hard landing.

It was loud, his boots slamming down into the pavement before the Apothecary, his wings flaring to catch him. He could feel the tremor in his muscles, each leg held taut. He looked up at his destination.

The building before him was a sage green, white trims around each of the windows. Within, through the panes of glass, Azriel could see a healer jump at his sudden entrance. His shadows wisped around him rapidly, as though they might soften his abrupt interruption.

Azriel straightened up, tucking his wings in as he reined himself in. He could feel his emotions boiling up within him, swirling and rising as he peered in the window before him. Apprehension tinged with something he wouldn't acknowledge, something too close to hope.

The glow in his chest was back. You must be near.

Azriel wasn't sure what was winning; the absolute urge to follow the tug on his chest to find the person on the other end of it, or the part of him that would prefer never knowing if you wanted him or not.

The bell above the door jingled quietly as he pushed it open. He was careful to mind his mess, far too aware of how he was tracking half a mountain of dirt in with him. Eyes scanned over each thing in the room, calculating in a way he always was.

Around him, his shadows had gotten zippier, darting about and back to him; as though, they too, could sense the nearness of his mate.

The Fae behind the counter stared, wide-eyed, whether at his shadows or simply himself. Azriel willed them to calm as best he could. They were being unnaturally eager to leave his side.

"Hello," Azriel started, unsure on the proper procedures. He wondered if just gesturing to himself might work. The Fae behind the counter, a fair women with dark hair, seemed to finally shake herself out of it.

"Hello!" She amended her behaviour quickly. Her hand waved behind her, gesturing to the corridor that stretched out behind her. "Let's do something about those wounds. If you head down and take the last door on the left, y/n will be available to get you on the mend."

The name she spoke sent a pang through Azriel and he wondered, he hoped, if a name that beautiful could potentially belong to you. Maybe, he would be better to request someone else, if it was you down the end of the hall. Hesitance kept him rooted to the floor. His eyes sweeping down the hall and back to the Fae woman before him.

"Thank you," He finally murmured. His began walking, passing the counter and heading down the hallway — mindful of his drooping, tired wings that threatened to leave a trail behind him.

Final door on the left. Azriel paused before it, deciding to knock before he entered. He could hear someone inside, bustling around in the space. His knuckles grazed against the door.

"Come in!"

A voice like honey called out, wrapping around him like the softest silk, every nerve in him trilling and burning. Azriel swallowed heavily, knowing who must be on the other side of that door. He should walk back up that hallway. He shouldn't go through this door. He should give you the privacy you so clearly desire.

And yet, the warm glow in his chest urged him forward, urged him closer, and Azriel couldn't resist being selfish. Just this once, just to see you once more. He pushed the door open and slid silently in the room.

You're everything.

Gods, as he laid his eyes on you now, Azriel had to commend himself for ever managing to keep himself from you. You’re ethereal — and the glowing tug on his chest had expanded ten-fold as you turned to face him, every ounce of his being yearning, aching, to be closer to you.

Azriel was a strong man but even he couldn’t help the way his body swayed closer, a ripple passing through his wings subtly. They gave a tiny shake behind him. His shadows seemed to be dancing across his shoulders, gleeful in their wispy movements.

Even his pain had been put aside for this moment — dialed down to barely a twinge as he drunk in the sight of you before him, his eyes scouring your face for every detail he could, lest it be the only time he got to.

Faintly, he felt his lips twitch. His hands curled up at his sides, a minuscule motion. You’re… very beautiful. You’re everything he’s been waiting for — and Azriel is sure that shine of the night sky he adores so reverently is rivaled only by your eyes.

“I—” He remembered himself, the word rasping out before he could stop it. He realised he was not sure what he intended to say. “Forgive me.”

You seem perplexed by his words if the wrinkle between your eyebrows was an indication.

One of his shadows snaked down his arm, flitting out to meet you and Azriel felt himself flush slightly. He called it back sternly and silently — only more embarrassed when it didn’t listen, circling your wrist and tickling its way up your arm.

But there was no apprehension in your face, nor in your laugh which felt like a shot of espresso to his system, as his shadows continued badgering you. Something close to mortification crept up his neck as two more shadows darted out to join the first, curling excitedly around your neck like a lover would.

“My apologies,” Azriel forced his mouth to work. “They are not usually so… misbehaved.”

You waved him off, another laugh tittering from your mouth as a shadow curled over your ear. Surprisingly, whether through some bond or not, he knew that you were not afraid of him in any sense.

Your hand waved him over to the table set up for patients, ushering him over. “That’s alright. You can tell me what I’m to forgive you for as I look over your wounds.”

Azriel didn’t move. His feet felt rooted to the floor, heart turning itself inside out. Did you not know? Could you not feel it? Were you simply sweet enough that you would still tend to him, heal him, even though you knew and had decided to keep your distance?

“I…” He selected his words carefully, watching you closely. “I did not wish to make you see me if it was not on your own terms."

You were setting up your items on a silver tray beside the medical table and when you looked over your shoulder, you seemed confused that he hadn’t moved. You urged him over with a jerk of your chin and a smile that melted through his chest, hot like candle wax.

“Nonsense.” You patted the table invitingly. “C'mon, you’re dripping blood on my floors.”

His politeness had him standing up straighter, wings bunching up as he realised they had begun to drag along the ground. It was the thing that finally got him to move, his feet stepping forward in an instant.

“I’m—”

“Kidding. I was kidding.” You intercept his apology easily, eyes bright.

Something preens within him at how you knew what he would say so soon within meeting him. Azriel took another step and let himself sink down onto the padded table, his wings resting gently around him. Even seeing you, talking to you, is not enough to chase away his fatigue. You hand him a clean cloth to clear the muck from his face and he does so silently.

“Are you fit to remove your leathers?” You asked, your gaze turned analytic as you scanned over his muscled body for his injuries.

Azriel nodded, not trusting his voice. As each piece of armor was pulled off, not a wince in sight, he was surprised at the flustering feeling within him. It was light, just a ball of nervousness, tinged with embarrassment, in his chest — which made no sense. As he pulled the final layer of clothing from his chest, Azriel realised that this feeling wasn’t coming from him.

You were staring as politely as you could, eyes darting around the injuries scattered across his torso but with a nervous flush to you. Your eyes flitted across his chest, once, twice. Barely a glimpse— something that would’ve gone unnoticed if he was not the spymaster of this court.

Azriel couldn’t resist. “Everything alright?”

If he had made voice a tad gruffer than usual, that was between him and the Cauldron.

“Yes.” You smiled at him again and it nearly made him miss the pinch in your voice. Nearly. “Just thinking that if you look like this, I hardly want to imagine the other guys.”

Azriel bit back his smile, only half succeeding in hiding it. It was wiped as you finally stepped closer, examining him properly. A furrow between your brows. Azriel could feel the hot burning want to smooth it out with his thumb, to take your worry from you.

His shadows had slipped further from him, more and more of them following your gentle hands as you skimmed atop his skin, deep in thought. They swirled around your hands, festering where you were nearly touching him, and Azriel desperately willed them to relax. They did not obey.

“The shadows,” He began, already apologetic.

Your eyes flashed to his and then back on the laceration splitting the skin on his shoulder. You pulled one of your hands back, just an inch, focusing on how the shadows followed you. Tiny wisps dancing around your hand, light touches that reminded you of a thousand tiny kisses.

“It’s alright.” You hummed, sweet with a smile. “They’re sort of lovely.”

And if Azriel had felt your momentary fluster, he had no doubt he would be unable to hide the swell of surprise within him.

You finally pulled your hands back, beginning to circle around the table to take a closer look at his wings. Azriel couldn’t repress his shiver at the thought— his mate, so close to something so precious to him. He was torn between emotions; his body buzzing at the thought of your touch and his mind adamant that you wanted to keep your distance for a reason.

“I must say, I have heard of Illyrian wings before,” Your voice breathed over his shoulder, distracted by the view. Without meaning to, Azriel’s wings gave a little twitch. “But never seen them this close. They’re very beautiful.”

Azriel blinked and willed himself to remain neutral even if all his shadows seemed to give him away; their flitterings only increased at your words.

He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Then there was a soft touch along the leathery skin of his wing, your fingers, tentative and gentle. Azriel swallowed the noise in his throat. His wings gave another involuntary shiver.

“Is it alright to… touch?”

It’s sweet of you to ask even though he’s sure you’ll have no way of healing him if he says no. Azriel steeled himself, forcing himself to remain neutral.

“Yes,” He murmured. The wounds across his torso had already begun to heal themselves, his Fae blood clotting and knitting the skin back together at an achingly slow pace. He was too tired to heal himself properly. He had known his wings would require the most attention.

It was an effort not to jump when your touch returned, tiny fingertips that felt startlingly warm suddenly. Azriel could feel the tendrils of your magic as it poured out through your fingers, a healing salve to the agony of his wings. It felt so good he struggled to not sigh aloud, his scarred hands flexing in his lap.

“You know,” You began, voice quiet. “I was hoping you might seek me out but perhaps, for a less painful reason.”

While Azriel fought to keep his head from snapping around, his shadows did no such thing— all of them jumping from their usual hiding place. He swatted at them, mortified at how revealing they seemed to be in your presence.

Still, there was no battling away the kernel of hope that sat deep in the pit of his stomach, mixed tightly with disbelief.

Another touch along his wings, another warming healing glow. Azriel cleared his throat and fought to keep his voice even.

“You were… waiting for me?”

Gods, he couldn’t have sounded more pathetic if he tried. But his head was spinning, the glowing pull on his chest tightening, the kernel growing larger and larger. You were waiting for him, you were waiting for him.

“Of course, why would I not be?”

“I…” He had never been so lost for words in all his centuries of living. Never sure how deep the rift within him ran, a part of him convinced that the reason he had not found a mate in all his time was because he had not deserved one.

“I did not want to impose on you, I know that not all—”

It was all coming out wrong. Azriel reined in his rampant emotions, the swirling of his shadows dimming for a moment. Your hands had paused their ministrations on his wings, listening intently. He couldn’t bear to turn to face you as he spoke.

“I wanted to give you space to decide yourself. To leave the decision in your hands. Because I would understand if—”

He cut himself off with a sharp inhale. Voicing it, suggesting the possibility of you hoping and waiting for a mate all your life, just as he did, only to be disappointed that discover it was him— he couldn’t say it aloud.

He was sure you must be able to feel his fear and clamped his mental shields down as tight as he could. He would not guilt you into this.

“I can see why the Mother made us mates.” You mused after a moment.

Azriel nearly shuddered at the word, at you referring to him at your mate so casually— a yawning chasm of want spreading over his entire body. Gently, slowly, your hands began to work again.

“Here I was,” you continued, voice light and hands warm. “Thinking that, maybe, the shadowsinger had his duties and would come find me if he wished. And that I would understand if he never came to find me at all.”

This time, Azriel could not resist turning around to see your face. His heart ached terribly to hear what you had thought. His shadows spun around his shoulders and as he turned, they twisted and ran for you.

“No,” He said severely. He couldn’t help the way he shook his head, like a petulant child but you were just so wrong. “No, I— I’m sorry, I never meant for you to think— please forgive me.”

Despite his evident distress, you smiled easily with a little shake of your head. “There is nothing to forgive. It would be, well, almost hypocritical if I let you apologise for doing the same thing I did to you.”

Amongst his relief, Azriel felt his chest pulse in adoration, a smile forming on his lips. Twisted back on the table, your hands mending along his wings, the thing he’d wanted for — had spent so many years envisioning — finally finding him. He would not have it any other way.

“I’ve waited for you for five hundred years.” He croaked.

Your eyes widened a fraction and you blinked owlishly at him for a moment as his words sunk in.

“Well,” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly. Azriel could feel the nervousness radiating off you in waves. “I hope after that all that waiting it wasn’t too underwhelming—”

“It wasn’t.” He interrupted. “It isn’t. You’re…”

It was an effort to restraint himself — to not be too much, too soon.

“Despite the knots we both seemed to tie ourselves in,” He huffed a silent laugh, melting as you relaxed too. “Please believe me when I say I would not have it anything other way.”

You glowed, a sweet emotion singing from you so loudly that Azriel couldn’t not feel it. You hadn’t accepted the bond yet and still… he could feel the strong emotions as they rippled through you. Joy. He was so happy that it was joy, more than anything else. His shadows seemed to be split between the two of you, protecting you as much as they did himself.

Then suddenly, your eyes widened again, as if another thought had occurred to you.

“Wait a minute, five hundred years?” You repeated his words back to him with an air of disbelief. “You’re an old man!”

His laugh escaped him before he could capture it, entranced at your delightful quick wit. Your eyes were bright, your pretty mouth pulled into your smile.

The ache in his wings had dulled almost completely and Azriel absentmindedly noticed you had managed to heal up the majority of his wounds during your conversation. They fluttered appreciatively and your eyes darted back down to them.

“Is that to be a problem?” He teased lightly.

Your obvious flustering pooled off you, sliding down along the bond even as he felt you desperately trying to curb it. Even then, you couldn’t resist another glimpse at his toned back.

He certainly didn’t look like an old man— not with the taut tan muscles of his back, his large biceps, nor his handsome young face. His hazel eyes watched playfully as you allowed yourself one long look over him.

“Nope,” you said decisively, pressing down your grin. You held your hands up defensively, as if it would aid your point. “No problems here.”

Your footsteps were light as you rounded the table to face him from the front, your healing job completed. For a quiet moment, Azriel could only stare — holding his breath, waiting.

He schooled away any thoughts of how much it would hurt to part from you, now that he had finally found you, and spoke again.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” He said, hazel eyes fixed on your own. He made sure his emotions were unwavering, that you would not feel swayed to spare his feelings. A shadow skittered across your shoulder.

“I want you to be sure. I would never want you to feel as though you had no choice. We— I can wait, I have waited years for you, I can—”

His words were smothered in his own breathy gasp as you reached out, one finger trailing across the peak of his wing. Something like pure desire shot down his spine and he did everything in his power to hold in his growl.

“Something told me that would get you to stop talking.” You said, with a hint of teasing.

A seriousness flicked across your face, settling into your expression as you took in the male before you, your mate — and you could feel his want, the enormity of his yearning trickling down the bond— and yet, you knew that he would walk away from it in a second if you asked him to.

You had no intention of doing any such thing.

“While you may have me beat on the waiting,” You said softly. It didn’t feel right when you’ve only just met him to reach out, but the urge swims within you anyways.

You reached out to touch his face, your hand as soft and warm as a sunbeam on his skin.

“I do not wish to extend that waiting for any longer, my mate.”

Your words had an instant effect, a shudder that passed across his face, eyes fluttering, the flick of his wings spreading out and forwards, as though reaching for you. You kept your hand steady.

Azriel allowed himself to lean into your touch. Allowed every feeling to flow down the warm tug in his chest, over the bridge that kept him inexplicably connected to you — overwhelming bouts of relief, of love, all of it unrestrained. And he could feel you on the other end, meeting it all with the softest, kindest assurance.

“Can…” He murmured, nearly embarrassed. He would have been if you were looking at him any way other than completely adored. His shadows had finally slowed, soft caressing motions along your shoulders and neck. He dared to ask. “Would you say it once more?”

You smiled, brighter than the sun and softer than moonlight, unable to resist your temptation to get nearer to him. You inched closer, letting yourself breathe in the scent of him greedily, knowing he was doing the same. Both of you desperate to memorise each other, despite knowing you had forever to come.

Your nose brushed his and you nuzzled against it gently, eyes sliding closed. Azriel released a shaky breath, his scarred hands clenching tightly in his lap, terribly overwhelmed in a way he’d never been before. If you had peeked over his shoulder, you might have seen the slight quiver in his wings.

“Azriel,” you whispered. “My mate.”

The shadows around both of you suddenly laid down very still, as if they had encountered a feeling within their master that had not yet before; a calming tranquility. The moment lingered as you let your words sink in, watching his closed eyes. You let yourself steal this moment with him.

“Though,” you pulled back from him, watching his hazel eyes open again. The shadows around him picked up, lazily flitting around. “If you want to get all cleaned up before dinner, you best head home soon.”

“Dinner.” Azriel repeated, the smallest scrunch between his eyes.

You stepped back from him, smoothing your hands down your front almost nervously— but no, it was closer to excitement, he realised.

“Dinner, yes.” Azriel said, catching on, his wings flaring out for just a moment. You grinned, endeared entirely by all his little tells despite his apparently stony demeanour. You could see him beneath it, the soft kind Male that the Mother had made for you.

“It would be an honour.” He added seriously, finally getting to his feet, preparing to leave. You ached at the thought — but more of you preened, knowing you would see him not long after. His seriousness made you laugh.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda intense?”

Azriel smiled, his shadows moving more deftly now. “And yet, never has it sounded so sweet as it does coming from you.”

You flushed and it was made entirely worse by the chuckle you felt down his end of the bond. You jabbed him in the shoulder, a bit miffed when he didn’t sway in the slightest.

“Alright, no more mud on my floors.” You ordered, faux serious as you pointed to the door. “I will see you later tonight.”

“Promise?” He asked, once more to check— but mostly to see that elated grin he was already falling in love with.

“I swear on my mate." You promised back, delighted when he grinned — properly, teeth and all — and you stole one final glance at your forever as he disappeared out the door.

part two here

#hi! if you're reading this i'm new here! :D #well #i read these books awhile ago but... new to writing... for azzy baby <3 #so feel free to tell what you think (unless you think it suckssss then keep that one quiet ples)#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic

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utterlyotterlyx · 5 months ago

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A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part One

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - angst, mentions of war, tension, fluff, touch of sadness and longing

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

Rain spattered against the ledge, the open window allowing the tears of the sky to coat the black glossed paint with their sadness. Azriel watched them inquisitively, noting how each droplet fell further into the room than the last, his shadows pecked along the ground to dry the dampened spots and it was a welcome distraction from the conversation encircling the room.

The storm raged on overhead, cracks of lightening slicing across the sky every few moments, the clouds rumbling their anger throughout the city. A harmony to the idea of war.

There was no avoiding it. The war, that is. It had consumed Azriel's every thought as he played out every possible scenario in his mind, ones where they all made it out alive, and the ones where they all perished alongside Prythian. It was those visions that kept him up at night, flashes of Cassian's bloodied face lifeless against the earth, wings torn and soul withered, were enough to make him desperate enough to the point that he'd give anything to avoid it.

Azriel ran his marred hands over the curve of his leathers, soothing down each muscle and drifting over every glowering siphon attached to his body, doing his best to pull himself from the images that plagued his waking moments and sleepless nights.

If Rhys were speaking then Azriel would have been listening, but, surprisingly, he wasn't. Rhys stared dead ahead, nails digging into his nails beds and jaw clenching along with the reeling thoughts plaguing his own mind, staring right ahead at the corner of the table placed in the centre of the seating area at the River House. Azriel wasn't the only one who noticed, Amren had halted her words to slice through his train his thought, "Are you going to say anything?"

Rhys' gaze pulled from its formerly trained spot at the table edge toward his second in command, and it was clear that there was something he wasn't sharing with his family. His eyes drifted about the room, landing on each one of them in turn before they landed on Feyre and wavered slightly. Azriel couldn't blame his brother for his fear, he had finally gotten everything he had ever wanted after all the horrors he had endured, and now that picture perfect life was being threatened.

But something still wasn't right. Rhys was too consumed in his mind to pay any real attention to what Amren was saying, what plans were being spoken of, and that wasn't like Rhys. It wasn't like Rhys at all to blatantly ignore words spoken that could aid them in their collective efforts against Hybern. Azriel couldn't exactly be too picky about it though, considering he too was ignoring the firedrake fumbling plans into fruition, also too consumed by his own demons.

"The High Lords will be convening in three days time," his words were tense, his eyes burning, "Give me one night to think. We can start on this tomorrow," Rhys ran his hand over his face and leaned back in his chair, inhaling deeply and pinching the bridge of his now.

"The future of this continent, your home, is threatened, and you wish to speak of this tomorrow?" Amren scoffed, her silver eyes dancing under the faelight in warning.

Rhys rose from his seat, having had enough of the incessant drawls of war and death and offered Feyre his hand, a hand that she took willingly and stood at his side, fingers wrapped around his forearm and body drifting beside him, "Yes, I do. I cannot think when this is all you're speaking of, Amren. I am High Lord, and I need to think about how to spare my family and my people from this."

Instead of retorting in a way only she could, Amren contained her fury and buried it deep within her core, "Fine." Amren almost spat at his feet, but he paid no mind to it, he didn’t have the energy to go head-to-head with Amren that night, not when there was a much more pressing matter to attend to.

So, Rhys took Feyre to bed, and made sure that she was sound asleep before removing himself from her embrace. He threw an onyx silken shirt over his body but didn’t bother strewing up any of the buttons, content in allowing the night air to glide across his skin, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to able to appreciate its touch.

The High Lord of Night paced through the River House swiftly, not wanting to disturb any member of his family or alert them to his movements, and as soon as he stood on an ornately stunning balcony, the same he had stood on with Feyre that night on Starfall, did he unfurl his glorious wings and take to the skies, determined to reach the place that he hadn’t visited in over 200 years. A pool of starlight lay within a small valley within the mountains, not too far from the cabin but recluse enough for no one to be able to find it unless they knew that it lay there.

It had been too long since he had been there, but the all too familiar aura curled around him like a lost hound and pulled him down to it. The pool twinkled in greeting, reflecting the endless wonder of the sky above, and Rhys then remembered just how small it was, and just how long it had been since he peered into it or drifted his fingers along its rippling surface.

None other than he knew of what it truly was - not even his mate- it was a thin veil between worlds, a veil he used to send messages through often in hope that they’d find the one intended for, and he would wait for hours at a time for a whisper of a response. One time he had waited an entire day, desperate to hear her voice on the wind, hauntingly mesmerising like a siren to a sea captain, replying to his message with her usual level of warmth and understanding.

Then one day he just stopped visiting the place, the weight of her void had become too much to bear, too much that he had made the selfish decision to try and move on, to live his life in anyway that he could. Part of Rhys thought that she would have commended him for it, that she would have understood and that she was somewhere and knew of his strength, pain, and success of finding his mate.

But it had been so long. Rhys wasn’t sure if the pool was being monitored from her end, and he was terrified that his plea would fall upon deaf ears. But she was the only one who could help them, the only one powerful enough to give them any real chance of surviving. That power was the reason she had been sent away in the first place.

Rhys fell to his knees at the bank of the water, the contact of his markings without their twin flames in the snow causing the pool to ripple and hum with eons old yearning, and the stars within it began to glow, eager and ready to pull his words from his lips and sail them through the veil. He lowered himself to the surface, his face reflecting in the water showing him just how exhausted he had appeared, and the pool knew it, it knew of his desperation and rippled in a way that Rhys was sure it would split open at any given moment.

But, the water settled and shuddered, the gate between him and the one he thought of often still firmly in place.

"I'm sorry that it's been so long," he began, not knowing what to say to soften the blow but wanting to believe that she wasn't angry at him for it, and hoping that she too was thriving wherever her feet carried her. "If it means anything, I have missed you, and not a day has passed where I haven't thought of you," he fiddled with his fingers, his breath sending gentle wisps of steam rising into the air, "I found my mate. You'd like her, I think. She's my High Lady now, things have certainly changed."

"We are going to war. The Cauldron is in the grasp of our enemy and it threatens to devour the continent as we know it, and I fear that none of us with survive the destruction. I suppose I just wanted to speak to you, to say that I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long, and to let you know that I love you despite our distance. I may not survive what's to come, but I just wanted you to know that, and if there's any way you could come and save my ass then that would be greatly appreciated," he spoke the last words with a soft chuckle.

Rhys often thought of what she looked like, she had been only a girl when she was sent away, thrust through a portal with no way of knowing how to get back if she wished it. The day he heard her whisper through the pool had been the best day of his life, and on some level, he knew it still was in a sense. In those days, Rhys knew that she was alive, she may have been struggling but at least her heart was still beating and soul was raining havoc.

He wasn't sure of what he was expecting, he knew the chances of a reply were slim to nothing, but his heart still sank when the pool rippled with intoxicating silence.

Rhys waited another hour at least, but when the stars within the pool began to dim, he knew that it was time to leave. He rose to his feet, his soul solemn and heavy, and he couldn't bring himself to glance backward at the water as he ascended to the skies.

It was a pity really, for if he had turned around for but a moment, he would have seen the pool sparkle to life.

Azriel was curious.

It wasn't often that he found Rhys to be hiding something from him, or any of them for that matter. It was the beauty of their shared family, they knew all of the worst things about one another, from actions to thoughts, and nothing was counted as being too ferocious to accept.

But Azriel knew that Rhys was hiding something, his High Lord had been on edge from the moment he had returned to the River House after sneaking out that night, under the impression that no one had known of his time away. But Azriel knew everything, every single move was accounted for thanks to his shadows and his own keen hearing.

The Shadowsinger had merely thought that Rhys needed a moment to himself to think, but as the time stretched on, it seemed that Rhys was on a mission of sorts, and Azriel's suspicions became clear when he saw his brother the next morning, hair askew and eyes occasionally flickering through the window to a certain spot against the mountain face.

Rhys had worn the same expression for three days, not even Feyre could get him to talk to her about what it was that had him so concerned. But Azriel couldn't miss the longing in his eyes each time he passed by the window, like he was expecting someone to float up to the glass pane and solve all of their problems.

The day had come to meet with the High Lords, and the location had been set at the Dawn Court Palace, Thesan had always been the perfect mediator, besides, Cassian had been banned from Summer which automatically ruled that location from the list.

To Azriel's understanding, Rhys hadn't uttered a single word to anyone all morning, not even a single scold toward Cassian and Mor for their incessant bickering. It was worrying Feyre, Azriel noticed, he saw the emotion sketched into her furrowed brow each time she would try and speak to her mate to only be ignored. It seemed as though only Azriel and Feyre, and perhaps Amren, had noticed it.

The silence continued all the way to the Dawn Court, and Rhys' brooding only lightened when Helion appeared after his lacklustre greeting to Kallias and Viviane, spurring Rhys to remember the reason why they were there, what they had to do in order to give Prythian a fighting chance against Hybern and the Cauldron.

Helion jerked his chin toward Feyre, asking, "Does Tamlin know what she is?"

Rhys, his sadness wavering for a moment as they stood before the doors to the meeting chamber, spoke, "If you mean beautiful and clever, then yes - I think he does."

Azriel watched Helion closely, taking a tentative step toward his High Lord and Lady as the High Lord of Day sent Rhys a unimpressed flat glare, "Does he know that she is your mate, and High Lady?"

Ignoring Viviane's squeal, Rhys answered, picking a loose thread from his jacket and allowing it to float to the ground, "If he arrives then I suppose we will find out."

"I always liked you, Rhysand," Helion said after a lethally dark chuckle, knowing just how powerful he was in comparison to Rhys' brothers; he rolled his shoulders and glanced to Nesta, his gaze lingering whilst he enquired of who she was.

"She is my sister," Azriel didn't miss the muffled flinch that sliced across Rhys' face, "She will tell her story when the others are here."

Skittering steps against the pale golden stone pulled the attention of the Inner Circle toward Thesan who was surrounded by his highly alert Peregryns, beings who seemed a little too on edge.

"I hate to interrupt," Thesan drawled with wary eyes before they landed on Rhys, "But there is a woman I have never seen before in the meeting chamber, she says that you sent for her."

No one could miss how Rhys' entire body language changed from lax to urgent, his posture straightening and eyes boring into the doors of the chamber as though he could see through them; his breathing quickened, and it became apparent that whoever the woman was had been the cause of his ire for the last three days.

Begrudgingly, Rhys followed Thesan's order to wait for the others, Tarquin seemed less than pleased to be stood before Rhys, and it wasn't long until Beron and Eris rounded the corner of the corridor, sneering and spitting their horrid words, sending warning glares to Cassian and Azriel in particular for the scuffle between the two courts over the now High Lady of the Night Court and Lucien Vanserra.

Opening the doors, the woman lounging in the chair facing their entrance was not the person Rhys had been longing to see, Azriel deduced that much from the instant droop of his shoulders before he fully even saw her face. She sat in one of the deep rooted chairs, legs strewn over the arm and a dagger pricking into each one of her fingers, not hard enough to break the skin.

She was glad in a green dress that extenuated her long legs and her utterly wild scent had enveloped the room, a scent of lemon verbena and crackling embers, her blonde hair was well tamed and pinned backward in a loose yet luxurious ensemble, and power poured off of her in searing waves.

"And who exactly are you?"

A grin formed on her lips at the defensive question directed her way by Helion, and she rolled her eyes incredulously in response, sliding her legs from the arm and propping her elbows upon them, "Is that any way to greet a guest?" The tip of her dagger scratched into the wood of her seat, a curved and lethal weapon not of Prythian, "They really don't have any manners," she spoke loudly, directing the comment elsewhere.

Large hands clasped around the back of her seat and a flash of white hair reflected against the dying sunlight, "She did tell us that they were going to be apprehensive of us, Fireheart." The woman hummed, seemingly unphased by who she was trapped in a room with, anyone else would have been quaking in their boots at the knowledge of it.

"I didn't think she was being serious-"

"You haven't answered the question. Tell us who you are and why you're here, or-"

"Or what?" The woman's gold ringed eyes glistened, hungry and bristling with a flame Rhys, nor any of them, had ever witnessed. She rose from the seat, "You'll hurt us? I'd like to see you try."

Azriel stuck to Feyre and Rhys, sizing up the male with the tattoos in an ancient language littered down the side of his face, and that only seemed to make the male smirk, "Don't think about it. You wouldn't last a minute."

Tension simmered in the chamber, the High Lords of Prythian bar one faced the two strangers who looked much like them but were different in every single way imaginable.

Only when a click of heels entered the room followed by an exasperated sigh, did the two strangers grin, their offensive stance dissipating before Rhys' very eyes as they turned to make room for another.

"You'll come to rather enjoy Aelin's wit," a voice as mesmerising as the crashing summer waves called into the simmering silence, a voice so perfect that it had Rhys almost whimpering in disbelief as he took a step forward. Another woman appeared adorning a playful smirk, "And the vein in Rowan's forehead."

Azriel studied her, even his shadows couldn't stop themselves from peeking over his shoulders at the sound of her melodic voice, one so calming that it had them dancing toward it. She was by far one of the most incredible creatures Azriel had ever seen, dressed in an impeccable midnight blue gown that exposed her taut legs, allowing Azriel to see the two markings delicately placed below her knees, the twins to Rhys' own. Her hair was as dark as the night and swaying with each step, eyes as violet as the summer horizon that were lovingly teasing her companions, and she moved with a grace Azriel had never encountered in all of his years. A crown composed of onyx stone flowers and jewels curled around her head and glittered in the slowly decaying light, it was delicate and rested just over her ears, keeping her skin free from the imprint of it.

But it wasn't the crown nor the dress that had really stolen Azriel's eye, no, it was the pristine pair of feathered wings that were tucked neatly behind her back, not wings of an Illyrian, but wings of some form of angel Azriel presumed. They resembled the night sky, black and speckled with silver, and the longer Azriel focused on them, the more he struggled to believe that they weren't enriched feathers of pure starlight.

Rhys loosened a breath of disbelief, and his bottom lip quaked softly as he took her in, eyes trailing up her form and resting on her face, not believing who was stood before him but thanking the Mother all the same, "You came."

With her dress swaying in the breeze infiltrating the room from the open arches of the chamber, she faced Rhys and smiled sadly, taking a moment to drink him in just as he had with her before she answered, "You called."

"I didn't think you heard me," he took another step toward the curve of the pool, slowly but surely closing the gap between them, "You've grown."

"I've always heard you," their features were so strikingly similar, and Azriel was grasping onto any memory or mention of the female before his eyes, "And, if I hadn't have grown in over 500 years I'd be quite concerned."

Rhys laughed, throwing his head back and lips stretching into a smile of pure bliss, he didn't stop his steps this time, no, he allowed his feet to carry him all the way to her and bundled her up in his embrace, inhaling the scent of her deeply into his lungs "Hello sister."

Sister.

The two strangers, Aelin and Rowan, took a step back, serene smiles on their faces as they watched, seemingly understanding what it meant for the Rhys and the female, "Hello you," she replied, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly, "Someone mentioned that you have a mate now?"

Rhys pulled backward and sent her a look of wonderment, "I do. Feyre, darling? Would you?" He extended an arm out to her and Feyre wasted no time in joining him, "This is y/n. My sister."

"Well, half-sister, but we don't take notice of the specifics," she grinned at Rhys and softly nudged him, "It's an honour to meet you, Feyre Cursebreaker."

"How do you-"

She waved her hand dismissively, "I know many things."

"It's true, it's extremely annoying," Aelin spoke flatly nestled under Rowan's arm, the fire in her eyes softening.

Glancing about, Azriel became completely aware of just how much the beauty of y/n had captured the attention of all within the room, from the hue of her skin to the glossy black of her hair, from the curve of her jaw to the strikingly vibrant eyes that had stolen Azriel's breath from the moment the light had hit them.

She was undeniably Rhys' sister, but Azriel was sure that Rhys had only ever had one, and she died years ago.

"I'm sorry, but how?" Cassian couldn't help but ask, drawing the attention of everyone to him, he glanced to Azriel who shrugged, confirming that he knew nothing of the female before their very eyes.

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes dimming slightly and promised, "My," she looked to Rhys for a moment, "Our story-" her gaze returned to Cassian, but not before gently floating over Azriel and widening slightly, "-is one for a different day. Prythian is in danger and you need help, I'm here to provide it."

"What about us?"

"One more word Aelin and I'll send you back home, I'm sure Aedion would love to take your place."

Aelin gasped, "You don't mean that."

"Try me. See where you land this time round."

Aelin grimaced, recounting the time y/n had shoved her through one of her fancy test portals to only land in the foulest smelling swamp she had ever experienced. She kept her lips sealed and moved to the seat where she had been sat minutes before with a forced smile, prompting the rest of the occupants of the chamber to do the same.

The Shadowsinger moved with the rest of the Inner Circle, finding his place beside his High Lord and Lady, which was just a stones throw away from y/n, and he found himself completely lost in the scent of a brewing storm, his shadows unwinding from his body as it flooded his lungs and fighting through invisible storm clouds in order to brush against her for even a moment, to taste her skin and shudder at the power laced within it.

Crossing her leg over the other, Azriel watched y/n recline into the comfort of the seat, doing his best to not make his awe so obvious whilst she took a moment to gaze upon every person in the room, her eye lingering on a certain Autumn heir with a level of intrigue before she spoke with a feline grin, "So, you're all on the verge of death. Tell me more."

Author's Note

Trying a different writing style with this one - let me know what you think x

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dreamescapeswriting · 5 months ago

Text

Stray Kids Reaction || Your Child Says Something Inappropriate

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

Chan had been looking forward to the weekend barbecue for weeks, you had gone all out on planning it together and even made sure all of the kids were entertained so the adults could relax. You wanted it to be perfect for him since it was a rare chance to hang out with his best friends, eat some good food, and catch up on life.

"You okay?" You whisper to Chan as you place a soft kiss on his cheek, his hands busy as he attempts to set up the grill. Your six-year-old son, Rhys, was running around with the other kids, a bundle of energy and curiosity.

"Perfect, everything is perfect." He breathed out, kissing your cheek quickly. Chan flipped the burgers and turned to Changbin, who was recounting a hilarious story from their trainee days.

"Remember when you snuck all that food back to the dorms in your pants?!" Changbin laughed and you started to giggle, watching as Rhys came pouncing over to you.

"Hey, Dad!" Rhy's voice rang out, cutting through the noise. Chan turned to look at his son and couldn't help but smile at him.

"Yeah, buddy?" Chan called back, expecting another excited observation about the bugs he’d found or the cool fort he and the other kids had built, or even about the rocks he now had a growing collection over in his bedroom. Rhy's eyes were wide, and he wore a proud grin.

"I told my friends what you said about Uncle Hyunjin's car!" he announced. You and Chan stared at each other, your eyes widened as you felt your stomach drop, you already knew that Chan was flipping through his mind to figure out what he'd said.

"You said it's a piece of shit and should have been scrapped years ago!" The whole garden went silent as Hyunjin started to laugh a little, ruffling Rhys' hair with his hand and smirking over at Chan.

"I've said worse about the heap of junk, don't worry about it." By now Chan was burning a bright red colour and it wasn't because of the barbecue below him.

"Me and you are going to talk about bad words," You told Rhys sternly, taking him into the house.

MINHO:

Minho and the boys were gathered in the living room, the aroma of pizza and wings mingling with the sound of laughter and the latest action movie playing on the TV. It was their monthly guys' night, a tradition they had maintained since Minho had moved in with you, it was the same night you would spend with your own friends. Cassian - your youngest son of seven years wandered into the room, his curiosity piqued by the laughter and commotion. The boys each greeted him and Chan reached out to ruffle the young ones' hair,

"Hey, buddy, you want a slice of pizza?" Jisung offered, pushing the box close to him but Cassian shook his head, his eyes twinkling as he glanced over at Minho. Minho smirked back at him and nodded his head,

"Actually, guys," Cassian began, glancing at his dad for a moment before turning back to the seven men who were now watching him, expecting to hear a story about his day,

"my dad says none of you has any idea how to pick a good movie." The room fell silent for a split second and then erupted in laughter. Changbin feigned a hurt expression, clutching his chest and grunting loudly as he laid back in the chair.

"Oh, really? Your dad thinks he knows better, huh?" Minho leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk as Cassian got onto the seat beside his dad and ate a slice of pizza with a giant grin on his face.

"Hey, don't blame me. The kid has a mind of his own." He smirks, high-fiving Cassian, Felix grinned, pointing at Minh.

"Yeah, right. We all know where he gets that from." The room burst into laughter as they started to debate what movie was better, none of them ever settling on something they could all agree on.

CHANGBIN:

"Who's idea was this?" You groaned feeling the sun practically melting your skin as you lay in the shade. For some reason the boys had thought it would be a good idea to head to the beach, bringing their kids and your own to have a barbeque,

"I believe it was Changbins," Minho smirked as he turned to your husband at the grill. You were about to say something when Lily - your five-year-old - started yelling for you both to look over at her

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!” she exclaimed, pointing down at a small sandcastle, with a flag on it. Your heart beamed as you watched how proud she was

“That’s awesome, sweetheart! You’re really good at this.” Changbin chuckled, Lily practically beamed at the praise and you turned to look back at the others.

"NOOOOO!" The cry practically screamed out of your daughter as you turned around to see the sandcastle now crumpled into the sand,

"Piece of fucking-" She yells and you drop your bottle of water, too stunned to even talk. Changbin's eyes widened, and he shot up, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“Lily! Where did you hear that word?” He panicked, kneeling down in front of his daughter as you nervously looked at the others. But Lily looked confused and a little scared by her dad’s reaction.

“From you, Daddy. You said it when you were talking to Uncle Hyunjin last time.” Changbin started groaning as he shook his head for being so careless when it came to throwing words like that around,

“Oh, uh, did I?” he stammered looking at you as you practically glared at him, silently letting him know he was in trouble later.

“Well, that’s not a nice word, Lily. We shouldn’t say that, okay?” Lily nodded and Changbin let her go,

“Okay, Daddy. I’m sorry.” She whispers, kissing his cheek softly as he smiles, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her,

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Just remember, some words aren’t for little kids, okay?” She nods before running back over to the sand and starting to work on another sandcastle.

"I'm in trouble later, right?" Changbin asked as he leaned down to give you a kiss.

"Very much so," You smirk, kissing him again before sending him back to work.

HYUNJIN:

Hyunjin had been looking forward to this for months, ever since it had been announced that he could bring his son in to work he'd been planning what the two of them were going to do all day. Everyone was pretty excited to see Jamie in the work place, he was Hyunjin's youngest son and full of energy all of the time.

“Hey, Jamie,” Changbin called out, wrapping his arms around Jamie and picking him up.

"Wanna see what we've been working on?" He wriggles his eyebrows as the two of them walked into Changbin's studio and sat down at a huge desk. Jamie had always loved watching the boys work, even told you he wanted to be "just like daddy" when he got older and even did the dances...well, attempted to.

Hyunjin walked into the room as he watched Jamie, a huge headset on his head as he listened to the son, even pushing some buttons despite them doing nothing.

"God I love him, he's so curious.” Changbin bellowed out, looking as Jamie pushed the volume up before pulling the headphones off.

“Thanks, Binnie. He’s been looking forward to this all week.” Hyunjin chuckles, but as the room turns calm, Jamie suddenly questions,

“Dad, why does everyone say ‘work is a pain in the ass’?” Hyunjin grunted as he realised he must have heard what he'd said the night before to you,

"This is easy!" Jamie yells making everyone chuckle, Changbin had officially lost it and was laughing into his hands while Hyunjin groaned and walked closer to him to lecture him on bad words.

JISUNG:

"You're basically being forced against your will," Jeongin laughs as he, Jisung and Seungmin all walk into the mall, exchanging a look with each other but their eyes landed on Jisung's daughter. She was clutching his hand tightly and giggled

"Whatever my princess wants, she shall get." Jisung laughed looking down at Emma who was buzzing with excitement.

“Ready to shop, kiddo?” He asked, smiling down at her as she jumped up and down on the spot, her eyes widened.

“Yeah, Dad!” Emma replied with a yell, the boys groaning as they followed the birthday girl.

They wandered through various stores, chatting and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere as Emma looked through all of the clothes for something she wanted. Jisung was in the middle of a conversation with Seungmin about the latest release they had coming out when they decided to check out a new gadget store. As they walked in, Emma tugged on Jisungs sleeve.

“Daddy, can we look at the toys?”

“Sure, sweetie,” He said, leading her towards the toy section and letting go of her hand. She rushed through the toys looking through all of them when suddenly, Emma’s voice rang out loudly and clearly, cutting through the hum of the store.

“Daddy, this toy is a piece of crap!” The world seemed to stand still as Jisung felt his stomach twist and his throat dry. Bending down to her level he looked at her nervously,

“Emma, where did you hear that word?” He panicked and Emma stared at him, confused as to why he looked so upset,

"Mummy said it last week," Jisung smirked to himself, knowing he was going to get to lecture you later

"Well, we'll have a very long talk with Mum about that later, but don't say it again,"

FELIX:

"This is a dumb idea," You mumbled to Felix as he watched the kids run around together, You were all having a picnic out in the sunshine today with all of the kids. Something you weren't sure was the best idea since the kids weren't getting along all that well. Just last week you'd have to split up a fight between Chan's son and yours,

"Everything is going fine," Felix whispered as he looked at you, he knew how anxious you were about it, but your thoughts were interrupted by your daughter yelling over at you both,

"Daddy, Daddy! Look what I found!" Penelope exclaimed, holding up a shiny rock. You and Felix beamed at her, your hands holding onto the rock as she placed it into your hand,

"That’s great, baby. It’s very pretty." You giggled as Penelope smiled hugely at you, but just as quickly as the smile appeared it disappeared,

"Rhys said that the rocks are shit," The rocks slipped from your hands and onto the blankets at the mention of her brother's name followed by a curse.

"Penelope!" Felix yells softly, bringing her into his arms as he starts to beg her not to say it again. The boys all hide their smirks as you go to find Rhys and give him the same lecture.

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin and Felix were babysitting tonight, well, Seungmin was looking after his own child and Felix was babysitting, Seungmin was running around like a headless chicken trying to clean as quickly as possible before you came home.

"Hey, Ben," Felix called out,

"Which superhero is your favourite?" He chuckled, Seungmin thanked him for distracting him long enough while Seungmin cleaned the paint from the floor, scrubbing as hard as he could to lift the stains. Ben looked up with a serious expression, holding up his toy.

"This one! Captain Marvel!" Felix grinned, pulling the toy and showing it off proudly.

"Great choice! Captain Marvel is awesome." Seungmin smiled, watching his son interact with his friend, each of the boys was like an uncle to him but Ben was always closer to Felix than anybody else.

Suddenly, Ben's action figure slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. Without missing a beat, Ben blurted out,

"Fuck it!" The room went silent. Seugmins eyes widened in shock and he stopped scrubbing the floor and he felt his face flush. Felix winced, hearing the word fall so carefully from the little boy's lips.

"Where on earth did you hear that?"

"Dad said it yesterday when he dropped his phone," Ben said, clearly not understanding what was wrong with everyone in the room. Seungmin quickly got up and traded place with Felix who began to scrub the floor.

"Okay, buddy, but that's not a nice word to use. We should try to say 'oh no' or 'oops' instead, okay?" He looked at Ben who was now blushing and looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Okay, papa. I'm sorry." He nods his head, hugging him from the side,

"Now none of us will tell mum, right?" He asked both Ben and Felix - who was smirking from the floor.

"Promise." He winks making Ben laugh,

JEONGIN:

You knew this part was going to be a good idea the second your friends had invited you and you'd begged Jeongin to let the kids stay at home with a babysitter but he'd insisted on letting them come.

"Emily!" You yelled out for her to come and eat but she ran straight past you and after her cousin while giggling wildly. The fizzy drinks she'd consumed finally getting to her.

"Innie, go collect your daughter," You whine at him,

"She's your daughter too," He laughs, kissing your cheek before chasing after his daughter.

"Not when she's misbehaving," You grumble as Minho walks up to you, smirking as you glare at him.

"Aren't you glad you bought her?" He teased you lightly, but as you were about to come back with a comeback Emily's voice rang out, loud and clear, cutting through the pleasant chatter.

“Mommy says Uncle Minho's girlfriend drinks too much wine!” At that point you wanted the whole world to stop and eat you so you wouldn't have to deal with it. Minho's eyes darted over to you as Jeongin finally grabbed Emily and covered her mouth,

“Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?” You said, forcing a laugh as Minho chuckled deeply. But you were mortified, you hated that your words had been so easily spread.

"She's right," Minho's girlfriend laughs, nudging your arm softly to let you know it was all good between you both but it didn't stop you feeling shit.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie

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thehighladywrites · 1 year ago

Text

That's your mother, but she's my wife first…

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ pairing: cassian x fem!reader, the inner circle mentioned

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ summary: 18+ nsfw, mdni, light angst, stress, smut, fluff, praise, cassian channelling his inner general, reader being an absolute sweetheart who deserves everything good in life fr

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ amara’s note: okay so I don’t have any kids so some parts might be inaccurate but close your eyes please🤞🏽i have nothing else to say, i just wanna fuck cassian so bad rn...

Spilled milk, mismatched socks, wailing babies.

Gods, what you wouldn’t do for a moment of peace…

Your children were usually calm, even when they were tumbling down stairs and running into tables, but during your youngest twin kids teething phase, they developed an interest for chewing on anything. Their outburst put your two other kids in distress, making it a difficult period for everyone.

In your attempt to keep your twins safe, you unintentionally became the evil mother for denying them the joy of chewing on concrete bricks, their father’s important books and a million other dangerous things that a child simply shouldn’t be putting in their mouth.

They had been given enchanted teething toys made out of moonstone by their uncle Rhysand, but it didn’t keep them entertained at all. Safety was apparently too boring for them.

This morning was extra rough because Cassian had to leave early for a mission, leaving you with four kids. Although the two oldest ones, 7 and 12, could get themselves ready for the day, they still needed some help with some things. You were downright in a foul mood, feeling the weight of frustration and helplessness as the twins wailed and your oldest ones argued, all while trying to keep your emotions hidden.

“ You took the last pancake, Ves!” your son angrily sliced the remains of his food as your daughter, Vesna, looked at him with anger. “ I don’t care. I told you that I wanted it and you made no move for it, Therian. Blame yourself and be quicker next time.” she bickered back. They kept arguing about that stupid pancake as you picked your twins and moved to the rocking chair across the livingroom to sooth them. The kitchen seamlessly flowed into the living room, creating an open floor plan that allowed you to effortlessly monitor Vesna and Therian.

“ It’s okay, babies. There we go, hush now.” But it didn’t work, they kept screaming and you were at your breaking point. You felt like the worst mom ever as you looked up, took a deep breath and blinked back tears.

You almost yearned for Cassian's return, craving the comfort of your mate's presence amid the chaos. Yet, the nagging self-doubt held you back, hesitant to burden him with your distress and feeling a twinge of selfishness in the idea of asking him to cut short his mission. Despite the internal struggle, you chose to tough it out, convincing yourself that countless women had faced similar challenges, wondering if you could measure up to their strength.

Unbeknownst to you, you had been signaling Cassian with your feelings through the bond since this morning. He was already on his way back the moment your emotions reached him. He was just in time to hear your daughter’s frustration directed towards you, though none of you had felt his presence or heard him approach your home.

“Mom, you're seriously failing at shutting them up. It's not dragon taming to handle two kids, and it shouldn't be this painful for the rest of us. How about you take them outside and only come back when you've figured out how to keep them quiet? Because none of us can stand the noise.” You looked at her stunned as a million thoughts went through your head. Guilt, anger and self-doubt took root inside you.

Guilt, because was she right? Anger, because she shouldn’t have spoken to you like that ever. Self-doubt, because your fears and feelings about motherhood were spoken out loud.

Your first-born had a sour expression on her face that quickly fell before she looked down at her plate sheepishly. Maybe she felt regret? But what made her react like that instantly? Your daughter could be hotheaded and it usually took her a few hours to calm down, but not this quick.

Looking at where she removed her eyes from, you look and see your husband, body tense and wings tucked in tightly. You felt immediate comfort and wanted to throw yourself in his arms and fucking cry. How you had missed him this much in only a few hours was a mystery.

His boots thudded heavily against the wooden floors as he approached your embarrassed daughter. “Look at me,” was all he needed to say before Vesna reluctantly lifted her head. She knew he was going to chew her out. He clenched his jaw in anger as he looked down at her. “Your lack of empathy for what your mother is dealing with right now is astounding. Instead of criticizing, maybe you should try contributing to the solution. We're a family, and we handle things together, not by throwing blame around. She's your mother, but remember that she's my mate and wife first, and no one speaks to my mate and wife with disrespect ever, not even you. Now go ahead and apologize to her.”

Your husband, ever the general.

With teary eyes, realizing the gravity of her words, Vesna approached you. “Hey, Mommy,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. She hadn’t called you mommy in forever. “I... I shouldn't have said those things. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. I know it must be difficult and my anger took over. I really love you and I’m sorry.”

You were a bit surprised by the apology and softened your expression before replying, “It's okay, sweetheart. We all have our moments. Just remember, we're a team, and we need to support each other.” She nodded, still feeling a bit guilty, and said, “I'll try to do better. Can I help you with anything now?”

A genuine smile appeared on your face as your replied, “That would be wonderful. Let's work together to make things smoother for everyone. How about you start clearing the table and Therian picks up things from the floor.” She nodded and gave you a small kiss on the cheek before hurriedly making her way back to the kitchen table. Cassian gave her a kiss on the head and gave her a proud smile. “I’m glad you apologized, and it takes courage to admit when we’re wrong. Let’s move forward now. Your willingness to help now means a lot. Thank you.”

Feeling the tension ease after the daughter's apology, your mate approached you. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “Hi pretty.” You look up at him with a thankful smile. “Hi lover.” He smiles right back at you. “I know it's been a rough day. I’m so proud of you, sugar. We'll get through this together. How about you go upstairs and soak in the tub while I take care of the kids.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, and wrapped his arms around the twins who had gone quiet.

Feeling reassured by Cassian’s comforting words, you smiled appreciatively. You gave him a tender kiss in thanks before scurrying upstairs, grateful for the support and unity he provided for your family.

As you undressed, a delightful surprise caught your eye – the tub was filled, and a slice of your favorite cake awaited you on a nearby table. Gratefully, you thanked The House for the steaming tub and the unexpected treat. Stepping in, you let the heat envelop you, soothing the tension in your muscles. Time seemed to blur as you relaxed in the warm water — minutes or hours, it was hard to keep track. Exhaustion gradually overcame you, and your eyelids grew heavy in the comforting embrace of the tub, a sweet slice of cake adding to the calmness of the moment.

Entering the room, Cassian caught sight of you in the steaming tub, content and relaxed. A mixture of emotions flooded over him – admiration and a deep love that seemed to intensify in this quiet scene. He approached silently, not wanting to disturb the serene moment. Gently, he reached out to stroke your hair, his eyes reflecting the warmth and affection he felt. In that intimate moment, a silent understanding passed between you, affirming that you’d never be alone ever. You’d be there for each other and it made your heart swell.

Curiosity lit up your eyes, you looked at your husband and asked, “Hey, where are the kids? Did you take care of them?”

A gentle smile played on his lips as he revealed, “Actually, Rhysie and Feyre picked them up. They thought we could use a quiet weekend, just the two of us. They’re taking Nyx, Ves and Theiran on a trip up the mountains but the twins are staying at the River House with Elain and Lucien. She made a special herbal blend that helps their gums, it’s all very Elain.”

Surprise and gratitude washed over you as you processed the thoughtful gesture. “That's so sweet of them, you remarked, a genuine smile forming. “A quiet day sounds perfect.” You exchanged a glance, appreciating the unexpected silence given by thoughtful friends.

“So, are we entirely alone for the entire weekend?” You attempted to conceal your smile as warmth surged in your belly upon meeting Cassian's gaze, only to discover him returning a heated look. “Indeed, sweetness. It's just you and me, alone. Whatever shall we do to pass the time?” His commanding, taunting voice always managed to drive you crazy. He had a charming voice that you could listen to forever. “I can think of a few ways…” you responded as you stood up, dripping wet. You beckoned him closer and deeply inhaled his delicious scent. He smelled like home. Throwing your arms around him, you inched your lips closer to his, teasing him, not letting him get close enough for a real kiss. He frowned and slightly pouted. “Either give a proper kiss or I walk away.” You knew it was a false threat. Cassian wouldn’t ever leave your embrace now that he was turned on.

But you decided to keep playing with him, wanting to see how far you could push him.

“Yeah? Walk away then, baby.” You let your arms drop to the side, slightly tilting your head with a small smirk on your lips. You felt a surge of amusement as you observed him, jaw tight and knuckles white from clenching, meeting your gaze with defiant determination. “Stop fucking with me, y/n/n. You want me as much as I do.” It was his turn to return a mocking smirk. “ What, you think I don’t know you by now? You think I don’t know that you wanna be fucked until you can’t think straight? Little one, I have years on you. I know your body better than you. I’ll ask again. Are you going to kiss me properly or do I walk away?”

Fucking hell. He really did know your body better than you since his words only fueled you on. While you enjoyed toying with him, it was time to throw in the towel. No way where you wasting any more time. With hands behind your back you looked up at him, doe-eyed and blushy. “I’ll give you a proper kiss, Cassie. Then please take me to bed.” He smiled down at you with a devilish smile, putting his hand on your hips as he pulled towards his warm chest. “ Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” With hands on his chest, you stood on your toes as water swished around your legs, putting your plush lips against his soft ones.

Careful, gentle, loving, comforting and really fucking hot.

That was all you could think of when you were kissing him. One of his warm hands roamed all over your body as his other one cupped your face, deepening the kiss. Your own hands stayed in one spot, your favorite place to put your hands. His chest. You absolutely loved touching his chest. Giving his pecs a light squeeze, resting against them, anything really. Centuries of honing his body into a weapon had made him look like a god.

You wanted to dry off and move to your bedroom, and as if Cassian had read your thoughts, he grabbed the towel without breaking the kiss and wrapped it around you. He simply picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moved to the bedroom before gently lowering you to the soft bed. Cassian caught your wrists and pinned them, crisscrossed, above your head while he settled between your legs, once again wrapping them around his waist. You kissed until your lips swelled and pulled away for air.

He forced your legs apart, hand cupping your pussy. You let out a gasp, quickly gripping onto his broad shoulders. Cassian carefully watched your face as it contorted into pleasure when he pushed in two fingers, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let out a moan.

“Feels good, wifey? ” Cassian asked as your nails dug into his shoulders, hips bucking into his touch. “ mhmm, yeah it feels really fucking good.” you managed to respond as you felt his fingers speed up, curling into that delicious spot that made you absolutely melt.

He wanted to be inside of you, fuck you and ruin you all over the sheets. “ It would feel a lot better if I had you wrapped around my cock.” He said, looking up at you through is his dark lashes, eyes full of mirth. You clenched around his fingers at the thought of him filling you up with his thick cock. It had been a while since you had been properly dicked down by him, since you two were busy with life and kids. Quickies, fingering and handjobs were all you had time for since the twins were born 6 months ago. As much as you loved your kids, you also loved alone time with your mate and it was rare these days. So of course you’d use this weekend to get fucked, and maybe that would help you relax a bit. Cassians cock had always been the answer for you.

Mad? Get dicked down. Sad? Get dicked down. Happy? Get dicked down.

Huh.

No wonder you had four kids…

You nodded eagerly at him, “ Please cassie, fill me up. I really need it.” He sat up, dumped his clothes on the floor and positioned his cock infront of your throbbing core, teasing a bit. He used his fingers to scissor you open a bit. When you felt even more slick under his touch he retracted his fingers and licked your wetness off of them. He smiled at around his fingers and said, “Delicious.” Your chuckle morphed seamlessly into a moan when he slammed his lenght into you.

He let out a sound of pleasure as he pushed himself into you. You clenched around his cock, you were so wet and slippery around him. He let out a pleased groan as he started giving you deep strokes. His pace quickened with the intention of finishing inside of you. He loved to make a mess of your pussy like that, fuck you full of his cum and watch it slowly drip out. Nothing made him more possessive than seeing his mate full of his cum. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me, I’m so proud of you, my beautiful girl.” He knew the exact words you needed today and it made you feel so emotional that he knew you this well.

You blushed. Pleasure crept up your spine once more. Your legs were starting to shake, sweat coated your back. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you as his strokes were getting faster and faster, his lips muffling your moans. He kept up the pace, feeling the pleasure flow through his body, bringing him closer to climax. He loved the feeling of you around him.

He was addicted to it. He was addicted to you.

You moaned and arched your back as he continued to fuck into you. You wanted to cum so badly, and as if Cassian once again read your mind, he said something that almost made you cry.

“ Don’t cum yet.”

He must have caught your annoyed stare because he looked down, sporting his usual grin, and said, “I want us to come together. You can handle that, right, pretty?” Your brows furrowed as you attempted to feign annoyance, though deep down, you weren't truly bothered at all.

No, no you weren’t mad at all because if he was adamant about you finishing together, then you’d do everything in your power to make it happen. You got closer to him, pressing a quick kiss before deepening it as your tounges swirled around each other before you pulled away, biting his lip. He let out a groan and it only spurred you on. You pulled out all your tricks, whispering downright filthy things in his ear. That seemed to do the trick. Cassian thrusted deeper and deeper, rubbing tight circles on your neglected clit before you came in unison.

You moaned at the feeling, warmth filled you as his pace started to slow down. Your mate collapsed on top of you and your put his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair. He remembered that he hadn’t pulled out yet but before he could you stopped him.

“ Please baby, don’t pull out yet. It feels really warm and good and I want you in me forever.”

You felt his chest rumble with a gentle laughter. “ Whatever you want, you shall have. You did so well, sugar. I love you.” You kissed his forehead and gave him praise back. “ Thank you, baby. I’m so happy you’re here, I love you too.”

Safe to say you fucked the whole weekend, everywhere, only taking breaks for food and occasional naps. But you also basked in the intimacy of having him. by yourself. Eating together, talking about everything between the heavens and earth, cracking jokes and just enjoying yourselves.

You and your mate, together for all eternity...

#talkswithamara #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #feyre x reader #lucien vanserra x reader

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bookwormjust · 1 month ago

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First breakfast at the House of Wind (established relationship with Azriel, an exorbitant amount of foods, embarrassment)

It was your first morning at the House of Wind, and as you stepped into the grand dining hall, the sheer abundance of food laid out before you was overwhelming. Plates piled high with all sorts of breakfast options—freshly baked bread, fruits of every color, eggs, bacon, pastries, and more—lined the long table. The smell of it all made your stomach rumble, but you hesitated, unsure if you were supposed to just start eating.

You stood awkwardly, taking in the impressive spread, your eyes darting from one dish to the next. Was it okay to touch everything? Should you wait for someone to tell you what to do? You’d never seen so much food before, especially all at once, and it felt almost… wrong to just help yourself.

You shifted on your feet, biting your lip, unsure where to even begin. The silence was filled only by the quiet sound of silverware clinking as someone—probably Rhys or Cassian—ate farther down the table. You glanced around the room, searching for Azriel, hoping he might guide you through the unfamiliar scene. You didn’t want to make any assumptions or overstep.

As if sensing your uncertainty through the bond, Azriel appeared from behind you, his presence immediately calming you. His warm hand gently rested on your lower back as he leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “What’s wrong, love?” he murmured, his voice soft, a hint of amusement in it.

You turned to him, feeling a bit sheepish. “I don’t know where to start,” you admitted with a small laugh, gesturing to the mountain of food before you. “There’s so much… I wasn’t sure if I should wait or… if I can just… take something.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, his lips quirking up in that subtle, reassuring way that always made you feel at ease. “This is all for you, for us,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to ask. Take whatever you like.”

His words eased the knot of uncertainty in your stomach, but you still felt a little overwhelmed by the options. “I don’t even know what to pick,” you confessed, your voice a little quieter. “I’ve never had so much choice before.”

Azriel smiled fully now, clearly enjoying your awe and hesitation. “Here,” he said, guiding you to the table. “Why don’t we start with something simple?”

He reached for a plate and began filling it with a bit of everything—some fresh berries, a slice of bread still warm from the oven, and a delicate pastry dusted with powdered sugar. His movements were calm and unhurried, his attention fully on making sure you felt comfortable.

“There’s no rush,” he reminded you, placing the plate in front of you before taking a seat beside you at the table. “If you want more, you can always come back for something else.”

You smiled gratefully, feeling much more at ease with his guidance. “Thanks,” you whispered, settling into your seat as well. You took a bite of the bread, and it practically melted in your mouth, the warmth and softness of it making you hum in approval.

Azriel watched you with a soft, affectionate expression, leaning back in his chair, his wings relaxed. “Better?” he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You nodded, feeling more at home now, the initial awkwardness fading as you shared this simple moment together. “Much better,” you said, smiling at him.

“Good,” he murmured, reaching out to brush his fingers across your hand. “Because I’m planning on spending every breakfast with you from now on.”

The warmth in his voice, in his touch, made you feel like everything was going to be just fine. Even in this grand, unfamiliar place, with all its overwhelming abundance, you knew you’d never feel out of place as long as Azriel was by your side.

#acotar reader imagine #spotify #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #SoundCloud

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azrielsdove · 1 year ago

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Cold Hearts Pt. 2

Warnings: Some graphic violence, angst

Pt. 1 Here | Pt. 3 Here

***

You cried until the sun set that night. You knew you hadn’t been that nice to the Shadowsinger, but you didn’t think you had given him such a poor impression. You never imagined that he would ever say anything to you like he did tonight.

The worst of it all was that he was right.

You were cold to everyone, never really letting anyone get that close. Feyre had gotten the closest, but you backed off as she started falling for Rhys, letting her work through her feelings.

Rhys. Your greatest friend. Even he had distanced himself from you, distracted with his beautiful High Lady. You couldn’t blame him, you knew he deserved a love like that. After all he had gone through, the least you could do was give him time with her.

Azriel had clocked your jealousy.

Yet it wasn’t in the way he thought. There was never anything romantic between you and Rhysand. He saved your life, and you were forever grateful to him. You were jealous in the same way you were jealous of Cassian and Nesta. Of Amren and Varian.

They had love.

Something you knew would never be yours. Not after what happened the last time you thought you found it. You felt the pain as if it had happened just yesterday, the trauma of it all still fresh.

You weren’t supposed to be out here. You were very aware of just how bad it would be for you if you got caught. You couldn’t help the draw to learn, though. You wanted to be strong, powerful, brave. You watched the Illyrian soldiers train all day in between your chores, amazed at how deadly they were. You wanted to be like them.

So you began sneaking off, late into the night. You would go to the edge of the wood, practicing the moves you had seen them do. For the first time in your life you felt in control. You felt like you could be more than a docile little Illyrian wife.

You had been lucky, your wings had not been cut. Your father wasn’t a kind man, but he didn’t think they should be cut unless there was reason. If you were trying to run away, or train….well. You made sure he would never know. You were very careful.

Then you met Gannon. He was dark and handsome. He was kind to you. You fell fast, and you fell hard. He told you he was going to ask your father to take you as his bride, and for the first time you saw yourself as the perfect Illyrian wife. With Gannon by your side, you thought you would live a happier life than most. He had never said anything about you still having your wings, allowing them to exist as you did.

You decided to trust him with your secret. You brought him into your little corner of the wood, showing the makeshift weapons and little training ring you had created over the last couple years. You turned to him with a broad smile, hopeful for his reaction. He had wrapped you in his arms and swung you around, laughing. “My little Illyrian soldier!” He had said, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

You were truly happy.

Or so you thought. A few nights had gone by since you showed Gannon your training area, and he had agreed to meet you tonight to help you further. You could hardly feign sleep, excitement bubbling in the tips of your toes. Once you were certain your parents were out for the night, you crept out of your house and ran to the wood. You burst into your training area, spotting Gannon right away. He opened his arms for you and you ran right into them, wrapping yours around him.

This was bliss.

Then you felt the blade, slicing up through the base of your exposed wings. You cried out, Gannon holding you to him tighter. “Hush now, my little Illyrian soldier.” He whispered, the words not nearly as sweet as they had been a few days prior. You heard a cold laugh from behind you, realizing you weren’t alone. The other male shoved a piece of leather into your mouth, muffling your screams as Gannon severed your wings.

He moved slowly. So, so slowly. You felt every millimeter of your wings rip away from you. You realized the other male with you was your father. “You were told only well behaved females got to keep their wings. It was a grace I had given you, out of the kindness of my heart. And you betrayed me. You disgraced this family, you undermined me.” His words were cruel, cold.

One wing dropped to the ground.

You screamed against the leather as Gannon began on the second one. “Did you really believe I would take a wife who thinks she knows better than me? Females do not train. You’re lucky i’m considering still taking you after this.” You were shaking in his arms, vision beginning to black out at the pain. You were ready to welcome the sweet release of unconsciousness when Gannons blade stilled. One cruel hand slipped up under your chin, pulling your face up to look at him. “No, you will stay with us for this. You deserve to feel the pain after what you have done.” You cried as his blade resumed the destruction of your remaining wing.

The second wing dropped to the ground.

You let the tears flow silently, your back aching where the wings used to be. You felt your father come up behind you and rip the back of your nightgown open, not caring that the fabric rubbed against the open wounds. You smelt the fire before you felt it, screaming in panic as you realized what was going to come.

He was going to burn the remaining pieces on your back.

The fire touched the already pain-filled nerves, your hands digging into Gannons chest. You forced yourself to look into his eyes, wondering why, why did he do this? You had loved him, you had trusted him, and he has ruined you. You screamed against the gag in agony, sobbing as the fire finished its job.

You were done for.

Your vision grew black again, your body failing in Gannons arms. No, you were on the ground now. He had dropped you. Your eyes were open, but you couldn’t see anything. You heard a shout from your left, the sound of fighting. You hoped whoever it was would do you a mercy and kill you.

You felt the darkness wrap around you. You prayed to the Mother that this was her gift to you, willing your heart to stop beating. Two strong arms picked you up, cradling you against a hard chest. You didn’t even have it to care who was holding you, didn’t even care if they were friend or foe. You just let yourself fade into that darkest night.

The memory had the tears streaming down your face harder than before. Rhysand was the one who found you that night. You’ve never asked what happened to your father and Gannon, and he never mentioned it again. Rhys brought you here, to Velaris. He called in his best healers and they tried to help the scarring as much as possible.

Their efforts were futile. You were left with a heavily scared back, the most prominent of which were two large ovals, dark on your skin. All that remained of your beautiful, perfect wings. A daily reminder of when you thought you had found love and happiness. You can admit that you have kept to yourself in your years here. You understood why Azriel would see you as so cold. Rhys has been the only one who could get you to trust him, and even that had been a long battle.

When he had been taken Under the Mountain, you felt the same despair you had the night you lost your wings. You were scared without him there. You knew Cassian and Azriel were good males, but you struggled to be around them. They reminded you too much of Gannon. When Azriel had approached you to offer to train, you wanted to decline. You wanted to slam the door in his face and lock yourself behind it.

You couldn’t do it though. Not to Rhys. You had heard the message, the same as everyone else. You knew it was important for you to be trained, to be able to help Velaris if it was ever needed. It was the least you could do for the city that kept you safe.

Training with Azriel proved to be rather enjoyable. You started to like the Shadowsinger, not that you would ever show him that. You knew it was best to keep your heart close, no one could hurt you that way. You began feeling strong again, powerful. Training with an Illyrian solider was much more beneficial than just training like one.

And then he had touched you. He put his hand on your back and you lost control of yourself. Panic had taken over your body, your mind. You barely even remembered what was said between the two of you. You had looked at Azriel and seen Gannon. You ran from the training ring that day, locking yourself in your room and falling apart. It was all too much.

You went to Cassian after that, asking him to train you. He thankfully asked no questions and agreed. You didn’t know what Rhys had told the others of you, if they knew what happened or not. They were all perfectly cordial, but you never stuck around to get to know them any better. Maybe it was time you did, time you started trying to be friendly again.

When Rhys came back from Under the Mountain you were the first one to him. You had held him so carefully, the same way he had held you the night he found you. He had cried that she was his mate, the Cursebreaker. That she was his mate and she loved another. You lead him carefully to his room, staying there with him that night. You let him cry and yell and talk when he wanted, treating him how he had treated you. You knew as well as he did that there was no cure for a shattered heart.

You were happy when you heard Rhys was bringing Feyre to Velaris. You weren’t happy about the why, but you knew she would be better off here with him. You grew close to Feyre rather quickly, even going so far as calling her a friend. You were quieter than the others, and you knew what it was like to be heavily traumatized. Although really, everyone knew that feeling at this point.

You thought back to what Azriel said in the library, his words spinning round and round your head. You have always acted like I disgust you, always glaring at my hands. You hadn’t realized the way you were looking at him. You felt a horrible shame creep up your spine, realizing you had become what you feared. You didn’t glare at his hands because they were ugly. You didn’t even know you were glaring at them. When you had first seen his hands, the scars all over them, you could only think of your own. The scarring on your back. How easy it was for you to hide them, how much harder it was for him.

You were scared of anyone looking at you the way you had been looking at Azriel. You felt a new wave of tears at the realization, guilt beginning to eat you alive. You decided in the morning you would go find him, when hopefully everything is calmer. You finally laid down and closed your eyes, falling into a restless sleep.

***

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE ON PT. 1!!!! And THANK YOU to that wonderful anon for submitting this idea!!!! I know this is a little short, but I had to end it there to make pt. 3 work! I am probably going to continue to write tonight, soon our dear reader and az will get to talk 👀. Please keep sending comments and requests in!!!!

Also, I live in Alaska so I work off AKDT timewise. I also have a toddler so some days may be slower than others depending on her mood!! Thank you all again, I truly appreciate every comment, reblog, and like more than you know <3

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader #cold hearts

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shadowdarlings · 7 months ago

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Blood Will Rain

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis : During the war with Hybern when all seems lost a surprising new/old face makes an appearance to turn the tide in Prythian’s favor. None other than Rhysand’s long lost sister who was believed to be dead. This revelation is shocking for the entire IC but none more than Azriel himself.

Pairings : AzrielxReader , ReaderxInnerCircle!Platonic , ReaderxRhysand!Siblings

A/N: part one? this is my very first fic EVER so let me know what you guys think! not very canon but i can’t get it out of my head.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Blood was everywhere. It soaked the muddy ground of the battlefield and clung to the air like a sickness. Azriel felt as though every heavy breath he heaved in was coating his throat in the thickness of blood. He couldn’t keep track of how many of Hybern’s soldiers he had cut down with his siphons and blade, but it didn’t matter. They were losing, and he knew it. Yet he never faltered as he continued his brutal slaughter of any enemy he could set eyes on. Azriel caught a glimpse of his brother Cassian not 30 feet away slicing and brutalizing with the same vigor as himself. It still didn’t matter, they were losing. Sweat, mud, and filth coated his entire being. The battle had been raging on for hours, yet how many he did not know. The sounds of screaming, bone crunching, and organs being cut from their rightful place had long since drowned in his ears. All he could hear now was a dull buzzing and the occasional order from Rhysand in his mind’s eye. Exhaustion had not yet set in as adrenaline fueled him through most of the battle, but he could tell that Prythian’s forces were starting to slow down. He was not the only one that could knew they were losing. They had exhausted every resource, every viable power play had been made and they held no more cards in their hands. All that was left to do was fight until they couldn’t anymore, or die trying. He didn’t mind the thought as it crossed and then floated away. He would gladly give his life in the name of freedom and peace for humans and fae. The horrified faces of his comrades haunted him, but he knew they felt the same. So the battle would rage on until their very last breath.

In the distance a high pitched shrieking noise shook the buzzing from his ears. It sounded like a scream, but not quite. Azriel cut down the solider in front of him before leaping into the sky to get a better view. The noise was not coming from the distance, it was coming from the sky… and fast. Pummeling straight towards the center of Hybern’s forces a single winged creature plunged into the slick mud and hit with an impact that shook the ground for miles around. The blast radius flung the surrounding soldiers into the air and backwards, and then the creature stood. Azriel’s heart skipped a beat at the sight, yet he was too far away to identify this new player. It raised its hands and with it a large section of Hybern with it. The screaming coming from the floating bodies was a horrific symphony, and then… silent. All at once at least 30 soldiers turned from solid to liquid. Their insides and outsides turned to a red mist that rained down in a thick syrup. Again the creature raised its arms and brought down a storm of blood upon the battlefield. Five more times this happened, all within a span of a minute. Hybern’s legion was being turned into liquid dust at a rate that could give Prythian the upper hand.

Azriel tore his eyes from the creature and scanned the field for his family. His gaze landed on Rhysand who appeared frozen, eyes locked onto the carnage the winged creature was unleashing onto their enemy. They needed to regroup. Azriel soared with vigor towards Rhys and landed directly in front of him, yet his High Lord did not acknowledge him. “Rhysand!” he shouted over the screams and clashing of steel. Rhysand had paled and seemed as if he was going to be sick. Azriel gripped him by the shoulders and shook him yelling his name once more. Finally Rhys looked in his direction, his eyes glassy with tears that threatened to spill over. “It’s her,” he said, “It can’t be..” his midnight voice cracked. Although every cell in Azriel’s body screamed at him to ask who Rhys was talking about he knew that strategy must come before curiosity. Seconds later, Cassian landed with wild eyes and a heaving chest. “I don’t know what in the ever living fuck is going on, but we need to take advantage of this,” he said with ragged breaths. Azriel turned towards his other brother and the two of them began reconstructing a battle strategy that would surely beat Hybern down so they could subdue the King and lay this conflict to rest. Rhysand seemed disengaged but gave his approval nonetheless. So, with the last drops of their immortal energy, they launched a final attack bringing their enemy to bended knee.

It was Nesta that cleaved the King’s head from his shoulders, and the High Lords of Prythian that brought back Azriel’s brother from the grasps of death. Amidst the chaos of it all Azriel felt a lingering pull in his chest and was reminded of the creature that rained down on Hybern. Then almost as if on cue a long forgotten but familiar scent overwhelmed his senses. Rhysand paled once more and Azriel’s head snapped to look behind him. The sight he took in was utterly and entirely unbelievable. Instantly he fell to his knees before you. Rhys almost toppled over himself. You were drenched in blood, some of it already drying and crusting on your skin. The entire Inner Circle beheld you as if the could not register what they were seeing. For it was not a creature that came to their rescue, it was you.

“Sister,” Rhysand choked out, “wh- how? what is this?” Then with a flash of speed he had you pinned to a nearby tree, his claws at your throat and his teeth flaring in a snarl. “What is this,” he now demanded, thinking this was some final cruel joke meant to completely break him. Azriel stood just as fast, placing a warning hand on his brother’s shoulder. Cassian and Mor wore faces of complete shock. You summoned any air you could through the grip of your brother’s talons, “It’s me,” you choked out. You met his violet eyes with a set of your own and willed him to understand that it was truly you he was squeezing the life out of. It was Azriel that spoke next. “Rhys,” he said in a dangerously careful tone, “you’re hurting her.” He sincerely doubted the validity of that statement based upon what he had seen just an hour ago on the battlefield but he thought it might shake his brother from doing anything rash. Rhys slowly loosened his grip on your neck and took a stumbling step back.

“I’ll explain everything,” you said, “I promise.” Azriel took only a slight step behind you, his hand resting on truth teller’s hilt. He gestured for you to sit on the small boulder to your right. You followed his silent instruction, looking at him briefly and noticed something in those hazel eyes that you could not yet identify. Sucking in a deep breath, you launched into the story of your whereabouts for the last 500 years. You explained that when Tamlin and his father came to slaughter yourself and your mother there was a last minute alteration to their plan. They had decided instead to detain you and gift you to the King of Hybern as a gesture of good faith in their alliance. Ever since then you had been the King’s personal pet. He had done countless cruel things throughout the years, torturing and experimenting on you. When the King came into possession of the cauldron he was curious not only what it could do to humans, but High Fae as well. You were his first and only test subject as the cauldron deemed fit to gift you with extraordinary power. Power that rivaled Ameren before she had turned into fae herself. He found that it was growing increasingly difficult to keep you under lock and chain, and when the time for war came you knew it was your chance for freedom. The castle had been lightly guarded as most of Hybern’s soldiers had been called to action and your escape had been carefully calculated for centuries. The moment you tasted fresh air again you soared for your long lost family. Pent up rage from 500 years of captivity along with the surge of power gifted from the cauldron is what you unleashed upon Hybern’s massive legion, ultimately turning the tide of the war.

There was a weighted silence after you finished your story. Everyone’s eyes were pasted on you in a horrified realization. 500 years. You had been trapped for 500 years. The guilt of not knowing, not saving you, rested heavily upon each member of the Inner Circle. The crushing quiet was killing you, but it was interrupted by a deathly grumble from behind you. “You saved us,” Azriel spoke, “You saved us when we did not save you. After all this time.” You pivoted your torso to look up at the shadowsinger. His eyes were clouded with the same guilt written on the rest of the faces in front of you.

“Always,” you stated plainly.

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cressidagrey · 5 months ago

Text

Recipe for Love - Honey Cakes

Summary:

The Beehive Bakery is out of Peach Cobbler. This leads Azriel to make some very impulsive decisions.

Warnings:

Definetely NSFW. Maybe don't make life-altering decisions about a lack of Peach Cobbler?

A/N:

thanks to @k-godling for listening to me rambling on about this and finding the perfect name for that Bakery! This will eventually be a series consisting out of One-Shots, so if you have an idea, shoot it my way! (Also, if anybody actually tries out that recipe, let me know lol)

Twice-Baked Honeycakes Ingredients: 1 ¾ cup flour 1 ½ tablespoon baking powder ½ tsp salt ½ cup unsalted butter, room temperature 3 tablespoon butter for greasing muffin pan zest 1 lemon ¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg ¾ cup milk 2 eggs

¾ cup honey 1/4 cup honey for drizzling on top 1 teaspoon vanilla Directions: Grease the inside of muffin wells. Set Aside. Whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, nutmeg and lemon zest. Knead butter into flour mixture until crumbly. Set Aside. Whisk together milk, eggs, honey, and vanilla. Pour wet into dry ingredients and combine until just combined. Pour batter into Muffin wells. Bake in Hot Oven for 16 minutes or until mostly done but not quite golden enough. Remove from Muffin Wells and place on a baking sheet. Warm the remaining ¼ cup of honey. Brush the tops of the cakes with the honey. Allow to sit for 5 minutes. Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Habits were what got people killed.

Azriel knew that.

Getting slow, getting complacent…it was dangerous.

He couldn’t help himself though.

Or maybe it was that he thought that if this one thing would kill him…the one thing he did that sparked joy somewhere deep in his chest, that made everything feel not so bad…then it was worth it.

If Azriel were actually smart, he would have gone straight to the House of Wind that particular day and not even bothered to visit that Bakery.

Quite frankly, he would thank the mother on his knees for that bit of idiocy for the rest of his life.

Azriel should have gone home. He was dead on his feet and hadn’t eaten properly in 3 days after the mission in Spring had dragged on and on and on…and now Azriel only wanted food and then his bed and then some sleep…

He had already forced himself to turn in a report to Rhys so that maybe he could actually sleep in the next day…he just hoped that Cassian and Nesta wouldn’t find the energy for one of their early morning trysts.

But before bed…before sleep…he had promised himself another slice of that peach cobbler days ago. Just one.

So when he sludged into the bakery…he realised with a grimace that it was late enough in the evening that it would already be closing soon. His hope that there still would be some peach cobbler was left diminished.

Just one single slice…please.

Just…

The moment the door closed behind him with a little jingle, there was a soft voice.

“We’re out.”

Azriel had grown used to it…to the near bell-like quality of it, all of it belonging to B, that blonde female he had seen the first time. He had gotten used to her , though he had always been served by one of the other people working there, by chance and circumstances. They had never even exchanged a single word.

But he had liked to watch her…Watch her happiness as she flitted around her bakery. He had figured out that she was the owner quite quickly.

She was always so…sweet. Sweet to her customers, sweet to her employees…She handed out these little smiles of hers generously and flirted up a storm with seemingly anybody who was willing to stand still long enough.

She was sunshine personified.

“What?” Azriel asked dumbly, staring at her, rooted in the spot as B continued counting money at the till, quickly putting coins into tidy little stacks. Seemed like the Bakery was running very well indeed.

“We’re out of Peach Cobbler,“ she clarified, her voice lilting. “That’s what you always order, isn’t it? Sorry, Peaches.”

Did she just call him Peaches ?

Did she just call the Spymaster of the Night Court, the horror of Prythian, an Illyrian warrior that was literally nearly twice her size Peaches ?!

Azriel had absolutely no fucking idea what to say to that.

B looked up, giving him a smile that lit up her whole face as their eyes met across the room. “So what can I get you in…?” The words stuck in her throat.

Sparkling blue eyes stared up at him. And he could just stare right back because at that very moment… everythingchanged.

He had never felt anything like this before.

Had never felt the warmth that burrowed deep into his chest…that sudden unfurling of a golden ribbon…the feeling of being tied to another person so utterly, so thoroughly, so completely.

It was…

Oh .

She blinked. Full lips pulling into a smile, that button nose wrinkling. “At least that explains why you come here every week. My peach cobbler is magnificent but clearly not the only reason,” she told him with a saucy little wink and he wanted to laugh, half hysterical.

Brazen.

His mate was utterly brazen.

Something inside him eased.

“It’s quite confident that you think I only came for you,” he said hoarsely and she grinned at him.

“Well…” she trailed off… ”I think my confidence is inspired,” she teased him, still grinning, her happiness bleeding all over their bond, all over him, and he nearly staggered with it.

Worry registered on her face. “Sit down before you fall over,” she said pointedly, as she came from behind the counter. He couldn’t help but drink her in even as he managed to sit down on one of her wrought iron chairs, wrestling his wings behind himself.

His stomach growled.

The sound was so loud in the quiet cafe that he blushed beet red.

She only laughed, snagging a plate and piled it high with four little cakes that she brought over, putting it in front of him.

He swallowed.

“If I eat that…” he said hoarsely as she sat down across from him.

If he ate that, he would accept the mating bond. He would bind himself to her, forever, irrevocably.

“Oh, I know,” she told him with a grin. Not worried in the slightest. It didn’t even seem to cross her mind. She mustered him, blue eyes so gentle. “I am very much aware,” she promised him. “And you are looking at me like you expect me to turn you down, Peaches.”

He was expecting her to turn him down. He was expecting her to take one look at him and the shadows that slithered behind him, currently happily hissing to themselves, Finally, Master!��…and to turn around and run .

“I won’t,” she said with a shrug like it was the easiest promise she had ever given. “You are my mate. I will never turn you down.” There was fierceness bleeding into her voice at that. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have me on your side.”

A surprising amount of loyalty, right there for his taking.

His mate was insane. And quite frankly…he loved it.

“You don’t even know my name,” he gave back hoarsely.

“It’s not Peaches?” She faux gasped and he couldn’t help but snort.

“Azriel. My name is Azriel,” he said quietly.

“Azriel,” she repeated, pushing that plate towards him.“Eat. Unless you don’t want to?” She asked him teasingly.

Azriel did want to. He wanted nothing more than that.

There had been so much in his life that he had wanted and hadn’t been able to get…but she offered herself to him on a silver platter.

And so he picked up one of these little cakes.

****

It had taken 150 years for him to show up.

Bee wasn’t quite sure if she should just be grateful about that, or if she should be pissed off that it took that long. She had been waiting for him.

Of course, she had.

For somebody that had her whole life made herself a family out of choice… she had waited for fate to at least bring her a mate.

And for once…for once she had been right.

He was right there. Right there in the Beehive. Right there in her home.

Granted, he stood out like a sore thumb with these beautiful, ferocious wings that stretched over his back…and the violent black leather armour he wore, blue stones gleaming.

But all of that stood in sharp contrast to the rest of his demeanour, which looked like he was fully expecting her to turn him down.

Jokes on him, she had no plans to do that.

He was hers . She would never turn him down.

Also, he was far too pretty for her to ever even consider it…She had really hit the jackpot with that.

(And maybe the fact that she had been harbouring a secret crush on peaches for weeks and he was the only reason why the peach cobbler had been a daily staple in the Beehive also had something to do with that…)

“Better?” she asked him curiously as he scarfed down the second cake, stealing one of them for herself. “Honey cakes,” Bee told him brightly. “My sister brought me some lavender honey yesterday so I made them.” Roisin had gotten it from a friend herself, and Bee thought that it was quite a successful pairing.

Her Honey Cakes had never tasted better.

“Yes,” he breathed out, and he looked into his eyes to find the pupils blown wide, his want and need sharply grating against that new, golden bond tying them together.

“Do you proposition every male that walks into your bakery and orders Peach Cobbler?” he asked her, his voice hoarse and she couldn’t help but grin, as she offered him her hand, as she stood.

He took it, dwarfing hers with his own, violently scarred…but oh so gently. So gently.

The first touch was like a spark…like a wildfire roared to life in her blood. She couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose over her skin.

“Only the ones that are as handsome as you,” she quipped back, her voice shaky, as she wrapped her fingers around his. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Upstairs,” he agreed and followed behind her as she quickly grabbed the till…remembering that at least.

Though it was thrown carelessly on the table in her hallway as she turned as soon as she could close the door and lock it behind her.

He still stood there, staring at her…and she half expected him to pounce…because he looked like a cat like that, watching her every move.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t move. Didn’t do anything but watch her, his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and flaking with every sharp breath he took.

Oh well… she could take the lead…She would gladly do that.

So she stepped closer to him…breathing in his scent…cedars and something she couldn’t quite place…wintry…like a forest in the morning…He smelled so good .

She wanted to roll around his scent. Bee wanted…

Instead, she reached out with the hand he wasn’t holding, carefully, slowly…lifting it up to his face.

She touched Azriel’s cheek and he turned into her touch, leaning into it, the tightness in his body relaxing as she cupped his cheek…

And then she stood up on her tiptoes and failed horribly to even reach higher than the middle of his chest, making him laugh, his body shaking with mirth. She growled as she yanked him down and he went willingly, finally letting her crush her lips to his.

And then…oh.

It was like coming home. It was like falling asleep and waking up at the same moment…it was like…like everything inside her calmed and burst into flames…

And…by the cauldron, she needed him.

That must be that damn mating frenzy everybody always talked about.

His tongue hungrily licked into her mouth and she gave as good as she got from him, her hands curling tightly into the leather armour he wore.

“I don’t even know your name,” he growled against her mouth and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Beatrice. Everybody calls me Bee. Like the animal, not like the letter,” she answered with a moan, even as she walked backwards, until he had enough and just scooped her up like she weighed nothing…she couldn’t help but squeak, because she may wasn’t particularly tall, but she was rather… substantial and he didn’t even seem to notice her weight.

Oh well. she wasn’t going to start complaining.

Not when he managed to find her bedroom on the first try and Bee hit the bed as he followed her down.

She caught his mouth with hers again, hungrily licking into his mouth, grounding up against him…the bulk of him pressed her down into the bed…muscular and massive.

There seemed to be nothing soft about his body at all, was there?

She managed to get a hand on the buckles that kept Azriel’s jacket closed and then pulled back with a regretful because she was quite sure that that was never going to work.

“Get it off,” she managed to bring out. “Before I try and rip it off.” His eyes darkened at that but he lifted off her and she leaned up on her elbows to watch him…watch him unbutton the jackets and open the buckles so that he could slide it off his body…these beautiful dark wings, unfurling behind him…the swirling tattoos that covered his chest and arms…

Bee had been right. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere, the muscles standing out sharply, speaking of…years of hard work and training. Azriel was gorgeous.

She was a lucky, lucky girl.

With maybe just a teeny, tiny bit of self-consciousness because he looked like that and she…didn’t.

Though the way he was watching her…hazel green eyes dark…desire so plainly on his face…his tongue slipping over his lips…

It made her sit up and open the bow that kept her apron closed…let her shrug it off and throw it to the floor…Something to deal with tomorrow.

Somehow that pulled him into action…made him lean down so that he could kiss her again, and Bee smiled into that kiss, moaning softly as his tongue plundered her mouth.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but somehow she had thought he would be…rougher.

He wasn’t. If anything, he was endlessly gentle…

Azriel caught her ankle without a word, obligingly unbuckling her shoe and dropping it to the floor. He slid one hand up her leg briefly, all the way to the knee, Bee unable to stop the goosebumps that broke out all over her body, the soft shiver that rocked her.

“Cold?” he asked her, his voice quiet but she shook her head, even as she offered her other foot, letting him take off the other shoes and toss it over his shoulder,

“You could keep me warm?” she offered breathlessly, making him laugh, the sound warm and rich like molasses, before he crawled to join her on the bed.

Her breath hitched as he crawled over her and settled between the spread of her thighs…Kissing her again…She was so busy with curling a hand in his hair that she didn’t even notice him starting to unbutton her dress until he reached her waist and then growled in annoyance.

This time it was her laughing, struggling to sit up underneath him so that she could shrug out of the rest of her clothing…could pull the dress over her head and slip out of the lacy little unmentionable she wore, because she was quite sure she would rip them apart in her hurry to lose them later anyway…and the way he stared at her body as she bared more and more skin to him…as she shook out her hair so that the blonde curls fell over her shoulders…

One look over her shoulders and he bore down onto her again, catching her mouth with his with a growl and she hitched her leg higher against his thigh.

“You’re warm,” she whispered quietly. Azriel was all lean muscles and warm skin…and she arched a little underneath him and shivered.

He shifted just slightly and her breath caught in her throat…even like this she could feel the rock-hard bulge of him pressing against her through his trousers…making her shiver once again.

She took the weight of him and moaned against his mouth as he dipped his tongue between her lips.

She whimpered and Azriel lifted his head and slipped off of her to lie on his side. Bee turned with him, seeking his mouth and shivering under his hand as he slid it up her side to cup her breast.

A long drawn-out moan was the result of that, as rough fingers skilfully brushed over one rosy nipple…

His touch was careful and hesitant…and she met his gaze, pressing against these hands… trying to make it so clear to him that she wanted him…she grasped the golden bond flexing inside her and poured all her want and happiness into it.

He had expected that, his body freezing for just a moment as he dropped his head to her shoulder, holding her like she was made out of spun glass, hands desperately clinging onto her skin.

Another puzzle piece of him…him, that male that had always been silently brooding in that corner and had expected her to turn him down.

She kissed him, softly, coaxing… and he returned that kiss. It was intoxicating, his patience nothing short of shocking.

They got a little lost in those kisses.

Bee was a little overwhelmed when he wrenched his mouth from hers and slid down enough to take one rigid, aching nipple into his mouth. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her, the shudder that wrecked her body…

She shuddered when Azriel pushed one big hand between her legs, fingers trailing over her lower lips before dipping between them.

She was already embarrassingly wet, the scent of her own arousal in the air hard to ignore.

Bee gasped into his mouth as he dipped one thick finger into her hole, her body shivering with the stretch of it. Everything was big about him, even his hands. His teeth clenched on her nipple briefly and she arched up against his mouth, her back arching.

Azriel lifted his head and their eyes met as he pressed his finger deeper into her, Green meeting blue. Bee’s breath caught in the back of her throat and she lifted her hips upwards against the pleasure with a happy little shiver.

“Good?” he asked her, his voice hoarse and she just about managed a shaky nod.

“Perfect, Peaches,” she promised him with a grin and without fanfare he pushed a second finger inside her, making her gasp.

His thumb found her clit at that moment, drawing a tight little circle about that attention-seeking nub and she couldn’t help the long-drawn-out moan that escaped her.

“More,” she requested in a whine and he chuckled as he shifted them around, placing her on his lap, Bee the one on top, rising above him, his hands on his hips.

She growled when she still felt the trousers he wore, managing to shove them out of her way and then…then swallowed when his cock sprung free. Long and thick and…Gods, everything about him was unreasonably pretty, wasn’t it?

She wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him in one fell swoop.

It would probably be a bad idea, just because of the sheer size of him.

But that didn’t stop her from reaching out for him… wrapping one small hand around the hot length of his cock…she watched his face, watched how Azriel hissed in a breath but didn’t try to stop her and flexed his hips as she rubbed the hear of his cock against her entrances.

Azriel kept a hold of her hips, a thumb still circling her clit, making her half out of her mind with wanting him.

He makes her take him slowly instead…tiny gentle thrusts that nonetheless make Bee shudder with pleasure, ragged breath escaping her, a whine leaving her throat, her head thrown back…

When she’s finally fully seated, Azriel’s eyes fall shut for a moment in ecstasy, and Bee braced her hands on his chest and shifts a little, just to see how it feels. Cauldron, she was so fucking full.

He let her take her time, not even trying to control her movements…his hands stayed on her hips, still rubbing her clit…He let her rise up on her knees and sink down again in little restless motions, her breasts bouncing…he caught one of them in his mouth again as he sat up, his abdominal muscles flexing in a truly ridiculous display of strength that maybe made her moan wantonly…

Not that she wasn’t already doing it…they were both panting with it, Bee keening with her moans at how fucking good it is, how big he feels inside her, how perfect…until almost by accident she finds exactly the perfect angle to hit that spot inside her, that one spot that makes her see stars…

And she watched as it registered on Azriel’s face and he grinned, slowly lowering his back onto the mattress… tightened his hold on her hips to hold her in place and started to thrust.

That was the last straw.

She could feel the bond rushing between them - a little wild and rich with their feelings. The most beautiful thing…

Each drag of his cock inside her pulled her further and further away from herself and into a place, she’d never been. It was more than sex, more than even love. More than anything she had ever felt…

She couldn’t help but wail as it settled inside her…deeper and more pleasurable than anything she’d ever known.

Bee scrabbled against Azriel’s chest, against the swirling dark marks with uncoordinated hands because she had to do something with them…if she didn’t, she wasn’t sure what would happen, as her whole body shook with the strength of the waves of pleasure that crashed over her at that moment.

Azriel made a positively feral noise and yanked her down, pressing his face into the crook of her neck…breathing in her scent as he clung to her and spilt inside her, hot and filthy and glorious.

She couldn’t help herself as she collapsed, utterly uncoordinated, across Azriel’s chest. For just a moment, he lay still beneath her, shuddering through the aftershocks, his hands still on her hips…his nose pressed against her neck, breathing her in…

He loosened the hands around her hips…she was pretty sure that he had bruised her but she didn’t care one bit.

Not one bit as he helped shift her until she laid draped over him…and then he wrapped one arm around her waist and combed the fingers of his other hand through her blonde tresses…again and again…so utterly sweet that she melted into his chest, tucking her face again.

“Thank the cauldron, I didn’t have any peaches anymore,” she mumbled against his chest. For a moment he was quiet. Then he chuckled, the sound warm and soothing.

“I think I prefer honey now," he answered and she reached out to poke his chest weakly.

"If you think that's funny, I'll let you know that any bee-related jokes have ceased to be that around 6 decades ago," she told him drily, getting another chuckle from him.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #my writing #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #Recipe for Love

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

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Practice On Me — Part Twelve — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader does what she has to for the information she wants. Talking to Azriel takes an interesting turn. Kaeda’s not doing her job, and she’s feeling a bit sorry for herself — to which Cassian isn’t very sympathetic.

Word Count: 9.6k. OOF. A long one, sorry!

Warnings: None.

You should really just go to sleep. Mind your own business.

But you find yourself waiting. Listening. For some indication that Tathaln has left.

You think it might be hours that pass. Roza has long since passed out in her bed. But there’s no chance of you sleeping, too. Not with all the thoughts that are crammed full in your head and speaking too loudly.

The most pressing of which: Why the fuck would the Lord of Fenlaros be visiting the High Lord in his private home in this private city?

No other camp lords venture here, you’re sure. Don’t even know it exists.

And yet, from that short glimpse you got of Finadar and Tathaln, there was an air of…familiarity, about them. Like it wasn’t the first time they were privately meeting.

Eventually, you grow sick of waiting, wondering. It’s no use. You’re restless and wired and churned up. You need to move, to stretch your legs, grab a drink or something.

The house is eerily still. You take your time traversing the corridors, carefully listening out to catch lowered voices and hushed tones. Even decide to take the longer route — the one that would take you past the High Lord’s study. But even as you pass by the thick wooden door, you hear nothing but the distant sounds of a hooting owl and the slicing wind amidst the mountains.

You’re almost at the kitchen when a figure abruptly rounds the corner on too-light feet. You stop short — and so does the High Lord.

You’re so stunned that you forget yourself. It takes a moment for you to remember to act accordingly. You bow your head in greeting. “My Lord.”

“Y/N.” Your name sounds funny, too familiar, on his tongue. When Rhysand had brought you here at fourteen, Finadar had merely referred to you as that girl. It seems that with age comes at least a little bit of acknowledgment. His eyes rake over you, and you’re suddenly aware of your nightgown, your unbound hair. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“A little, my Lord—”

“Just Fin, please.”

You pause. And then smile a bland smile. “A little…Fin.”

He holds up the object you hadn’t noticed clutched within his hand. A bottle. “I was just about to have a night cap. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

On instinct, you want to decline. Having a private drink with Rhysand’s father seems…inappropriate, somehow.

But then that curious little voice in your head reminds you that this — this is the perfect opportunity to ask some questions, hopefully garner information. He’s relaxed. Open. In his own environment. What better time than now?

So that bland smile becomes a pretty one, and you dip your chin. “It would be my pleasure.”

With that charming smile of his own, the handsome male leads you to his study and holds the door open for you. Stepping inside feels like breaching somewhere firmly forbidden, and a place of such luxury that it would chew up your poor-to-do self and spit you out. All rich mahogany wood and more books than you’ve ever seen in your life. Trinkets and papers and maps and war strategy. The sight leaves you a little breathless, and for a moment, you forget you’re not alone.

But then the door shuts behind you, and the High Lord is striding past, over to his desk.

“You’ve been a friend of my son’s for a while, now, haven’t you?” He asks casually, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.

You step closer, nodding. “I have, My Lo—Fin. Nine years, to be exact.”

“And you’re his age?”

“Yes. Twenty.”

A vague smile plays on his lips. “Old enough to drink, then, Please, do sit.”

You do exactly that, taking a seat in one of the plush, cushioned chairs and folding your hands in your lap. And for all you had planned to speak with Fin, now that you’re in front of him, you’re not quite sure what to say. You don’t know how to talk to someone of such high status.

He’s entirely at confident — even arrogant — ease, though. With a wave of a hand, a fire roars to life, breathing heat into the room and bathing it in an intimate glow. He pours two glasses of dark, smoky liquid and hands one to you before taking his own.

Instead of sitting at his desk as you half expect, he’s slumping into the armchair beside yours and tipping his head against its back.

He looks…tired, you note, as you subtly study him over the lip of your glass. Devastatingly beautiful — there’s no doubt about that. Chocolate eyes that remind you of Mor’s and short, reddish-brown hair. His generously muscled arms push through his shirt as he shifts.

And then he says, out of the blue, “I don’t sleep well, either.”

You’re not sure why he’s telling you that, of all things.

“I’m sorry.” It seems like an appropriate response. “I imagine, in being High Lord, you must have a lot on your plate.”

A wry smile graces his lips. “There’s always someone wanting something from you.” His eyes then drink you in again. “What is it you do in Windhaven? I take it you’re unwed. I don’t remember approving a marriage for you.”

“I am. Until recently, I lived with and worked for my father. But my circumstances have changed, and I don’t know what I’ll be doing next.”

“Was it your father who took your wings?”

Heat burns your cheeks. “It was.”

“Is that what you want from me? To punish him?”

You stare back at him, fighting to keep your expression neutral. “Who says I want anything from you?”

“Do you not?”

“…It was you who invited me for a drink, My Lord. I can leave if my company is bothersome to you—”

“It is not.” He lays a hand on your arm, skin far smoother than you expect from somebody so accustomed to weapons. “But there’s no reason we can’t both get something out of this.”

Your eyes fall down to that hand, and your body is so very still. Perhaps you’ve made a grave mistake in seeking him out.

But you dare ask, “What is it you want?”

A chuckle rasps out of him, and he retracts the touch. “Honesty. I get the sense that you’re of the curious sort. Why else would you have been so intently watching me greet my guest earlier this evening?”

So, he’d seen you. Silly, for you to assume that you could slip into the shadows around such a powerful being. You can almost feel that power prowling under his skin right now.

“I am interested,” you admit, “in what Tathaln Baralas was doing here.”

“You’re familiar with him.” He states — and then chuckles again. “Of course, you are. You were one of the ones who snuck off to Fenlaros for a party. I wasn’t best pleased when my son told me.” His head falls into a tilt. “But why would you be interested in Tathaln’s business here?”

“I may not be from Fenlaros, but I am Illyrian. And I imagine that a matter that warrants a meeting at the High Lord’s personal residence is one pressing enough to effect more than just a single camp.”

Full lips �� Rhysand’s lips — tilt upwards. “Beautiful, curious and intelligent. Such a waste in a place like Illyria.”

“You’re too kind.”

“And you are too bashful.” A quiet intensity lies within his brown eyes. “I will reward your candour with this: Tathaln Baralas was here to suggest — request — a grand ball.”

For a split second, you falter. Try not to let it show on your face that you do.

The answer is…underwhelming. Perhaps you’re so idle in Velaris that you’re looking for drama where it doesn’t exist.

“A ball.” You repeat the word rather foolishly, like it’s your first time ever saying it. “I…I wasn’t aware that a Camp Lord would need your permission to arrange such a thing.”

“Confined to his own camp, he would not.” Fin tells you. “But the Lord of Fenlaros proposes something on a far larger scale. Something that has never before been done, and something that, I must admit, has piqued my interest.”

“Which is what?”

“Tathaln,” the High Lord stands, draining his glass and returning it to his desk, “has asked me to throw an Illyrian ball — not solely a Fenlarion ball. Meaning the best legions from all Illyrian war camps will be invited, along with their wives, mates, whatever. They will all gather in one place for this event, and interact as they never have before.”

You stare at him.

You do not mean for your indignation to shine through so freely.

He is your High Lord and not to be disrespected.

But you’re studying him, and wondering why the fuck he doesn’t look as alarmed by the suggestion as you feel.

“Why, by the Cauldron, would he want to do that?” The words fall from your mouth, formality forgotten. “There’s a reason it’s never been done before. Rival camps do not mix because Illyrians are hot-headed and driven by ego, and there would be fights and bloodshed and probably death. It’s a terrible idea. I don’t understand why Tathaln Baralas would suggest such a thing.”

A deep chortle husks out of the High Lord, and you could be wrong, but you think there might be a hint of surprise in the sound. Like he’s unused to such brazenness from his subjects — female ones, in particular.

You asked a damn good question, though.

Fin turns to you, and for a lingering moment, he simply stares. And then he says, softly, “Stand.”

You pause. Think that maybe, you’ve spoken too much, crossed a line. But you stand.

The High Lord beckons you closer.

You take one step forward. Another. Another. He lifts a hand and motions for you to stop. You do. You smooth your hands over your nightgown. Think you might be shaking a little.

You do not need a wealth of knowledge nor experience to recognise exactly how it is that he looks at you.

Deep, tawny eyes trail the length of you and seem to miss no detail. Your loose hair and pretty, open face. The sharp lines of your collarbones and the smooth skin of your decolletage. The flowing silk of your nightgown and the bareness of your legs and arms on show beneath it.

He stares at you in a way that makes you feel you’re wearing nothing at all.

And then he’s prowling closer with preternatural grace, and the heat and scent of his body seems to snuff out the heat and scent of the fire.

You can only stand, your legs wobbling a little, as he begins to circle you, peruse you, like a predator assessing its prey. You might hold your breath a little. You’re not sure what he plans to do, whether you’re to be reprimanded for your candidness. When he raises his hand, you hope you don’t flinch. You learned not to do so, not to show your fear, in the years living under your father’s thumb.

But his hand merely cups the curve of your shoulder and sweeps a few strands of your hair back.

“Give me what I want, Y/N.” He says, his voice gritty. “And I will tell you what Tathaln wants.”

This is all starting to feel like a huge oversight. A mistake. If this goes too far — if he suggests something that would disrespect Roza in any way…

You’d sooner be reprimanded, however badly.

Your eyes shutter, and you speak again, “What is it you want?”

Fin slinks round until he’s stood before you. The mild smile on his lips hides so much. “If I’m to oversee an event with all the camps under my rule,” he says, “I want to look good. I’m a victim of extreme vanity, you see. Appearances are everything. And thus, I would go before my subjects with the prettiest little piece at my side.” His eyes drink in your face, unpainted and unguarded. “You would do nicely.”

You’re not certain that your breath of relief is a silent one. The suggestion could be far worse, of course, but anxious butterflies are still all aflutter in your gut.

It would be prudent to remember who you’re talking to — who it is you’re playing games with. To remember that you are just a young female from Windhaven, with no experience outside of it. You are not a seasoned courtier, and you do not know the rules of the game — how to play them, nor how to break them.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze. “Forgive me, My Lord. Whilst I’m undoubtedly flattered…I must admit to also being confused. Won’t Roza fulfil the role at your side?”

“Roza will attend no more public appearances for the remainder of her pregnancy — a decision we came to together. She is far too tired and must rest. And she’s fully aware that I will need to invite a special guest in her place.”

“But if you’re trying to make an impression before your Illyrian subjects…I am the last female who would bring you any glory. I am ordinary. I do not have wings—”

“You do yourself a disservice, Y/N.” His slow footsteps begin again. “The likes of your father have got into your head, I fear. What I see, looking at you now, is not these.” Warm fingers touch your ruined back, and you jerk a little. “What I see is the embodiment of classic Illyrian beauty. Just as I see in my Roza. You may not know this, but they tried to take her wings, too. Until I stopped them. It — we — would send a message, don’t you think? That your repulsive father may have taken your wings, but he did not take your spirit. Your beauty. And that spirit and beauty earned you a place at the High Lord’s side. Perhaps I’ll invite your father, and his punishment can be the night’s entertainment.”

It's…strange. Conflicting. Because the High Lord is saying things that you so often long to hear. The shattered, self-loathing part of your brain perks up and leans into the compliments like a pampered cat, waiting to hear more, to be stroked.

But then there’s an angry part of you — one that wishes to yell at him that if he truly abhorred the practice of wing clipping, he would ban it altogether instead of keeping himself in the favour of Illyrians and simultaneously bashing their views and traditions behind their backs.

So many feelings. And yet, you try to remember why you’re here.

Because something eats away at you that whatever Tathaln Baralas is up to will impact Azriel somehow. At least as long as he’s with Kaeda.

So you lift your chin and ask, “I agree to be your special guest to the ball, and you tell me what the Lord of Fenlaros is up to? It’s that easy?”

Fin chuckles. Stops in front of you again. “It’s that easy.” He inclines his head. “As I said, I am of the vain sort — and this is merely a thing of vanity. I’d rather enjoy parading one of my son’s pretty playthings on my arm. Letting those Illyrian males know that I could have any of their females if I wanted. And the fact that I don’t particularly care for Tathaln Baralas means that I don’t particularly care to hold on too tightly to his secrets, either.”

You don’t bother correcting him about the nature of yours and Rhys’s relationship. Seems irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things. And if your only role in this is to dress up and look pretty at the High Lord’s side, you reckon you’ve gotten off pretty damn lightly.

For a moment, there, you really thought he might want…more.

“Alright.” You stand up straight. “I will gladly be your guest to the ball.”

He smiles an odd smile, like he knew you would agree all along. With his arm brushing yours as he closely passes, he makes his way back over to his desk. Refills his glass and yours. Hands it to you.

“The reason the Lord of Fenlaros wants an Illyrian ball,” he says, “is because he seeks a situation in which he can have an eye on all camps — and vet their talent.”

“Vet their…” Your brow pinches. “What?”

“Tathaln, Y/N, has a vision in mind.” Fin turns to you, perching on the edge of the desk. “One that, I have to admit, did pique my interest — if it were to work. You see, he’s of the opinion that Illyria should, eventually, do away with the individual camps entirely. He’d sooner have one huge camp — that he would be Lord of, of course, and have a team of the strongest, most powerful Illyrians working alongside him to train the most fearsome army in the entirety of the Fae realm.”

“That’s preposterous. Cramming all Illyrians into one camp under one lord would mean the eye would be taken off the ball quicker than lightning. How could an army that big be adequately trained by a small team of leaders, no matter how powerful? Even the strongest soldiers couldn’t keep command of such numbers. That is why the individual camps work. Weaknesses get smoothed out and strengths are honed.”

The fire in your tone seems to amuse the High Lord. And you wonder if Illyria isn’t unlike a dolls house to him. Figures he can pluck up and move around and pit against each other for his own entertainment.

“Tathaln would disagree with you.” He smiles. “He believes that the individual camps only create room for complacency, a lack of order. He thinks that your kind spend more time drinking and fucking and fighting amongst themselves than they do training for combat. And he thinks that if something isn’t done about it, the next war could wipe Illyria off the map.”

“And he believes himself to be a strong enough Camp Lord to somehow fix that?”

“Alone? Gods, no. He’s an arrogant brute, but not a stupid one. No,” He says again. “See, this unit he would build wouldn’t be just made up of highly-skilled warriors.”

“Then what?”

“Illyrians with further powers. Special abilities.” Fin’s eyes track over your face, waiting for the realisation to dawn. “Like a shadowsinger, for example.”

And finally, it’s like light blotting out the clueless darkness of your head. Suddenly, it all falls into place.

You don’t know why you didn’t see it before.

“Tathaln wants Azriel under his command.” The words are ash on your tongue.

“Yes.” Fin nods. “He does. And there are other males in other camps, too, with their own, unique abilities. Tathaln wants this ball to see them up close. Pick them out. If things go his way, he would have those males defecting from their current camps and making a home in Fenlaros. There, they would train — and begin bringing Tathaln’s vision to life.”

Azriel leaving Windhaven…moving to another camp and not being around to talk to, to spend mindless hours with, to face life with — the thought is like a cold, cruel stab to your heart.

Your friends are what make Windhaven bearable. Together, you’ve built a little home there, a family. And you may all be at each other’s throats right now, but you love each other. Wouldn’t want to lose each other.

The idea of no longer seeing Az makes you want to puke up the two glasses of whiskey now swimming in your stomach.

And even more sickening is the further realisation—

Kaeda is Tathaln’s daughter — his puppet on a string.

It was never a coincidence that she randomly started floating around Windhaven. Wasn’t a natural thing at all, that she’d found interest in Azriel, of all people. The only shadowsinger.

The entire thing had been carefully orchestrated.

Kaeda’s interest in Az isn’t genuine. Her father specifically sent her to Windhaven to get him on side.

You think you might actually be sick. Suddenly, the High Lord’s study seems far too small.

“Why would you allow any of this?” You manage to grit out around your growing panic. “You’re the High Lord…if you tell Tathaln no, he can’t take it any further.”

Fin shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “As I said — his vision piqued my interest. It’s not a bad idea, provided it would be executed properly. But if it were? Imagine the glory. The power. The Night Court would boast the most steeled army in Prythian. Battle would be mere child’s play to us.”

You…no. No. You can’t sit back and act like you don’t know any of this.

Azriel needs to be told. He needs to know what games Kaeda is playing — that she’s only interested in doing her father’s bidding, pouring honeyed words into Az’s ear to coax him out of Windhaven and into their ready, waiting trap. To use him. Exploit him.

You need to tell him. Even if he goes straight back to being angry with you after, still doesn’t want to speak to you…you need to.

With shaking hands, you place your glass down. “I…I’m quite tired. I think I’ll try, again, to sleep.” There’s no chance of that. “Thank you for the drink. And the conversation.”

Fin’s head falls into a tilt. He looks…intrigued. “Thank you for the company. And I’ve no doubt I can trust you to uphold your end of our arrangement.”

You nod. Hate the words as you speak them. “I will be your guest at the ball.”

“I’ll be in touch, then. Goodnight.”

You only just manage to return the sentiment as you slip out of the room, the cold hallways making a grab for your bare skin. Fin’s words haunt you all the way back to your room. Keep you awake all through the night. Bury themselves deep in your mind, your heart, and fill you with such an icy-cold fear, you feel you may never be warm again.

You have to tell Azriel — or you may lose him for good.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, over tea and pastries and your rushed retelling of the night before, Roza stares at you.

Her expression is unreadable.

“You’re angry with me.” You breathe, the very words pinching at your heart. “I understand. But I needed to find out what Tathaln Baralas was up to. I just knew that—”

“Angry with you?” She cuts you off. “No, my love. With Fin? Yes. That he’s even entertaining this idea of that odious Camp Lord’s, and that his ego is so great that he would parade you on his arm like nothing more than prize cattle. That, I am angry with.” Her eyes sweep your face with concern — and a hint of something else. Something like…admiration. “You, however…you remind me exactly of myself when I was your age. Scheming, pushing back against what’s simply wrong…and in the name of love, too. I cannot possibly be angry with you for that.”

Your eyes fall to your plate. Love. That word rings in your ears like a war cry. “I need to do this. For Azriel. He’s being used, and—”

“I know.” Roza reaches over, closing a hand over yours. “Believe me, I know. And you have my full blessing and support. But you also have my concern. The games of Courts and High Lords and Camp Lords are dangerous ones. Do what you need to do for Azriel — for love — but have your wits about you. Do not, at any point, let them best you. And if Fin tries to take your agreement any further and lays a hand on you, come and tell me straight away, and I will fucking castrate him—”

Her words are cut short by a night-chilled shroud, darkness-given-form, despite the morning light that bathes the room.

Rhysand appears out of thin air. “Who will you castrate, mother dear?”

“You.” Roza says without a beat, scowling at her son. “What have I told you about just appearing like that? You’re showing off. It’s rude.”

“But I’m so good at it.” He strides closer, kissing her cheek and then yours. And steals the remainder of your pastry. “Ready to go?”

You’d sent a note a little over an hour ago, asking Rhys to come get you and fly you to Windhaven. You didn’t specify that you were going to talk to Az — and potentially break his heart with the information you’d garnered last night.

Rhys, of course, had written back that he’d be more than willing to oblige — as soon as Zakai was done sucking his cock.

Indeed, your friend looks particularly flushed and sated as he swallows your food and washes it down with a gulp of your tea.

“Rhysand.” Roza scolds. “Have some damn manners. Will you steal food from the babe, too?”

“Well, considering you’ll be breastfeeding her, mother dearest, absolutely not—”

“Her?” You blink between them. “You know it’s a girl?”

Roza smiles softly, sliding a hand over her stomach. “Not for certain. But the healer seems pretty sure. Her magic can detect these things, and she says she’s never gotten it wrong in all her years.”

“Gods, I hope so.” Rhys’s violet eyes glitter. “I’ve said from the start that I’m hoping for a sister.”

And you can see it already — Rhys throwing himself into the role of older brother. Protecting that little girl with his whole heart. She’d be the luckiest child in all of Prythian to have Rhys for a brother. And to have Cassian and Azriel protecting her, too…

That is, if Azriel doesn’t choose to go to Fenlaros.

Your stomach turns all over again at the thought. No — you need to speak with him, to warn him. He wouldn’t leave.

“Let’s go.” You stand abruptly, your breakfast feeling leaden in your stomach.

“Much obliged.” Rhys sketches a flourishing bow, to which Roza rolls her eyes. He kisses her cheek again. “Take it easy. I love you.”

Roza inclines her head. “I love you both.”

Its as you, too, dip down to kiss her cheek, that she lays a gentle hand on your arm. Concern swims in her eyes.

“Be careful, my little dove.” She pleads quietly. “Not just of the game you’re playing — but of your heart, too. Protect it.”

The words echo in your mind too loudly as Rhys takes your hand and steals you away.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Twenty years in Windhaven should have you at least a little accustomed to the brutal temperatures, but landing your feet on the packed snow makes you wonder if even a whisper of the spring season will kiss these parts. It seems to lurk on the horizon, just out of reach.

As Rhys dusts flecks of snow from his jacket, you glance down at your pathetic, worn boots. The very boots that seemed to start this entire godsdamned situation with Az. It was these that made him scoop you into his arms and carry you to the mead hall, where you shared that first, heated kiss on one of the tables—

“What are you staring at?” Rhys hovers at your side.

“Nothing.” You straighten yourself up. Hope your blush can pass for cold-bitten skin. “Do you know where Azriel is? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Sparring rings, I’d presume.”

You nod, and you go to head off in the other direction, but Rhys’s hand is enclosing around yours. He squeezes gently. “Send word when you want me to come get you.”

The sentiment promises more than just safe transport back to Velaris. It offers support, too — in the likely scenario that this conversation doesn’t go smoothly.

Because you have to consider the possibility that the truth about Kaeda, while needing to be exposed, may not be well received.

Azriel will likely be hurt by it. And you might bear the brunt of that.

Rhysand will be there for you, whatever happens. Even if he has no clue what’s going on.

So you squeeze back, and you offer an unconvincing smile as you let go. “I love you, Rhysand.”

He scowls. “Don’t like it when you call me Rhysand.”

“Sorry, Rhysand.”

“You’re a little shit. But I love you, too.”

You smile wider. That little bit of jesting is what gives you the courage, the strength, to square your shoulders and stroll away from him, snow seeping into your boots with each step.

By the time you get to the sparring rings, you think your feet might be frozen solid. But lo and behold, Azriel is there, currently going head-to-head with another male in his unit.

The very sight is the picture of a hard-trained warrior — a dance, a performance, of flying fists and measured breaths. Az is big and muscled, but he’s lithe and swift, and he moves through each step and dodges each blow and delivers his own as though it’s easy as air. He’s flawless, and for a heartbeat, all you can do is watch, every thought eddying from your mind.

But then he’s dodging a flying fist and pivoting on his feet. His eyes catch you. He’s distracted long enough for his partner to grab the upper hand and knock Az off his feet.

The shadowsinger accepts defeat. He sprawls on his back, panting heavily, and you continue to watch as his opponent grins and offers a hand to help him up.

“Distracted by a female?” He jokes. “I thought you were better than that, shadowsinger.”

A tight smile forms and falls from Az’s lips. He hates losing. “It would seem not. Well fought.”

“I’ll leave you and your lady to it.” The other male says, and you choose to ignore the suggestion in his voice. Azriel ignores it, too. Doesn’t even acknowledge him as he strolls away, no doubt to boast to his insufferable friends that he managed to get one over on the shadowsinger.

Az looks at you in that quiet, assessing way of his. Surveys you head to toe, like he needs to reassure himself that your short stay in Velaris has brought you no harm thus far. It’s good that he still cares, you think. You hope.

“You’re back?” He asks, grabbing a towel to wipe at his face. It’s then that you notice that his lip is bleeding a little.

“Not entirely.” You shake your head. “I…need to talk to you about something. Something important.”

And whether he’s ready to talk to you yet, or not, is irrelevant — he seems to realise that as he studies you once more and nods. “We’ll go to the dorms. Nobody’s there.”

You hate this, you want to tell him. The awkwardness. The…the stagnancy of your relationship. It was never supposed to be like this between you and him. It hurts.

And it makes you realise that love isn’t always beautiful.

But you school your expression as he finally closes the gap between you. He glances down, and a soft sigh escapes him. “Those fucking boots.”

Before you can say something, anything, find some way to defend your continued wearing of those fucking boots, Azriel is grabbing your hand. The unexpected touch jolts you — as does the zip through thin air that has you landing in the kitchenette of the dorms only seconds later.

Despite possessing the ability to winnow, Azriel avoids it at all costs, if he can. Something about the practice unsettles him, and he doesn’t believe he’s ever refined it enough to use it reliably.

So, the fact that he just winnowed you to the dorms either means that he still cares enough to get you out of the cold, or he wants to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.

Gods, you hope it’s the former.

“Stay there.” He murmurs, and he’s turning on his feet. You want to stop him and tell him it’s imperative that you speak immediately — but you can only watch as he strides in the direction of his room.

Moments later, he’s strolling back through — a pair of his own, thick socks in his hands.

You might just soften and crumble enough to forget about the conversation and throw your arms around him. Even now, he’s still looking out for you, making sure you’re taken care of.

You plead with yourself not to get choked up over a pair of socks. But you just…miss him. Miss this. And you think that shows as you hold a hand out and rasp, “Thank you.”

“Let me.” Is all Az replies. He drops to his knees before you.

Your mind goes quiet.

Gods.

The last thing you expected, from coming here, was to see Az knelt at your feet.

And it’s so fucking inappropriate, but as he begins to unlace your boots, your stupid, pathetic brain begins to lament on what a damn shame it is, that you didn’t get to behold this sight, have him on his knees, when things were still good between you. Maybe there’s something wrong with you.

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Need to make sure you’re warm.” He chucks your sodden boots aside, yanks your socks off. Dries your poor, pinkened feet. Tugs his own socks — so big on you that he has to bunch them at the ankles — onto them. And then rises to his feet. “I’ll get a fire going.”

His fussing over you has always bordered on outright hysterical.

“Azriel.” Finally, you lay a firm hand on his arm. Stop him. ��I need to talk to you.”

The way he goes so very still at your touch has you realising — all this fussing is to avoid simply…looking at you. Facing you. He’s trying to busy himself in your presence.

But he does look at you. Lifts his gaze to yours. And there’s grit in his voice as says, “I know I fucked up, Y/N. I shouldn’t have reacted to you and Cassian the way I did. I had no right.”

“I’m not here about that—”

“I was angry because I was so damn jealous. And that’s irrational, and I know it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stand the thought of him…anyone else…putting their hands—”

“It’s Kaeda, Az. She’s using you.”

Finally, you’ve won his silence. His arm tenses under your hand. His eyes burn into yours.

“I learned it from the High Lord himself.” The words are so, so sour on your tongue. You hate this. Hate the truth — for Az. “Tathaln Baralas is trying to round up the most powerful Illyrians of each camp and have them under his command in Fenlaros. Eventually, he wants there to be only one camp — that he rules over. He covets you because you’re a shadowsinger, and he sent Kaeda here to cosy up to you and do his bidding, win you over. She’s been working for him—”

He tugs away from your touch. Takes a step back. And the anger, the hurt, that you expect to find on his face just…isn’t there.

“I know all of this.” He says, simply.

“You—what?”

“I had dinner with Kaeda and her family. Tathaln laid his idea out to me and asked me to go to Fenlaros. He was completely open about it.”

You study him, waiting for some vague indication that he’s angry at Kaeda’s manipulation. But he seems entirely nonchalant.

It stings.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You hate how small your voice sounds.

“Well, you and I haven’t exactly been talking—”

“I’d think a situation like thiswould override that.”

“Kind of had other things on my mind, though, haven’t I?”

“Well did you tell Tathaln he can shove his fucking vision up his ass?”

Silence.

Silence, and then the rustle of Az’s wings as he shifts on his feet.

Loud, loud silence.

You think your heart might plummet into your stomach. Your mouth goes dry. You stare at him, every inch of him, desperate for some sort of sign that his silence isn’t saying what you fear it’s saying.

But gods, it’s so very telling.

“Please tell me you’re not considering it,” you breathe.

He doesn’t answer straight away. He looks at his feet and shifts on the spot and takes his time answering like your heart isn’t thundering in anticipation.

And then he says, quietly, “I told Kaeda I would consider it.”

The words steal the air from your lungs. The picture of a Windhaven without Azriel’s presence suddenly doesn’t seem like a blurred, unlikely one. Feels like it’s being dangled in front of your face.

“What?” Your voice is weak.

“I just…told her I’d think about it.”

“Why?”

“The idea isn’t a bad one—I could hone my skills, put them to use—”

“You could also kiss goodbye to any ties you have to this place! To your family, to—to me!”

Cauldron fucking damn your voice for cracking the way it does. You’re going to break in front of him, and it’s going to be bad. You can feel your chest tightening, the idea of losing Azriel for good making you breathless and panicked and like you don’t know what to do with yourself, your hands, your entire body.

“Y/N.” Az says softly. “I haven’t given a definitive answer.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” You choke. “You’re considering it—leaving. Do the others know about this? Rhys and Cassian?”

“No. Haven’t really been speaking to them, either.”

“Is that all part of it? Distancing yourself from us until you sever your ties completely? Are you truly so angry with me that you’d choose this? To not see me anymore?”

You know immediately what you’ve said.

To not see me. Rhys and Cassian not included.

Azriel catches it, too. He purses his lips, and he stares at you.

“This isn’t about that.” He insists.

“You never would have considered this before I lay with Cassian—”

“This isn’t about distancing myself because you fucked Cassian! It’s because I want you and that terrifies me!”

The words, hard and solid as iron daggers, are actually enough to calm your growing panic. You feel them land, piercing through your skin and spreading a wanton, longing venom through your veins. You’ve spent days — weeks — caught up in your thoughts, trying to accept the fact that you want Azriel. You want Azriel. More than you ever had before.

And perhaps it says a lot about how you perceive yourself, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he might want you back.

Hearing it is heart-stopping.

You clear away what feels like a patchwork of hoarfrost that’s frozen over your throat. “I—thought you wanted Kaeda.”

Azriel makes a noise; something like a humourless laugh. “Believe me, I tried. But I don’t. I want you, so much that it burns. Burns me worse than what scarred my fucking hands. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m sick with it. I can’t sleep for thinking about you, wanting you beside me. I can’t stop myself aching for you and I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Blow after blow after blow, these words. Sour and sweet, pleasant and horrific, love and hate. You feel like you know everything and nothing at once. Like you understand what he’s saying but not quite.

But your honest response croaks out of you, “And if I want you, too? What then?”

Azriel’s jaw ticks. And he presses himself hard against the wall as if he’s trying to disappear through it. “Then,” he says, “that makes it even worse.”

“Because you’d sooner run off to another camp than give yourself to a pathetic excuse for an Illyrian like me, right?”

“Because I would sooner damn myself to a miserable existence in Fenlaros than allow this to turn into another thing of beauty that could be ripped straight from my hands. I’d sooner not see you at all than have you and lose you. And I’d rather base my decision on hypotheticals and protect my heart than give it away and wish I never had. If that makes me selfish—”

“It makes you,” you grit your teeth hard, blink furiously through forming tears, “a fucking coward.”

He pauses. “Then I’m a coward.”

But he isn’t. Never has been. Not when he was locked up in his hateful father’s keep and forced to bear his half-brothers’ twisted cruelty. Not when he came to Windhaven and was targeted here, too, simply for being different. Not through anything you’ve faced together in nine years of friendship.

Azriel has never been a coward. You will not accept it. You will not let him become one.

If he wants you like he says he does…you’re not going to let him have the sole choice of ruining this. He can try to push you away, but you’ll push back ten times harder.

“You think I’m not scared?” You move away from the counter, taking slow steps closer to him. “I am. I’m petrified. But fear is not cowardice. To fear and to face it head-on is to be brave, Azriel. When have you ever balked from fear?”

He’s watching you near him with what seems to be nerves. He swallows. “Never. But I know which of my battles to pick.”

You slow to a stop in front of him. Your body is inches from his, and his warmth and scent are like a punch to your gut. “It isn’t a battle to want.”

“No,” he agrees. “But it’s a battle to need.” So blatantly — he doesn’t try to hide it — his eyes drift to your mouth. “I was wrong before. I don’t want you. I need you.”

“And you’d rather run from that. You’d rather run than need me.”

“…Yes. I think I would.”

Finally, you close the miniscule gap between your bodies, slamming your hands either side of him, against the wall. You fight the curling of your lips when you hear his breath catch in his throat.

“What are you waiting for, Azriel?” You challenge. “Run.”

He pauses.

He does not run.

He snarls, and he grabs you by your jacket, and he hauls your mouth to his.

He tastes like the tang of sweat and blood, but also like the heavy fir trees that guard the mountains, and the crackling of a roaring fire, and the fresh berries he puts in his breakfast every morning without fail. He tastes like Azriel, and you think that taste might be the answer to every dark thought and doubt that has ever plagued your mind.

Without hesitation, you're bunching your hands in his shirt and pulling yourself against him, close as you can possibly get. This kiss is not a sweet kiss in the name of tentative practice. This kiss is a reckoning, and a choice, and it’s the past nine years in flashing moments that have led you up to this point.

Azriel makes a low, wanting sound and flips the script, using his grip on your jacket to spin you both until you’re the one pushed against the wall, and he’s pressing you there. Slotting a firm, muscled thigh between your legs. He pulls his mouth away from yours to pepper quick, biting kisses along your jaw, down the column of your neck. You gasp, and he gasps back.

“I want you.” His voice almost sounds like a plea — a plea for some solution to this. As though it’s a problem. “I can’t stop myself wanting you.”

“So don’t.” You breathe back, pushing the very centre of you against his thigh. “Stay in Windhaven and forget about everything else. Stay with me. Have me.”

“You make it sound so easy—”

“It is.” You pull his mouth back to yours. “It’s easy. We can be easy. We can be—”

Just down the hall, the opening of the front door cuts your words right off. Footsteps follow. It’ll just be a male returning from training, but it seems to send a tidal wave of ice-cold reality straight over the two of you. Azriel stares down at you, lips parted, still panting.

The nameless male passes by without even sparing either of you a glance. Azriel pulls away.

He turns his back to you and rakes a hand through his hair. You can only watch. So fast, he’s facing you again.

“I—I need you to give me time to register all of this.” He swallows. “I can’t…think right now.”

Do the words sting? Yes. Were you hoping that he would just impulsively let go of his fears and say fuck it? Absolutely.

You should be angry. You should tell him that if he truly wants you, needs you, then he shouldn’t need to think.

But something about the lost expression on his face speaks to you. He’s always been guarded. Always struggled to face his emotions head-on. So many years he spent locked up, trying to convince himself that the loneliness didn’t ache, that his heart didn’t wish.

If you push him right now…it’ll end up with him further away from you.

So it’s the hardest thing in the world to straighten yourself out and pretend your lips aren’t tingling, begging for another taste of his mouth. It’s an effort to put how you feel aside for his sake.

But maybe it’ll be for your sake, too. You are angry…somewhere beneath all the longing, the passion. He didn’t tell you about Tathaln’s proposition. He’d been considering it without consulting any of you. That hurts.

He watches you, waits for you to say something, as you reach for your boots and tug them back on. You came here to tell him what you’d found out, and you’ve done just that — and then some.

When you’ve laced up your shoes, only then do you look at him. Try to hide the bleakness from your face.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” You tell him, and it’s a promise. “But can you do me a favour?”

His eyes sweep over your face, and he nods. “Always.”

“Before you make a decision about Fenlaros…” You actually have to stop yourself and swallow down the lump that forms at the words. You try again, “Before you make a decision about Fenlaros, please just…talk to Rhys and Cass first. The three of you have been a strong unit forever. Forget the troubles that we’ve had and just…just remind yourself of what you’d be leaving behind. Fix things with them. Talk to them.”

He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut again. Nods. “Alright.”

“You don’t need me, Az.” You say as you turn away from him. “But them? You’ll always need them.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The strutting confidence with which Kaeda Baralas usually carries herself is entirely absent as she enters her father’s study.

Her wings are limp — a telltale sign of nerves, intimidation — and it’s an effort to keep them from drooping.

Wings are supposed to be worn proudly. Hers were left intact for a reason. Never will she forget that fact.

Tathaln sits behind his desk, oozing authority, even through menial tasks like going through his correspondence. As Kaeda stops before him and threads her fingers together, she feels much like the younger version of herself — that little girl always trying to think of ways to impress her papa.

“Well?” Tathaln asks without looking up.

The female clears her throat. “He still hasn’t given me an answer.”

Her father pauses, goes deathly still. Kaeda hates that stillness. Dreads it. Knows it means she’s disappointed him.

The Camp Lord places his pen down, and he asks, his tone slicing, “And why have your efforts not been enough to glean an answer?”

Kaeda purses her lips. “I’m trying, father. It’s — he’s harder than I anticipated. I didn’t expect him to be so attached to Windhaven.”

She watches, stomach turning, as the great male before her stands and rounds the desk. He perches on the other side of it and studies his daughter.

“Your brothers seem to be having no problems with the missions I gave them.” He tells her. “Why do you let me down?”

How is she supposed to answer that? Azriel is simply…not what she expected. He’s unlike all the Illyrian males she’s surrounded by. He’s profound, sentimental, caring. He values more than just violence, than war.

“I got the go-ahead from the High Lord that the ball can take place.” Tathaln announces. “We will be amongst a room full of males with potential, who may join our cause. But they won’t if we don’t have some ground to work on. If I don’t have something to show them — warriors who can advocate for us. Like the shadowsinger.”

Kaeda’s gaze lowers. “I’ll keep trying. I’ll ask again.”

“Yes. You will.” He pushes away from the desk. “Because let me remind you of something, lest you’ve forgotten.” A step closer has him towering over her, and he’s…humongous. “I do not give you the freedoms you have, just so you can waste them. I did not leave your wings intact because I abhor the practice of clipping them. I told you to earn them. To hone yourself into a weapon that I can use.”

“I know, father.”

“And what do I do with weapons that are useless? That can’t be used? I rid myself of them. Make no mistake that I would do the same with you if you can’t give me what I need.” A sneer contorts his brutal, beautiful face. “I don’t care what you have to do to attain it. Trick him, force him, bed him. Just get your ass back to Windhaven, and don’t return until the shadowsinger is on side. The ball will be held on Starfall — you have until then.”

“I—”

“Go.”

End of discussion.

He doesn’t want to hear her excuses, her ideas.

He doesn’t want to know that his daughter, deep down, is not capable of the callousness of which he very much is. That in Azriel, she sees a person who is, perhaps, as lonely as she is, and insecure, and trying not to be, in an environment where those things get you killed.

He doesn’t care to know that all she really wants is for her father to throw his arms around her and tell her he loves her, is proud of her, no matter what.

No. He returns to his seat and doesn’t spare her another glance. She’s dismissed.

She takes to the brutal skies and makes her way from one hollow place to another.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Cassian decides two chapters into the book that reading isn’t for him.

He’s just so fucking bored. Rhys is somewhere being all moony eyed over Zakai, Roza and Y/N are still in Velaris, and Azriel still doesn’t seem interested in talking through their issues.

So he’s resorted to this — plucking some weird romance novel off the shelf and giving it a go. Some dramatic tale of a human girl who falls in love with a beast who drinks blood and glistens in the sunlight. Two chapters down, he’s tempted to throw it into the fire — but he remembers that it isn’t his book and returns it to the shelf instead.

He could go to a tavern, but those aren’t fun on his own. Could seek out one of his many sexual conquests for a good time, but something about arguing with his closest of friends translates, for some reason, into his dick refusing to get hard. He’s too churned up for an orgasm, and too churned up to give one out.

So, sleep it is. He heaves a deep sigh and drags himself over to the stairs, feeling mighty sorry for himself. He’s barely placed a foot on the bottom step when a knock falls on the door.

He turns, striding over too fast. He hopes for Rhys, or even Az, anyone—

But Kaeda slumps against the door frame, and he immediately wants to scowl.

Her eyes are glazed, her usually pristine appearance a little unkempt, with strands of cherry red hair slipping free from a ponytail and a stain of some sort of liquid on her shirt.

She hiccups, and the smell of booze rolls from her. “Azriel here?”

“No.” Cassian’s jaw ticks.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Probably at the dorms, but he doesn’t tell her that. “Don’t you have a rock to crawl back under?”

She makes a vague noise and bends at the waist, planting her hands on her knees. “Think ‘m going to be sick.”

“Not here, you’re not.”

“Can I just come in? Please? Need…need water.”

Cassian really, really doesn’t want to let her in.

If he had his way, he wouldn’t let her into the camp, let alone his house.

And he’s a shitty enough person that he’s tempted to turn her away…but not shitty enough to actually do so. She’s clearly wasted, and in a place like Windhaven, a lone, drunk female is a target.

So he grits his teeth and steps aside, and Kaeda doesn’t hesitate to stumble in. She heads straight for the couch, slumping down—

“If you puke on that,” Cass tells her, striding over to the kitchen, “I’ll hold you upside down and mop your vomit up with that obscenely red hair.”

Kaeda seems to find it funny. She snorts. Cassian ignores her and fills a glass with water.

He stalks back over. More or less slams the glass down on the coffee table and then sits at the far end of the same couch. “Your water. Drink it.”

The female grabs the glass and gulps it down, droplets rolling down her chin. Cassian has never seen her so…normal.

“Why are you drunk?” He asks.

She returns the empty glass to the table. “I drank alcohol.”

“Give me a straight answer.”

She sighs, and swivels on the seat so that she’s facing him. She’s a little unsteady as she tucks her legs beneath her and says, “Because I’m a desperately unhappy person, and I can’t do anything right.”

Cass stares at her. He isn’t convinced. She seems mighty happy every time she struts through Windhaven, giving pretty, sultry smiles to different males and revelling in their attention.

“I have so much pressure on my shoulders.” Kaeda says. “I can’t afford to get it all wrong.”

“Everyone has pressure on their shoulders. Welcome to the real world, princess.”

Another snort. She shakes her head. Never seems bothered by Cassian’s sharp-edged words. “You don’t get it.”

But Cass reckons he does. He narrows his eyes as he looks at her — thinks that her perfect outfit probably costs more than his entire wardrobe. Thinks that the fact that she’s got to her age, as a female, and hasn’t had her wings and spirit ripped away from her, is a very lucky thing.

“Oh, I get it.” He bites back. “I know exactly what I’m looking at. A spoilt girl who gets everything she wishes for and still wants more. You have riches and a good standing, and you never have to worry about where your next meal is coming from.”

“…Don’t have any friends, though, do I? Not like you and yours.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’re such an insufferable toad.”

Kaeda stares at him, and he stares back. Gods, he really cannot stand her. Even the way she looks at him makes him want to punch something.

But then she throws her head back, and she bellows a great, loud laugh.

That annoys him, too — that nothing he says, however harsh, seems to bother her. Maybe he simply wishes that he could be like that. So strong.

“Why is it that you hate me so much, Cassian?” Her laughter ebbs into a quiet chuckle, and she’s leaning forward to crack him a smile that has sent better males to their knees. “Tell me.”

Cassian, too, leans forward — tries to scowl that smile out of existence. “Because I think you’re up to something.” He answers. “And I think you’re going to hurt my friends. And if you hurt my friends, princess, I hurt you. It’s that simple.”

He means it. Kaeda can see he means it. And the threat should intimidate her, but it doesn’t.

It makes her hungry. Ravenous.

His hate for her is a challenge that she wants to chase. Every barbed word, every scathing glance —

It sets her on fire.

And she’s happily not thinking about Tathaln, or Fenlaros, or Azriel, as she grips Cassian by the cheeks and slants her mouth over his. She kisses him with such heat that for a moment, he forgets who she is. Her tongue makes its way past his lips—

He shoves her off him, probably too hard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Before she can answer, the front door opens, and Azriel is wandering in.

He takes in the sight of them and stops. Stares between them.

His expression is…indifferent. Like he knows what he’s looking at, but he really could not give a fuck.

And then he clears his throat, and turns to Kaeda. “You should leave.” He says. “Cassian and I need to talk.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @katherinearcheron @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @azriels-mate2

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liahaslosthermind · 2 months ago

Text

~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔 ~

(Past) Rhysand x OC, (Eventual) Azriel x OC Part 2 of Betrayal

Summary: He was out of his mind with grief. Azriel had been through his fair share of trauma. He had seen and done horrific things, but that was always with Adelaide by his side. Now, he didn't know what to do, and he was losing it. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, grief, Hurt/No Comfort

His limbs ached as he stood up from his chair. He had been sitting there so long that walking felt much harder than it usually did.

He rubbed the haze from his eyes while walking to the door, the incessant knocking making his headache worse.

"Fuck, Az. You look- how do you- do you want me to..." Cassian stood in front of his brother, someone he'd known for 500 years, and didn't recognize the male he saw.

It had been the first time in almost 2 months that Cassian's knocks were answered. He had come to her room, everyday, multiple times a day, to plead with his brother to talk to him, to eat something, to just let Cassian look at him so he could see he was alive.

Azriel said nothing as he turned around and went back to the chair he had been occupying. Cassian closed the door behind him as he took in the room.

It was the same as it had been the day she left. Even though this had been the place Azriel spent most of his days, the Shadowsinger had kept it all the same, only touching her bed that he would sleep in the nights he could stomach it, or the chair he was currently in now.

A mess of papers on the desk brought tears to Cassian's eyes. Adelaide, sweet and caring Adelaide, had been making a list of Solstice gifts for her family when she was called to join some of the Inner Circle on a meeting all those months ago. A meeting that had been a trap for them. A meeting that ended up taking her life.

Azriel cleared his throat when Cassian went to pick up a piece of paper. He had tried to hard to keep her room clean while also not disturbing things from the spot she had put them in.

"Nesta told me that her and Elaine have been leaving you food but it remains untouched."

"Is there a question, brother?" Azriel asked. His voice had always been rough, and he had always been more on the quiet side, but Cassian could tell that because of lack of use, it hurt him to speak.

"Why aren't you eating? How can we get you to? I would do anything, Az." he pleaded.

The spymaster didn't answer.

"Whats the end goal? Believe me, if you want 1,000 years to mourn her, I will be with you every step of the way. I've tried to give you space, but you are killing yourself! You sit in here all day, only coming out when everyone is asleep or gone. What do you need to care about your life again?"

He was met with a distracted look from Azriel.

His brother was never distracted. He was never careless. He hadn't missed a day of training for no reason in hundreds of years. Cassian knew he still trained every once in a while, but Azriel always found times to do it when no one else was around.

Azriel didn't have an answer for Cassian, at least not one he would like.

How could I care for my life when her's is over? he thought. By the desperate look on Cassian's face, he could tell his brother knew the answer.

"I lost her too. I know it was different with the two of you, you were each others'... person, but she was as much my sister as you are my brother. I didn't... I didn't even get to say goodbye." Cassian finally broke at the confession. He hadn't let himself think about it, he had to keep himself together for Azriel. "The last time I talked to her, we where fighting over food. She stole the slice of cake I had saved for myself, I called her an inconvenience and a burden, she called me a spoiled bat who needs to learn to share." He let out a bittersweet laugh at the memory. They were usually at each others' throats, and when they weren't, they were teamed up to annoy someone else in their family. But they loved each other, always were there for one another, except in the end, when it mattered most.

"24 hours later, I was picking out the sarcophagus my sister was going to be laid in. I would have let her have all of my leftovers, all of my dessert, if it meant I just got one last conversation with her." Choking up, Cassian sank to the floor, a wave of familiar grief washing over him.

Azriel joined him, crying as he hugged his brother.

The two illyrians, sat like that for a while. Long after their tears had dried, long after the sun had gone down, Cassian finally spoke up.

"Why don't you go see her? Visiting helps me, talking to her even though I know she can't hear is something I do often."

In truth, Azriel hadn't gone to his best friend's mausoleum since the funeral. He couldn't see her like that, couldn't come to terms with it.

These past 6 months had been dark. Everyone was mourning her, many of the people of Velaris included, but none more than Azriel. Part of him had died, laid in the cold marble box that held her body. For the first few months, he had completely disconnected from reality. He went on with his daily routine, he trained, ate, went on missions, did paperwork, slept. But it was as it he was on autopilot, as if the real Azriel had been asleep that whole time.

Two months ago, he woke up. It was sudden, he had gone to his room for the first time in a while to grab some books that had been long overdo at the library, and the priestesses had kindly told him if they didn't get them back he would be banned for life.

Thats when he saw the blanket on the chair by his desk. She had given it to him over a century ago. It was a birthday present, a wool blanket that was enchanted to smell like her always. She had played it off as a self centered gift, so he doesn't forget about his favorite person while away on missions, in front of their friends, but Azriel knew that wasn't her true intention. Adelaide had always been a master gift giver, and she also knew Azriel had trouble sleeping most nights, but he never had any problems falling asleep on the couch next to her after a long night of conversations, wrapped comfortably in her own wool blanket.

He hadn't slept without it till the night she died.

Then, he picked it up, trying to see if the enchantment still worked. And that was all it took for him to wake up. It was awful, every bad feeling he had been too far disassociated to feel hit him at once. He curled up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his hands and stayed there for days, silent tears never ceasing to fall.

After getting yelled at by Madja, who Nesta had called to knock some sense into him, he got up and went to her room, where he remained most of his days since.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, only eating to quiet his stomach, and tried as hard as he could to detach himself from the never ending agony that was his life now.

He told Cas he would see her, the general's face lighting up at the news.

He felt guilty, making Cassian so happy for something he knew would later destroy him.

Hours after Cassian had left the room, as the sun came up, Azriel went to his room to grab the blanket he hadn't touched in 2 months. Then he grabbed Truth Teller, wrote his final request, and went to see Adelaide.

The building was large, and beautifully constructed. He would have been happy that she had a resting place as elysian and inviting as she, but he knew Rhysand only spent that much money and made it this beautiful to try and lighten the guilt he felt.

The Shadowsinger stopped by the entrance, the sarcophagus without a lid placed up on the platform.

Before the funeral, Helion had come to place a enchantment on her body that would keep it perfectly preserved.

It had been more of a final gift to Addie than a show of good will between the courts. Adelaide had been a foundling on the border of Day and Night. Helion took her in as his ward and she grew up with access to the best education and scholarly texts Prythian could offer. Rhysand later made her head of the Night Court's scholarly texts, education, and research. She spent more of her life in Night than Day, but she never went so long without seeing the man who gave her all she had.

She used to tell Azriel she would take him on vacation to Day to meet Helion. He of course had met the man before but they had been the Spymaster of Night and High Lord of Day, Addie wanted them to meet as 'two of the people she loved more than anyone'.

They never did get that vacation.

And as Azriel finally looked down at her, Helion's gift to her felt like a cruel punishment to him.

6 months later, she was still as ethereal as she was the last time he saw her, but she was still just as dead.

This was where he would remain, his final request was to be laid to rest in the same building. He would be adding unnecessary pain onto his loved ones who had suffered so much already, but for the first time in his life, Azriel had decided to put himself in front of his family.

Looking her over one last time, he realized he was now completely numb.

Azriel held the gifted blanket and went to take off the one she currently had. Based off the fact it seemed to have been picked out with meticulous care to match Adelaide's coloring, and her outfit, there was no doubt it had been placed there by Mor.

On her lap, previously being covered by the blanket, laid a large and very old book.

Had one of the scholars she worked with placed it? One of the educators?

Strange marks littered the cover, but no title. Not till he opened the first page did he see what it was.

The Walking Dead

A cruel pick. Who would ever leave such a book with a corpse?

The second page was blank, so was the third, so was the fourth. Thumbing through the book, Azriel just about gave up looking at the blank pages when he finally found one with writing.

It seemed to be a poem, but it was formatted too strangely.

The title at the top read Eternally Intertwined.

A spell.

He almost dropped the book at the realization.

No one had left this book, it had been fate that had given it to him, kept it here waiting for him to stumble upon it.

He knew what he needed to do.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader #azriel angst #azriel #acotar fic #rhysand x oc #azriel x oc #~ lia's betrayal series ~#rhysand

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rae2velarisart · 7 months ago

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Azriel's ongoing theme is to find...

PEACE. WITHIN AND AROUND HIM

To realize that he is:

Worthy of love

Loved by his family for WHO he is as a person

Not defined by his traumatic past and actions

Allowed to fight for who or what he wants

This male has been:

Locked up in a cell for ELEVEN years by his stepmother, only being let out an hour a day and an hour a WEEK to see his mother

Burned ruthlessly by his half brothers at the age of eight, resulting in burns on his hands that didn't fully heal, leaving scars (which he's STILL extremely self-conscious about after 500 years)

Surrounded by darkness and shadows for years without sunlight as a child

Forbidden to train and fly while he lived with his father, something that's taught to Illyarians as a BABY

Shipped off to an Illyarian camp when his father found out he was a shadowsinger

Mocked as a bastard child alongside Rhys and Cassian

Hated by the Illyarians for his immense power due to being a bastard child (Illyarians valued patricharcy more than anything)

Separated from his friends for seven years during the war. (Rhys' father was FEARFUL of the bat boys being together because of their power)

Assigned as the spymaster by Rhys' father and was forced to do all his dirty work (we don't know what ALL Rhys' father made Azriel do during the war, and he was a ruthless male)

Pinning over Mor for over 500 years, even finding out Cassian slept with her

Thinking he is only of value to his friends for his work as a spymaster

Almost killed twice (once when trying to save Elain from Hybern and second when he was pierced by an ash arrow)

Finally able to move on from Mor, finding solace and peace with Elain (who is interested in him as well) only to be ordered to stay away from her due to Lucien being her mate ( even though she doesn’t show interest in Lucien)

Azriel needs some all-around PEACE in his life.

What about a love interest?

The fandom seems to debate on this topic, but one thing for sure is that he doesn't need to be "challenged" by someone... Where do we even see THAT being anywhere in the books?

Here's what we are shown...

1. Where do we find him most at peace/relaxed?

With Elain

Even Feyre states that Elain would find PEACE and QUIET with Azriel... and liked the idea...

2. Who do we find Azriel's focus on?

Elain

3. Where do we find the IC being the most surprised by Azriels reactions/actions?

With Elain

4. Who does Azriel ALWAYS try to beat Feyre to greet/assist?

Elain

5. Who does Azriel always volunteer to help?

(Omg I hit my limit with photos 🤣)

But I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

Elain

6. Who stills Azriel's razor-sharp thoughts?

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike."....

Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?"

His head went quiet.

Elain

7. Who was Azriel willing to give up his LIFE to save?

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Elain

8. Who openly accepts Azriel's scars, one of his BIGGEST insecurities?

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks,

Elain

9. Who actually SEES him and notices his needs?

“I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained. Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” Silence. Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.” Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

Elain

10. Who is Azriel thinking about every night?

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make

Elain

11. Who does Azriel want to kiss and have a lovely pussy eating feast on?

Wrong -- it was so wrong.

He didn't care.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Elain

ELAIN IS THE ANSWER TO HIS PEACE...

TO HELPING HIM FIND PEACE WITHIN AND AROUND HIM.

#elain acotar #elain archeron #elriel #elain x azriel #azriel #elriel supremacy #azriel acotar #pro elriel #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #acosf

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wishcamper · 11 days ago

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‧₊˚AO3 Masterlist‧₊˚

Nessian

𓆰♕𓆪 A Court of Vice and Victors - Acosf rewrite ft mental healthcare, emotionally intelligent Nessian, Illyrian rebellion, and IC reckoning. Current main longfic, ongoing. 28/40

𓆰♕𓆪 ACOVAV Bonus Chapters - Missing moments from my main fic, ongoing. 5/?

𓆰♕𓆪 My Sweetest Downfall - Samson and Delilah AU, angst with a happy(ish?) ending. One-shot.

𓆰♕𓆪 Hands Down - Beach AU meet-cute with hot lifeguard Cassian. One-shot for now.

𓆰♕𓆪 Win Lose or Draw - Nesta and Cassian vacation in Day, Cassian is a simp for his wife. One-shot.

𓆰♕𓆪 Is This It? - Toxic!Nessian acofas canon divergence, big ouch, big angst. One-shot.

𓆰♕𓆪 Five More Minutes - Fluffy Nesta POV slice-of-life. One-shot.

𓆰♕𓆪 High Stakes - Nesta runs an underground poker game and Cassian is still a simp for his wife. One-shot.

𓆰♕𓆪 Out of the Fog, Into the Mist - Witcher!Cassian and sorceress!Nesta Witcher AU. One-shot.

𓆰♕𓆪 i can picture it (after all these days) - Soft modern AU ft mental health struggles and questions about kids. One-shot.

𓆰♕𓆪 smoke signals - modern thanksgiving AU, nesta and cassian bond over being problem children. Ongoing. 1/?

Gwynriel

𓆩♡𓆪 Dark Matter - Grad student AU ft neuropsych student Gwyn and insomniac Azriel. On hiatus. 1/?

Misc.

ʚ🔮ɞ Thicker Than Water - Nesta gets more than she bargained for when she asks Cassian about his past sexcapades. One-shot.

ʚ🔮ɞ Killing Amren - Killing Eve-inspired Nesta x Amren relationship post-acosf. One-shot.

#nessian #acotar #fanfic #gwynriel #acotar fanfiction

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shadowflorecita · 11 months ago

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Elain x Azriel

This dazzling art is by my wonderful, skilled, hardworking friend @moshimoichi, and I am so thankful for the time & care she dedicated in creating this beautiful commission for me.

Please do not repost, reblogs are welcome & appreciated! 🖤🌸

Below the cut is a little ficlet to accompany this sweet moment.

𖥧⚘𖤣𖡼

The sunlight was a steady stream, gilding the cottage in a summer morning radiance. Sparrows sang their cheerful melody as they flitted from branch to branch of the fruit trees, more birds joining in the chorus as they awakened.

Elain and Azriel had created a shared routine to rise early and witness the sunrise together. Sometimes they were tangled in each other, all tousled hair and sheets askew, watching the daybreak from the windows of their bedroom. Sometimes they were on the balcony cuddled in comfortable silence. And sometimes they shared Elain's favorite meal of the day in the garden. The most important meal, as she often reminded the Shadowsinger.

It wasn't a previous habit for Azriel to take time to eat slowly and savor a breakfast. Aside from official court gatherings or traditional family dinners, he usually had his meals on the go; quick and fuss-free. Boiled and peeled eggs, slices of toast, links of sausage, anything that could be eaten within a short amount of time or as he flew to his destinations.

Since spending more time with Elain, he found he rather enjoyed a moment to sit down with her for a meal. He indulged in her quiches and pastries, sweet and savory alike. The creations she orchestrated in the kitchen were some of the most delicious food he had ever tasted. He delighted in settling beside Elain, her eyes wandering his face, gauging his reactions to her cooking. They often mirrored each other's expressions, communicating in their secret language.

Azriel helped himself to the food on his plate, chewing slowly and luxuriating in the buttery flavors. He was fully armored today, prepared for a swift reconnaissance mission with Cassian. They would scout the coasts of the mortal lands, keeping a lookout for any odd activity, armed to the teeth and prepared for anything. Especially after the events earlier in the Spring with Briallyn and Koschei. If all went well, Azriel would reassign his spies back to the lands to remain as the Night Court's eyes and ears, ready to report if trouble transpired.

Beside him, with her legs draped lazily over his lap as she leaned against the bench with Azriel's free arm around her, Elain sipped her tea. She reveled in the nearness of him. It was not long ago that Elain had stormed into Rhysand's office on an early morning just like this one. The light of dawn was still peeking into the windows of the river house study when Elain threw open the doors, prowled to Rhysand's desk, her teeth bared with fury and demanded that the high lord understand that she had every right to gift her affections to whom she wanted. Without his unwelcome scheming.

Feyre and Rhysand had froze then. A stack of parchments fell from Feyre's hands all over the desk and Elain would forever remember the panicked look on Rhys's face once Feyre whirled and began snarling at him, viciously recalling Rhysand's own promise that Elain would be wholly protected in Velaris should she choose to reject the suppressive cauldron forged bond.

There were countless times Elain had been thankful to Feyre and filled with pride for her sister's tenacity for justice, but this moment immediately became one of her favorites. Feyre was a mother now, and the protective essence of an irate wild bear shone in her eyes and the scrunch of her nose. The image would remain in Elain's memory for the rest of her immortal life.

Elain triumphantly left the study and took the appropriate course of action with Lucien that very day to formally reject the bond. Lucien was... thankfully relieved. Elain had known that Lucien had a blossoming love of his own for the red haired human queen Vassa, but Elain would no longer politely wait for him to gather the courage to take action. She was an Archeron, and trembling fawn aside, like her sisters, she was also a fanged beast. The resolve to fight for what she desired for herself was enough for Elain to bravely face all consequence and cost.

It was a liberation, for that odd and misplaced link to go permanently dark. She understood the lifeless thread would always remain, but she felt like she wholly belonged to herself once again. Lucien took Elain by surprise by declaring an everlasting oath to never call in a blood duel against anyone Elain chose to spend her life with. She in turn, graced him with thanks and blessings for his own journey of the heart. Afterward, Elain immediately went to Azriel, explaining her actions, her heart, and her wish to never leave his side. If he would allow it.

The teacup clinking against the ceramic plate tugged Elain from her memories as Azriel finished the last of his tea. She had particularly enjoyed learning how he liked his tea- cinnamon bark and orange peel was his usual brew. He was also fond of peppermint.

"Regretfully, it is time I must be off."

The pair stood from the bench, their dishes whisked inside the cottage by Azriel's shadows. Elain was pleased that he had helped himself to two servings of quiche. She brushed off the crumbs from his polished plackhart into the graveled path. He was the epitome of a heroic and unvanquished knight, his dark armor and fastened weapons at a complimentary contrast with the bright, delicate blooms of their garden.

Azriel peered down at her, his inky curls brushing against his brows in the way Elain was so fond of. She reached up to run her fingers through it, overwhelmed with the need to always be touching him. Azriel beamed, pulling her into his arms and kissed her reverently on the soft skin of her earlobe. Then both cheeks, her chin, her lips, ending his affectionate conquest by softly nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers. Elain shuddered at his touches, the feel of home as his mouth and scarred hands roved over her. She peered into his hazel eyes, the colors glittering the way sunshine dances upon the surface of the Sidra.

So long ago this moment felt like an impossible dream yet here it was, real and palpable and hers. Elain's heart fluttered with gratitude and awe as she stroked Azriel's strong jaw, the tiniest prickles scrubbing her palm.

Azriel read the thoughts reflected in her eyes, felt them in the special way he was always able to. His hands squeezed her waist, pressing his lips to hers. Hesitant to pull away, his wings lightly enveloped them, the sun now peeking over his broad shoulders.

"I miss you already. I will think of you every moment until I see you again" he murmured.

Elain chuckled, a roll of her eyes and subtle shake of the head "You won't be gone long, I will see you for dinner! I hope everything goes well."

Azriel grinned, his hidden dimples revealing themselves. "Whether I am away for an hour or a full day or a month, you are always on my mind Elain. You and that lovely smile of yours. I will see you this evening."

Elain's expression was soft, her doe-like eyelashes fluttering "Until then" she said.

"Until then" Azriel nodded, and after one last kiss to her hand, took a few steps down the garden path and launched himself into the sky, the breeze from his wings caressing her. As he flew into the clouds to meet his brother, Elain scattered a silent "Be safe, my darling" to the winds.

--✿--

Thank you for reading! A very special thank you to @tealeaves-and-rosepetals for helping with proofreading & edits, I really appreciate your endless kindness and encouragement!

Feliz año nuevo friends 💕

#elriel #elriel art #pro elriel #elain and azriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #sjm #acotar art

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k-daydreams · 1 year ago

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The Pursuit of Feeling Alive: III. Bratty Behavior

Pairing: fem!reader x azriel, platonic!innercircle

Synopsis: cousin to Rhysand and Morrigan, y/n was once her family’s golden child. Faced with trials and tribulations her whole life, she needed reprieve— a distraction. Until a surprise homecoming opens Pandora’s box, and gives y/n a reality check. Especially facing her once close friend Azriel. Friends to Enemies to lovers trope.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: swearing, trauma, reader being shitty, slow slow burn, mor and Cassian being readers moral sanity, filler chapter, grammatical errors lmao

Authors note: hellooo! So this is kinda a filler since what I was writing for this part was so long. Next part will really be juicy I promise! Thank you guys for so much love on the last part, I hope y’all will like this! Not a lot of Az has been in this part, mainly talking about him in 3rd person, but I promise hold on hope y’all get him in action in the next!! Lmk what you guys think

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

"Rhysand isn't impressed with Azriel," Mor declared, her knife slicing through a piece of meat. "To be honest, Y/n, I could genuinely throttle him." She took a bite of her food before continuing.

It was your first night back in Velaris, and the inner circle, along with the company, was aware of what had happened between Azriel and you. Well, at least what Cassian, Nesta, and Elain had witnessed. Rhys and Feyre hadn't approached you about it yet; Mor mentioned they wanted to spare you any further distress for the time being. Typically when one of the inner circle members had returned home from something, Rhys would have organized a celebratory family dinner, but he had decided against it for now. Instead, you and Mor dined alone in the House of Wind tonight.

Nonchalantly, you shrugged and took a sip from your wine glass. "Just another tantrum from that Illyrian man-child. Nothing new, really." You tried to sound relaxed, not wanting your friends and family to worry about you or the argument. You didn't want Azriel to know his words had cut you deeply or give him any satisfaction. You had already shown him just how much they had affected you. The impact was tangible—you had been restless, tossing and turning in bed for the past few nights, with no appetite to eat. Your homecoming was supposed to mark the beginning of your healing journey, yet here you were, starving and sleep-deprived due to the nonsense uttered by a man who thought he knew you.

Mor nodded knowingly, her napkin dabbing at her lips. "He had no right to speak to you like that," she said, her voice firm. "He knows that, no matter what, you're family. That's why we came back for you when Helion sent word. He knows we would do the same for any member of our family and to disregard you so quickly like that."

Disheartened, you let out a sigh. "I don't know, Mor. I knew we ended things on a sour note, but it's been nearly 60 years since then. I thought he would have moved on."

Her food momentarily forgotten, Mor nearly choked when you made that statement. "Please tell me you didn't just say that," she responded incredulously.

What do you mean?"

She stared at you intensely, her eyes burning into your soul as you went blank. "Seriously?" Perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. "I've seen you hold grudges for centuries, and yet you expect him to forgive you for an argument that happened over half a century ago?"

Both of you fell silent, studying each other across the table. Mor's loyalty to Azriel, despite never reciprocating his feelings, was unwavering—just as yours had been in the past. At times, it made you question if her feelings for him were truly nonexistent, like now. A queasiness churned in your stomach, and your head throbbed with a dull ache. Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach hadn't been the best idea, especially when thoughts of Mor and Azriel intertwined.

You cleared your throat, a newfound coldness lacing your tone as you spoke up. "Every grudge I've held has been a result of something more severe than an argument," you stated, fidgeting with the table linen. "An argument, mind you, that happened because he didn't want me to follow Rhys."

Mor retorted sharply, "Look where that got you." Your heart started pounding, your ears heating. Your gaze dropped in her direction, and a familiar flame ignited within you. "What he did was fucked up, but Y/n, you can be a stubborn brat." You opened your mouth to object, but she raised a hand to stop you. "I'm not trying to be rude. I say this because I care about you. But it's time to own up to your mistakes. Only then, maybe, just maybe, you can find peace again."

Mor's tough love never felt good, but you knew it always came from a place of good intentions. Angry and devastated, you found it hard to accept hearing all that. Sure, you could be opinionated and stubborn at times, but reducing yourself to a brat felt unjust.

Draining your wine, you replied, "I had hoped for a civil conversation with him whenever we did talk." Mor looked skeptical, likely not fully believing you. You did have a record for the last century or so with picking arguments, you blamed being around Mor and Amren so much, and maybe a lot of repressed feelings.

Despite her irritation with you, Mor reached out and took your hand in hers, comforting you with gentle circles on the back of it, like a mother would. "When it comes to you, it seems his shadows turn to flames."

There was so much you wanted to say, but you remained silent, allowing her words to echo in your mind. You couldn't quite grasp their cryptic meaning, but you didn’t want to indulge in the topic too much longer. Mor let go of your hand, standing up. "Feel like grabbing a drink at Rita's?" she asked, her tone changing, a small smirk forming. A way to nurse your wounds.

Shaking your head, you replied, "Not tonight. I need to rest. Traveling today drained me. But thank you." You offered a tight-lipped smile.

"Sweet dreams, little star," Mor said, patting your head before walking away.

The once-dull headache now throbbed prominently in your forehead, and you cradled your head in discomfort. Mor’s conversation seemed to reflect the same argument you had a few days prior with Azriel. Though not filled with as malicious intent as his did, it still left you feeling just as scorned. The house cleared the table immaculately as you stood to make your way to your room.

The hallways were quiet and deserted, illuminated by the dim twinkle of faelights illuminating the red stone of the walls. Each light flickered slightly in your presence before dimming again, but you were too weary to care about such peculiarities of your powers. The House of Wind sprawled endlessly, a labyrinth of doors and spiraling stairs within the mountainside. A few new paintings and plants adorned the halls, likely additions from the High Lady and her sister, but it all remained as you remembered.

When you enter your room, a plate with an assortment of delectable cheese and crackers, accompanied by a tall, refreshing glass of water. Along with a small container of headache powder sat patiently on your bedside table. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you witnessed the house meticulously pulling back your sheets, reminiscent of the way it used to prepare your bed during your childhood days. Gently placing your night clothes at the foot of the bed, a smile of gratitude graced your face, silently expressing your appreciation to the house. It seemed that Rhys had been right about something you thought once you were in bed getting pulled into a restless sleep.

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

You trudged begrudgingly through the halls of the endless mansion. Feyre had roused you from slumber earlier that morning, informing you of a meeting with the inner circle in an hour. Though you harbored little desire to attend, it was the first order by your new High Lady, making it a matter of importance. You hated how far your room was from the war room. Wishing you had wings, even better, you wished you had a room closer to one of the rooms you frequented the most. Finally almost out of breath, you made it to the entrance. You stalked into the room, you found Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Azriel, and Mor already settled in their seats.

"Tsk, tsk, fashionably late to your first meeting?" Cassian playfully jabbed at you. Walking past him, you discreetly flicked the back of his head, eliciting a muttered "brat" as he dramatically nursed the imaginary injury.

Your steps faltered for a moment, as that word—brat—pricked at your annoyance. Not letting it fester too much, you take a seat between Mor and Lucien. Sitting across from Cassian and Amren, with Azriel positioned diagonally next to his brother, you could feel his intense gaze fixed upon you. Determined not to shudder or shift under his scrutiny, you resolved not to let him see how deeply his words affected you. Deep down, however, you couldn't deny the lingering care you held for him, or the way his presence had consumed your thoughts over the past week like a plague.

"I don't see Feyre and Rhysand, so technically I'm not late," you declared, a smug tone coloring your words.

"Actually, they had other matters to attend to," Amren replied indifferently. It had been less than an hour since you last saw Feyre, leaving you puzzled as to what could have transpired in such a short span of time. Cassian nudged your foot under the table, a silent reminder of his earlier warning. Narrowing your eyes, you retaliated by kicking his shin, relishing in his sharp intake of breath as he winced. "Relax, Y/n!" he exclaimed, while you concealed your smirk, leaning back in your chair with crossed arms.

"Must you be so childish?" Azriel's voice snapped at you, catching you off guard.

Cassian stared at his brother in shock, attempting to defend your actions. “Brother I had started it-“

Beside him, the spymaster exhaled, regaining his composure. "I don't care who started it; I want to get through this as quickly as possible.” he requested, his tone cold.

"Yes, please," you muttered under your breath. The shadowsinger shot you a look.

Though you sensed he had more to say, Amren began speaking before another argument could erupt, cutting straight to the point. "We haven't visited the Court of Nightmares in quite some time. It's about time we made an appearance; I'm sure they're on the brink of chaos by now."

Mor sucked in her teeth, and you could hear Lucien gulp audibly, clearly apprehensive at the thought. You bit your lip anxiously.

"I won't be able to attend. Rhysand, specifically Feyre, has requested that you, Y/n, take the reins tonight," Amren announced, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. She seemed unfazed by the prospect of missing out on the formal affair. Uncertainty flickered across the faces of those from the inner circle, unsure of how you would receive the order, except for Azriel, whose expression remained inscrutable.

You fidgeted with your fingers, picking at the hangnails. Before Amarantha, you had taken pleasure in Rhys entrusting you with these meetings, where you handled official business between the Court of Dreams and Nightmares. It had been empowering to witness your family obeying your orders, having spent so long following theirs, only to be shunned upon your return in the aftermath of one of the darkest days of your life. Your parents were ready to condemn you for treason when they first laid eyes on you. That’s when Rhys had appointed you as an emissary. Primarily since you had spent the most time in the court knowing the ins and outs, and as a sick punishment for your family.

Now, anxiety gripped you as memories you had desperately tried to suppress from your childhood. Those memories now attached with the new ones you sought to repress from your encounter with Amarantha. It became increasingly difficult to focus on Amren's words as your gaze wandered blankly through the expansive window behind her, stretching from the floor to the ceiling.

"Azriel will be right beside you for protection throughout the night, Cassian will accompany Mor, with Lucien joining them," Amren continued, a hint of wariness in her words.

"Why-why can't Cass be by my side?" you stammered. "He's a general for a reason." You had an inkling to why Azriel had always been at your side when you’d be in charge of this responsibility, but you also wanted him nowhere near you. Didn’t anyone else think that him and you together was an awful idea at the moment?

"Because Azriel has a more intimidating effect on your family," Amren replied, looking knowingly at him. Azriel remained stoic, mirroring your own defensive posture—scarred muscular arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, stil as a statue. "As I said, it's been some time since we made an appearance. Who knows what they might do? We can't risk any harm coming to the Princess on her first days back at court," she added mockingly. Rolling your eyes, you fought the urge to offer her a vulgar gesture. For that remark alone, she could certainly go to hell.

"Cassian will come to fetch you later, so you can all gather at the townhouse and winnow together," Amren concluded nonchalantly. "Now, I need to speak with Mor and Cassian privately. You three are dismissed; I'm sure Azriel and Y/n are just itching to throw themselves off the dining room veranda by now." She said to you, Lucien, and Azriel. She was right about one thing, you thought to yourself, your chair scraping against the floor as you stood, eager to escape the war room as quickly as possible.

You closed the door to your room, and fell into your bed screaming into the mattress. You were frustrated, overwhelmed, and exhausted from lack of sleep. A small commotion on your nightstand made you jump, looking up, a medium box now laid on the stand. An envelope attached to a deep purple ribbon wrapped around the gift. You sat up, and grabbed it, opening the paper.

‘Give them hell tonight, you've earned it little star. -R&F’

Inside the box was a diadem of silver, stars of different shapes hung all adorning the chain encrusted in emeralds, diamonds of different hues, and sapphires for you to wear tonight. You sighed, a new feeling slithering through your veins. Maybe this was Rhysand’s way of giving you therapy. You all played a game and made a show down in the court of nightmares that the inner circle all got a kick out of at one point or another. Maybe playing the act was what you needed? You had let your mental shield down, letting your thoughts empty to nothing, hoping Rhys would be paying attention.

You planned this intentionally? You thought once your mind was blank.

Me? What would make you think so? Rhys purred in your mind.

You rolled your eyes. Mhm, you two just had to conveniently leave all of a sudden?

That’s a matter for tomorrow, just try not to torture someone to death tonight, especially not our spymaster. He taunted.

Your spymaster, no promises. You clarified.

Have fun, little star. You could feel him poking at your mind to signal he was no longer there.

You threw your shield up, and laid back on your bed. Tonight was going to be interesting.

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

You fixed your lip shine in the mirror, finishing the final touches to your look before a rhythmic knock on your ajar door sounded.

“You ready?” Cassian peaked before walking into the room.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He let out a low whistle as he examined you. “Your family’s not gonna like that.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” You smirked despite a brief heat rising to your cheeks.

The gown you chose was something you had saved for a trip specifically for the court of nightmares before you had been trapped under the mountain. The bodice had long sleeves and was skin tight, black crystal branches wrapping up your arms, and up your waist with thicker branches covering your chest. The skirt billowed with several layers of gossamer, much like the gown you wore in the day court just several days prior, but had slits dangerously high risking a reveal of your hip bones unlike the other gown. You wore the highest heels you had in your closet that were sure to make you grumpy just by standing in them for more than a couple minutes— exactly why you chose them. Then the diadem that Rhys and Feyre gifted you graced the top of your head and shimmered in the faelight of your room that flickered in your wake, when you felt the satisfaction from Cass’s comment.

He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. “I don’t think I even like that.” Then he noticed the slits in the fabric. Rubbing a hand over his face in disbelief. “Mother of the cauldron Y/n, are you even wearing anything under that dress?” He made a face which made you laugh out loud.

“Pig, no need to worry about that!” You slapped his arm lightly before looping yours through it.

“You’re right I don’t want to know.” He shook his head. Cassian was always your comedic relief from your worries, and you were thankful that hadn’t changed. “Could you let Nesta borrow it?” He suggested cheekily.

You groaned disgustedly, “then I would have to burn it afterwards.”

“Good, I don’t want to see you in this gown again after tonight.”

“You’re not my father.” You teased as you two walked out to the balcony.

“Yeah but in my head you’ll always be like my little sister, no matter how much of a brat you are.” He nudged you.

“I hate that word,” you admitted, preparing yourself for flight.

He picked you up bridal style as if you weighed nothing in his arms. You adjusted the fabric so it wouldn’t fly up mid flight. “You know it’s true.” He said, his wings rustling, preparing himself.

You gave him a pointed look, “I’m considering it’s true.” Providing a pinch to his bicep. Without warning he took off into the night sky of Velaris, teasingly loosening his grip on you like he was going to drop you.

“If you keep hurting me, I’ll have to sic my mate on you.” A mischievous glint in his eyes.

“She probably knows you deserve it.” You watched the city below light up under the starry sky.

“Touché,” he smiled. He looked in thought as a silence fell over you two letting you admire Velaris below. You hadn’t had a chance to explore the city since your return, today would’ve been the day if it weren’t for the meeting in the court of nightmares. You could see the rainbow quarters perfectly from above and hear the music in the distance. The stars and moon were close to you as well, the music and being so close the light brought solace to any nerves you may have had. It prickled softly at your skin, seeping into your skin.

“I could guess one person who’ll be excited to see you.” Cassian broke the momentary silence.

“Don’t say his name,” you begged, seeing the angle he was trying to pull.

“Who, Azriel?” He grinned broadly.

“My peace is ruined,” you deadpanned, him chuckling at your disdain.

“Don’t let him being an asshole deter you. He’s been all bent out of shape since your absence. I think he’s just hurt deep down, and those little shadows that are always in his ear when you're around doesn’t help.”

You listened to Cassian ramble, confusion filling you. “You haven’t heard everything he's said to me.”

He relaxed a bit, soaring lower, the familiar townhouse now in your view. “I haven’t heard everything you've said to him either, and I don’t think it’s my business or my right to say anything on the matter given my record. Sometimes you say shit in the heat of the moment, sometimes you say shit to hide what’s actually going on underneath it all. One thing I know whenever it comes to you he’s always all up in arms. Not even Elain can do that to him. I didn’t even see him like that with Mor besides that one time.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, getting ready to land. You gripped his neck tighter, bracing yourself.

“When you’re not annoying, you’re actually wise y’know that?” You were in awe at his words. You weren’t sure how true his interpretation was, but for now it brought you slight comfort and ease about the Azriel situation. He landed with his wings slightly fluttering about, shaking off the wind of the night. He gently set you down, and you tried adjusting yourself now that you were standing. You went to fix the diadem, but Cass pushed your hand away lightly, doing it for you.

“I would hope so, year 600 is creeping up on me fast.”

You laughed softly, “you're about to be an old man.”

“Yeah let’s not talk about that, we’re talking about you remember?” He fixed a loose piece of hair that was out of place. “Try not to let him get to you too much tonight or at least channel it into you being all scary and brooding. I’ve missed you in court, it hasn't been the same.”

“Thank you Cass, and I’m sorry for not visiting.” You said sincerely.

Pulling you into his arms for an embrace, he sighed. “I figured you needed space. There’s nothing wrong with that. Rhys went to the cabin after he came out from under there. You just went to the day court for almost a decade long sabbatical.” He shrugged casually. “You can repay me by training again once you’re settled.” You nodded, pulling away. He wrapped his arm around you, “C’mon we have a party to get to.”

Lucien, Morrigan, and Azriel waited for you two. Azriel was the first to look up at the sound of your heels clicking on floor into the foyer of the townhouse. His hazel eyes darkened, eyebrows slightly narrowing, and jaw clenched at the sight of you. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes traced your body, lingering at the top of the slits of the gown that could expose your hip bones at any sudden movement, before taking in your bare legs that were accentuated by the uncomfortable heels. You felt a warmth in your core that betrayed any ill feelings towards the spymaster, and you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself. You never knew a look would be able to enthrall you so much and ignite such feelings.

He was in his more formal fighting leathers, muscles at full display even underneath the leather, his hair neatly styled back, sciphons glowing under the light of the common room. He was god-like, you couldn’t deny that. Not rugged looking like Cassian or as regal as Rhys, but he was beautiful. You wanted to be sick at thinking these thoughts. His shadows whispered in his ears as he stared at you. You couldn’t discern the look in his eyes as Mor approached you.

“Oh my, my fathers gonna croak, I love it!” She squealed looking at the patterns on your dress. “But we do have to get going, Y/n winnow Cass?” She looked at the male beside you.

You were about to agree, but Azriel spoke up. “I think I should be with her. Just in case. Amren said they’re possibly at a brink of chaos.” His voice was gravelly, and your heart pounded erratically at the huskiness in his tone.

“O-okay? Cassian, let’s come on then.” She looked at you, your eyes were wide in surprise.

Azriel approached you, and his scent of cedar and mist filled your senses making you want to melt even more. You only cleared your throat, straightening your back as his scarred arm reached around you pulling you closer to him as you got ready to winnow. You could feel the rough pad of his thumb near the top of the slit of your dress making your mind blank. His shadows swirled around your wrists in greeting for the first time since you’ve seen him, and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

Mor and Cassian disappeared along with Lucien right behind them. Azriel’s body heat and movement of his hand on your hip was making you flushed, unable to concentrate. Then his lips were close to your ear and you could feel his cool breath on your neck.

“Whatever happens tonight, don’t take it to heart.” The grip on your hip had tightened, and you could feel the sheath of truth-teller in your lower back.

You looked up to him, even wearing your tallest heels he had towered over you, observing the deadly calm on his face. Your gaze lingered on his lips for a second before flirting back to his intense hazel orbs.

You said barely above a whisper, scared your voice would betray your words. “You forget I’m great at this game, shadowsinger.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

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Aaaaand we’re off to the races besties!! I had so much fun writing this part! I hope you’re excited as I am for the next one!!

Taglist: @tcris2020 @rachelnicolee @thelov3lybookworm @bubybubsters @mich0731 @t0uch-starved-h0e @penguins-are-the-best @justagingerliving @brekkershadowsinger @jiinmii

If I missed any of you just lmk!

#azriel shadowsinger fic #azriel shadowsinger x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #feyre archeron #inner circle fic #nessian #azriel shadowsinger imagine #azriel shadowsinger smut #azriel smut #cassian acotar #pofa #morrigan acotar

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