#cassian x azriel x y/n

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our Girl – Part 4

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: Smut [18+, minors DNI]

You stared at the gold invitation, cursive writing announcing Cresseida to be wed in a months time. And there was your name printed, Y/N and partners. You had scoffed when you first saw it – maybe in another life.

You were chewing your lip, lost in thought on whether to attend or not. You knew at the least, Rhys and Feyre would attend the wedding – that meant seeing them. And word would surely spread of your work at Spring Court once you got to chatting to other guests – that would reveal your location. 

“Whats bothering you, young spark?” Finbark asked from the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables as a pot of stew boiled behind him. He looked up briefly, spotting the invitation in your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of not attending?” 

“I don't want to risk what I have here.”

“Y/N, everything you’ve worked for is already yours. Your home here, your work, even your privacy, no one can take that away from you now, not even a High Lord or Lady.”

“I know, you’re right. It’s just… I've so enjoyed my little bubble away from everything that happened. Seeing them… they made me feel so small Fin, so helpless. I don't know if I can stand going through that again.”

“So much has happened since then. Look at all you’ve done, all you’ve accomplished. Thousands of fae, gods, even the entire damn court is mending thanks to you. You were never small, and you have proven that to yourself over and over again.”

A wobbly smile jerked at your lips, tears pricking in your eyes. He wiped his hands, leaving the vegetables to come cup your face, brushing away your tears.

“You cannot lock yourself in Spring Court forever, sweetheart. Don't punish yourself for their mistakes, expand your horizons, celebrate with friends that are equally yours as they are theirs. And celebrate yourself, you deserve that even more.”

You reached for your uncle’s rippled hand, holding it tight. “Thank you, Finbark. You mean the world to me.”

“And you me, young spark.” 

So it was decided. You would attend the wedding, without any partners.

————

“Where are we going?” you called from Podie, Tamlin a few paces ahead on his own horse. He was leading you through a trail you weren't familiar with.

“For the umpteenth time Y/N, it’s a surprise.” He called back without turning his head. 

You let out an audible sigh, to which Tamlin chuckled. You did your best not to admire his ass as he straddled a horse – it helped neither of you how handsome Tamlin looked in his riding clothes. You pressed your heels to Podie, coming to trot beside him.

“You should know I hate surprises,” you sang.

“Even the good kind? What a shame,” Tamlin responded, clearly not letting up on where he was taking you. You poked your tongue out, earning another chuckle.

It had been several months since your first dinner with Tamlin, and you had fallen into a comfortable pattern with the High Lord. You enjoyed a regular drink or meal together when your work crossed paths, and he had even consulted you on advice for his court, which flattered you. His company was a consistent pleasure, and you treasured the friendship you had formed – the Gods knew you needed it.

You managed to bite your tongue for another twenty minutes, and just as you were about to pester him again, Tamlin spoke. “It’s just up this trail.”

Pulling the reins of his horse, Tamlin led you down a steep path, hidden much by overhanging trees and bushes, only to reveal a clearing.

No, not a clearing – a field, blossoming with rows of carefully planted pink flowers. And as you got closer, the size of the field was revealed, bordered by a low wooden fence. It was… a farm?

You drew in an audible breath as the scent of the flowers hit you. You widened your eyes at Tamlin, who was grinning at your shock. You dismounted Podie quickly, rushing to brace the fence as you took in the site with awe. 

“Wild Gernaium?” you choked, your eyes still wide. 

“The healing flower,” Tamlin nodded. “It took a while to learn how to farm them, months in fact, but Spring has Prythians best botanists.”

“And here I thought they could only grow in the wild,” you shook your head with disbelief. “Tamlin, these are so rare, how on earth you were able to farm this many?”

“Spring Court is a land that gives back, the soil here is rich of nutrients and the weather forgiving. It is of course only something we were able to do, thanks to your mission work to help recover the land. This is your accomplishment as much as it is theirs.”

Tears pricked in your eyes then. The amount of fae that could be helped with this crop – it was an overwhelming thought. 

“And they are for you, of course.”

You gaped at the High Lord, who laughed again. 

“For me?”

“Of course, for your work. Whatever you need – farmers to pick the flowers, a factory full of workers to grind and bottle the pigment – say the word and it’s yours.”

“Tamlin, I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Please, don’t. It’s not a thanks I deserve, I’m just… trying to look out for my people. Just as you do.”

“Well… you’ve done a Gods damned good job,” you said with raised brows, blowing out a loose breath at the extend of the farm. 

Tamlin threw his head back and laughed, and you grinned at his happiness. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Nice work, High Lord.”

Tamlin squeezed your hand back. “It wouldn't be without you.”

He pulled on your hand then, leading you through the flowers as you admired the plants up close. He explained that a factory could be built at the farms edge, attached with a pressing mill and grinders. Your heart fluttered with excitement, your work could extend past manual labour, you could now offer medicine and healing. There was a force brewing inside you, something unstoppable and good, something that lay dormant for centuries, finally unleashed and free.

You still held Tamlin’s hand as he lead you through the field, making your way to a lush hill that overlooked the farm. You sat together, Tamlin listening contently as you excitedly spoke through your ideas on how to harvest the medicine, noting that your small growing team of mission workers could also help to distribute throughout the court.

“How many aid workers have you recruited now?” Tamlin asked. 

“Seven, and we’re currently inducting Nyvya in the east. She’s a trained healer, so will be delighted to hear of the Gernaium.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiled. 

“It is,” you said warmly, and it occurred to you that you owed Tamlin a truth. An idea you were planning to run by him at a much later time. But with the offer of the Gernaium, the access to this kind of healing, that changed things. “It is,” you repeated almost flatly, chewing at your lip as your eyes fell distant, dancing with thought.

Tamlin caught the movement, and he frowned slightly as he shifted from his lounging position. “What is it?”

Your heart rose in anticipation – you felt sheepish. So you stared at him, deciding on whether it was in fact the right time.

“You can say it – whatever it is,” he said gently, taking your hand. Your silence lead him to start guessing. “Are you leaving Spring?”

“No, no I–”

“Because you are free to come and go as you please. I know my past behaviour speaks for itself, but I would hate to think that you feel trapped or–”

You grabbed his shoulders then, squeezing the muscle underneath. “Tamlin, gods I know that.”

The action seemed to stun him, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You felt a slight twang of guilt for drawing out such a distinct shame in him. 

You took a deep breath, pulling your hands to your lap. “With the mission work expanding, along with my team, we have been able to help fae at the borders, some from Summer, even a few from Autumn.”

Tamlin nodded assuringly, a sign for you to continue. He didn't startle over the technicality of Spring members helping foreign fae – that was a good sign. 

“And it felt good to help them Tam, they were isolated, and just as vulnerable as some of those in Spring.”

“Of course,” he said softly.

You had to take a deep breath, and your eyes found the horizon beyond the rolling hills around you. 

“You know,” you spoke softly. “My ambitions to help and protect others, it has always existed beyond court borders.”

You could see Tamlin shift, before giving a slow nod. 

“After talking with my team, we believe our mission work could gain traction in other courts, should they be willing. We could share knowledge, resources too if it was agreed, and provide aid across Prythian without being conformed to borders.”

You forced your eyes to Tamlin then, grimacing at what you might find written on his face. But it was just as neutral, his eyes soft, his jaw chiselled and handsome and – damn him.

“This is not the way I wanted to propose this to you Tamlin, please know. Especially after your generosity with the Gernaium, I understand completely if you have grown them purely to aid your own subjects. But that doesn't stop the need for mission work across Prythian. I plan to gain the support from as many High Lords and Ladies as possible, and I would be honoured if that started with you.”

Tamlin eyed you with those sharp green eyes, the kind of look that made you shift under the weight of it. And after an insufferable silence, he spoke. 

“You are incredible.”

You blinked in shock, Tamlin’s lips pulling at your reaction. 

“Truly,” he smiled, grabbing your hand to kiss it. “I have never met anyone who was to see a need as great as this, and think to grow it beyond borders. Magic anchors a High Lord or Lady to their Court, it makes us territorial and protective, violent even. But you, this,” he said waving his hand to you, before sighing, contemplating how to say what he felt in words. “You are what this world needs.”

Your eyes welled before two fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “Tamlin,” you chocked, unable to think of anything else to say.

He shifted closer, brushing the tears away with his thumb as he cupped your face. “You have my support Y/N. Thank you for teaching me to be better.”

Emotion surged through you, as if flushing you from years of doubt and hate, replaced now with inspiration, kindness and good, honest love. And then your lips were on his. 

Taken aback, Tamlin caught himself on one strong arm as you held his face and kissed him. You pulled away, worried to have overstepped your boundaries. But then a strong hand laced around your waist, his other propping himself up as he leaned in, closing his mouth over yours, a sharp breath drawn as his nose brushed against your. Friendship, understanding, a blossoming love – how quickly Tamlin had welcomed you to a world capable of healing, of growth. 

Every fibre in your limbs begged to be closer to him, to bask in the vulnerability he had shown you, and you him. In only half a year, you had grown together, healed together, and learned to love one another. You did, you loved him, for whatever he was to you – a dear friend, a High Lord, it didn't matter. It was equal, and genuine, and you craved it in every way. 

Fuelled in by dizzy passion, you quickly straddled his lap, pulling at his broad shoulders to bring him further into you, letting him encompass your senses. 

Tamlin’s own hands slid across your back, moving up to your neck, gripping at the roots of your hair, the other grasped at the flesh where your thighs met your hips. 

He seemed to realise where this was heading, pulling away with a sharp breath through his nose. “Y/N–”

You shook your head, dismissing him immediately with another kiss, your tongue begging for entrance to his mouth. “Tamlin.” His name was a plea.

“Are you cer–?”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question, peppering kissed in between words. “I’ve–never–been–more–certain.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and goosebumps pricked at your skin as you felt it vibrate through to you. Your excitement peaked, it had been so long since you had shared yourself with another, and your core fluttered with anticipation as every fragment of you seemed to chant yes, yes, yes. 

Which is exactly what you moaned as Tamlin entered you, your skirts pulled high, his riding pants pulled low. You placed a flat palm on his chest, your eyes clenched shut as you stretched around his girth, your walls already throbbing as you slowly slid down. Tamlin let out a stifled growl, one laced with satisfaction and a lot of restraint. 

Strong arms hugged you then, and you began to writhe together, moving gently and sensually as you ground against each other. Chasing release was far beyond you, there was so much pleasure to be had in sharing your bodies, relishing in the trust you both had found in one another.

Tamlin did his best to keep a leash if his instincts, his beast form begging to be released and he grunted and growled when you moved your hips in a certain way, nipping at your neck and ear as claws now ran down your back. You ran your fingers through his hair, using it to guide his face to yours as you kissed him and fucked him how you pleased. His own hands moved to grip at your ass to do the same. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, his deep voice breaking, strained with pleasure. 

“Tamlin, gods, you feel–”

“So. Good,” he gritted, finishing your sentence. You leaned back, head thrown back as your hands found balance on his thighs as you rode him in the warm spring air. 

Pleasure found both of you again and again in that afternoon. You climaxed on his lap, and not twenty minutes later he was pushing into you again, your bare thighs spread on the lush green grass as he moved above you. You clung together, a writhing, sweaty mix of passion and pleasure until the sun began to set over the rolling hills. 

Tamlin reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours as you ate the last of the berries he had packed. He kissed your forehead before turning you to rest against his chest, not wanting you to miss the view. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your hair. 

Stroking his arms that were tightly wrapped at your waist, you swallowed, debating on what to say. But no, Tamlin deserved the truth, you must always choose truth. You sighed , saddened by what was churning through your head after such incredible sex.

“I’m thinking we need to discuss what this afternoon means.” 

You loved him, you did, but Tamlin was bound to his court, and your life called beyond it. It wouldn't work, no matter how much you cared for each other.

Tamlin knew this too. “What if,” he spoke softly, brushing your hair away from your neck so he could place a gentle kiss on it. “What if we enjoy this moment for what it is, just for today.”

You smiled, kissing his hands. “Tomorrow then.”

“Plenty of problems await,” he joked, and you laughed before settling further into him. You smiled cockily as you felt him harden against you. Tomorrow indeed.

————

One month later

Peering from the carriage window, your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the clap of horses hooves as guests arrived at the summer estate, music floating gently from within.

Dawned in all colours, you watched guests gasp in awe at the beauty of the building. This was one of many of Tarquin’s estates - one you had never visited. It was an open, grecian style home, golden columns holding the impressive entrance carved with shimmering vines. Fae flocked in groups, sparkling wine already in their hands as they made their way to the gardens, no doubt where the service was being held. 

“Are you alright?” Tamlin asked, the velvet of his deep green suit brushing against your bare arm. 

“Uneasy to say the least,” you said thickly, your tongue stiff with nerves. “And you?”

Tamlin looked beyond the window, eyeing each of the guests. “One step at a time,” was his response as he squeezed your knee. 

————

The curtesy wine offered to you at the entrance was gone within the first few moments of arriving. You wouldn't make a fool of yourself here, but a little wine to take the edge off couldn't hurt. 

Tarquin stood proudly, wearing a fine turquoise suit detailed with gold thread, shaking hands as he welcomed guests. 

“Y/N,” he beamed, taking your hands and kissing each of your cheeks. “I’m honoured you came.”

“The pleasure is mine, Tarquin. Thank you for having me.”

“Nonsense, both Creseida and I might have forced you here if you had not come willingly.”

You laughed freely. “How is she?”

“A wreck of nerves,” he chuckled. 

“I’m sure she looks beautiful,” you laughed lightly back. 

“She does, just as you do,” he winked, raising your hands he still held to take in your dress. A silken, soft blue dress fell of your body, its back open as material gathered just before your rear. The dressmaker had done an incredible job, fitting style and colour alike. You had politely declined her suggestions of a sage green, a Spring Court signature. It was kind, but you were courtless for over a year now, and proud of it. Instead, you had asked for sky blue – as no one ruled the skies. 

Blushing, you let out another soft laugh. “You are too kind, High Lord.”

Tarquins eyes flashed behind you, catching Tamlin as he spoke with some familiars a few paces away. “Have you…?” he questioned, trailing off.

You smiled knowingly. “I’ve come alone. Tamlin and I shared a carriage, journeying from the same court. You remember of my work there?”

“Remember? Sweetheart, there is talk of your mission throughout my court. There are guests here who are very keen to meet you. And we will need to formally discuss your work, and give a proper thanks to the aid you have provided at the border.”

You were smiling wide now, shaking your head with gratitude. “I would like that too, but perhaps not here.”

Tarquin grinned. “No, perhaps not. Welcome, sweet Y/N, please enjoy the festivities, and accomodation.”

You smiled politely as Tamlin approached, exchanging a firm handshake before raising his brows at you. “Shall we head in?”

Nodding tightly, you let Tamlin guide you with a hand at the small of your back. At the very least, the warmth of his skin against yours was a small comfort. 

The estate was even more impressive the further you ventured, white marble and golden staircases twisting this way and that, leading to corridors of rooms, each door carved to perfection. These were the guest accomodations, and included your own for the evening. 

But the jewel of the home was its view, where a perfectly groomed garden now catered to almost a thousand fae, overlooking the crystal blue Adriatic, the waves beneath crashing the cliff quieted by the string quartet. It was an overwhelming beautiful home, and you were glad to be lost in a sea of guests. 

 A golden arch was set at the end of a the aisle, a High Priestess exchanging words with a groom you did not recognise. But you smiled – you were happy for Creseida. 

“An impressive turnout,” Tamlin muttered, sipping his wine as his green eyes turned sharp, scanning the crowd. You ignored the glances being cast your way, whether it was from your attendance with Tamlin, or Tamlin’s presence alone, you didn't care. What did these fools know of either of your stories to judge.

And you tried not to look, to not let your heart beat fast as you scoured for a rare set of wings amongst the finery of the wedding, telling yourself you wouldn’t turn your heel and run at the site of any siphons or shadows or night. But you were thankful to not find any. 

That was, until you felt them. Muscles jerking, goosebumps pricked your skin as your power began to tingle sharply, spreading across your body like a rash. Shit – you hadn't anticipated to lose your lid in such a way, your power had been so forgiving this past year. 

A small gap parted in the crowd of guests at the stairs of the estate, and the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were revealed. Arms loop, night curling around them in the fashion that impressed and threatened all at once. Rhysand shook hands with a nearby male, Feyre kissing the cheeks of a curtsying female. 

It shocked you, how quickly your spy instincts found you. As if in one of your many life-threatening missions, your senses narrowed, the noise in your brain focusing to immediate details – taking in only what you needed to survive, just as Azriel and Cassian had trained you. Your vision barrelled to the couple who still greeted others some distance away. Scanning behind them, you anticipated the remainder of your old family, and of course, your exes. 

Yet no one followed. Not even Mor. It seemed the High Lord and Lady had attended alone. It was strange – had things turned bad at the Court, that even the Morrigan had forgone a wedding?

Rhysand wore a handsome smile as he guided Feyre down the stairs to the garden, guests parting even further, bowing as they strode through. They were getting closer, and you ignored the clench of your heart as their scent filled your nose, before mixing with others. It was the smell of home.

No. it wasn't home. Not anymore, and not for a good while now. You hated that instinct, to curl into it, to let it welcome you, claiming you still. 

You glanced behind, conscious that they would find you standing with Tamlin. But he was no where to be seen, and you thanked him silently for the courtesy of having stepped away.

Rhysand and Feyre glided closer and closer, exchanging nods and accepting bows. And then they halted, violet eyes scanning before locking to yours, grey eyes shortly followed. And Rhys’s smile, the one that he used in the face of the public, it softened, his eyebrows twitching upwards almost unnoticeably. 

Feyre’s hand gripping at his arm tighter, and you could hear her heart fasten from where you stood. You almost resented how in-tune you were to them, these micro-behaviours. 

Glancing between them both, you followed the order of those next to you, lowering yourself to a polite curtsy. 

They couldn't reach you, not without drawing attention, not without the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests. So with a nod from Rhys, and a soft smile from Feyre, they continued on, finding their seats in the queues. 

————

Cresseida was the most beautiful bride you had ever seen. Golden vines were cuffed along her arms, as a silk gown as white as her hair trailed behind her as she walked the aisle, Tarquin proudly at her side. 

You smiled through your tears as she was married. You were happy for her– you were happy –you were… An unmarketable emotion filled you as you couldn’t help the run of tears that continued to pour, even after the ceremony ended. 

————

“And is it true that you were able to help the children at the border?” questioned one of Tarquin’s emissaries as she leaned in, raising her voice over the music. 

The party was in full swing, food had been served and hundreds of fae drank and danced, celebrating Creseida’s courtship, each of them eager to get even a glimpse at the bride and groom. 

“Yes, we were lucky to have an experienced healer join the mission, and she was already aiding some of the fae in Spring.”

The female smiled, and squeezed your arm. “On behalf of my court, we are grateful.”

“Not at all,” you smiled back. “Your authorities were notified, and from what I heard your own healers were already on their way. We were simply closer to that area, and had supplies to spare.”

It had been hours, and your company was still in high demand as endless Summer Court members were eager to meet you. Tarquin, it seemed, had been spreading you just as much praise as Tamlin. You had danced with many, exchanging jokes and stories, enjoying the festivities with some familiar faces and many new ones. 

It was a struggle to keep your eyes from averting, your instinct to find Rhys and Feyre in the crowd was loud and stubborn. Old habits, you supposed. 

Tamlin approached you then, having made himself scarce from your company for most of the evening, something you both had agreed to do. But you were comforted by his presence as he easily slid into the conversation, slipping a glass of fae wine into your hand without even asking. You smiled, giving his shoulder a thankful squeeze. 

There was an itchy, uneasy feeling that tugged at you, and you knew you were under watchful eyes. You found them, surrounded by their own acquaintances, and while Rhys masked his curiosity perfectly, Feyre’s stare bored into you from across the dance floor. 

Taking a large sip of wine, you let it warm you as you squared your shoulders. You would not cower, you would not shy away. And now was a better time than any.

So you strode directly to them, Feyre’s stare softening as Rhys pardoned himself from his conversation. Then, they were walking towards you to. 

You stopped a few paces shy from each other. Staring. It was…. awkward. 

But then Rhysand smiled. Warm and genuine and familiar. You hoped he didn't hear your silent curse to him. 

“You look well,” he said. 

You nodded, acknowledging the half-compliment, sensing their relief. No, you weren't that broken withered girl you were when you left. 

“How is Nyx?” The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them. You would have been more annoyed at yourself, but your care for that child was pure, and you knew they would never withhold him as currency. 

“He’s well, growing every day,” Feyre replied. “And walking all on his own.”

Your smile, be it small, was sincere. 

“He still… asks about you,” she added. 

Pain sliced through your heart then, and you weren't quick enough to hide it in your face. “Don’t,” you whispered, your voice strained. Gods, that didn't take long.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quickly, hands reaching out before she quickly drew them back in. “I didn't mean–“ she cut herself short, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

You cast your eyes to the side, blinking away the sting of tears. “It’s alright.”

Rhysand watched you intently. “Perhaps we can all use some fresh air? I spotted a terrace, free from other guests.”

The choice was yours, you knew that. You had things you wanted to say, and you were sure they did to. You nodded, following their lead as you quickly cast a look backwards, Tamlin offering you a tight nod as you left the room.

————

“So, mission work in Spring?” Rhys asked, wine swirling in his hand as he leaned casually against a column, warm summer breeze surrounding the three of you as the party continued faintly below. 

You nodded, your arms crossed at your chest. 

“It’s very impressive,” Feyre added from where she sat, offering a genuine smile. 

You didn't respond, unsure of how much detail to reveal. Rhysand caught on, sighing slightly. 

“We didn't bring you here to interrogate you for detail, It’s only that your work and whereabouts is quickly becoming widespread knowledge. We thought it was best to acknowledge that we know it too.”

“And what of Cassian and Azriel?”

“We have held true to our bargain on that.” You believed him. 

There was an award silence, unasked questions looming. 

“Are you safe there?” Feyre asked quietly.

“Very much so.”

“And Tamlin is–”

“A friend,” you said quickly. 

“– respectful to you, was what I was going to ask,” Feyre said with a knowing look.

You sighed then, running a hand through your hair. “I didn't do it to hurt you,” you said, with a straight face. You owed her no allegiance, but, you were done hurting others, and her concern did no one any good. 

“I know,” Feyre acknowledged, with the grace of a High Lady, of someone who knew that the past was the past. She shook her head then, before adding. “We worry for you, that is all.”

“He’s changed.” You were shocked at how quickly those words left your mouth. 

It was Rhys who threw you a condescending look. You hated how small it made you feel. 

“Look, I appreciate your warning, but Tamlin has shown strides of growth, he has acknowledged his mistakes and is working endlessly to undo them. When was the last time you looked within yourselves?”

Rhys flashed his eyes at you with warning, bringing an arm to comfort his wife. “Careful,” he said plainly, but a flash of darkness passed through those violet eyes. 

Damn him. And damn Feyre too. “You didn’t so much as try to stop them,” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears as you focused on her. Gods damn it – you thought you were past this, past them. But it was as if a year away meant nothing, you were just as hurt as that night you left the Night Court. Feyre watched with a pain expression as your lip wobbled. “And you didn't so much as try to apologise,” you whispered, your voice moments away from breaking. 

Feyre’s eyes now glistened with the same tears. “You shut us out,” she countered, and you could see how much your own choices had wounded her.

“What choice did I have?” you asked, brushing away a stray tear. “You think I want to be this way? You think I wanted to cast myself out? You broke my trust and lied to me, alienating me from this family. And I was supposed to come to you for an apology?”

Feyre gulped guiltily, looking at the floor. Rhys watched you intensely, a concerned frown on his face. 

“You’re right,” Feyre said quietly, grey eyes now finding yours. “But you must know Y/N, I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since the day it happened. I thought it wise for Azriel and Cassian to want to protect you, but I realised very quickly how it was that kind of thinking that trapped me within warded walls,  and that had me fleeing my home all those years ago.”

You nodded, casting your eyes upwards to not let the tears stain your face yet again. “We can't keep doing this.”

“What’s that?” Rhys asked gently. 

“This,” you gulped, waving your hands between you. “These sorry confessions and apologies, it hurts us all.”

“Alright,” Rhys said neutrally. “But you acknowledge our apology?’

“Yes.”

“Do you forgive us?”

Your lips pressed tight as you grimaced. 

“That would be a no,” Rhys said sadly, his smile broken. Feyre couldn't force one if she wanted to. 

“I want us to move forward,” you offered instead. “There is no use in resentment. It may be that we’ll continue to cross paths, and it is important to me that you know I will not respond illy.”

“Of course,” Feyre nodded, smiling. 

A sharp pain throbbed at your temples then, the kind that came about when you had to keep your emotions and powers under tight strain. It was instinct to rub at your temples. 

“Can I heal that for you?” Rhys was now standing in front of you, his smile remained but his eyes – heavy, saddened. 

You blinked up at him before flicking your eyes to Feyre who waited eagerly for you to respond. Was this a test? Could it be, after all that had happened, you could consider them just…friends? You searched within yourself for the right answer, but nothing came about. It was just too soon. 

But there was no harm in letting Rhys work some of his magic. “Alright,” you replied, and you heard Feyre loose a breath. 

Rhysand’s hands cupped the side of your face, his fingers pressing to your temples as the familiar feeling of him slipping into your mind sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in you, something impossible to kill that was comforted by his touch. He was, after all, your High Lord of decades. He had been your home, your family, and maybe there was some part of that would always remain. It upset you how much you had to resist the urge to wrap your arms around his waist, to pull Feyre in too, to sob of how much you missed home, your family, how much you ached while you were apart. 

It was over as quickly as it began, Rhys slipping from your mind, leaving no trace of a headache behind. You hadn't clocked that you had closed your eyes, your lip quivering as your cheeks were now wet with tears. Rhys kept his hands on your face, brushing them away. 

“Y/N–,” he said softly, his face pained. You knew what he would say – come home, even if you hate us, come home. But you wouldn't give him a chance. 

“T-thank you,” you stammered, pulling away from Rhysand’s hold and fleeing the terrace, leaving the two to their shock. 

————

You were brushing away hot, fast tears as you fled the wedding, racing towards your guest room. 

Gods, what was wrong with you today? You hated feeling like this – an unstable, blubbering mess. Nothing had changed in a year, not really. You were still the same, broken and alone. It hurt just as much to see your family now. 

To hell with this wedding. You craved a sleep tonic and to be rid of this night. That was when Tamlin fell into side-step with you. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked simply, muttering the words to avoid drawing attention as you passed through the crowd. 

“No,” you managed to say, and you could have kissed him for playing into the nonchalance. He seemed to respect privacy, even when there was little to be found. 

“I’ll walk you to your rooms.”

“No, Tam, I’m fine, you should–”

“Nonsense,” he replied, and you knew you wouldn't shake him. So you walked to your room,  sniffing through your tears as you tried to calm the current brewing at your fingertips, Tamlin by your side.

You reached your quarters, a private corner in a long corridor or rooms. The door was carved in  unique artwork, familiar somehow, as if beckoning you to enter from within. 

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” he said with an unconvinced look. 

“I will be, Tam, thank you.” 

You gave his hand a quick squeeze, before turning the handle to the door. 

And made it two paces in, before shadows filled your vision. 

————

You swore as strong hands held your shoulders, blue siphons a blur as shadows cast around you. You fought on instinct, but it was impossible to shake Azriel’s grip. 

“What in Mothers name–?!” you cursed again. 

“You’re safe,” Azriel spoke with relief. Despite yourself, your skin ignited at the husk of his voice.

“Get your damn hands off me,” you gritted, taking in the room as the smog of shadows finally cleared. 

Cassian was between you and the door, where Tamlin still stood, completely stunned. The General’s hands quickly curled into fists.

No one moved, each of you just as shocked to see the other. They had come for you, yes, but you were certain Tamlin was an unpleasant surprise. 

“Fuck,” you ground out, almost rolling your eyes as you knew the strife that now awaited your friend. 

Azriel moved you behind him, as if you needed to be shielded, protected. “What are you doing here, traitor?”

“Let her go at once,” Tamlin growled, stepping into the room. 

You stepped out from behind Azriel, your mind reeling at the sight of the two Illyrians in you room. You hated them, but something in you churned - a yearning. It was easy to stamp down as a rage took over. 

“What are you doing here?” you countered.

Azriel gave you a piercing look, running his eyes down your body. There was love in that look, but a sternness too. 

“Answer me,” you ground out. 

Cassian was still facing Tamlin, his siphons so bright they radiated heat. “Did you hurt her?” he growled at Tamlin, a shaking rage consuming him. 

“You hunted me? Like a mare?” your voice was ice cold, colder than any of these males could ever hope to perfect. Your trust, betrayed, again. 

That voice snared their attention. Cassian casting a look back at you, desperate, like he wanted to give you all of his time, to never stop drinking in the sight of you. 

You prowled closer, fingers twitching as your power grew so strong zapping could be heard. “Rhys’s promise to me, the bargain. You broke it,” you spat.

“Y/N.” Cassian said your name, begging you. His pain cut through to you, your power dampening as a sick, sick part of you folded at his plea. Go to him, that part of you begged. 

The room was filled with a sharp coldness and breeze as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into your quarters, Feyre’s face one of shock, Rhys’s one of fury. 

“What in Gods name are you doing here?” he growled at his brothers. 

“You left us no choice,” Azriel seethed back at Rhys, his wing stopping you as you silently moved to join Tamlin. 

You glared at him. “Try that again,” you growled. 

Azriel’s eyes were dark, predatory, but his brows pulled with a softness only reserved for you. “I do not trust him.”

“And I do not trust you,” you spat back. 

“The promise,” Rhys growled, glaring between his brothers. 

“Y/N, we had no idea they had come,” Feyre spoke with a desperation that you had to believe her. 

“Leave. Now.” Rhys ordered, but the males ignored him, his power underwhelming in another court. 

Cassian’s brow pulled, his face truly broken as he spoke to you. “You left us. And joined him?”

You snapped at the accusation. “I joined no one, because I belong to no one. I pursued a life beyond you, and I am a free female. Free to roam wherever I please, and fuck whoever I want.”

You words landed their mark, because both Azriel and Cassian recoiled.

And then Cassian’s face turned grave, as he slowly faced Tamlin again. “You-you touched her?”

You cursed yourself for the pointed insult – you should have known it would put Tamlin in the firing line. To his defense, Tamlin held a high chin. 

“She is a free female. Nor you or I can rob her of that.”

Azriel snarled, and Cassian was on Tamlin in an instant. 

“Stop that! Get off him! You will not hurt him!” you cried, broken at the thought of Tamlin being hurt because of you. 

But before you could throw yourself at Cassian, night magic filled the space, pulling the males apart, commanding the room to its master. And you were surprised to see Feyre walking towards them, her palms outstretched, night pouring from her as her eyes now glowed with silver. 

“Sensless violence ends now, I don’t care about the circumstance.” 

What did she mean by that?

“Leave,” Cassian snarled at Tamlin, but Tamlin held his ground. 

“He is welcomed to stay so long as Y/N sees fit,” Feyre spoke coldly, forcing Cassian’s eyes back to her. Now that, was a High Lady. “I can not believe you two–“

“You weren't invited?” you interjected, untrusting of your exes as you scowled between them. 

Rhys shook his head from across the room. “We went as far to hide the papers.”

You gulped as you stared up at Azriel. “Pray tell, how you found me, then?”

Azriel wore no remorse as he said “Amren – she possessed an invite and–”

Exasperated sounds from each of you filled the room. Amren, of course. She was the only one to know to play games above Rhys and Feyre’s head, and cunning enough to pull it off. 

“And what is your plan, then?” you added coldly. “Drag me back to the Night Court, kicking and screaming?”

“No, of course not,” Cassian responded softly, stepping towards you, stopping as you retreated back. “We had to know that you were safe.”

You stared at him, the sorrow in his voice, the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged. He was broken. 

“You were not well when you left, Y/N. It’s been killing us not knowing how you are faring now,” Azriel added, his eyes soft, looking just as worn as his brother. You knew he sang silently to his shadows as they coiled in on themself, they would be begging to reach you. 

“Please, don't be angry,” Cassian begged, his eyes welling. “We’ll go, we’ll go now, it’s just–”

“We love you. We- we need you,” Azriel interjected, his own brow clenched with pain. 

Each of their words were a dagger to your heart, piercing it’s way through the walls you had built. 

“Stop that,” you whispered, your hand pressing against your chest to ease the pain. Were these your feelings, or theirs?

“It’s true,” Cassian continued. “You’re our girl. We'll do better, Y/N, we promise. Please.”

It was painful to hear, and you faltered slightly as your body jerked in pain. Something was breaking within you, crumpling around something else, something buried deep. 

“Please Y/N, come home.”

Your knees gave out as you let out an anguished cry, your heart tearing and swelling to the point where you thought you just might die. 

“Y/N!” Tamlin called in panic, but Azriel and Cassian were already at your sides, holding you, asking where it hurt. 

Palms braced on the floor, you tried to breath through laboured breaths as you finally felt what was concealed for so long. It was unmistakable, a tether of sun-lit rope, tying you to the males at either side of you. You felt it all – their fear, the instincts to take you far from this place, their overwhelming, unconditional love. 

And you hated it. 

“No,” you gasped, your hand finding your heart as you tried to calm its pounding.

Azriel glanced at Cassian, who gave a single nod in confirmation. Feyre gasped from where she stood. 

“What is it?” Tamlin panicked. “What’s going on?”

“No!” you repeated, standing quickly and backing away from the two males. It couldn't be – you were free, you had left…

They watched you with saddened eyes at the horror that beheld you. 

“The Mother is cruel,” Rhys tutted, lowering his head in sympathy.

“What in the gods-forsaken realms is going on?” Tamlin yelled.

“No, no, no, no! Please, no!” You clutched at the roots of your hair, your mind reeling as you begged to no one. You were bound to them, whether you liked it or not. An enslavement of kinds.

“It snapped,” Feyre answered to Tamlin without ever turning his way.

It was too much to bare – their instincts, your newly ignited ones, their love, your hate. Your brain scrambled for sense, fighting itself over and over as you shook at your knees. 

A final ‘no’ pushed past your lips before your body gave out, the world tipping and your vision darkening as strong hands caught you. 

You succumbed to the gods damned mating bond. 

-------

Part 5>>>

AN: Helllllllllo my lovelies! I am so so bloody excited to share this part with you! It was a rollercoaster to write, hope you held on tight for this angst-train! Always, always, ALWAYS want to hear your thoughts and feelings on where this story is heading, so please drop a comment anytime. And thank you endlessly for your support with this fic - it means the world. MWA!!

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate part 3

(part one) (part two) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: Then they looked at each other, some sort of silent communication passing before their expressions shifted back to neutral as they turned to examine the surrounding area. As they turned their backs on her, right when she wanted them most. A tear finally dripped down her cheek.

Warnings: injuries, blood, poison, references to past sa, death, angst

Word Count: ~5.2k

A/N: sorry this took so long!

She paced back and forth in her bedroom, wearing a track in the wood. Overreacting. 

How does she fix this?

Wait. She paused. This isn’t her job to fix it. If they’re going to act like misogynistic, overbearing males and blame her for her sexual assault, she’s not going to give them the time of day. If they’re going to blame her for that, they don’t deserve her friendship.. 

Tears filled her eyes, as she turned to gaze at the mirror. Her hair was dull, skin pale, eyes almost … haunted. This wouldn’t do. A few deep breaths later, and she came up with a plan to get her life back. 

You can explain it, a soft feminine voice whispered in her ear. It might have been Azriel who said the words, but she knew Cassian believed them as well. They betrayed her in their own way, and she wouldn’t run to them pleading. 

If they really cared, they’d ask. She replied silently. The voice hummed. 

Her mind came back to Azriel’s threat. Don’t leave Velaris. She could play by his rules for now. Maybe even take a bit of revenge in her own way. 

-

She went out to Rita’s that night, reconnecting with a few of her friends. Lights flashed overhead as they danced, matching each other shot for shot. Thank the mother she has good tolerance. 

That night, she took out a piece of paper and tried to focus her blurred eyes. Play by the rules. 

One male looked at my ass for a secmpd. 

A female tolded me i’m preeeety.

Is that a danermeous situatomn? According two you it isss. 

She frowned down at the sheet. The words were barely legible, but he’d understand them. Play by the rules. A laugh left her as she folded the paper into fours, filled with messy creases. 

She stumbled out of her room, kicking her heels off before she left, still wearing the short and tight dress from earlier in the night. Her feet carried her down the hallway, the world swaying as she walked. 

She heard him, and slid the paper under the door, making her way back to her room as quickly as possible. 

-

Azriel opened the door, spotting a drunk y/n trailing down the hallway, holding onto the wall. He knew she’d gone out, but how much had she drunk? He crouched and picked up the messily folded paper. Her scent combined with alcohol flooded through him. This couldn’t be good. 

He closed his eyes after he read over the words. This is how she’s going to play. He should’ve known. A male looking at her ass. A female telling her she’s pretty. No threats, the bargain mark didn’t prick at him, but she was doing this to make a point. 

“Fucking brat.” He cursed under his breath. 

“Who?” Cassian asked from across the room, crossing to meet him at the door. He wordlessly passed the paper. 

Something between frustration and amusement crossed the other male’s face. “We should frame this.” 

“We’re not exactly on speaking terms with her.” They’d ignored each other for weeks now, and he knew Cassian was aching to speak to her - to clear the air and get back to their tentative friendship. But, she didn’t seem to give a damn. Going out of her way to avoid them, even training with Mor. If she wanted to play that game, he’d gladly participate. 

She’s the one who all but broke their bargain. He doesn’t owe her any apologies. 

Why didn’t you leave? His own words echoed, the broken look in her eyes took over his mind. She knows him well enough to know he didn’t mean that. He wouldn’t need to actually explain that, right? It could open up conversations none of them are ready for. 

Weeks passed, a few more notes - none of which got any kind of reaction from his bargain tattoo. The male had only sent one letter - in response to a strongly worded one sent by Rhysand. A half-assed apology he didn’t let her see. It wasn’t genuine, and maybe she was better off leaving this in the past. Part of him questioned if he should be making those decisions for her, but he was busy enough with work he could push that down. 

-

Two months had passed since the … incident, and she made her way down the hall. It was a day off for her, and she’d spend it out in the city, going through the various markets. Some fresh air would do her good - sun on her skin, and time away from the confines of the library. Her hair had some of its shine returned, her skin not quite as pale as before, and a bit of new life breathed into her eyes. She felt more like herself than she had in months. 

Of course, she still missed the two Illyrians. But - they made zero effort to approach her, and she returned in kind. 

She paused outside of the doorway to her cousin’s office. Three heartbeats. A new shield she’d experimented with hid her sound and presence completely, and their voices escaped into the hallway, clear as day. 

“Why are you avoiding her?” Rhys asked. She should leave, right now. Eavesdropping couldn’t lead to anything good. 

“Avoiding who?” Cassian hedged. 

An exasperated sigh came from Rhys. “Y/n.” 

“We don’t owe her anything. She’s nothing to us.”

Rhys snarled, she felt his power even from here. 

“Azriel,” Cassian said in a warning tone. 

Nothing. She left now. The damage was done. At least she knows exactly where she stands with them. 

In her distraction, the shield dropped and her heavy footsteps echoed as she broke into a run. 

-

Cassian whirled as he heard the footsteps. How had he not detected her approach earlier? Rhys’s power was still rumbling through the room. 

“I didn’t mean that.” Azriel said quietly. But, she was too far gone to hear that. 

“We need to find her.” Cassian fought to ignore the pure dominance rumbling from Rhys - the overwhelming power threatening to bring him to his knees. It abated, slowly. 

“I don’t think she’ll want to see us.” Azriel countered. 

“Tell me what the fuck happened between you.” Rhys all but ordered. 

They exchanged a glance. “You know about the letters.” Rhys nodded. They’d only shown him what she’d hidden and he could put the rest of the pieces together. 

“We … said things we regret.” At least he does, he can’t speak for Azriel. He’d seen her in the kitchen that day, and turned his back on her. There was more that happened Azriel hadn’t told him about. As much as he pushed, he was a stone wall - revealing nothing. 

“Why haven’t you fixed it?” Rhys carefully watched both of them. His brother’s eyes were almost black, and he saw the tentative leash on his power, threatening to break free and destroy anything posing a threat to his family - even if it’s them. 

“She hasn’t made an effort either.” The words came from Cassian. Suddenly, he felt … childish. Holding onto a grudge like this, foregoing friendship and something else that had built. He should’ve been the better person, to go to her and try and get both sides of the story - to let go of a stupid grudge costing him so much. Azriel was still quiet next to him. Rhys didn’t say a word, only studying the two of them. 

“Fix it.” It wasn’t quite an order. “Before it’s past the point of return.” 

Were they already there?

Alarm crossed Rhys’s face, eyes glazing slightly. His hand reached for the knife at his hip. He knew that expression - danger. 

“She left Velaris.” Rhys stood, shoving his chair back. “Find her.” That was an order. 

It had been months since the last threatening letter arrived - but immortals could be patient. A trap could be laying in wait for her, anywhere. Azriel was still trying to sniff out how they had eyes on her movements outside of Velaris.

“Any idea where?” Cassian asked. 

“I’m locked out.” 

He cursed under his breath. 

“I have an idea.” Azriel sighed, as if the situation was a mere annoyance - a fly fluttering around his head. Cassian fought the urge to snarl. 

“Be quick.” The worry in Rhys’s tone set him on edge. Azriel tensed as well, but grabbed on to his arm and winnowed them, traveling through the world through his shadows. 

The sleeping mountains. She’d told them they’d been used for healing in the past, and explored them before as part of her research, he and Azriel in tow occasionally. A pit settled in his stomach. A sense, tugged against his consciousness. One he’d never heard before, a soft and feminine voice pleading; find her. 

-

Clear mountain air filled her lungs as she winnowed to the first place she’d pictured. 

A sparkling, turquoise lake lay before her - dipped beneath two peaks. A lake for healing. One of the few places she could find complete peace. Where her thoughts seemed to float away, worries became insignificant, silence became healing. She settled herself on the edge of the lake, watching the water ripple across, tossing stones once in a while. The dew from the moss soaked into her dress, coating her legs as she kicked them out, resting back on her elbows. The midday sun was a warm glow on her skin, pleasantly heating her body. 

She tilted her chin up towards the sky, breathing in the fresh, clean, nearly untouched air. She let her mind drift, let the sounds of nature around her float in, acknowledged any thoughts - and let them go. 

The temporary peace was bliss, weights lifted off her shoulders - she felt her body calm for the first time in weeks, maybe months. Almost like a drug, she was high on the absence of how her mind went quiet for once. No memories beating against her mind, rattling and tightening her throat. 

Like everything, it was temporary as she heard the beat of wings. Loud in the way he was announcing her presence. The familiar scent hit her a second later, and her jaw clenched. Rhys had set up some way of notifying as she left the city. Boundaries, she needed to set some fucking boundaries.

-

He spotted her, propped up on her forearms - legs stretched out in front of her, the sheath of one knife. One. outlined under her dress. The midday sun set an ethereal glow around her, as if the light itself was drawn to her. Beautiful. She was beautiful, magnetic, and he hated how it drew him in. That wasn’t quite enough to abate his anger as he landed a few feet behind her, the slope set him a few feet above - towering over her prone form. 

“I didn’t know you were this stupid.” Cassian seethed. Any earlier thoughts of mending bridges disappeared. Her fists clenched as she stood, slowly turning to face him, but she didn’t meet his gaze - her eyes moved behind and a ring of white shown around them. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. In the split second, before he could react, a familiar wave of magic, her magic, shoved him to the ground. 

He was rolling, back on his feet - moving. He spotted Azriel landed ahead of him, no doubt his shadows whispering to him. It passed in minutes. Flashes. And it was over. They needed to leave now, the carnage and prisoners tied in front of them could be dealt with later. The archer, now dead, had come from the trees nearly one hundred paces away. 

It took a few seconds for him to realize her magic hadn’t joined the fray. 

-

A pained cry came from behind him and he swirled to see her, the tail of an arrow sticking out of her thigh as she fell to her knees. An arrow meant for his head. A string in his chest tightened, tugged, and his face went slack. 

Look, a voice had whispered. Beyond. Not at Cassian, she knew that. Her eyes scanned the horizon, magic starting to curl under her skin, reacting to a danger she couldn’t see. Treeline - the leaves shifted in the opposite direction of the wind, a small zing - her magic acted on its own, shoving him to the ground as a blur shot through the air. There was no question about it, no chance she could let that happen to him. Not only because he came after her, but she physically couldn’t let harm come to him. 

The ash arrow that would’ve gone through his head, lodged in her thigh. Magic left her at once, an empty stillness left behind. Azriel had landed as well, him and Cassian moving into action faster than she could think. Don’t look don’t look don’t look she chanted to herself, and palmed the knife sheathed on her thigh, a pained noise left her - it had gone right through the fabric and as she moved it she could feel it. Not lodged, directly through her leg. 

A pained and pathetic noise left her as she fell to her knees. The wood was slick, not like blood - something thicker. Hands shaking, she reached her opposite arm across to try and grab the knife - cut the arrow and get whatever the hell it was out. Wrong wrong wrong, her body seemed to scream. 

A hand gripped her wrist, Cassian’s face pale and raw. “Out,” she screamed, “I need it out.” 

“Hang on a second,” he murmured, examining it. Her body was barely holding her up, but if she fell backwards it would only push it further into her - push whatever was coating it around into her bloodstream.  Azriel was there as well, shadows swirled around her wound, examining. Two shields had surrounded her, tinted blue and red. 

Magic ripped shredded through them like paper. She knew exactly who that was, it sung to her like a familiar sound - echoing the magic she normally could reach. 

Her sister shoved Cassian out of the way, falling to her knees in front of her.

She bit the inside of her cheek harshly enough she tasted blood. 

Azriel’s hazel eyes met hers as he stood behind her sister. Something like grief, pain, and a hint of anger flooded through them. The normal cold mask had disappeared, replaced by raw emotion she’d rarely seen from him. He staggered a step back - his eyes going wide, pupils blowing. His expression mirrored Cassian’s from before. Then they looked at each other, some sort of silent communication passing before their expressions shifted back to neutral as they turned to examine the surrounding area. As they turned their backs on her, right when she wanted them most. 

A tear finally dripped down her cheek. . 

They turned their backs, again. That pain was more than the physical. That pain struck deep into her soul. He’d meant his words. If a friend was so easily discarded, were they friends in the first place? She was nothing to them, just as he’d said. At least she knows exactly where she stands with them now. The air is cleared. 

Mor’s frown followed her gaze - right at the two Illyrians, undoubtedly seeing the tears filling her eyes. She turned to her sister and saw the questioning look on the blonde’s face. She shook her head. Not here, not now, not ever. The last few months proved she didn’t need them. Want is different than need, and want she can overcome. As soon as she was well, she’d drag her sister back in the training ring. Luck or fate had him there in the nick of time, but she couldn’t rely on that. 

Mor had cut through part of the arrow with her magic - her hand now reaching to slide the arrow out, instinct guided her and she snatched Mor’s wrist. 

“Don’t touch it,” she snarled. 

“It needs to come out,” She replied, expression cautious. Gods, she wants it out … but a sense, something tickling at the back of her neck, tells her it’s a bad idea. 

“Pois-” she tried to force air into her lungs, tried to override the panic, but her sister's eyes had widened in understanding. Had the arrow been intended for her? Or designed to down whoever was in her path? 

“Just nod or shake your head,” Mor said softly. “Can you feel your magic?” 

A shake of her head. Mor’s mouth tightened and a small shield surrounded the wound - even as her sister’s magic seemed to recoil against it.

-

Cassian had to turn away from her, had to dig up every semblance of self control he could muster. The bond snapped for him and Azriel at the same moment - but he could see it in her eyes, it hadn’t for her. If he didn’t turn away right then, he would’ve done something abnormally stupid. Maybe Mor knew, because a shield had thrown up around the two of them, blocking out all sound and access. It’s likely Rhys was the only person who could break that down, or tear it away. Sometimes he forgot just how much power Mor has, of what the female was capable of. 

Rhys winnowed in, with a few quiet words he’d explained what he saw. Azriel stood next to them, one eye on the males still unconscious and bound a few paces away. They turned back in time to feel Mor’s shield drop. She met their eyes - and he could read the panic as clear as day. Her brown eyes glazed for a moment, before she winnowed out. 

“What?” He demanded. Rhys paused. Azriel had gone stiff next to him. 

“Some kind of poison.” He said under his breath and winnowed. Take care of this. House of Wind he spoke into their minds. Another clear order. 

-

She awoke to her sister pacing at the foot of the bed, burning a hole in her carpet. Y/n was laid on her side, arrow still poking from her thigh. 

“Don’t touch it.” Mor said, spotting her hand reaching for it. She withdrew it quickly, tucking her hand up into her chest. 

Normally, her sister's anxiety would increase her panic, but this time she calmed, like she needed to be the strong one now. Rhys came back with Madja, and she forced herself, promised herself she would keep her mind steady and centered. The lack of magic felt like a missing limb. 

The healer hovered over her, magic running different diagnostics as she asked questions she could barely answer. Mor explained what she could, still moving back and forth. 

“Good call.” Madja said to y/n, “keeping it in place.” She smiled weakly at the praise. 

“Getting the poison,” Rhys flinched at the word. Madja hadn’t explained exactly what it was yet, and probably for good reason, “is going to hurt.” Like hell. Her eyes had a silent question, do you want them here? She gave a slight shake of her head. 

Madja turned to them. “Both of you out. Keep a shield around here. Do not enter until I say so.” Their faces tightened, but they didn’t dare question her, only shooting a nervous glance to y/n. She nodded at them, looking more confident than she felt. 

“I can’t use any pain relief,” Madja talked her through it. She had spent hours watching the healer before. “I don’t know how it will interact.” 

“Do you know what it is?” her voice was hoarse and each word hurt like hell. Madja’s silence was an answer enough. She handed her a piece of leather. Y/n steeled herself, and dug her teeth into it. 

Her voice was hoarse from screaming by the end - like whatever it was was fighting to stay inside and she felt each droplet leaving, but the healer said she could only get what was clinging to the arrow, what was still clenched to her muscle. Anything in the bloodstream would have to come out the natural way. She’d moved quickly to get it inside a vial - out of the air and before it could make contact with anything. Because of that, it had to go slowly, in all it took around an hour. 

“Now the easy part,” she gave her a reassuring smile and yanked the arrow out before she could protest. Her teeth clenched, but soothing magic ran through the wound, stitching it back together. After what felt like an eternity, she helped her move to sit. Rhys must’ve asked her mind-to-mind, because the door swung back open the second she was situated.

Then - more diagnostics, more notes scribbled in between. Madja’s face was too neutral. 

“What was it?” Mor asked. 

“Bloodbane.” The two winced, although she knew they suspected it. She did, for certain, given she couldn’t feel her magic still. 

“How long?” Y/n asked. 

Madja clicked her tongue. “One week at least. It was a heavy dose,” she shot her a tight glance. “Once it wears off, you’ll need to be cautious. Your magic will come back in a flood.” 

“We’ll take necessary precautions.” Rhys assured her. 

She winced as pain echoed up her thigh, radiating through her body, and waited for the other shoe to drop.  Madja clocked her movement, and slowly added, “there was a small trace of modified hemlock.” 

Silence filled the room, and she could’ve sworn the temperature dropped. Modified? Madja, if she was unnerved, didn’t show it. Hemlock could kill in the right amount. “With the dose and the alterations, you can expect to feel sharp pains, perhaps just in your leg or body. Luckily it wasn’t a full dose.” Luckily. She supposed Madja was right - compared to the normal symptoms of that particular poison, she’d be grateful if that’s all she experienced.  

“What can you give her, for it?” Mor asked. 

From the brief studying she’d done on healing, and the books she’d read - y/n already knew the answer. “Nothing.” 

Madja sent her an approving nod. “We won’t risk any interactions. Nothing for the pain, no drugs, no alcohol.” Maybe this was the Mother’s way of scolding her - of calling her a dumbass. 

Madja clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Try to keep activity to a minimum. Drink plenty of water, let it run its course. I’ll come by twice a day for the first week.” 

She grimaced. If Madja’s insisting on coming twice a day. She’d be lucky if any of them let her leave the bed. 

The healer gathered her supplies and began to take her leave, Rhys walking her out. 

-

Azriel had escorted the leftover soldiers to Hewn City as he flew back to Velaris. Flying faster than he ever had, he realized - like the winds were adapting around him, encouraging him to move faster - faster. 

He landed on the balcony, Az a second behind him. “She didn’t …” his words trailed off, seeking confirmation. He shook his head. Maybe it was the ash arrow, blocking her magic and keeping her from realizing. 

“No.” He responded quietly. “She didn’t.” 

“Do we tell her?” Gods he’d thought about finding his mate before, thought about it a lot over the decades - they all had. He supposed it was some primal instinct in him, always searching for that connection. As soon as she’d taken the arrow for him, her magic working instinctively, he confirmed his suspicion. But, suspecting and feeling it snap were two very different things. 

“Not now.” 

Madja and Rhys’s conversation drifted through the open doors. 

“Keep a close eye on her,” she was telling Rhys, intending for the two of them to overhear. He noticed Azriel’s shadows swirling around him. “The Fae Bane,” he shuddered, “is significant. One week is the minimum.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I don’t know exactly how they modified the hemlock.” His fists clenched, some of that deadly rage returning. “But the intention is pain without permanent physical damage. Expect sharp pains, depression, nightmares, and possibly hallucinations.” 

“We won’t leave her alone.” Rhys promised her. 

She gave a nod. “No alcohol, drugs of any kind, tonics, or pain relief of any kind. Even if she begs for it.” 

Begs? Would she be in that much misery? His chest tightened. As mad as he might still be at her, the thought of her in agony is worse. 

“Understood.” He replied, as if he’d heard this before. Maybe Madja was sharing it for their knowledge too. 

“I’ll keep looking into it. I’ll be back in the morning” Her careful eyes fixed on them, nostrils flaring. “I need a word with these two.” She fixed a look at Rhys, who gave a quick bow and strode back inside, not bothering to look at them. 

“I’ll keep your secret,” Madja murmured quietly as they approached her. She’d scented the bond - on them? Or y/n as well? Nothing flew past her. “I’ll trust you two to take care of her. She won’t be herself.” Her words felt like a warning and a plea. 

“We will.” Azriel answered, in that cool and voice of his. Cassian was nearly trembling with built up anger and those protective instincts - ready to tear apart the entire house, kill any threat - perceived or real. “Tell me everything, please.” Azriel said mildly.

Madja, of course, picked up on it too - and gave them all of the details she could; in layman’s terms. Depression, nightmares, pain. He picked up on those three - the ones she put the most emphasis on. And instructed them to hide anything that might slow down the healing process. Although, he got the distinct sense the house might do some of that work for them. 

She left them with one final word of caution; “I cannot guarantee how much she will remember - if anything.” 

Rhys, as if sensing the end of the conversation, strode back through the doors. “I’ll take you back,” he said to the healer. 

-

Minutes later, Rhys returned looking drained. “I’m sure Madja explained everything to you.” In more detail than he could know. “I’m not going to force you to babysit her, but your assistance would be appreciated.” 

“She doesn’t need a babysitter.” Cassian countered. Azriel noticed with a hint of amusement that he’d bristled and come to y/n’s defense. 

Rhys only raised his brow, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Azriel, so far, had refused to process just how close they came to losing her. That’s something he could think about later. “For the next week or so, she does. We can’t leave her alone.” Azriel read through that; he’s terrified of what might happen if they do. 

“I’ll keep eyes on her,” Azriel said with a soft menace. Like hell he’d let anything hurt his … his and Cassian’s mate. Even herself. Even if he still was pissed at her. He kept the neutral mask firmly in place, but part of him felt a bit ashamed at the relief in Rhys’s eyes. He’d harbored some doubt they would help. 

“We’ll work things out.” A rotation, he figured. They all still had jobs to do, duties they had to keep. Rhys or Mor would tell the priestesses she would be off for the next few weeks. Perhaps she could bring some work for her to do here, if she had any moments of lucidity. 

Gods, he had no idea what to expect - and that put him on edge more that he’d let on. Azriel worked on knowing everything, that was his nature. 

“Can anyone else help?” Cassian asked, but he could sense the doubt in his voice. 

“I don’t trust anyone else. Except Amren.” Something pricked the back of Azriel’s neck. He knew Amren wouldn’t harm her, but something about her always made him uneasy. 

Madja hadn’t oversold the side effects. Not at all. When they entered the room, minutes after their conversation with Rhys. Mor was already wiping a wet cloth against y/n’s forehead. 

Pale and wan skin, fists clenched and eyes squeezed as her leg seized. The scar was red and angry. A contrast against the rest of her skin, marring the otherwise untouched flesh. Reflexively, he looked at his own hands. Cassian, putting on a much better show than him, sauntered up to Mor and snatched the cloth from her, nudging the female out of the way. Her eyes dug into his back, but she promised y/n she’d be back later, shooting each of them a warning glance. 

-

They had the gods-damned audacity to show up, acting like everything is perfectly normal. Like they hadn’t torn her soul in half this morning. The day had been too much. So much happening in such a short amount of time, maybe two hours if that. Words, words were too difficult as she clenched her eyes shut - a pain, one she wasn’t sure was phantom or real - ripping through her thigh. 

A gentle hand ran a wet cloth over her forehead, she hadn’t realized she was panting. The bed dipped, and she blinked her eyes open to see Cassian sitting next to her. Worry radiated through his features. Where she could usually feel his or Azriel’s emotions … nothing. Maybe a side effect of her magic disappearing. 

“Talking can wait until you’re feeling better.” He offered. An olive branch. She didn’t want it, so she turned her head away from him. One finger gently pressed against her cheek, dragging her attention back to him - frowning. “If you’d rather talk now, we can.” 

-

She slapped his hand away, gritting her teeth through the pain to cross her arms over her chest. “Why bother?” Her voice was bitter. “I’m nothing to you.” 

Did they both say it in Rhys’s office? She couldn’t remember clearly. Everything was blending together, memories blurring in and out. 

He blinked twice. “That’s not true.” Her eyes slid to Azriel, and he gave a short nod. There was some sort of emotion in his eyes, one she couldn’t read. That pissed her off more. 

“It doesn’t matter.” She muttered. Not now, she told herself. It’s not something she can talk about now. There’s too much to process. What happened earlier … 

“You’re not in your right mind.” Azriel cut in. Her jaw dropped and her eyes rolled. “Why did you go off on your own?” His voice almost sounded pained. Cassian cut him a sharp look, hissing in warning. 

“I’m a free female.” 

“Nearly a dead one. If we hadn’t been there - the arrow still would’ve hit you, and you’d be gone.” Maybe he learned something from the soldiers already. Did he forget she saved Cassian? Well, he wouldn’t have needed saving if she hadn’t left. Her head shook, those thoughts were useless. 

“Not the time Az,” Cassian snarled, standing abruptly and shoving him towards the door. Azriel’s shoulders tightened, and he strode out the door, shutting it softly behind him. Uncomfortable silence filled the room. 

“You should sleep.” He finally said. 

“Then leave.” 

He let out a low edged chuckle. “I wish, but you’re stuck with me princess.” I wish. The words had the effect he wanted and she willed the tears away as she turned on her side, facing away from him. This might be the most miserable week of her life.

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[surielstea]

Undercover Affection

Based on a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, you must pretend to be a couple. During which it’s revealed that Azriel and you are mated.

Warnings: none (that I know of)

A.Note: After a month of ghosting you guys I’m finally back!! And with a fic I’m very proud of so I hope you guys enjoy!!

7.9k word count.

The instructions had been simple enough: "Blend in, gather information, and avoid getting caught." But for some reason, Rhysand had thought it necessary to throw in an extra condition—one Azriel seemed to want to claw his way out of.

"I work alone." The shadow singer gritted through his teeth, shadows billowing over his impressively sized wings.

"Not for this mission, you won't." The High Lord immediately dismisses him, not batting an eye at the male who perhaps every other fae in Prythian was terrified of.

"She's not ready, she'll be a distraction." Azriel counters. A foreign part of you panged with disappointment at that. Did he really find you so incompetent?

Rhys argues back immediately, his anger beginning to ramp up to meet Azriel's and you quickly decide you didn't want to be anywhere near when they collided. "You told me yourself just last week she's the best spy you've ever trained."

Your eyebrows lift a fraction at what Rhys had unconsciously confessed, the barest reaction but enough for the shadow singer to pick up on. His hazel eyes flicked to your own gaze, then back to Rhysand's.

They seemed to be having a conversation, one you couldn't hear. You doubted you'd ever get used to that, the way Rhys could slip into someone's mind—even someone as guarded as Azriel. A shiver went down your spine as you thought about the power of the High Lord of Night.

"You have to be out of your mind if you think I'll ever put her in that kind of danger." Azriel seethed to his brother through the mental connection, unable to even fathom the idea of you having a target on your back.

"She may be your mate but she is also your disciple, did you seriously think she'd never go out into the field?" Rhys could sense his anger, feel it ebbing against a shield that was thinning.

"I only taught her spy work so she'd know how to protect herself—never to put her in harm's way," Azriel says, his frustration making his voice sound almost pleading.

"Then you know she can protect herself. You will be beside her every step of the way, what she wants to do is entirely her decision." Rhys remarks.

"And what if the bond snaps? It could jeopardize the mission—much more, her safety." Azriel poses, the scenario would make all hell break loose in all situations.

"Are you implying you can't keep her safe?" Rhys taunts, the words finding their mark in the Spy Masters head.

You watch their expressions closely, attempting to pick up on what they were saying but the only reaction you could spot was the way Azriel's jaw feathered as he pushed off Rhysand's desk and turned to me.

"Do you think you're ready for this?" There was a certain softness in his eyes you only got rare glimpses of, the sight making you swallow hard.

Your throat felt tight, but you straightened your shoulders and lifted your chin. "I am." Your voice didn't waver, though the intensity of his hazel eyes made it a near thing.

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed you both with a calculating air. The quiet smile tugging at his lips felt almost dangerous like he already knew the outcome of a game you hadn't even realized you were playing.

"The ball," he began, voice smooth, "is being hosted by High Fae whose loyalty to Prythian is questionable at best. Whispers suggest they're courting alliances with forces hostile to Velaris. If true, this could be the first move toward rebellion."

He slid a detailed sketch across the desk. The male's sharp features and cold, calculating eyes etched into the paper made your stomach tighten. Rhys's voice remained steady as he continued. "Kaieel is the orchestrator. We need names, allies, plans—anything we can use to dismantle his efforts before they gain traction. The masks and secrecy of the event work in our favor. You'll attend, blend in with the crowd, and leave no trace of your presence."

"And our cover?" you asked, though you weren't sure you wanted the answer.

Rhys's lips twitched. "Newlyweds."

The single word hit you like a jolt of lightning. Your heart stumbled, catching somewhere between shock and disbelief. "A couple?" you uttered, trying to keep your voice even.

"A young pair enamored with each other and blissfully distracted. The perfect cover." Rhys's eyes sparkled with mirth, though his tone was all business. "An unattached male draws suspicion. A pair in love does not."

Azriel didn't react outwardly, but his silence spoke volumes. You risked a glance at him, finding his gaze fixed somewhere distant. Was the idea truly so unbearable to him?

"The priority," Rhys continued, "is information. If your cover is compromised, you extract yourselves immediately. But until then, you'll need to act the part—dancing, whispering... perhaps even a kiss or two, if the situation calls for it."

"Rhys," Azriel growled, low and lethal.

Rhys only smirked, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. "Relax, Az. You might even have fun. Any questions?"

You shook your head, pulse hammering. The mission was simple in theory, but with Azriel by your side—close enough to feel his warmth, to brush against the bond neither of you had spoken of—it felt like you were stepping into something far more dangerous than a ballroom full of enemies.

"Good," Rhys said, dismissing you both with a wave. "You leave at dusk."

Azriel turned abruptly, the tension in his wings a visible reminder of the storm brewing within him. As he stalked toward the door, you followed, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

Whatever lay ahead, one thing was clear: the mission wouldn't just test your skills as a spy—it would test every fragile boundary you and Azriel had built between the two of you.

—

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your gown, the soft, luxurious material clinging perfectly to your frame before pooling at your feet. It was a deep shade of midnight grey, almost black, designed to shimmer as if it were the color of the moon itself, glimmering silver in the right lighting. The neckline dipped just enough to be daring without crossing into scandalous, and the fitted bodice accentuated every curve. The gown was a far cry from the shadowy leathers you had grown accustomed to during training.

Your fingers brushed over the mask lying on the vanity before you. It was delicate, intricate silver filigree adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light to match my dress. The sight of it alone made your stomach twist with nerves, though you refused to let the feeling take hold. You were a spy, not some jittery debutante.

Focus.

Your gaze shifted to the mirror as you adjusted the gown again, letting out a slow breath. The transformation was undeniable; the person staring back at you looked like they belonged at this kind of event. For a moment, you barely recognized yourself, and that unfamiliarity was almost reassuring. If you didn't recognize yourself, maybe no one else would either.

The soft knock at the door startled you. You turned, calling out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, closing it behind him with deliberate care.

Your breath was stolen from your lungs at the sight of the Shadow Singer.

He wore an all-black suit that looked as though it had been tailored specifically for him—and knowing the resources of the Night Court, it probably had. The sharp lines of the jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and the subtle sheen of the fabric only added to the air of elegance that clung to him. His wings were glamoured away, leaving no trace of their presence—which was upsetting, but it was his eyes that made up for it—those piercing hazel eyes, framed by long lashes that truly captured your attention. They swept over you in a single, assessing glance, and you swore you caught the faintest flicker of surprise before his features smoothed into their usual calm.

"You look..." His voice trailed off, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Like I'm about to infiltrate a ball filled with potential traitors to Velaris?" you offered lightly, trying to break the tension that had settled in the room.

"I was going to say beautiful, but that works too," he said simply, his voice low and even. The words sent a strange warmth curling through your chest, though you quickly buried it.

Azriel crossed the room, the measured grace of his movements a reminder of the lethal precision he carried with him always. He stopped just in front of you, holding out his hand. "Your mask."

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing it to him. His gloved fingers brushed against yours as he took it, and you were acutely aware of how close he was as he moved behind you.

The brush of his knuckles against your temple sent a shiver down your spine as he adjusted the mask, tying the soft ribbons at the back of your head with deft fingers. His scent—night-chilled mist and cedar—wrapped around you, a quiet distraction that made it hard to focus.

"There," he murmured, adjusting your hair around the ribbon before stepping back just enough for you to turn and face him. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you wondered if he could sense the way your pulse quickened.

"You clean up well," you said, tilting your head slightly. "Almost didn't recognize you without all the shadows."

He raised a brow, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "You'll have to forgive me for not returning the compliment."

Your lips twitched. "And why's that?"

"Because if I did, we'd be here all night," he replied smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rare, fleeting smile.

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected flirtation. Azriel's humor was subtle, almost elusive, but when it surfaced, it always left you reeling.

Before you could find a response, you remembered the last detail. "Oh, wait." You turned back to the vanity, retrieving the small box you'd nearly forgotten. Inside were two rings—simple, elegant bands meant to complete your cover as a married couple.

You slipped one onto your finger, the cool metal fitting perfectly, the sapphire stone placed atop it glimmering in the sunsetting light. You hold out the other to him. "Rhys gave them to me, for authenticity," you said, keeping your tone light despite the awkwardness that had crept into the air.

Azriel's gaze dropped to the ring in your hand, his expression unreadable as he took it. For a moment, you thought he might protest, but instead, he slid it onto his finger with careful precision.

He slipped it onto his finger without breaking eye contact, the deliberate slowness of the action making your heart race. "There," he said, holding his hand up to examine the ring. "How do I look as your doting husband?"

You took a step back, pretending to assess him with a critical eye. "Hmm, you'll pass—just barely. Try smiling a little more. You're supposed to be madly in love with me, remember?"

Azriel leaned in slightly, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "If I smile too much, they'll think I've lost my mind."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Fair enough."

He reached out then, his hand brushing yours as he straightened an imaginary crease in the sleeve of your gown. The touch was fleeting but enough to send warmth creeping up your neck. When he pulled back, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, grabbing the silver clutch from the vanity and looping it over your wrist. "As I'll ever be."

Azriel extended his arm, a rare gesture that made your lips twitch in surprise. "Shall we, gorgeous?" he teased, his tone low and smooth.

You slid your hand through the crook of his arm, matching his smirk with one of your own. "Lead the way, handsome." Whatever this mission had in store, it was clear the most dangerous thing you'd face tonight wasn't Kaieel or his allies. It was Azriel—and the way he made you feel.

—

The ballroom glittered like a scene from a dream, opulent and indulgent in every detail. Chandeliers sparkled with a thousand lights overhead, their glow casting a soft radiance across the sea of masked figures swirling on the marble floor. The air buzzed with muted conversations, laughter, and the soft strains of a symphony playing in the background.

Your arm was looped through Azriel's, his warmth bleeding into you even through the layers of your gown and his tailored suit. He guided you into the crowd with an ease that belied his tension, his hazel eyes scanning every face, every shadow, every corner.

"Stay close," he murmured, the words just for you, his breath brushing against your temple. His voice, low and commanding, sent a shiver down your spine, though you quickly disguised it as a nod of agreement.

"Hard to get closer than this," you quipped softly, unable to resist. You felt him stiffen slightly under your hand, his wings—glamoured away but somehow still present in your mind—practically bristling with restrained energy.

He didn't respond, but the faintest curve of his lips betrayed him. If it weren't for the mask obscuring part of his face, you might have caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Instead, his focus shifted, scanning the room until it landed on your target.

Kaieel stood near the far edge of the room, his tall frame commanding attention even in this crowd of nobles. His mask, dark and menacing, covered much of his face, but his icy blue eyes gleamed through the filigree, sharp and calculating. A small circle of sycophants surrounded him, laughing too loudly at his every word. He raised a crystal flute to his lips, sipping lazily as though the fate of Prythian wasn't potentially hanging on his next move.

"Eyes on Kaieel," Azriel murmured, tilting his head just enough for his words to reach you. "But keep it subtle. The last thing we want is him noticing our interest too early."

"Subtlety is my specialty," you whispered back, earning a flick of his gaze, though he said nothing. His grip on your hand tightened as he steered you toward the dance floor.

Before you could question him, Azriel pivoted smoothly, releasing your arm only to catch your hand and pull you into a waltz. The sudden movement startled you, your other hand landing instinctively on his shoulder as he spun you into the rhythm of the music.

"A dance?" you asked, arching a brow as you tried to ignore the way his hand settled on your waist, firm but not overbearing.

"Blending in," he replied simply, though the set of his jaw betrayed the faintest hint of awkwardness. "Everyone else is dancing. And from here, we have a better view of Kaieel."

You followed his lead, your feet moving in time with his despite the distraction of his proximity. The bond hummed faintly at the back of your mind, an awareness you fought to suppress as you focused on the task at hand. His scent—cedar and chilled mist—wrapped around you, grounding and maddening all at once.

"So," you ventured, your voice low, "do we just stare at him all night, or do we actually have a plan?"

Azriel's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Patience. Kaieel will make his move eventually. Until then, we observe."

"Observation is all well and good," you said, your tone light despite the weight of the moment, "but what if he decides to slip away before we get what we need?"

"He won't," Azriel replied, his confidence a quiet anchor in the storm of your nerves. "He's too arrogant to think anyone here is a threat to him."

You were about to respond when Kaieel's laugh cut through the music, sharp and derisive. Your gaze flicked toward him in time to see him gesture grandly to his circle, drawing their attention—and yours. The words he spoke were lost in the distance, but the smug tilt of his head and the pointed glance he cast toward a cloaked figure in the corner sent a chill down your spine.

"Did you see that?" you murmured, tilting your head subtly toward Kaieel.

Azriel's grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. "I saw. He's signaling someone."

Your next step faltered, and Azriel steadied you instantly, his hand at your back pressing you closer. "Careful," he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver through you. "If you trip, they'll notice."

"Noted," you said, your cheeks warming despite yourself. You tilted your head again, pretending to focus on him as you spoke. "The cloaked figure in the corner. Could be a contact."

"Could be," Azriel agreed, his hazel eyes flicking toward the figure in question. "But we won't know for sure until we get closer."

"And how do you propose we do that without drawing attention?" you asked, trying to ignore the way his hand seemed to linger on your back, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your gown in a way that felt almost deliberate.

Azriel's lips curved into a smirk, subtle but unmistakable. "Leave that to me."

Before you could question him further, the song ended, and he stepped back, bowing slightly as he offered you his arm again. You accepted it, allowing him to guide you off the dance floor and toward the far side of the room. Kaieel's attention was still focused on his circle, oblivious to your approach.

Azriel leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "We'll circle the room, make small talk, and get close enough to overhear. Follow my lead."

"Always," you replied softly, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Azriel's gaze snapped to yours, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing as he led you deeper into the crowd.

The mission demanded your focus, but with Azriel at your side, his presence steady and unyielding, you couldn't help but wonder if the real danger tonight wasn't the secrets hidden in this ballroom—but the ones you carried in your heart.

You move through the ballroom like smoke, seamlessly blending with the opulent crowd. Strangers smile at you—glittering masks of civility over a sea of intentions. They don't need to know who you are; your presence, the confident tilt of your chin, and the luxury of your attire tell them enough. Wealth recognizes power, even in passing.

When you wave at a woman standing beside Kaieel, she returns the gesture, though her eyes narrow ever so slightly, a flicker of confusion betraying her effort to place you. Still, she beckons you closer with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to command.

"Lady Reven," Azriel murmurs in your ear, his voice as soft and deliberate as the shadows that cling to him. "Ex-wife of Kaieel. The hostess of tonight's spectacle."

"She invited her ex-husband?" you ask under your breath, your smile unwavering despite the furrow of your brows.

"He's funding it," Azriel replies, his golden eyes scanning the room. "This way, he and his associates can conspire without his name attached. If the plot unravels—"

"She takes the fall," you finish, your mind catching up to the threads he's weaving.

"Precisely," he says with a wry twist of his lips. Then, with a pointed glance at Lady Reven, he adds, "And she, my love, is your key to him."

Your heart stumbles at his phrasing. Your key? You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with a slight tilt of his head. "I won't be far," he assures you, his voice a soft promise. And then, as if sensing your doubt, the cool, silken pressure of shadows winds beneath your dress, curling around your thigh like an unspoken vow. The sensation is enough to make your knees threaten to buckle.

"What do I even say to her?" you whisper, frowning.

Azriel chuckles, low and teasing. "Have you forgotten all your training already?" The confidence in his tone steadies you. "You'll do just fine. I'll fetch us drinks and join you shortly," he adds, leaning down to press a brief, warm kiss to your temple before vanishing into the crowd like mist.

You force a breath into your lungs and set your shoulders, willing confidence into your stride as you cross the ballroom. The shadows move with you, unseen but ever-present, their cool touch synchronizing with the rhythm of your steps.

As you approach a table laden with crystalline champagne flutes and decadent sweets, your ears tune in to the sharp edges of Lady Reven's voice, drifting from where she speaks to a maid.

"And make sure he leaves alone tonight," she hisses. "He's humiliated me enough in public without dragging some—other female into it."

The maid nods, scurrying off, and you let your gaze fall to the intricately carved edge of the table. The urge to fidget nearly overcomes you before Lady Reven's voice pulls you from the habit.

"I wouldn't bother with the chocolates," she says coolly, stepping closer.

You glance at her, feigning an easy smile. "Good to know." You nod. "I've never been one for sweets anyway, Lady Reven."

Her ruby-red lips curl upward in a knowing smirk. "Have we met?" she asks, her sharp eyes studying you with thinly veiled suspicion.

"Only on paper," you reply smoothly. "My husband works for Kaieel."

Recognition softens her features. "Ah, a friend of Kaieel is a friend of mine," she purrs. "Call me Valenia."

"Of course. Valenia," you echo with a nod, subtly testing the name.

"And where is your husband tonight?" she asks, gesturing vaguely to the glittering crowd.

You tilt your head with a small laugh. "Fetching me something stronger than this champagne," you quip, gesturing towards the burbling fountain of sparkling wine in the center. The honesty surprises her into a laugh of her own.

"Well, I'll have to apologize for the watered-down drinks," she says lightly, her tone dripping with feigned humility.

"No need. This is a stunning event," you counter, gesturing to the ballroom.

A flicker of satisfaction crosses her face. "I think we're alike, you and I," she muses, before looping her arm through yours. "Come. I'll introduce you to Kaieel."

Your pulse quickens as she steers you across the room. You catch Azriel's golden gaze from where he's threading through the crowd, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

"I really should wait for my husband," you try, a nervous laugh slipping out. "We've been recently married, couldn't keep him away if I tried." You attempt to excuse.

"Then it'll be easy for him to find us, hm?" Valenia dismisses with a wink, tugging you forward until you're standing before Kaieel himself.

Kaieel was sprawled on a chaise lounge, maids bringing him drinks, butlers feeding him by hand like he was some kind of king. Even Rhys wasn't this ostentatious. His turquoise eyes fell on you as Lady Raven guided you towards him, dragging his gaze across every inch of your figure. You did your best to ignore it, giving him a bashful smile.

"What have I done to deserve the company of two such radiant creatures?" Kaieel drawls, his grin wide and smug as he leans back in his seat.

"Kai," Valenia greets, her tone deceptively warm, intimacy still flowing between them. "This is—oh, dear, I fear I never got your name."

Before you can answer, an arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you into the familiar scent of cedar and night mist, the warmth of his hold makes your tense shoulders relax.

"Mrs. Lawmore," Azriel announces smoothly, answering for you as he gives Kaieel a grin, his smile disarming as he shields you beneath his presence.

"Lawmore?" Kaieel's eyes narrow with interest. "Lysan Lawmore, is that you under that mask?"

Azriel bows his head slightly, keeping his eyes down in fear of being caught. "It's been some time, apology for my absence but my beautiful wife here needed to be spoiled after our wedding night." You didn't want to know what happened to the real Lysan, neither did you want to know what Azriel did to him to get this information out of him.

"And how exactly did you win over such a lovely companion?" Kaieel continues, taking your hand with practiced charm, his lips brushing lightly over the sapphire on your ring finger.

You smile, tilting your head bashfully. "I believe I was the one winning him over," you say, cutting in before Azriel can.

Azriel's fingers trail from your shoulder down your arm, taking your hand from Kaieel's grasp and threading his fingers with yours. His touch is possessive but gentle, a silent claim.

"How sweet," Kaieel remarks, raising his glass in mock toast. "Remember when we were like that, darling?"

Valenia's eyes flash, her smirk tightening as she looks away. "They're newlyweds, Kai. Still in the honeymoon phase."

"Newlyweds, you say? Well, then," Kaieel says with a devilish grin. "We must celebrate. Let's toast!" He stood, raising his glass. He didn't have to so much as say a word for the entire ballroom to halt and turn to him.

"So kind of all of you to join us on this fine evening, not only are we celebrating this beautiful gathering the lovely Valenia put together," He pauses for a moment to gesture towards the woman who gave a practiced smile and an elegant wave of her hand. "But we are also celebrating the recently pronounced Mr. And Mrs. Lawmore!" He raises his glass, and even if none of these people so much as knew your name, they cheered anyway. Like puppets on a string, controlled by Kaieel himself.

"Go on," Kaieel presses, leaning forward with a wicked glint in his eye. "Kiss the bride."

The demand sends a shiver down your spine. Even the shadows twining around your legs seem to still, waiting.

Azriel was already staring at you, his eyes searching yours. His lips quirk into a soft, almost shy smile, and the question in his gaze is unmistakable.

You nod, barely perceptibly.

"Come here, love," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, tender.

Your lips met, fitting together with startling, unspoken precision—like the final piece of a puzzle you never realized was incomplete until it clicked into place. The kiss lasted only a heartbeat, but in that fleeting moment, everything shifted. The air between the two of you thickened, buzzing with a quiet intensity, as if the universe itself had paused to watch.

Something deep inside you stirred, a part of yourself you'd long buried or perhaps never even known. It unfurled like a blossom in the first light of dawn, warm and aching, a golden thread spinning itself between you. It twined tighter with every second, binding not just your bodies but something deeper, something elemental.

For that brief, infinite instant, there was no ballroom, no crowd, no mission. Just the two of you—two souls suspended in the gravity of a pull you couldn't name but could feel down to your very bones.

And then, like the breathless silence before a storm, realization hit you with shattering clarity. This wasn't just a kiss. It was him. Azriel.

Your mate.

The kiss ended as gently as it began, your eyes wide and searching but he remained calm and steady, you whisper, "You've known?"

Azriel's gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if he was going to kiss you again, and again, and again until the gods themselves had to rip him from you. But before he can answer, the room erupts into applause, Kaieel's voice booming with praise.

Even as the crowd cheers and music resumes, you hear nothing but the pounding of your heart, feel nothing but the truth that thrums in your blood.

Mate.

And he knew.

You don't have time to process the truth searing through your veins. Mate. The word echoes in your mind like a thunderclap, threatening to drown out everything else. But Azriel's hand tightens around yours, steady and grounding. His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable—a mix of reassurance and warning—and you understand: you can't falter. Not here. Not now.

Kaieel's voice cuts through the applause, smug and commanding. "Come now, don't let the celebration stop the night's festivities. Dance, drink, enjoy yourselves!" His hand sweeps over the crowd, his charisma intoxicating, pulling their attention away from you. For now.

"You're too kind, Kaieel," Azriel says. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time with my wife."

Azriel tugs gently on your hand, guiding you away from the center of the ballroom. You follow, trying to shake the weight of the bond snapping into place. But even as he leads you, the golden thread between you hums with a new, undeniable awareness, the shadows brushing against you like a silent promise.

He doesn't speak until you've reached the edge of the room, tucked into the shadowy recess of a grand marble column. His lips are close to your ear, his voice low and smooth. "Are you with me?"

You nod, the words caught in your throat.

"Good," he murmurs. "We need to move fast. Valenia is the key to his plans. Now that you become acquainted we can use her."

You blink, willing yourself to focus. "How?"

"She's vulnerable," Azriel says, his tone edged with calculation. "Kaieel still holds power over her, and it's clear she despises him for it. We can exploit that. Learn who his allies are, how he's funding this rebellion. If we play her right, she'll give us everything."

You glance toward the center of the room, where Valenia stands at Kaieel's side, her posture poised but her eyes cold as she watches him bask in the attention of the crowd. Her mask of indifference is expertly crafted, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten around her champagne flute.

"She definitely hates him," you say quietly. "But will she betray him?"

Azriel's shadows curl against your skin, cold and steady. "She already has. Hosting this event on his behalf, exposing him to scrutiny. She's more desperate than she lets on." He tilts his head toward you, his voice softer now. "We just need to give her the final push."

You swallow hard, nodding. "And if she doesn't break?"

Azriel's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Then we'll find another way. We always do."

Before you can reply, a servant approaches with a silver tray bearing two glasses of dark red wine. Azriel accepts both, handing one to you with an easy smile that belies the sharpness of his focus.

"Drink," he murmurs. "And dance with me. They're watching."

"Again?" You ask, your heart stuttering, but you take the glass, letting him guide you back toward the dance floor.

"This is a ball, love." The music swells as he pulls you into his arms, his movements are fluid and natural as though you've danced together a hundred times. "You didn't think I'd be satiated with one dance, did you?"

The bond thrums again, golden and electric, and you can't ignore it any longer. "You knew, Az," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the violins.

Azriel's gaze flicks to yours, soft but unyielding. "Not here," he murmurs.

"But—"

"Later," he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. "Focus."

This is why he didn't want you coming, you realize. You force yourself to breathe, to move with him, to match the rhythm of the music. Around you, the crowd swirls, their laughter and chatter a muted backdrop. Kaieel and Valenia are watching from the edge of the room, their expressions unreadable.

"Valenia's looking for an ally," Azriel murmurs as he twirls you gracefully. "She doesn't trust him to win against Rhys. We offer her a way out, and she'll talk."

"How do we approach her without raising suspicion?"

Azriel's lips curve into a faint smirk. "Snead your way into her inner circle. Let her think it was her idea. I'll shadow you, gather what I can from Kaieel's other guests."

"And if something goes wrong?"

His hand slides up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your collarbone—a fleeting, deliberate touch. "It won't."

The music slows, and he pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And even if it did, I'd slaughter everyone in this room to get you out."

You shiver, both from fear and something you didn't have time to familiarize yourself with.

The song ends, and Azriel steps back, his mask of calm once again firmly in place. He presses a light kiss to your hand, his lips brushing your knuckles as his golden eyes lock onto yours.

"I'll be watching," he murmurs. Then he's gone, slipping into the crowd as if he were never there.

You take a steadying breath, turning your gaze toward Valenia. She's speaking with a pair of aristocrats now, her laughter light and airy, but her eyes remain calculating. You approach slowly, your steps measured and deliberate.

"Lady Valenia," you say with a soft smile as you reach her side. "I must thank you again for this incredible event."

She turns to you, her lips curling into a practiced smile. "Ah, Mrs. Lawmore. Enjoying yourself, I hope?"

"Very much," you reply smoothly. "Though I must admit, I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you more privately. Your reputation precedes you."

Her brows lift slightly, intrigue flickering in her eyes. "Does it now? And what exactly have you heard?"

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to draw her closer. "That you're the true power behind Kaieel's successes. A woman of vision and cunning."

She laughs softly, but there's a sharpness to it. "And what would you want with a woman like that, my dear?"

You smile, your gaze steady. "To learn from you, of course. I imagine there's much you could teach me."

Her eyes narrow slightly, studying you. Then, with a sly smile, she links her arm with yours. "Come, let's talk. Away from prying eyes."

As she leads you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, you catch a glimpse of Azriel in the crowd. He's watching, his expression unreadable but his presence a constant reassurance.

The game has begun.

———

The ball had stretched into the long hours of the night. Most guests had already taken their leave, yet a few lingered—drunkards, their fingers greedily grasping for what remained of the free wine. You had spent the evening carefully cultivating a list of names, all while trying not to let the thought of your mate—a word that still felt foreign in your mind—distract you.

Valenia, meanwhile, had rattled on endlessly, weaving a tapestry of grand schemes to dismantle Kaieel's empire and seize it for herself. Such a fool. The way she outlined every step was invaluable, her unwitting admissions offering a clear view of both her vulnerabilities and Kaieel's. For someone who fancied herself clever, she didn't understand the dangers of oversharing. Perhaps conspiring alone for so long had driven her to some invisible line of insanity, one she'd now crossed with aplomb.

She was smarter than Kaieel, no doubt, but she wasn't as sharp as she thought herself to be. The rich rarely were. They plotted in circles, their plans frayed with assumptions that gold could patch any hole. A society built on corruption and greed was a society destined to crumble.

A knock on the door shattered the air between you, halting Valenia mid-sentence. Both of you froze as the door creaked open, revealing familiar black hair and molten golden eyes.

"Lysan," you said smoothly, forcing an easy smile.

Valenia hiccuped, swaying slightly as she glanced between you. The liquor had loosened her tongue and dulled her senses—a poor, unsuspecting thing. You'd kept her glass full all night, though yours had remained barely touched.

"You two are lucky," she murmured, her words slurred but still carrying a bite of jealousy.

Azriel tilted his head, stepping closer with his hand outstretched. You met him halfway, your fingers intertwining as if it were second nature.

"So in love," Valenia sighed wistfully. She swirled the deep red liquid in her glass. "Kaieel never looked at me the way he looks at you."

Azriel didn't miss a beat. "I am lucky, aren't I?" His voice was low as he leaned in, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. The touch sent a tremor down your spine, though you leaned into him all the same, your composure unwavering.

"You two lovebirds get out of here," Valenia hummed, waving you off with a glass in hand. "I'll see you soon, Mrs. Lawmore."

You smiled at the title she so easily handed over, bowing your head alongside Azriel as you both slipped out of the room. Moments later, you left the ballroom entirely, leaving behind the clinking of glasses and murmurs of deceit.

———

Once you winnowed into The Cabin, the air was thick with unresolved tension, a thread drawn too tight and ready to snap. You released Azriel's arm but remained close, your breath steady, your gaze piercing.

He shifted, glancing at you with that careful, measured expression of his, but you saw through it. His wings flared slightly before tucking back, as if the space were already too confined for what lay between you.

"We need to debrief with Rhys—" he began, but the words barely escaped before you cut him off, your voice sharp.

"No." You held up a hand, stepping back. "We're not ignoring this."

Azriel sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He reached up, removing the mask with a deliberate slowness that felt like deflection. "Can I at least get comfortable first?"

"Seriously?" you snapped, your arms crossing over your chest.

But he ignored your tone, unbuttoning his shirt with maddening ease. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, revealing smooth, tan skin and the faint lines of tattoos curling down his forearms. Then came his wings—massive, stretching wide as the glamour faded, their dark beauty filling the room like a storm rolling in.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to look away as he folded them neatly behind him.

“Go on," he said, leaning back against the couch, his tattooed arms crossing over his chest, the sight terribly distracting. "I'm listening."

You glared at him, your voice tight. "You knew," you state.

He nodded slightly, but he said nothing, his golden eyes fixed on you with unnerving calm.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts. "The bond—it's not something you just don't mention. Did you think I couldn't handle it?"

He exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it?" you shot back, your frustration spilling over. "You knew this whole time. Azriel, do you have any idea what it feels like to find out this way? To realize you've been keeping something this—this huge from me?"

His jaw tightened, but his expression softened just enough to betray a flicker of vulnerability. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to force it on you."

You barked out a bitter laugh. "Force it on me? What does that even mean? Did you think I'd reject it?"

Azriel stiffened, his wings flexing behind him as if to shield himself. "It's not that simple."

"Then make it simple," you snapped. "Because right now, it feels like you didn't tell me because you were planning to reject the bond. That you didn't want me—"

His voice cut through yours, low and rough like gravel. "Don't."

The single word silenced you, but only for a moment.

"Then tell me the truth, Azriel," you demanded, your tone breaking under the weight of the words. "Tell me why you didn't say anything. Was it because you didn't want me, or because you thought I didn't want you?"

That hit its mark. His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his wings shifting behind him as though he could fly away from the conversation. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step closer, the heat of his body suffocating.

"Love, please," he said, his voice tight with something raw and unspoken. "Do you know what it's like to see your mate and think, this is it—this is everything I've ever wanted—and to know they don't feel the same? To be terrified that if you tell them, they'll look at you like you're nothing?"

Your breath caught, the weight of his words crashing into you.

"Az."

"I didn't tell you," he continued, his voice quieter now, "because I didn't want to lose you before I even had you. I thought if I told you, it would scare you off. You'd think it was some obligation instead of a choice. And I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk, us."

You blinked, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. He hadn't been withholding it because he didn't want you—he'd been scared. Scared of rejection. Scared of you walking away.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "To see you every day, to stand beside you, and know I couldn't tell you? That I had to act like you were just someone I trained?"

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his words, but the anger lingered, sharp and cutting.

"You still should've told me," you said, your voice soft but firm. "You should've given me the choice. You didn't get to decide that for me."

"I know." He looked at you then, and the regret in his eyes made your chest ache. "I know I should've told you. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But don't think, not even for a second, that I didn't want you."

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. He took a step closer, his golden eyes searching yours.

"You can hate me for not telling you," he said, his voice low and rough. "You can hate me for being a coward. But don't ever think I didn't want this. Don't think I didn't want you. Please."

You stood there, his words reverberating in your chest, threatening to undo the last thread of your composure. His golden eyes never left yours, the air between you charged with too much to name. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breathing even as emotions warred within you.

Finally, you broke the silence. "You should've told me," you said softly, the edge in your voice dulling. "Because for all your talk of not forcing it, you didn't even consider that I might have wanted it too."

His eyes widened slightly, and you took a half-step closer, the tension between you pulling tight.

"I've felt, something," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper now. "For a while. I just figured it was a stupid crush, that I was imagining the lingering glances and the all too long touches." You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "But now I know."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, Azriel looked truly shaken. Vulnerable. Like he didn't know what to do with your words.

So you took the choice away and kissed him.

It was tentative at first, your lips brushing his with a softness that belied the storm building inside you. He froze for a heartbeat, and you thought maybe you'd miscalculated—but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer.

When you pulled back, your lips tingling, you raised a brow at the stunned expression on his face. "Kiss me like that again and I might just have to accept the bond," you teased, your tone light but laced with meaning.

"Oh, I'll do more than that." He replied with an easy smirk on his face and before you could muster a flustered reply he connected your lips again, harder this time, more desperate. His hands slid up your back, his wings stretching slightly as though the emotions were too much for him to contain. You gasped into him, his shadows curling around your legs as his lips claimed you fully, unapologetically.

The kiss stretched, time losing meaning as you melted into him. His tongue brushed against yours, his grip on you firm yet reverent, as if he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or keep himself in check.

He kisses you like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the world like you're the air he needs to breathe. His lips press against yours with fervent urgency, soft yet commanding, leaving no space for hesitation.

The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver racing down your spine, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him—silken and deliberate, coaxing, drawing you in until everything else fades. His hands tighten at your waist, his fingers digging into your dress that rivaled the intensity of his kiss.

The world tilts, time seems to stall, and all you can feel is him—the taste of him, the way his body leans into yours as though he can't bear to be apart. Every brush of his lips, every slight tilt of his head, feels like an unspoken confession as if through this kiss alone, he's telling you everything he can't put into words.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His lips were slightly swollen, his golden eyes darkened with something almost primal.

"What does this mean?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "It means," you said, brushing a finger against his chest, "you're going to sit right there." You push him slightly, and he falls back onto the couch as if you struck him with an unrecoverable blow.

He blinked, clearly thrown off by the abrupt shift in your tone. "What?"

"Sit right there," you repeated, gesturing toward the couch. Then, turning on your heel, you made your way toward the kitchen without a backward glance.

He stared after you, confused as to where you were going during a moment like this.

The sound of pans clinking and spices mingling in the air brought him back to reality, though he still couldn't fully grasp what was happening. He'd faced centuries of war, unflinching in the face of death, yet now he sat there—utterly flustered.

An agonizing twenty minutes later, you returned with a tray, setting it down on the small table in front of him. The aroma was rich and comforting, a simple yet meaningful meal that made his chest tighten.

You placed the tray in front of him, your expression softer now, though the playful glint in your eye hadn't dimmed. "Eat, Azriel," you said, settling beside him. "You've earned it after all these years."

He stared at the plate for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Then he looked at you, his voice unsteady. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

You smiled, leaning down, pressing a kiss onto the corner of his lips just because you couch. "What do you think?"

Azriel didn't answer, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips as he picked up the fork. You watched as he took the first bite, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

The bond hummed between you, a quiet, unspoken promise. And as Azriel sat there, eating the food you'd prepared with shadows still swirling around your feet, you realized that this—this quiet moment—was the most eventful part of the night.

And for once, Azriel looked at ease. Flustered, yes. But undeniably yours. And soon, the frenzy would set in, and he'd show you exactly how much of him was yours, body and soul, mates.

Continued drabble here!

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[acotarxreader]

Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay

A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hard to say, you fall that height and would expect it” Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t practice without Amren Nesta” Feyre bit out.

“And how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the ground” Feyre gave a huff to her sister’s bored tone. 

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

“Rhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds out” Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.

“Well she’s not dead”

“For now” Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look. 

“Her clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?”

“Hard to say, the material on her legs is so…dense?” Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.

The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts. 

“Shit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgot”

“You forgot” Feyre returned

“Whatever, here help me cover her” The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them. 

“Hey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?” he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door. 

“Nothing!” their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply. 

“You two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arson” he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didn’t do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them. 

“Well if that’s all Az, thanks for coming” Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you. 

“Fucking hell” your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azriel’s eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre. 

“She did it!” they said in unison again, pointing to one another. 

“Oh Rhys is going to kill you” he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.

“Whe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?” your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment. 

“Am-am I dead?” Your stare landed on Azriel’s wings, conclusions forming quickly.

“No unfortunately not” Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master. 

“You're okay!” Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness. 

“Nice going you big bat, you killed her” Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day. 

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

“Well I think her little magic trick will die without her” Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options. 

“We could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. I’ll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time we’re here again perhaps she’ll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her back” 

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

“Well you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isn’t known for her bedside manner” Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyre’s logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.

“Okay fine, go but if she dies, I’m not to blame” They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way. 

Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count. 

He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didn’t work, he fetched one of Cassian’s training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down. 

“You’re okay, you…you just fell but you’re okay.” he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face. 

“I-I fell?” he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself. 

“Fucking hell my head-” you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement “-do you have any paracetamol or something?”

“Para-what-almol?” Azriel’s eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.

“Sorry, I should-I should go? Emm…where are we?” 

“This is Velaris”

“Velentia?! How did I get here?!” You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly. 

“No, I’m not sure where that is but you’re not there, here take this” he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced. 

“No thanks man, not here to be poisoned” Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds. 

“I’m Azriel” His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes. 

“YN” You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir. 

“YN? That’s an odd name”

“You say that as if there’s an Azriel at every petrol station in town” You half laugh, more questions entering Azriel’s head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead. 

“No paper here or something?” Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyre’s artwork the object of your marvelling. 

“They’re Feyre’s, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mate��

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

“What? You speak in riddles” he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face. 

“You can drink it YN, it’s not poisoned, here look I’ll take a sip” You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp. 

“Now, I’m afraid you can’t go home just y-”

“Fuck I knew it! What’s in this tea?! I’m being kidnapped!” You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.

“YN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of my…friends brought you here by accident” You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.

“Stay back! I know self-defence!” Azriel couldn’t hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.

“Fuck! Fine! Die in the snow!” He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid. 

“And you thought I’d be the one to use poison” A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.

“I promise I won’t kill you, if you don’t kill me” he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

“Gods I hope you start making sense soon” he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.

“I’m sorry about the-” you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m impressed a human would have such speed, to be honest”

“Human? And what are you a fish?” 

“No” he didn’t return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees. 

“Great” you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action. 

“Nesta couldn’t save your mirror from the fall?”

“Nesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?” 

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

“Prythian? Like from the children's stories?” you chuckled at him.

“No, Prythian like the realm” he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding. 

“My mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-win…” you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azriel’s wings over his shoulder. 

“Really big? Well, thanks for the flattery” He laughed aloud as your face greyed. 

“Fuck, it’s happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dream” Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.

“Okay so not a dream…”

“Not a dream, my brother’s lovely ma-wife’s sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you here…not very carefully might I add” He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasn’t a possibility, this was a reality. 

“So, okay, right-” you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action “-okay cool, right, so I’m gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybe”

“Is Xanax a friend of yours who can help?” Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you. 

“Definitely although I don’t think they’re here somehow” you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile. 

“Well, we’ll make do and try to get you home” You nodded sheepishly to him.

“Do you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlier” he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully. 

“I mean…I’m not in a rush to get back to the test” 

“Okay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so you’ll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the other” he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen. 

For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his family’s as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such strong feelings towards someone he’d just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were. 

“Here you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve it” Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.

“Oh slay”

“No, I didn’t kill anything to get this for you” You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words. 

“No Azriel it’s like-actually maybe I’ll explain drag culture to you another day” He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink. 

“So have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?”

“No, no girlf-mate type person-” he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow “-do you?”

“Nope, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college either” you shrugged. 

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

“You have to say that, you’re my captor”

“Actually Nesta captured you, I’m just minding you-” You returned his smirk “-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your exam” you whined like a misbehaving child but you’d been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.

He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.

----------------------------------

“We are sending her back!”

“Amren can’t guarantee she’ll end up in her realm, she’s not going anywhere!” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.

“She can’t stay here Az!”

“And what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN you’re awake” You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians. 

“This is Rhysand”

“Oh, your majesty I suppose” you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action. 

“Don’t flatter him YN”

“YN, flatter me if that would make you happy” he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes. 

“You’re exactly as described” You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood

“I would like to apologies for Nesta’s…interuption to your day to day life and more so for…probably being all Nesta when you woke up” Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry. 

“Now YN, it’s time we get you back to-”

“-I heard you guys say you can’t say for certain I’ll get home” you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.

“I’m confident we know how to get you there”

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me” 

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

“Well its just if you’re so sure you’ll get me in the right spot, surely you’ll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since you’re confident” Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk. 

“She’s got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldn’t do it, why should she?”

“Because she doesn’t belong here” Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.

“She is sitting right here and she isn’t going near any wormhole or whatever if you’re not sure I’d get there safe” You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.

“Who said anything about worms?”

“YN has a habit of speaking in riddles” Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you. 

“YN, I’m sure you’re great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, it’s a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?” you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.

“I can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyre” Rhysand sighed out but couldn’t deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him. 

“Fine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesn’t work out then the mortal realm it is, we’ll set you up with a nice manor and you’ll live very comfortably”

“Like Downton Abbey?” you teased despite your audience.

“I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

“Of sorts” you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysand’s suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta. 

------------------------

Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide. 

“And then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysand’s head” Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.

“You live such insane lives here”

“And you could too” he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow. 

“Maybe with less arson though” he added with a grin you loved so much. 

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

“-No, just say ‘Az I’d love to stay’ and leave it there” he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now. 

“But Az-” you couldn’t find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azriel’s lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go. 

“I-I can’t remember the end of my last thought” you laughed lightly and he grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“I don’t think I was ever going to be able to walk away from you…well not without mace anyways” you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.

----------------------------------

Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two

[shadowdaddies]

Overheard

Azriel x Reader angst → smut

based on this request

warnings: smut below the cut, exhibitionism

“Have a good night,” you murmured to Feyre, pulling away from her hug as you gave one final wave to the other females in the room and turned in search of your mate.

Cassian’s deep laughter boomed from the drawing room, and you smiled as you followed the sounds of his and Rhys’s sounds of jest, sure that was where your mate would be as well.

“A threesome?” Azriel’s voice cut through the room, stopping you in your tracks. Heart pounding in your chest, your cheeks flushed with deep embarrassment as Azriel continued. 

“You think she would be interested in a threesome?” he asked again, incredulous at what seemed to be Rhys’s suggestion by his response.

“I’ve offered the idea to Feyre before - it’s certainly an option to spice things up if you’re bored,” the High Lord purred.

Chest caving in on itself, you could feel the weight of your heart crumbling inward at everything you’d overheard. The thought that you weren’t enough for your mate brought tears to your eyes, guilt and worry wracking through your body. 

Azriel was the first and only person you had ever had sex with, but he’d never made you feel insecure about it until now. Biting your lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, you made intentionally loud steps towards the drawing room and listened to the conversation stop.

Peering your head around the doorway, you forced pleasant smile as you tried to look at Azriel and failed, gaze falling to focus on the siphons at his shoulders instead. 

Willing your most even voice, you managed to ask Azriel if he was ready to go home in what you hoped was convincing calm. With a subdued nod to Rhys and Cassian, you turned away from them without waiting and exited to the balcony.

The cool night air was a balm against your heated cheeks, damp lashes drying from the gentle breeze. “Is everything alright?” Azriel questioned softly, a scarred hand resting gently between your shoulder blades as he came to stand behind you.

“Fine, Az,” you eked out, granting him a curt nod before turning to help him lift you into his arms. “I’m just tired,” you lied, and while Azriel sensed it, he said nothing before holding you to his chest and shooting into the sky towards home.

Days passed with the same tension, Azriel’s very touch reminding you of how unsatisfying yours was to him. You curled up on the far side of the mattress at night, cold sending shivers down your spine despite the heated hazel gaze at your back, silently begging for answers to your avoidance. 

But each time those golden eyes found yours and you found yourself yearning for Azriel’s touch, you were quickly drawn back into yourself and your apparent inadequacy. If Azriel would not talk to you about his desires in the bedroom, then you wouldn’t speak to him about what you had heard.

A week passed of the same routine - mumbled pleasantries and cold bedsheets - when you stood before the mirror, applying the finishing touches to your makeup before family dinner at the River House.

“You look beautiful,” Az murmured shyly from where he stood in the doorway. For a spymaster, he was incredibly clueless as to what he’d done wrong to deserve your distance this week. “Are you alright to go to dinner? We could stay here and talk, just the two of us.”

Biting back the bitter laugh that threatened to bubble out, your eyes slid to his through the reflection of the mirror. “No, Azriel, I’m perfectly happy to go to dinner.”

Your shoulder barely brushed his arm as you twisted through the doorway, slipping outside without bothering to see if he followed. Stepping into the cool evening breeze, you found only a moment of relief before the realization hit you that Azriel would need to carry you to fly.

With a frown, you looked over your shoulder to see your mate watching you with amused interest, hands tucked into his pockets as he shifted his wings playfully. 

“Since you’re so intent on avoiding me, do you intend to walk to dinner? It should only take you a few hours... I could save you a plate,” he teased, mirthful eyes glittering in the glow of the setting sun. 

“Or, you could let me fly you there?” he asked, arms outstretched, a satisfied smile stretching across his face to match as you begrudgingly stomped toward him and looped your arms around his neck.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, warm breath fanning your neck in a way that reminded you just how untouched you felt. Warm hands wrapped around the back of your legs, and you were lifted effortlessly, cradled into the toned heat of Az’s chest.

Taking off into the sky, Azriel loosed a defeated sigh when you turned your head away from him once more and opted to focus on the burning embers of the sun sinking over the mountains. 

With the River House in sight, the tension in your body only grew as you were forced to remember last week - the males’ conversation that was the very reason for your current ire - unsure how you could put on a normal facade for this dinner. 

Setting you down gently on the grass, Azriel tucked his wings in behind him, but as you turned to head into the house, his hand wrapped around yours in silent request. “Please talk to me,” he pleaded, voice rough with unspoken emotion.

Turning over your shoulder, you felt his guilt - and furthermore, his need - through the bond, striking you dumb. Gaze focused on you, touch hot against your own, you nearly caved to your desire for Azriel right there when the front door swung open.

“Come on in, we’re waiting on you!” Cassian hollered from the entry, effectively shattering the building tension as you recoiled into yourself once more.

“Come on, Az,” you muttered, locking your fingers with his as you plastered on a fake smile and led him into the foyer where Rhys and Feyre stood smiling.

Giving them each warm hugs, you feigned a pleasant manner as best you could before wrapping an arm around Azriel’s bicep - the most eager you had been to touch him all week - and his eyes flickered with something like anger at the motion.

“Excuse us, we need to have a talk,” Azriel growled out, his attempt at remaining civil much weaker than yours as he pulled you back towards the same drawing room you’d overheard him in last week. 

“Go ahead and start eating without us,” Azriel called over a shoulder, just before Cassian and Mor could voice their complaints. 

Shadows swirled around you, pushing the door closed with a click as Azriel’s arms caged either side of your head. “You can be angry with me all you want - I won’t stop you from processing whatever you need to feel in your own time - but we will not fake this relationship. I won’t pretend like everything is fine when it isn’t, and touch you in front of my family when you haven’t wanted to be near me all week.”

Your heart tumbled at his words, guilt weighing on you at the thought of showing your mate love that was anything less than the pure adoration you felt for him. But those feelings were quickly quelled as you remembered where you were, and your fierce gaze lifted to the shadowsinger’s.

“You won’t be ‘fake,’ is that it?” you taunted, chest heaving at the sheer anger you finally released after bottling it up for too long. “You won’t touch me in front of your family, because cauldron forbid they know something is wrong, but you would talk to your brothers about our sex life?”

Confusion flashed across Azriel’s face before shifting to anger that matched yours, his hands flexing against the wood behind you in an attempt to leash his ire. “What are you talking about?”

With a disbelieving scoff, you gestured dramatically to the room where he’d sat last time you were here. “I heard you, Azriel. Last week at dinner, you asked Rhys and Cassian if they thought I would be interested in a threesome. You never mentioned that to me, never even hinted that you might be ‘bored’ like Rhys said. You couldn’t talk to me, but you could talk to them?”

Your voice broke on the last words, too hurt to speak anymore. How could you trust your mate if he told others you weren’t good enough, and wouldn’t even tell you?

“Hey,” Azriel murmured, his voice much gentler as scarred hands cupped your cheeks, thumb wiping at a stray tear that had escaped. With a deep sigh, Az bent to press a kiss to your forehead, resting there for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“My brothers are idiots,” he growled. “Rhys and Feyre like to bring others into the bedroom on occasion, and he was only teasing that they’d be interested in joining us.” 

Pulling away, Azriel looked down at you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak, one hand tucking under your chin to tilt your face to his. “I have never, ever found sex with you to be boring.” He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him at the thought.

“We were made for each other,” he whispered, lips hovering against your own. He released your chin in favor of sliding his hands down your body, resting on your waist where his thumbs rubbed soft circles against the fabric of your dress. 

“You make me feel like nothing, no one, ever has before,” he breathed, the scent of your combined arousals dizzying. Your head fell back against the wood of the door, legs parting in silent plea for more of his touch that you’d been missing.

“I’m sorry, Az. I should have asked you before assuming,” you apologized, lips capturing his in a messy, quick kiss. “And now that you’ve explained, I’m not upset if bringing in Rhys is something you’d like to talk about.”

Shadows swirled erratically over Azriel’s shoulders, grip turning firm on your hips. “I am not interested in sharing you with Rhys, or any other male, for that matter,” he ground out, body pressing yours firmly against the door. “But since Rhys is so interested in our sex life, I’m happy to show him how not-boring it is.”

A knee pushed your legs open, scarred hands lifting your hips to settle your heat across Azriel’s thigh while shadows bunched your dress skirts up to your waist. 

“I want you to be loud for me, love. Let them hear those pretty moans,” Az murmured against your neck. Onyx waves tickled your skin as warm lips tracked down your jaw, neck, chest. Pushing down the straps of your dress, he groaned at the sight of your breasts as they sprang free, skilled fingers teasing and twisting your nipples in tandem with your hips rolling needily against his quickly-dampening pant leg.

“Please,” you whispered, hands struggling to find purchase in your mate’s hair. “I need you now.” 

“As my mate wishes,” Azriel murmured, undoing the ties of his pants before lining himself up at your entrance.

Cock rubbing through your slick folds, you mewled at the feeling of his tip brushing your clit, breathless as your lips parted at the stretch of him slowly pushing inside of you. Azriel held you suspended against the wall, his length speared impossibly deep inside of you while shadows roamed your body, cool wisps of air teasing places only they and their master knew.

“You are so beautiful,” Azriel whispered, chasing your lips with his own as he pulled out slowly, only to thrust sharply back inside of you. 

A moan tore through your body, hand flying to your mouth instinctively to muffle the obscene sounds. Eyes gleaming with feral delight, Azriel tutted in disapproval. 

“I told you, I want everyone to hear those pretty noises,” he teased as dark tendrils wound around your wrists and pulled them taut above your head. 

“Don’t hold back,” was his only warning before Azriel started pounding up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you bounced limply on him, the pleasure too much to think of anything else.

You couldn’t hear so much as feel moans and mewls leaving your throat, raw sounds of pleasure echoing through the space as you neared your climax. Back bowed against the wooden door, your eyes shuttered at the feeling of Azriel’s thumb on your clit, sending you spiraling into a blinding orgasm. 

Legs shook, and you thanked the Mother for a strong mate who held you as the last of your high wracked through your body, leaving you weak and satiated. Azriel moaned, sweat lining his brow as your mate’s cock twitched inside of you, warmth flowing into you when he hit his own high.

Sweaty limbs tangled with each other, euphoric smiles plastered on both of your faces while you collapsed to the floor in Azriel’s arms. 

“You’re right,” you whispered softly against his chest. “I don’t know how I believed that could be boring.” Azriel laughed loudly at that, his hand affectionately threading through your hair as he pressed his lips to your head.

“No, I can’t imagine ever getting tired of you,” he swore, voice soft as velvet. Slowly, you both stood and pulled on your clothes, giggling at your weak attempts to look presentable - everyone knew what you did, after all.

Walking back down the hall to the dining room, you turned the corner to find everyone at the table staring at you with varying levels of shock and amusement. Azriel’s hand found your lower back, your mate the picture of nonchalance as he guided you to your normal seats and began loading your plates with food.

You looked around to see they hadn’t eaten much, eyes flicking to Mor who swirled her wine across the table. “You haven’t started eating?” you questioned softly, reaching for your own glass of water.

Red lips curved into a wry smile. “No, I don’t think many of us have the appetite anymore,” the blonde teased, arching a brow as honey eyes flicked between you and Azriel.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you struggled for words when Azriel spoke up for you. “Well, we have worked up quite the appetite,” he drawled, sending you a wink that had the table laughing and silverware chiming as everyone continued with the meal.

Pulling apart a piece of bread from your plate, you felt a warm, familiar hand slide dangerously close along your inner thigh. The scent of cedar and mist invaded your senses as Azriel leaned in, lips brushing your ear. 

“Make no mistake, I will be having dessert when we get home,” he teased, squeezing your skin softly before turning back to his food.

[inkedinshadows]

Echoes of the Bond

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: part 2 of 3 of "A Helping Hand". When mates are reunited, Y/N grows curious about what the mating bond is, causing Azriel's brain to short-circuit.

Warnings: none I guess?

Word count: 3.7k

A Helping Hand (part 1)

֍֍֍֍֍

Y/N got out of the tub, wrapping her body in a soft towel.

For the last three weeks, she'd been able to take a bath on her own. Azriel had helped twice after that first time, and even Mor had tried when Azriel wasn't around. But Y/N wasn't comfortable with her there, not as she was with the Shadowsinger. Knowing she couldn't always count on him for something as basic as washing herself, she'd learned – or relearned, actually – how to do it herself. There were still bad days when the first few minutes in the water had her gasping for air, but they were now few and far between. And when they did occur, she usually imagined Azriel's heartbeat beneath her palm, just like the first time, and she'd calm down. She never told him that, though.

Sliding on a dress, she headed out of her room and toward the dining room. She was getting used to living in the House of Wind, almost looking forward to having meals with the Inner Circle. Elain and Nesta were still having a hard time adapting to this new life and refused to leave their rooms, and Y/N would visit them sometimes, but they'd never really been close. Out of the three sisters, Feyre was her friend, and she missed her. Things would be easier if she were back in the Night Court.

When Y/N entered the room, Azriel and Cassian were already there. She offered them a smile as she sat at the table, a plate of her favorite pastries appearing before her as soon as she did. Even after a month in Prythian, she was still trying to wrap her mind around magic. Real magic, right in front of her.

“How are you today?”

Y/N turned to Cassian with a small smile. “I'm feeling better every day.” She glanced at Azriel, who always seemed worried she might be lying about it. “And I haven't had any nightmares in a few days.”

Azriel inclined his head, a barely-there gesture she might have missed if she hadn't grown used to his subtle movements. Ever since he first helped her, she had become keenly aware of his every move.

“That's good,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her for a second longer before he returned his attention to his breakfast.

With Cassian's focus still on her, she picked up one of her pastries as she addressed him again. “And how are your wings?”

“Feeling better every day,” he answered, repeating her words with a mocking smile. He even extended them behind him to demonstrate the truthfulness of his statement. “Biggest wingspan getting back on track, I can tell you that.”

Y/N chuckled. “You have the biggest wingspan?”

“Oh, you bet I do.” Cassian's grin was nothing less than smug. “I could show you exactly how big–”

Azriel's snarl interrupted him. “Watch it, Cassian.”

But Cassian didn't seem particularly bothered. “Why? She asked,” he replied with a shrug. “I was merely offering her a chance to see for her–”

He was cut off by Azriel's low growl. Y/N looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion at the reaction. She'd never heard such a tone from him before, never seen him so on edge. Glancing from one Illyrian to the other, she realized there might be something she wasn't aware of, or maybe wingspan was just a very sensitive topic for them.

Cassian lifted his hands up in surrender, finally picking up on his brother's rising irritation. “Relax, Az.” He glanced at Y/N, then back at him. “It was just a joke, brother.”

But Azriel still seemed tense, and Y/N reached over to him to place a hand on his arm. “Azriel,” she said gently, “are you alright?”

He’d always been there for her since she’d arrived at the Night Court, and she now wanted to do the same for him, even if she didn’t know what had triggered such a reaction from him.

Those beautiful hazel eyes slid to her hand touching him, then to her face, and he finally relaxed as he gave her a nod. “Yeah… sorry about that,” he murmured, casting an apologetic look in Cassian’s direction, receiving only a dismissive wave of hand in return.

As Y/N pulled back, a few tendrils of Azriel's shadows slithered between her fingers and curled around her wrist. Their master looked at them as if they were disobedient children and Cassian's eyes widened, but she only chuckled.

Shadows lingered in the darkest corners of her room, swirling under furniture or inside cracks as if they were trying to hide. But she knew they were there – she'd first noticed them one day when Azriel had brought her a tray of food, back when hunger was an unknown feeling and she didn't eat. Though neither she nor Azriel ever said anything about it, knowing his shadows were always with her was a comforting thought. But they'd never openly approached her before.

“They seem to like you,” Cassian pointed out, his voice muffled by the food he had just stuffed in his mouth.

Y/N watched the shadows linger around her wrist as a bracelet, a warm feeling sparking in her chest, there and gone as soon as the shadows hurtled back to their master. “I think they’re cute,” she said with a smile, her eyes meeting Azriel’s for a moment before they both looked away. She could have sworn a faint blush crept up his cheeks. It only made her smile grow.

Cassian seemed to notice it too, because he paused mid-bite. His eyes narrowed as he focused first on his brother, then on her, then on Azriel again. And then his jaw almost dropped, his eyes now widened.

Y/N was about to chuckle at the sight, but Azriel was even more serious than usual and just gave Cassian a short nod. She frowned, aware once more that there was some kind of silent conversation going on between the two brothers. But neither of them bothered to enlighten her, and she didn't ask. She was still new to their world, and to their group. They would have told her if it was something they thought she should know, she was sure of it.

They continued to eat their breakfast, though a somewhat tense silence had now settled over them. Azriel kept his eyes on his food while Cassian was miserably failing at hiding his grin as he glanced between the two of them. On her part, Y/N felt like anything she could say would be the wrong thing, so she didn't say anything.

Once they were done eating, she stood up, intent on heading back to her room or maybe stopping at the library Rhys had shown her a few days before. But Cassian called out her name and she stopped in her tracks, turning around in time to notice Azriel's warning look at his brother.

“Would you like to leave the House for a few hours?” Cassian asked her with a smile. “Az and I could show you around Velaris. You said you wanted to see it yesterday.”

“I did,” she confirmed, surprised by the offer.

Azriel was now watching her, more relaxed than a few minutes ago as he waited for her answer. And she didn't even need to think about it.

“I'd really like that, yes.”

“Good!” Cassian almost burst out of his seat and guided her towards the doors that led out onto the balcony, Azriel trailing silently after them. “Then I hope you're not afraid of heights.”

Y/N frowned. “Heights? No, why?”

It was Azriel who answered this time. “The easiest way to reach the city is by flight.” He walked up to her, standing so close that his scent enveloped her, and she had to fight not to close her eyes and breathe it in. “Will you trust me to fly you down?”

She smiled then, soft and warm. “Az, of course I do.” After everything he’d done for her, there was probably nothing she wouldn't trust him with. “You know that.”

A coughing fit drew her attention to Cassian as he tried to suppress a giggle.

“What’s going on with you today?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, nothing,” he snickered. “I'll see you down there.” He extended his wings and with a powerful beat, he shot skyward.

Y/N turned back to Azriel with a raised eyebrow, but he simply shook his head. “Ignore him,” he said, his tone somewhere between amused and annoyed. “He acts like a big child sometimes.”

She chuckled again, but it quickly died when Azriel stepped even closer. He moved slowly, as if he wanted to give her all the time to change her mind and push him away, but she didn't. And then his arms were at her knees and her back, and he effortlessly picked her up and cradled her to his chest.

Her heart skipped a beat and she tried her best not to blush at the proximity, the gentleness he was holding her with. It reminded her of when he'd washed her, every movement careful and studied so as not to startle her. That feeling in her chest came back, but it was more like a gentle tug. Toward what, she didn’t know.

“Are you ready?” His voice was soft, like he didn't want to ruin the moment, but his eyes bore into her and she could only nod, her ability to speak momentarily forgotten.

Next thing she knew, they were airborne. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck for more support when she realized just how high up in the sky they were, the House of Wind growing smaller behind them. She forced herself to peer at the city below them. And she stopped breathing altogether.

If the view from the House of Wind was beautiful, then there were no words to describe it from right above it. Velaris was sprawled below them, shining in the light of the morning sun, the river flowing through it to the sea, and as they slowly descended towards the city, Y/N could make out people in the streets, the sounds of music and laughter filling her ears.

“It's… so beautiful,” she murmured, her awestruck tone bringing a smile on Azriel’s lips.

“You should see it at night,” he replied, flying around until he spotted Cassian waiting for them. “There's a reason why it's called the City of Starlight.”

“Maybe you could take me flying at night, then.”

She didn't know where the words had come from, why she'd suggested it. Azriel definitely had more important things to do than show her a night view of Velaris. Sleep seemed like a good option, for example. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.

But Azriel landed and gently placed her on her feet again, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment before he pulled away. “Maybe I could.” There was no hint of playfulness in his voice. He really meant it.

Before Y/N could answer, Cassian approached and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “There you are! I was starting to think you two would never come down.”

Azriel shot him a glare and simply gestured for them to start walking down the street. Cassian was still speaking, but she wasn’t listening, too busy taking in their surroundings to focus on anything else. She'd never seen a city before – none were left in the human lands – and Velaris was bustling with life. She marveled at every shop, every little corner, every painted house.

They had reached the end of the street, a bridge over the Sidra now in front of them, when both Cassian and Azriel tensed. Y/N turned to them, mouth already open to ask what was wrong, but a small cry of surprise came out instead as Mor suddenly appeared next to them.

“We have to go,” was all she said, her voice firm. She was wearing black leathers like the Illyrians, as if she was ready for a fight.

The three of them exchanged a glance, Y/N even more confused than before. Azriel simply said, “I'll take her to the townhouse,” and scooped her up in his arms once more. She only had time to see Mor grab Cassian's hand and winnow away before they were soaring through the sky again.

“Az, what's going on?” she finally asked, turning her face to look at him.

His unreadable expression only caused her to be even more nervous, yet Azriel didn't answer until he landed on the doorstep of a house and set her down. “It's Feyre.” Her heart jumped at the words. “She's in the Winter Court. We're getting her back.”

The door opened behind them, and Amren appeared. She lifted a brow at the sight of Y/N, probably not expecting her, but she simply looked at Azriel. “Go. Now.”

The Shadowsinger looked at Y/N one last time, gave them a sharp nod, and shot to the skies.

“Come inside, girl.” Amren stepped aside to let her walk by. “Looks like we've got some waiting to do.”

~~~~~~

Waiting must be some kind of torture.

Apparently, Amren didn't know much about Feyre's situation. She only explained that Rhys had spoken mind-to-mind with all of them, saying his mate had left the Spring Court. Other than that, she had no idea if Feyre was fine or hurt.

But Y/N wasn’t worried just about her friend. She was worried about Azriel too, as if he weren't a centuries-old warrior who could definitely look out for himself. Maybe it was just Amren's presence that set her even more on edge. The short female made her nervous, perhaps due to the power that seemed to thrum from her, or the way she seemed to look at her as if she could see into the depths of her soul.

After an hour that felt more like a century, five figures winnowed into the living room. Y/N flinched, then shot to her feet and ran to Feyre, not caring about the dirt that covered her friend as she held her tight. Feyre stumbled back a step, probably caught off guard, but hugged her back a second later.

“Y/N.” She pulled back, scanning her head to toe. “Are you alright?”

Y/N almost laughed at that. She wasn't the one who'd just needed a rescue party. “If I'm alright? Are you alright?”

Feyre nodded, but her attention quickly shifted. “Yeah, I'm… I'm alright.” Her eyes were searching the room, as if looking for something. Or someone, Y/N guessed.

Letting go of her friend, Y/N realized there was another person with them. A red-haired Fae with a mechanical golden eye. She'd seen him before – that day in Hybern. Now that her recollection of those events was clearer, she remembered him claiming Elain was his mate just as she came out of the Cauldron, right before they'd shoved her in.

Cassian, Azriel and Mor were assessing him, as if deciding what to do with him. But she paid little attention to what was being said, focusing instead on the Shadowsinger, searching for any sign of discomfort or – gods forbid – wounds. She sighed in relief when she found none, unsure of why she'd been so worried in the first place.

The conversation halted, and she whirled to see Rhysand appear in the doorway. Feyre sank to her knees, tears in her eyes, and he was immediately there to hold her. “My love,” he whispered, though they all heard it in the silence. “My mate.”

Once again, Y/N felt a slight tug in her chest, and her gaze was drawn to Azriel. She found him already looking at her, but when their eyes met,  he seemed to shrink into his shadows like he wanted to disappear. She unconsciously rubbed her chest as she averted her gaze.

“Go find somewhere else to be for a while,” Rhys ordered them.

One by one, they filed out the door and onto the street. Azriel declared he was going to fly her back to the House of Wind, the others announcing they’d be waiting in Amren's apartment until given the order to return to the townhouse. And so Y/N found herself in Azriel's arms for the third time in the span of less than two hours.

Despite her increased heart rate, she felt like a bit of a burden, needing to be carried around by him when he obviously had more pressing matters to take care of. Yet she couldn't deny the safety she felt in his arms while they flew toward the mountain and its house.

“Az,” she said after a couple minutes, “that male you brought back with Feyre–”

He looked down at her. “Lucien?”

Y/N nodded. “That day in Hybern, he… he said Elain was his mate.”

Azriel aimed for one of the balconies of the House of Wind. “What about it?”

“Fey and Rhys are mates as well,” she added, her brow furrowed. The High Lord had referred to her friend as such many times over the last few weeks.

The Shadowsinger landed and set her down, looking at her as if urging her to continue, not sure what she was trying to say. But he seemed to be holding his breath.

Maybe she should just let him go back to the others and keep her questions for later. But instead she asked, “What is a mate?”

Azriel tensed. She thought he might not answer, but then he spoke, his tone carrying a hint of reverence. “Mates are… equals, in every way. It's a very rare bond, but it's so deep and powerful that it's cherished and honored above others. Even marriage.”

Y/N rubbed her chest, the spot where she kept feeling that pull. Azriel cocked his head, noting the movement. She should definitely let him go, yet he made no movement to leave, and she found herself blurting out, “Do you have a mate?”

His shadows stilled their constant swirling around him. Maybe it was rude to ask, or it was a sensitive topic for him. Whatever the reason, she shouldn't–

“I do,” he answered, right as she was about to apologize. “I've found her recently.”

Her heart dropped. She didn't know why the idea of him with a mate bothered her, but that damn feeling in her chest grew stronger, and she had to resist the urge to rub it again.

“How is she?”

Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut, why did she have to keep asking questions? Why did she even care if Azriel had a mate or not? She'd just learnt what that meant anyway. At least her voice sounded soft and genuinely curious, not at all clipped – a small consolation.

“She is… kind, and gentle.” He spoke slowly, his words chosen carefully. But then his eyes softened and his shadows began to move again, a few tendrils stretching out towards her. “She's a lot like you, actually.”

All she took from his answer – what she chose to focus on, anyway – was that Azriel saw her as kind and gentle and that she reminded him of someone as important as his mate. Though it still stung a little, if she had to be honest. 

“Well,” she replied, her tone lighter as she took a step back. She smiled up at him. “She's lucky to have you, Az.”

She meant it. If he was even just half as sweet and caring with his mate as he'd been with her that first week after Hybern, then his mate was a really lucky girl. But the thought caused guilt to eat away at her insides. All those times she'd asked him for help – with her baths or to stay with her until she fell asleep – were all moments she'd stolen from him when he could have been with his mate instead. Every time he'd brought her food and checked on her, or even just spent a few hours in comfortable silence as she adjusted to her new life and body.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, unaware of the flustered expression on Azriel's face after her last comment. “When you helped me, I… I never meant to keep you from her. I hope she doesn't–”

“Don't worry about it,” he cut her off, a small smile now playing on his lips. “I'll always be there to help you when you need it.”

Y/N smiled again, whispering a ‘thank you’, though she was still not entirely convinced. But Azriel extended his beautiful wings, ready to return to his friends.

“You know how to get back to your room from here, yes?” he inquired, glancing behind her at the doors that led inside. When she nodded, he continued, “I'll see you later, then.”

A beat of his wings, and he was gone.

With a sigh, Y/N turned to walk inside, mindlessly brushing that same spot near her heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel used the few minutes of flight to reel in his nerves.

What was he thinking, telling Y/N his mate was a lot like her? The question had caught him off guard, and his brain had stopped working. He couldn't very well tell her they were mates – not there, not like that – but he should have come up with some better answer.

She’s lucky to have you.

The words echoed in his mind. He knew she meant it, like she seemed to mean everything she said. But would she still feel lucky once she learned it was her, that she was the one who had him from the first moment he saw her a month ago?

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N could feel the bond. He'd seen her rub her chest multiple times, always in the same place, right where he felt their bond in his own chest. She just didn't know what it meant. He couldn't blame her for it, not when she was still new to the faerie world.

Even as he joined the others in Amren's apartment, it was difficult to keep his attention on the conversation, on keeping an eye on Lucien, on what their next step would be. For the first time in decades, he was having troubles focusing, his mind constantly shifting to Y/N.

He couldn't go on like this. He had to tell her. He'd waited because she was still processing everything she'd gone through, but now she was feeling better. And she'd asked about mates. She deserved to know.

Azriel made his decision. Next time they'd be alone, he'd tell her the whole truth. Hoping she'd understand and not push him away.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it.

֍֍֍֍֍

Read part 3 here!

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows

[utterlyotterlyx]

Can you do a Azriel request where Azriel exaggerating a bruise his mate got during training to be worse than it is and needing bed rest because he wants to cuddle/kiss but still hasn’t figured out how to ask for cuddles since they’ve been friends for centuries but newly accepted their mate bond?

Sparks

Summary - An injury during training with Cassian ends with Azriel fussing over you, but as always with Azriel, he has another motive.

Warnings - none really, mentions of injury, slight angst, welcome to fluff junction

If anyone would have told Azriel when he had first met you that you would end up as his mate, he would have laughed in their faces.

There were no two people as different as you and Azriel, he was a brooding thing and you were like fresh morning sunshine, opposite in every way imaginable. It also didn't help that he found your stubborn nature to be quite the nuisance.

Those feelings didn't linger long however, you had some strange ability to make those around you feel at ease, perhaps it was your charm or how your eyes sparkled whenever someone spoke to you about something important to them. It didn't take Azriel long at all to become one of the many people who sought comfort in your words, much to the delight of Rhys who always sternly told him to be nicer to you.

Azriel couldn't remember the precise moment he had met you for the first time, he was sure it had been Selene to introduce the two of you, and when she died Rhys had moved you into the River House and you had quite quickly become a pillar of the Inner Circle. Wise. Kind. Truthful.

A force to be reckoned with.

What Azriel could remember however was the moment the bond had snapped for him.

There was a special spot that you often went to when you wanted to be alone, a certain balcony that lay beyond the stained glass doors of Selene's room, a place you had used to sit with her during the night, where you'd either sit in silence and gaze at the stars, or talk about anything that you wished. Selene was your best friend, you had also lost a sister that day.

That evening, as the sun was about to draw the curtains to another performance, when the sky was painted in burnt orange and purple, did Azriel find you there. A gentle song was drifting from your lips from where you sat on a deep set chair, wrapped up in one of Selene's blankets and gazing so far away that Azriel had thought that you were peering into the past. Something about it held his attention, the way that your eyes had softened, how your hair drifted in the gentle breeze, how the sun made your eyes shine like rare diamonds and the way you held yourself for comfort.

It had snapped when he had mistakenly made a noise, being too entranced by you to be careful about where he was stepping, and you had turned your head to see who was in Selene's space with you. The sun was causing you to glow, it hugged the side of your face, and the way you had whispered his name made his entire world spin.

The bond hadn't snapped for you though, you had simply asked him what he was doing and if he wanted to join you. Which he did without hesitation. That night you had both talked through the hours, too entwined with one another to realise the sun peeking through the horizon to welcome another day.

Months had passed and you still had no idea about the bond, and unfortunately it had snapped for you at the worst possible time. When Azriel had been slung over Rhys' shoulder, badly injured, and you had rushed into the room to help Madja only to feel an onslaught of pain the moment the bond blossomed and connected your souls together.

A single look was all Azriel needed to know that it had snapped, the wide eyes of terror and worry and the drifting fingers over the skin where your heart lay.

I'm going to kick your ass for this when you can stand.

Tears had brimmed in your eyes the moment he had laughed at your quip, and then winced from the pain. You had fell to his side, running your fingers through his matted hair, telling him that you weren't going anywhere whilst Madja put him back together.

Azriel had woken in his bed to you curled into his side with your arm flung over his torso, and as soon as he moved an inch, you were awake and alert asking him if he needed anything to which he said he only needed you.

Ever since you'd been rather inseparable.

So when Azriel had felt that jolt of pain throbbing at his shoulder and the emotions to go along with it, he had taken off running to the House of Wind, leaving a rather bewildered Feyre alone in the bakery with bags of pastries that he was meant to bring back to you to halt your incessant begging for them.

Landing at the House of Wind, his shadows whispered to him where you were and he took off in that direction, following the trails of your scent before walking into the brick wall known as Rhys, "Where is she? What happened?"

Rhys lay a consoling hand on his shoulder, the same one that was throbbing and twisting with discomfort, "She's fine, Az," Rhys told him, his violet gaze burning into the Shadowsinger to make sure that he understood. Azriel loosened a breath and waited for Rhys to continue despite the itching need to find you, "She was training with Cassian, he was a bit rough with her and dislocated her shoulder. Madja is with her now."

As if on cue, a soft groan emitted from down the hall and Azriel moved around Rhys to follow it, peering into each room along the way until his eyes landed on you.

Sweat coated your brow, you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your whimpering as Madja held your arm in her hands. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his sight moved to Cassian at your side who looked at him with wide eyes, "Az, I didn't mean to hurt her," Cassian knew how protective Azriel was of you, and since the bond had been newly requited, Cassian also knew how much Azriel was dying to tear him apart in that moment.

To Azriel, Cassian was not his friend in that moment, he was the one who had hurt his mate, his reason for living, and it was making him seethe.

"Az?" A weak voice called to him and Cassian stepped aside to display you fully to him, "It's my fault, I thought I could take a bit more force."

The shadows darted from his shoulders, soaring through the air to pepper your face with comfort and love, slithering through your hair and floating atop your injured shoulder.

Cassian scratched the back of his neck, "I did body slam you into the ground, y/n."

"You body slammed her into the ground?"

Closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, you then glanced to Cassian, face deadpan and stoic, "I'm trying to save your ass from a beating here, Cass."

"Right, I'll just go. You've got it from here, Az?"

A stupid question.

Azriel's burning gaze didn't move from Cassian as he slipped from the room, then all of his attention fell onto you. The Shadowsinger knelt at your side, brushing his thumb over your cheek where the skin had been stained from your tears, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," you strained, "It's just uncomfortable. You came at the perfect time, Madja was just about to pop it back in," you said with a nervous smile directed to the healer who was paying little notice to the two of you.

Unease and nerves flew down the bond and Azriel clasped your fingers around his, "Squeeze it as hard as you need to. I can take it."

"I thought I could too," you grinned and shuffled into an upright position, bracing yourself against his body and gulping down deep breaths, "I'm sorry if I scared you."

With the bond being so new with so much to be explored, Azriel wasn't sure of what you needed. Sure, he had taken care of you during your cycle, he knew that you were affectionate and loved to be held, but it was always you that crawled onto his lap and wrapped your arms around him whenever you needed some contact. Azriel was a touch-starved thing, and he didn't know how to ask for your affection because he was so used to not having any at all and was afraid that you'd deny him.

Now he had the perfect excuse.

Once Madja had twisted your shoulder back into place, an action that made you yelp and groan to the point Azriel had felt his blood boil when looking to the healer, she wrapped it up in a sling and advised that you be on bed rest until it had fully set and healed, which would only take a couple of days.

"Can I take her home?" Madja rolled her eyes playfully and uttered her approval, and Azriel wasted no time in scooping you into his arms, smirking at your glare, "Madja said to rest, so no walking for you."

"My legs don't hurt, Az."

"I don't care," you shouldn't have been complaining really, it was nice to be the one being held for a change, and it was nice that Azriel had made the move to touch you.

It wasn't like you never cuddled or spent days in bed with one another, you had spent many days in his bed with your limbs entwined with his lips searching every single inch of your skin. But when it came to simple acts of affection, Azriel was lost, and it was obvious that he didn't know how to show affection outside of the bedroom.

Landing at the River House, you pleaded with Azriel to put you down, assuring him that you could walk on your own, but he refused, and continued to refuse you as he carried you through the house and up the stairs which led to your shared bedroom.

It was Azriel's really, but he put up quite a fuss after the bond had snapped and you had little choice in the matter. Azriel did have the largest and comfiest bed, confirmed after you had tested every single bed in the house before coming to the conclusion, and all you did was bring your feminine flair to the space and your copious amount of clothes.

Azriel placed you on the edge of the bed, pressing his lips to yours and mumbling, "I'll be right back," he left your lips needing more and you watched him retreat to the bathroom, a squeak of the taps and rushing water sounded and you shuddered with happiness when Azriel reappeared, "Let's get you out of these clothes," clothes that were sweaty and dusted with dirt from the training grounds.

Working carefully, Azriel helped you out of your leathers, he gently lifted the shirt around your injured shoulder and aided you in stepping out of your pants, folding them neatly on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

The water was the perfect temperature for you and your body disappeared under the bubbles as Azriel lowered you into the tub, stripping his own clothes from his body and stepping in to nestle into the spot behind you and sliding his arms around you, resting your head against his chest and rubbing circles into your skin.

Wincing, you angled yourself, and you weren't able to stop the laugh spurting from your lips when Azriel said, "I'm going to make Cassian cry tomorrow," you sat upright and peered over your shoulder at him.

Azriel didn't meet your eyes, instead he was focusing on his fingers playing with the ends of your dampened hair; his bare chest glistened in the light, his muscles contorted with tense anger, and his jaw ticked. He welcomed the new position you created, wrapping your legs around his torso and pressing your chest up against his; bubbles swarmed around you and you sighed with content when his fingers ran through your hair and down your spine, when his lips peppered along your collarbone.

"What if I need you with me tomorrow?" Azriel straightened, eagerly, and leaned into you, his hands falling on the small of your back, "To take care of me?"

Those hazel orbs brightened, "I'll do whatever you need me to do," a new bond or not, you knew that there was nothing that Azriel wouldn't do for you, "I'll glue myself to you if that will make you feel better."

Through giggles you spoke, "As lovely as that sounds, Az," you brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, "Being in your arms is where I want to be, more for you if anything."

Azriel frowned, "What do you mean?"

"You've been awfully touchy today."

Sitting up a little straighter, "You're hurt," you quirked a brow and he knew from the gentle smirk on your lips that you knew full well what he was doing, and he cracked under the pressure, "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to dote on you a little bit."

Bingo.

Leaning closer to him, being careful of your shoulder, you hovered just in front of his face, noses almost touching, "You don't need an excuse to dote on me, Az. I know it's difficult for you to show affection, but you'll get used to it. If you ever want to kiss me or hold my hand or cuddle me, just do it, you never need to-"

Azriel cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, it was something he had done countless times before, but it felt different, like he was finally embracing the bond enough to stop hiding his love for you. Fingers at the back of your neck, Azriel smirked against your lips, at the fact you hadn't released a breath yet, and then pulled away, "Like that?"

"Yeah, just like that," your voice was a hush above a whisper, "Do more of that."

Grinning, Azriel purred, "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded eagerly, wondering how in the world your mate was so perfect and alluring.

If Selene could see you now, happily mated to Azriel the Shadowsinger, ready to embark on the wild ride of life... you were sure she would have been thrilled about it actually.

Noticing your mind wander, Azriel cupped your cheek, "Where have you gone?"

It's what he always asked when your mind drifted elsewhere, you had told him it was never just a thought, but an image, a memory, so he had stopped asking what you were thinking about but rather where you had gone to.

"To Selene," he pulled you closer to him, running his thumb across your lips, "Do you think she would have been happy about us?"

"Are you happy?" Connecting your eyes, you nodded, softly, "Then yes, she would have been very happy. It was all she ever wanted for you, an all-consuming love and a life of happiness."

The inevitable day of your mating ceremony was bound to happen in the coming months, and whilst you were excited for it and everything that it meant for you and Azriel, the thought of it saddened you, because the one person you had grown up with speaking of marriage and children at least once a week was no longer by your side.

"Do you know how much I love you?"

Azriel had always been good at pulling you from your thoughts, you focused on him, the love of your life, and replied, "I think so, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it again."

After throwing his head back to the edge of the tub with laughter, he settled, "I swear that I couldn't love you more than I do right now, but I know that I will tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. My love for you will never stop growing." Azriel held your face in his hands, stroking the hair from your face, "The sky has nothing on you, my love, you surround my world. You are my world."

Tendrils of shadow moved from his shoulders, peeping over them, flowing down his body into the water and spreading across your thighs. You rested your forehead against his, "You are my home, Az."

With a gentle kiss, Azriel lifted you from the tub, he wrapped a towel around your body and helped you into one of his shirts that engulfed you in the scent of him, and he waited, he waited for you to clamber into the bed and get comfortable before he found his place beside you. Like he would everyday for the rest of his life.

Authors Note

Bath time Az is just ughhhhhhhh

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 1

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

notes; Yo everyone, I'm back with another fanfiction featuring our lovely Shadow Singer. Hope you all like it <3 Just a small reminder: English isn’t my first language, so I’ve tried my best. Enjoy the first chapter!

Part 2

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The dusk sky draped the House of Wind in soft shades of lavender and rose, its tall windows open to the gentle, jasmine-scented breeze of Velaris below. Rhysand’s office, spacious but not ostentatious, offered a panoramic view of the starlit city, where lanterns were beginning to glow and laughter drifted upward like a distant, cheerful hum. The high shelves, carved of dark wood, were lined with neat rows of books and rolled charts, their parchment edges softened by centuries of use. A low-burning lamp cast warm light over a desk scattered with papers, quills, and a half-filled inkpot.

Madja stood near the window with Rhys, both of them watching as wings and shadows moved quietly through the city’s streets below. The old healer’s posture was poised despite her age; her long, silver-streaked hair was bound in a simple braid. Time had etched fine lines around her eyes and mouth—soft marks of the centuries she’d spent mending flesh and bone, soothing pain, and whispering encouragement into the darkest hours of countless lives.

Rhysand kept his gaze on the vista beyond the glass, arms folded casually, the glow of faelight catching in his violet eyes. He knew Madja had come here for something particular. She wasn’t one to linger unnecessarily, nor did she shy from speaking her mind. The hush in the room was comfortable, respectful of the weight of the moment.

Madja cleared her throat softly, her voice as calm and steady as it had been through all the emergencies and late-night visits to the healing rooms. “Rhysand,” she began, her tone gentle yet determined, “I need to speak with you about a matter of some importance to me.”

Rhys turned his head slightly, giving her his full attention. “Of course,” he said, voice low and reassuring. “What’s on your mind?”

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, as though considering each word carefully. “I’ve served this court for a very long time. Longer than many remember—tending to soldiers, midwives, children, courtiers, High Lords and Ladies alike.” Her gaze drifted toward the city lights, as if recalling memories that danced among those glowing streets. “It’s been my honor and my purpose.”

Rhysand inclined his head, respect and gratitude shining in his eyes. “We owe you more than can ever be repaid, Madja. Your skill, your kindness... You’ve saved so many of us in ways we cannot count.”

She offered a small, affectionate smile. “I know my role has mattered. But Rhys,” she paused, and the name alone carried a lifetime of familiarity that few could claim with him, “I find that my hands are not as steady as they once were. My eyes grow weary by candlelight. My back aches after hours bent over the injured.”

A slight breeze stirred the curtains, and the scent of night-blooming flowers drifted in, a gentle reminder of how time moved ever forward. Rhysand said nothing yet, allowing her the space to say what she must.

Madja continued softly, “I believe it’s time for me to step back. To retire from my duties as the court’s primary healer.” She turned to face him fully, shoulders squared, but her gaze kind and open. “I’ve trained many capable healers over the years. The work will continue. The Night Court does not lack for talent or compassion.”

Rhysand exhaled quietly, pressing his lips into a thoughtful line. The notion of Madja not being there—her swift and sure presence absent from their healing wards—seemed strange. She had always been a constant, a quiet pillar in the court’s foundation. But he would not deny her what she deserved.

“Are you certain?” he asked gently, voice low enough that it felt like they were confiding secrets rather than discussing court affairs. “If you wish fewer hours, or only to train the younger healers, we can arrange that.”

Madja shook her head, a decisive yet kind gesture. “No, Rhys. I’ve thought this through. I’m old, my friend. Old, even by our standards.” A hint of dry humor touched her tone. “My future lies in rest, in tending a garden rather than wounded flesh. I wish to spend whatever years remain in quiet peace, perhaps in a small cottage overlooking a meadow or stream.”

In the quiet that followed, Rhysand reached out to gently clasp her hand, the gesture sincere. “We’ll ensure you have all you need. A place of comfort, security—whatever you desire. And know that you will always be welcome in these halls, never forgotten.”

Madja squeezed his hand, gratitude and affection shining in her eyes. “I expected nothing less. You have all grown into fine leaders, fine friends. It eases my heart to know I leave the court in good hands.”

Rhysand released Madja’s hand gently, taking in her decision with thoughtful acceptance. The room felt quieter, a hush that allowed them both to measure the weight of this change. He crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the desk, considering how best to carry out her retirement. There would need to be someone to fill her role—someone skilled, empathetic, and unshakably capable of handling whatever the Night Court might face.

“Have you thought about who might take your place?” Rhys asked softly, meeting her steady gaze. “I can’t imagine you leaving us without a successor in mind.”

A hint of pride lit Madja’s eyes, a spark of confidence in the future she was preparing to leave behind. “Of course I have. You know me better than that, Rhys. I would never abandon my post without ensuring someone could step into it seamlessly.”

Rhys inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he had expected nothing less. “And who have you chosen?”

Madja’s grip on the windowsill tightened slightly, not in apprehension, but in anticipation of sharing something long-cherished. “I have someone perfect in mind. A child of the Night Court—an orphan of the first war against Hybern, in fact. I took her under my wing when she was very young, taught her the basics of healing and care.”

Rhysand’s brows rose, curiosity piqued. He could not recall all the children Madja had trained personally, centuries and centuries blending faces and names into a kind tapestry of service. “Who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Madja said, voice warm with fondness. “You may remember her. She was quiet but determined, always studying late into the night, always asking how to ease pain more efficiently or mend a broken bone with fewer scars. A true healer’s heart.” She paused, letting the memory breathe life into the silence. “A few centuries ago, she left the Night Court to travel among the other courts and even beyond Prythian’s borders—visiting unknown continents, I believe. All to deepen her knowledge and hone her healing skills.”

Rhysand searched his memories, vague images surfacing: a young, focused individual hovering near Madja’s side, attentive as a student could be. He had been too busy with rebuilding and healing wounds on a much larger scale then, but he remembered the name faintly, the glimpses of a dedicated figure slipping through the halls.

Madja continued, “I reached out to her a few months ago, requested her return. I told her of my plans, that I would soon step down and that I wanted her to take my place. She agreed. She should be arriving any day now, if my calculations are correct.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, pressing his fingertips together. “So Y/N will take on your mantle,” he said quietly, more to himself than Madja. “If you trust her, then I will welcome her home with open arms. I know the court will benefit from such devotion and training.”

Madja’s smile deepened, an affectionate and proud curve of her lips. “She will do well, Rhys. She’s grown into a capable healer—perhaps even more skilled than I. She brings with her new techniques and knowledge from lands we can barely imagine. It is only fitting that someone so dedicated should stand where I once stood.”

Outside, the city’s laughter and murmurs drifted into the room. Rhysand and Madja stood in quiet agreement. As one chapter closed gently, another prepared to open. The Night Court, always at the crossroads of past and future, would soon meet the one who would continue its legacy of healing and mercy.

————

The winter air carried a quiet hush as you approached the gates of Velaris. The land slumbered under a light blanket of snow, crystals glittering like tiny fallen stars beneath the moonlight. It had been centuries since you’d last seen this city, and now each lantern-lit arch, each faint silhouette of distant rooftops, stirred memories long tucked away. The cold breeze nipped at your cheeks, but you were well-prepared: a heavy, fur-lined cape draped over your shoulders, its generous folds keeping out the chill. Beneath it, your traveling garb—leather boots crusted with frost, worn gloves, and trousers meant for long rides—hinted at the countless roads you had trodden in your self-imposed exile.

Your horse’s breath plumed in the crisp air, its dark coat standing out starkly against the snowy ground. Every hoof-fall was muffled by that thin layer of powder, giving the night an even gentler hush. Above you, the eagle circled again, a lone sentinel under a sky brushed with starlight and the faint glow of a crescent moon. It cried softly, its voice echoing in the stillness, as if announcing your return.

Velaris—once the place of your youth, where you learned the first steps of healing under Madja’s patient eye—felt both familiar and strange. You had wandered distant courts, continents with different climates and creatures, honing your craft and expanding your knowledge. Yet here, now, the curve of a familiar street corner, the warm glow of lamplight on old stone, tugged at your heart. It was nostalgia mingled with quiet apprehension, the weight of centuries settling gently on your shoulders. Back then, you had left as a young apprentice, uncertain and hungry for wisdom. Tonight, you returned as a seasoned healer, with secrets and skills gleaned from every corner of Prythian and beyond.

At the gate, a couple of sentries wrapped in thick cloaks watched your approach. The lanterns beside them radiated a comforting warmth against the frosty night. They noted your horse’s slow pace, your cape embroidered subtly with practical patterns, the saddlebags heavy with bandages, tonics, and texts. They glanced upward at the eagle, curious, but found no threat in this silent dance of traveler and guardian.

One guard stepped forward, voice muted yet carried easily through the still air. “Late traveler,” he said, respectful but cautious, “state your name and purpose.”

You drew the reins gently, bringing the horse to a stop, your dark mount stamping once on the snowy ground. A faint smile touched your lips as you pushed back your hood, exposing features sharpened by experience, softened by understanding. Even now, the cold flushed your cheeks slightly, and a strand of white hair slipped free, catching the moonlight.

“I am Y/N,” you said, your voice steady and warm, echoing with an old familiarity. “A healer returning to the Night Court. I believe I am expected.”

The guards exchanged a glance—this name carried weight, a quiet rumor of a healer summoned home by Madja herself. They stepped aside, allowing you entry, no further questions needed. Beyond them lay Velaris, blanketed softly in winter’s hush. You remembered it bustling with life in greener times, but even now, beneath the snow and distant laughter, you felt the city’s heart welcoming you home.

With a gentle press of your heel, you urged your horse onward. The eagle’s shadow passed over the gate, and then it soared above the rooftops, perhaps to find its own perch. A familiar scent drifted through the crisp night air—something like cinnamon and distant hearth fires. You took it in, remembering quiet evenings of study and healing in warm, lamplit rooms.

You had left as a student, eager and uncertain. You returned a master of your craft, ready to shoulder the responsibilities your old mentor had chosen for you. The quiet crunch of hooves in snow was the only sound as you entered Velaris, a place you had not seen in a hundred lifetimes, yet still knew in your bones.

As soon as you passed through the gates, you swung your leg over the horse’s side and dismounted with a practiced ease. The animal, sensing your familiarity, snorted softly, its breath making small clouds in the winter air. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you took the saddle in hand, leading your horse forward at a leisurely pace. A few onlookers spared curious glances—travelers weren’t uncommon in Velaris, but your arrival at this late hour and in these quiet conditions drew subdued interest.

You let your gaze drift, taking in the sights around you. Velaris had always been a jewel among cities, but under the moon and dusting of snow, it gleamed with a serene kind of splendor. Buildings of carved stone and elegant wood bore soft, golden lights that spilled onto cobblestone streets. The scent of fresh bread and distant hearth fires mingled with the crispness of winter. You noted subtle changes—new sculptures in gardens, fresh murals adorning certain walls, the hum of gentle magic woven into everyday corners. It had grown even lovelier with time.

You had heard the tales, even far away on foreign shores: the once-hidden city revealed to the world, the ferocious attack it had endured, and the grand victory that followed. Rumors traveled quickly among healers and traders, and from what you gathered, Velaris had suffered but risen stronger, its spirit unbroken. The idea that your old home, once so secretive, had been thrust onto the world stage still left an odd taste in your mouth. You’d never imagined such an outcome all those centuries ago.

And Rhysand—when you’d left, he’d only just ascended as High Lord after his father’s passing. You remembered him as calm, shrewd, haunted by new responsibilities thrust upon him too young. Now, you’d learned that he had reigned through wars and alliances, reshaping the Night Court into something more open, more formidable. Most astonishing of all was the whisper that a High Lady stood beside him, equal in power and rank. Such a thing had been unthinkable in the old days, when tradition and suspicion ruled the courts.

You ran a hand along the horse’s neck, both reassuring it and steadying yourself. Time had flowed like a great river, carving new courses in this land you once knew. The Night Court wasn’t just shadows and silence anymore—if anything, it hummed with a brighter, more inclusive magic.

A small smile tugged at your lips, though touched by nostalgia. You wondered if you would still recognize old acquaintances, if any remained. Madja, of course, you would know. She was the reason you had returned. But what about the healers who trained alongside you, or the courtiers who once sought your help for quiet fevers and twisted ankles?

Your breath fogged in the cold as you carried your saddle and led the horse onward into the velvety night of Velaris. In that soft hush, surrounded by lamplight and murmuring streets, you acknowledged what had been and what now was. A thousand changes had come to pass while you walked distant roads, yet here you were again—a piece of the past stepping into the present, ready to adapt and serve once more.

With a gentle tug on the reins, you guided your horse through Velaris’ winding streets until you reached a small inn known for accommodating travelers with mounts. The sign outside bore simple script and a painted image of a horse’s head, letting you know this was a place that catered to riders who needed both rest and a safe spot for their companions. A narrow stable area hugged one side of the building, the wooden stalls visible through an open arch, and the soft whicker of other horses drifted out into the cold night.

You tied your horse securely at a hitching post near the stable entrance, giving it a few soft strokes along its neck and murmuring quiet words of reassurance. The inn’s lights glowed warmly through its windows, promising respite from the chill outside. Carrying only what you needed for the night—your saddle and a small bag slung over your shoulder—you stepped up onto the worn threshold.

Inside, the inn’s atmosphere enveloped you like a comforting blanket. The interior was modest yet inviting, with low ceilings supported by dark wooden beams that lent the space a cozy, intimate feel. A large hearth crackled at one end, its firelight dancing across the polished floorboards and simple, sturdy tables. The scent of mulled wine and hearty stew drifted through the air, mingling with the faint tang of old wood and woolen fabrics. A few patrons sat scattered around, some nursing tankards, others finishing quiet meals, their murmured conversations melding into a pleasant hum.

Lamps hung at intervals along the walls, their warm glow illuminating the simple artwork—landscapes of rolling hills and starry skies, scenes that might be familiar to travelers who came and went. A rack near the door held thick cloaks and traveling staffs, and straw mats by the hearth encouraged weary wanderers to warm their feet by the flames.

Approaching the small counter near the fire, you found a stout figure in an apron waiting, brows lifting slightly at your approach. The innkeeper—a middle-aged fae with kind eyes and a no-nonsense posture—took in your travel-worn attire and the faint smell of stable hay clinging to your clothes without judgment.

“I need a room for the night,” you said, voice low but clear. You placed a few coins on the counter, enough to cover lodging and a decent meal. “And a safe place for my horse,” you added, gesturing out the door with a tilt of your head.

The innkeeper nodded, pocketing the coins and scribbling a note in a ledger. “You’ve chosen the right place, traveler. We’ve a stable hand on duty tonight, and plenty of hay and water for your mount. I’ll have your belongings sent up to your room—top of the stairs, second door on the right. Will you be needing dinner?”

The gentle crackle of the hearth made you realize how hungry you were. “Yes, please. Something hot.” The tension of your long journey began to ease as you spoke. Soon, you would have a warm meal and a quiet room, a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the days to come in Velaris.

The innkeeper nodded again. “We’ll have stew and bread ready for you in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

You thanked them quietly and made your way toward a table near the fire. Settling down, you let the warmth seep into your bones. Outside, the snow continued to fall lightly, dusting the night-silenced streets. Inside, the inn’s modest comfort wrapped around you, a gentle reminder that, for all the changes beyond these walls, solace could still be found in simple things: a crackling fire, a hot meal, and a secure place to rest.

You thanked the inn’s attendant who brought your things upstairs—your saddle and bag neatly placed in one corner, your personal items laid out on a small bench. As soon as the door closed, you set about making yourself comfortable. The tiny room was modest but cozy: a single bed with a thick quilt, a wooden chest for your belongings, and a narrow door that led to a private washroom. The lamp on the bedside table glowed softly, illuminating rough-hewn beams overhead and the simple woven rug underfoot.

The bath you drew was warm and fragrant, a rare luxury after so many months on the road. You sighed as the hot water embraced your tired muscles, steam rising to blur the edges of the lamplight. Every ache and tension slipped away, replaced by a gentle calm. You lingered there longer than you intended, letting the warmth and quiet stillness soothe the raw edges of your journey.

Eventually, you stepped out, drying off with a towel that smelled faintly of lavender. Pulling on more comfortable clothes—soft trousers, a loose tunic, and thick socks—you immediately felt lighter, more at ease. Settling into the single chair at the small desk, you opened your sketchbook. The pages bore neat sketches of rare herbs, diagrams of organs and nerve clusters, annotations in your own careful handwriting describing remedies learned in distant courts. You added a few more notes now, clarifying a technique you’d picked up in the Winter Court for combating frostbite injuries—how their healers used crushed frost lily petals to reduce swelling.

You’d barely finished jotting down a final sentence when a gentle knock sounded at the door. Crossing the tiny space in a few strides, you opened it to find the innkeeper’s assistant holding a tray. The rich aroma of stew—savory and warm—wafted into your room. You offered a quiet thanks, voice hushed as if not to disturb the hush of the night. The assistant nodded politely and retreated, footsteps receding down the hallway.

Placing the tray on a small round table by the window, you pulled up the chair. The stew steamed before you—thick and hearty, with chunks of root vegetables, tender meat, and herbs that reminded you of home. Next to it was a small loaf of crusty bread and a pat of butter, already soft enough to spread easily.

As you dipped your spoon and brought the first mouthful to your lips, the flavors bloomed across your tongue—rich, comforting, and exactly what you needed. Your gaze drifted past the rim of the bowl to the window. Beyond the glass, the Sidra River shimmered softly under starlight. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the night, catching in the glow of distant lanterns. Across the water, the Rainbow—Velaris’s famed artistic district—was lit with gentle hues, colors blending seamlessly into the darkness.

The scene was a masterpiece of tranquility: the star-flecked sky, the quiet city, the snow falling softly as if trying not to wake the world. You savored another spoonful of stew and leaned back, allowing the moment to settle around you. Here you were, in a city you’d left centuries ago, come home to take up a mantle left by your old mentor. So much had changed and yet this moment—warm meal, quiet window, gentle snow—reminded you why you returned. Comfort, safety, purpose, and memory woven together in a tapestry of starlit peace.

You finished the last of your meal, wiped the bowl clean with a piece of bread, and gently pushed the tray aside. The steady warmth of the stew had settled in your stomach, making your limbs feel pleasantly heavy. Outside, the snow continued its quiet descent, dusting the rooftops and the narrow streets with sparkling powder. The lamplight in your room seemed softer now, the hush of the winter night wrapping around you like a familiar old cloak.

Rising from the small chair, you crossed the room and extinguished the lamp on the bedside table. Only moonlight and the reflection from the snow-blanketed city remained, sending faint silver shapes dancing along the floorboards. You slipped beneath the quilt, the scent of wool and lavender drifting from the linens. The mattress gave slightly under your weight, a gentle cradle after so many hard beds and forest floors.

Your thoughts drifted naturally to the meeting you’d have the next day. Madja’s voice echoed faintly in your memory—her gentle, steady guidance so many years ago. Tomorrow, you would see her again, no longer as a wide-eyed apprentice, but as a seasoned healer returning to take up her mantle. The idea hummed softly through your mind, a mixture of anticipation and a quiet, nervous pride.

The distant murmur of Velaris lulled you: the soft creak of settling beams, the whisper of the Sidra’s current, the faint call of a night bird. Within moments, the fatigue of long travel and the comfort of a true bed smoothed away the edges of wakefulness. Your eyelids grew heavy and closed, shutting out the gentle glow of stars and snow.

Wrapped in warmth and memory, you drifted into sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow would begin a new chapter—one you were finally ready to embrace.

---

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[thehighladywrites]

— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

summary: a small but very happy incident.

warnings: none

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 2.2k

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

masterlist

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[bat-boys]

domestic bliss

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.5k words

warning: suggestive language but no actual smut. just lots and lots of fluff!

summary: a series of scenes that give an insight into the domestic bliss you had built with your mate

a/n: oh my goshhh thank you so much for all the love and so sorry I've been a bit MIA. I'm in the middle of a couple of wips that I'm struggling to piece together so wanted to give you something quick whilst I get my act together. I hope you enjoy it loves 🫶🏻

Part 2

A soft breeze and warm sunlight trickled into the room through the open floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to your room's balcony. The sounds of the birds chirping outside and the busy city below created a peaceful atmosphere that soothed your soul as you lay stretched out on your bed, book in hand.

A noise akin to a purr escaped the lips of the fae male sprawled across your body, head resting gently on your stomach, as you combed your fingers through his luxurious midnight black curls. Your lips tilted up in an affectionate smile as you continued to soak up the words on your page. As you gently scraped your fingernails along his scalp, another deep groan elicited, leaving you giggling and your toes curling. 

Sundays like this were your favourite. Slow, lazy and steady. Filled with quiet moments of simplicity. When Azriel wasn't busy off doing god knows what, god knows where, and you didn't have to attend any stuffy meetings or pour over lengthy negotiations and treaties as the emissary of the Night Court. When your mate could spend the day with you lounging in bed, just enjoying each other's presence. 

"Why did you stop?" Az grumbled as you lifted your hand away from his head. 

"I was turning the page, dummy." You chuckled at him. 

"Well, hurry up."

"Big Illyrian baby," you cooed, a soft yelp leaving your lips when you felt Azriel gently bite down on the stretch of bare skin he was resting on. A satisfied sound left his lips—and caused your eyes to roll—when he felt your fingers back in his hair. 

You, however, couldn't help the pulse of love and affection you sent down the bond when the next time you had to turn the page, one of his shadows appeared to do it for you.

Another chapter of your book was read before he spoke again, dispersing the soft, comfortable silence that had fallen between you. You had been convinced he had fallen asleep as you played with his hair. 

"When do you go to the Court of Nightmares?" He mumbled against your skin, his lips pursing to kiss your hip quickly. 

"Tomorrow." You sighed. It was your least favourite job as the official emissary, the one you dreaded doing every couple of weeks. Like Mor, you had been born under that particular mountain, crafted in its dark shadows, a dreamer bred to be a nightmare. It had taken years of wit and cunning to get to a position to meet the High Lord, years of barely surviving until you could petition him for a job—anything to get out of there. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" He lifted his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Silver nearly lined your eyes as you took in his soft, gentle expression. Azriel understood just how much going there took out of you. He knew that you would return home hollow and would require the rest of the night to be cooped up in bed with his arms around you. 

He also recognised that you could absolutely do it alone. That you didn't need him beside you. You were strong enough to face your past head-on and would leave whatever meeting you were attending with Rhys and Feyre with the winning cards in your hand. But that didn't stop him from offering a comforting hand to hold throughout your time there. 

"Please." You whispered. His lips stretched into a gentle smile as he lifted his body off you to scoot up the bed and press his lips to yours in a loving kiss. 

"Of course, my love." And you knew that was that. No explanations, no words needed to be exchanged with Rhys. When it was time to travel to the Court of Nightmares, you would find your mate beside you, a reassuring hand in your own as he stood quietly beside you. 

Azriel could see the tumultuous thoughts flitting across your brain, so he did the only thing he could. He bent down once again to press his lips to yours, pouring as much love and affection as he could down that beautiful, gleaming bond you shared. 

Kissing Az never got boring, even after all these years together. He captured your bottom lip in his plush, slightly chapped lips, tugging slightly to elicit a soft groan from you, which he swallowed with his mouth. You lifted your arms to circle his neck, gently playing with the soft hairs there - your book long discarded and falling to the floor. He sighed against you as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso, pulling your chest flush against his as he deepened the kiss into something fiery that had a slow, dull ache beginning between your legs. 

You could feel him against your inner thigh and smirked against his lips as you reached a finger towards his impressive wings and carefully dragged a fingernail along the underside of his right wing where they met his back, a spot you had discovered many years ago. A primal part of you stretched out in satisfaction as you felt Azriel shudder against you at the touch. 

"So eager to go again, my love?" He teased, alluding to the several times he had already taken you that day as he gently nipped your skin before torturously slowly pressing open-mouthed, hot kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"Distract me, Az." You breathed, tipping your head back to expose even more of your delicate neck to him, groaning when you felt his canines skimming along your skin. 

"With pleasure, sweetheart."

…

The noise was almost deafening, the room packed to the brim with politicians, courtiers, nobility and High Lords and their entourages. It was enough to overwhelm anyone, but Azriel watched from the edge of the room as you dazzled person after person, drifting from one group of fae to the next, completely and totally in your element. 

You enjoyed nights like these when you got to flex the skills you had built up as an emissary to the Night Court, speaking to old friends, charming acquittances, and building friendships with those you had yet to meet. The beautiful deep black gown you wore also helped. 

Azriel watched as you stood amongst courtiers from the Winter Court, catching up with some of the gossip from one of your allies. A flute of champagne dangled from your fingers; half drank as you tipped your head back to laugh at something one of your friends had said. The dress you wore tonight was some torture explicitly designed for him. It was sleeveless, showing off the delicate curves of your shoulders and décolletage, the high swell of your breasts threatening to spill over the top of your dress every time you drew breath. The slit that every now and then gave Azriel the view of the smooth curve of your leg was maddening. But what was true torture was the choker around your neck, encrusted with gems the same colour as his siphons—a reminder of where his hands had been last night. 

He had almost sent a mental note to Rhys that the pair of you wouldn't be attending the party tonight when you had emerged from your bathroom and asked him to zip you up—favouring the idea of ravishing you right there and then. It was only the thought of watching you so expertly work the room, charming everyone so thoroughly, but knowing that only he had the privilege to take you home, that had him attending tonight.

As if you could hear his thoughts, your eyes drifted from the fae before you to lock eyes with your mate across the room. Matching smirks danced on your lips as he nodded at you, and you nodded back - an inside joke between the two of you started on that first official party you had been forced to attend when the mating bond was still so new. 

A fire built in your body, beginning in your stomach and dipped lower and lower as you watched him push off the wall he had been leaning on and stalk towards you. He never once dropped eye contact, his shadows twirling before him and telling him where to step, creating a direct path to you. 

You tracked him across the room, your skin burning from his gaze. When he stopped just in front of you, his shadows dispersed to dance among your skirts and play with the hair that cascaded down your back. 

"Emissary." He greeted, bending his body into a tight bow whilst that playful smirk danced on his lips. 

"Shadowsinger." You purred. 

"Rhys has asked to see you urgently." The desire swirling in his hazel eyes made the grin on your lips widen as your stomach dipped in anticipation. 

"Excuse me." You politely bowed your head to the people you previously held court with, dropping your now empty glass on a nearby table as you followed Azriel out of the room. 

Your heels clacked on the beautifully tiled floor as you closed the distance between you and Azriel. You were still walking behind him but close enough to brush your hand against his. He turned his head slightly to smirk at you, and you felt his hand beside you curl and unfurl as he resisted the urge to touch you in front of everyone. 

After moments of strutting through the House of Wind, you reached a part of the house away from the centre of the party, with fewer and fewer people milling around. It was only then that, with lightning-fast speed, Azriel's hand whipped out to grab yours and pull you into a shadowy alcove. 

With firm hands, he pushed you against the wall, his shadows swirling to hide you from prying eyes, as one of Azriel's hands dropped to your hips and the other reached up to grip your neck. You groaned in delight at the feeling of his hands on you, the messy, feverish kisses he was now peppering along the bare skin of your neck, shoulder and collarbones. 

"Az." You moaned as you felt his canines drag along that sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the slight sting. 

"Fuck Y/N." He groaned into your skin, relishing in the way you tasted - so sweet. Even after years of being together, he would never get tired of tasting you, of his lips and tongue on your flesh, on your lips and in between your thighs. 

"What if we get caught?" You managed to say, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, hands gripping Azriel's broad shoulders tightly. 

"That's never stopped you before, love." He teased as he ran his lips across the swell of your breasts, his touch feather-light, causing a shiver to run down your body and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

The hand that was holding your hips in his grasp moved to slip under the slit of your dress, skimming down the curve of your leg, tracing over your knee and down your calf before wrapping around your thigh to lift it and hook it over his hips.

"You were torturing me out there, Princess." His voice had become deep and husky, and he elicited a groan from your lips as he was able to press his hips into yours with the new angle. Your body was set alight as you felt his straining erection through the material of his pants as he pushed into you. 

"Looking delicious in that dress for everyone to see." His words caused molten lava to pool in your stomach, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs to become incessant, and the wetness gathering there began to drip down your thigh. 

Anticipation curled in your stomach as you felt Azriel's hand travel from your thigh to your hip, skimming so lightly it was pure torture down your bikini line before reaching your swollen and slick sex - freezing when he realised he had unrestricted access.

"You've got to be kidding me, no underwear? Fuck you're killing me love." He groaned against your neck, roughly nipping at your jaw and causing a moan of your own to slip past your lips.

"All for you, Az." You whispered, throwing your head back against the solid wall behind you as he traced your slit, gathering the wetness pooling there.

"There they are." Rhys's unbothered drawl broke through the hazy atmosphere you were creating in your shadowy alcove, shattering the moment and causing you both to freeze. 

"I knew those lovebirds hadn't gone far." Cassain chuckled from beside Rhys. You knew Azriel's shadows were keeping you covered, that they couldn't see anything and could only recognise you both because they knew how his shadows felt and what they looked like to the untrained eye. 

"Piss off, Cass." Azriel snarled as he slowly extracted himself from you, carefully dropping your leg and trying to straighten your dress. 

"Someone's cranky," Cassain teased, and you rolled your eyes as you watched Azriel's face turn into a murderous expression. Azriel was usually so calm and collected, not easy to rattle at all, except when it came to you. 

"You know not to interrupt a male and his mate." You sighed as you gripped the front of the dress and tried to rearrange it over your chest. You noted the still-hungry look in Azriel's eyes as he watched your every move. A promise in his gaze that told you this wasn't over. 

"If you wanted to enjoy each other's company in the hallway, that's totally up to you; we get it - looking beautiful as ever Y/N -," Rhys added as Azriel dropped his shadows once you looked presentable, "but we're doing a debrief in my office, and then you're all done for the night so you can move this to your bedroom if you wish…"

"We'll be there in 5 minutes," Azriel managed to grind out, his eyes still on yours, desperately trying to calm down. 

"Is that all he lasts?" Azriel's eyes flared, and you knew Cassain had overstepped. You gave them both an eye roll, territorial fae bullshit. 

"Cass," you warned as you heard your best friend chuckle at the snarl that ripped out of Azriel's mouth as he sauntered back down the hallway. 

…

Azriel padded through the quiet hallway of the home he shared with you. His feet were cool as they touched the dark wood floor, a nice contrast to the heat pushing up against the windows from the summer sun outside. His shadows flitted and danced around him as they coaxed him to follow them, to follow them to her. His lips curled up in amusement at their behaviour as he neared the kitchen, where he could hear you humming and the soft sounds of you bustling around the kitchen. 

He rounded the corner to lean on the doorframe; strong arms crossed over his bare chest as he took in the scene before him. His heart almost stopped dead at the sight of you standing at the large island in the middle of the room, mixing bowl in front of you and wooden spoon in hand, your glorious hair pulled half up into a messy bun tied at the back of your head - tendrils falling around your face and gleaming in the sun -, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. 

A deep and primal part of him purred at the sight of you in his clothes, knowing that it was unlikely you had anything under that soft cotton. The fit was incredibly baggy on you, the hemline falling to your mid-thigh, the collar threatening to slip down your shoulder, and the sleeves so long you had had to roll them up. He delighted in being taller than you, bigger than you. A small part of him always soared when he bundled you up in his arms, being able to protect you with just his body. He knew, more than anyone, that you could handle yourself. In a tight situation, you could take down as many enemies as he could. But there was something so delightful about your body being so much smaller than his. 

A soft melody slipped past your lips, and Azriel joined in as he pushed off the doorframe. Unable to contain the need to touch you any longer, he approached you. You jolted slightly at the feeling of his large, warm hands on your hips, and a soft yelp left your lips when you felt Azriel bury his head in your hair and press a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Morning, love," Azriel mumbled into your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. 

"More like afternoon, babe; we spent all morning in bed!" you joked as you turned back to the task at hand.

"And whose fault is that." Azriel teased as he pulled away from your neck to reach around and gently nip at your earlobe, which sent a lick of fire straight to the apex of your thighs.

"Yours." You shot back, angling your head slightly to look at your mate.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure about that," he smirked, his beautiful hazel eyes dancing with mischief and desire as he dipped his head to press your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing Azriel was like this: all or nothing. Either his kisses were chaste, quick things meant to convey a simple hi or, more often than not, a quick acknowledgement of you during conversations or as you passed each other in corridors or hallways. His other types of kisses were slow, leisurely and utterly torturous, and he poured every ounce of love he had for you into them. His lips moved lazily with yours, licking across the seam of your lips and begging for entrance before licking into your mouth - your knees almost buckling at the intoxicating sensation and the fire burning in your body. He knew what he was doing, as was evident when he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, "what are you making?"

He grinned when he watched your eyes drift back into focus, your body slamming down to reality after a kiss that was so heady but given so casually. 

"A lemon drizzle cake." You replied somewhat breathlessly, which made him chuckle, and you felt his chest rumble on your back.

"My favourite." He said as he returned to his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing your back flush to his chest as you continued baking. 

"I know, love." You softly spoke as you began to stir the mixture before you. Judging by the smile in your voice, he knew you were thinking of that moment a handful of years ago when you had both accepted the mating bond with a lemon drizzle cake.

It had been your first time to the Court of Nightmares since you had escaped and been made part of the Night Court. You had been secretly dreading it, knowing that your usual skill set as emissary would all fall apart in that place when your eyes would land on your family and those familiar snarling faces. And it had. Everything had gone to shit the moment your family had spotted you beside Rhys' throne and had smelt that mating bond on you. It had started with shouting and had escalated to your family barging their way up to the throne and threatening to gut you for turning into a whore. 

Rhys had pulled rank and ordered everyone to leave, and you had been quickly winnowed to the safety of the townhouse, where everyone had rallied around you and tried to distract you. Rhys and Azriel had gone back to calm the situation and assess the aftermath. You had been cooped up in the arms of Cassain for the evening, a loving and supportive brother figure you had never had before. But deep down, you had wanted only one pair of arms around you to soothe you and remind you that your family do not dictate who you are. 

Everyone had eventually retreated to bed, but you had stayed, needing to see him, knowing he would return at some god-forsaken hour. He had found you then when he winnowed to appear in the living room of the townhouse, curled up on a sofa in front of the fire with a book in your hand. At his appearance, you slowly put the book down to look at him. 

The bond was newly snapped in place, but he could feel your emotions faintly and was so overwhelmed by the fact that you had stayed up for him that all he could think to say was, "Good book?"

He had watched fascinated as your lips curled into a soft smile, the first since the incident so many hours ago. "Couldn't put it down." 

He chuckled lowly but didn't move from his spot as you slipped a bookmark into the page and popped it beside you, swinging your legs off the sofa to sit facing him. 

"Az, I think we need to talk." He watched as you outstretched your hand, gesturing for him to come and sit with him. 

His heart had sunk as he had walked over to you, joining you on the sofa. He knew you needed to talk about the mating bond and how you moved forward—you had been friends for so long, and he had been yearning for you since the first day he met you. And now he was terrified that you were about to reject the bond, reject him, and he was going to lose the woman he loved and the friendship he cherished with you all in one go. 

"Y/N, you need to do the right thing for you - please don't accept something because you feel bad for me. We can work it out. I can perhaps get Rhys to station me in the Illyrian mountains so you can stay here, and I-"

"Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about, Az?" You stared, baffled, at the male before you as he rambled on. He couldn't look at you, and his expression conveyed such sadness.

"The logistics of you rejecting the bond—that's what you want to talk about, isn't it?" A bark of laughter left your lips, shocking him and causing him to snap his head up to look at you in confusion. 

"Oh Az, no honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about," you softly said as you held one of his beautiful, scarred hands in one of yours and brought the other to cup his cheek. You watched, fascinated, as he internally debated whether to lean into your touch, "Stay here a second; I'll be back."

He watched, confused, as you flashed him a warm, comforting smile before dashing off the sofa and disappearing into the hallway outside the living room. The wait may have been seconds, minutes at most, but it felt like hours to Azriel. His heart had stopped dead when you returned, a dish in your hand in which a delicately decorated cake sat atop it. He watched keenly as you walked back to him, smiling sheepishly and nervously, and sat back beside him on the sofa. 

"This is for you. I want to accept the mating bond." Those words, spoken so softly in the dead of night, in a house that had seen so much joy and heartache before, were enough to set Azriel alight. He had no words to describe the feeling that was coursing through him as he looked between you and the cake you held out towards him.

His hands moved on their own accord as he took the dish from you, noticing the sugar icing that had been meticulously drizzled onto the soft sponge and the sweet little decorative flower you had piped into the centre. Just from looking at it, he could tell you had baked this cake and poured every ounce of feeling into it, and he felt himself getting choked up at the thought. 

"Are you sure?" He whispered, and the vulnerable look on that face was enough to break your heart. 

"Yes. I have loved you for years, Az and the snapping of the bond in place made it seem as if the Mother and the Cauldron had finally listened to all those prayers I sent them. I baked this earlier to give it to you after we had returned from a successful meeting at the Court of Nightmares," his lips quirked ever so slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from your voice, "it may not be the moment I intended; but it's still perfect anyway. It's a larger version of those lemon sponges you love from that bakery we found last year. The owner gave me the recipe. I want you, Azriel."

Azriel had given up on finding his mate, resigned to always wondering. When you had crash-landed into his life a handful of years ago, he had silently hoped it would be you, and when he had tripped and fallen head-first in love with you, he had begun to beg that the mating bond would snap one day. So many years of yearning for you, unaware that you felt the same, that you were begging for it to be him as well. So many wasted years. And when the mating bond had finally snapped, when you had returned from a month-long summit at the Day Court and taken one look at him, he had almost fallen to his knees then and there. 

He had finally found you, and you wanted him back. Words would come to him later, spoken against the soft sheets of your bed, in between feverish kisses and in the afterglow of what was to come, so for now, he held your gaze as he lifted the small slice you had cut for him and took a bite. 

"Az, baby. I need to put the cake in the oven." Your words brought him out of the daydream he had been enjoying and back to the present moment. He chuckled and kissed your temple before unwinding from your body and taking a step back so you could move to put the cake tin in your hands and into the oven. 

He leaned back against the counter as he watched you carefully manoeuvre it inside before triumphantly shutting the oven door and turning back to him with a satisfied smile. 

"Come here." He held out his hand, a gesture so similar to the one you had given him all those years ago that a smile danced on both of your faces. You let him pull you against his chest, one of his hands falling to your hips and the other coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing some flour that had somehow made its way to your face.

"Happy 10-year anniversary, love." You whispered into the gentle silence, and the shadowsinger gave you a beautiful smile. 

"Happy 10 year anniversary, sweetheart." He whispered back as he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss that held 10 years of the most beautiful memories.  

Read Part 2 here!

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 6

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, character death

<<< Part 5

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile. 

You swallowed as you entered the decadent marble room, the binder under your arm almost bursting with hundreds of papers of research you collated.

Several powerful sets of eyes fell on you, and you forced your own forward, fighting the instinct to cast them low in respect. You were doing this for Prythian, for all fae – they should feel honoured for the opportunity, not you.

With smiles from Tarquin and Tamlin, you took the seat Thesan withdrew for you – the tall, regal shape foreign as it pressed to your back.

Rhysand and Feyre sat opposite, their eyes warm beneath their gaze. But you were too preoccupied to meet it.

“And since when are we in the business of inviting commoners to these meetings? I won't share my table with court-crossing whores.”

You let out a tired breath, your patience for the male ego completely diminished over the past years. 

“I suppose you’ve excused that every time one of your sons has sat for these meetings, Beron?” 

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Beron’s eyes widened, his face flushing red, and a few snorts and stifled laughs could be heard across the table. 

Fuck – you could kiss Autumn’s allegiance goodbye. You would have to be a lot less impulsive if you were to make it out of this meeting alive.

"I will not–" Beron began, his hands curling into fists.

“Oh calm yourself Beron, you had no right to insult her in the first place.” Tarquin was grinning at you – ever the loyal friend. You gave him a tight smile to say thanks. 

“And if you’re wondering who invited her here, you can steer your anger towards me,” Tamlin spoke smoothly, intertwining his fingers as he placed his solid arms on the table, meeting Beron’s glare with confidence.

“I for one, would like to hear what Y/N has to say,” Feyre added, with a confident nod to you.

It seemed you had an alliance at play all along.  

With clear of your throat, you opened your binder, rolling out a detailed map of Prythian and with it months of research on each of the courts. You took a breath, and began the proposal you and your team had spent weeks perfecting. 

“You may have heard of aid work spreading across Spring in light of the aftermath of the war. My team and I have worked tirelessly to support vulnerable communities across the court, providing food, medicine and shelter for those devastated by Hybern.”

“Spring Court only suffered devastation because of its alliance with Hybern in the first place,” Kallias interrupted, followed by a murmur of agreements.

Tamlin straightened. “I acknowledge my court was left at Hybern's mercy due to my decisions. But Y/N has worked despite of that – and it’s what makes her work so important.”

“In what way?” Thesan asked. 

“A courtless ambition,” you affirmed. “A team of volunteers – made from all courts, for all courts. Resources provided from across Prythian, shared equally to help those in need despite what throne they serve.”

There was a moment of silence, before Beron sounded a loud snort. 

“Don't trust her for one second,” he scoffed, pointing a finger at you. “She’s been hauled up in Spring Court for over a year now. No doubt this is a ruse to have us open our borders. She’ll be free to rob our people and lands, all the while fucking her handsome High Lord.”

“Watch how you speak of her,” Rhysand growled, night crawling across the table, the purple in his eyes all but gone. 

You had to interject before this meeting finished as quickly as it started. “I assure you, this mission has no binding to Spring Court. It is to exist without borders so we may help anyone in need, and travel with ease to provide urgent care.”

Beron ignored Rhysand and instead cold eyes to you, his lips curling with distaste. “And you believe we need your help?” he spat. “The fae of Spring are weak. My subjects are well cared for, and my court is thriving.”

Gods, you could see where Eris got it from.

“According to my research, inflation in your court is a second close to Spring, and displacement is rising with little access to healers after you centralised them during the war.”

Beron’s face flushed an even deeper red than before, his eyes turning to a murderous cold and your stomach twisted with both fear and delight. 

“There is not one court here that is in a position to refuse this kind of offer,” Tarquin said with sweeping calm, silencing Beron before he could bubble over. “We would do well to not let our pride stop an ambition of this size.”

“Y/N,” he added, turning to you. “I admire the work you have done in Spring, Tamlin has testified and frankly sung much high praise. If you might show me your plans of what role Summer Court could play in your mission, I would be happy to come to an agreement to provide volunteers and resources.”

You swallowed, your heart swelling. You had no doubt Tarquin would offer his allegiance, but it was a milestone all the same. “Thank you, Tarquin.”

“My mate and I would like to offer the allegiance of the Night Court. We would be honoured for your help,” Feyre’s face strong and stern, but you knew them well enough to feel the waves of pride from both her and Rhys. 

“Consider Day Court an ally too,” Hellion beamed, trusting of Feyre’s alliance to now make his own. “We have some of the oldest practicing healers – if you can help spread their knowledge across our lands, it will help us to grow stronger as a continent, and perhaps more resistant should we face another invasion in future.” 

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head gratefully to the High Lords and Lady around you. 

“You’re all fools,” Beron spat, pushing up from his chair. “And I won't stand to watch you place the fate of our lands in the hands of a traitor, let alone a woman.”

A series of snarls sounded as claws of all kinds shot out. Tamlin’s hands shook as he gripped the tables edge, Tarquin’s scraped at his chair, and Rhys’s tapped with threatening impatience. 

“Your mind betrays you, Beron,” Feyre spoke coldly, a cruel smile at play on her lips. “Because despite countless centuries in this world, you and your seven sons couldn't hope to accomplish as much as this female has in just a few years. You’re embarrassed. You feel she emasculates you.”

You didn't have a moment to gawk before Beron launched at you, his fist in your hair as he ripped you backwards in your chair. Droplets of his disgusting spit landing their mark as he snarled down at you. “You mark my words you sly bitch. You may have everyone wrapped around you finger, but step one foot in my court and I’ll–”

Guards had pulled Beron from you before he could finish his sentence. They hardly had to escort him as he shook their grip, storming from the room and slamming the doors behind him. 

With red cheeks and a slight shake of your hands, you took Tarquins offer to help you stand.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

You offered a single nod, too stunned to know truly. Was this how the High Lords settled business?

You straightened your skirts and took your seat once again.

“I do hate it when he gets like that,” Tarquin said more loudly, feigning a bored sigh and hiding a comforting hand on your thigh beneath the table.

“For your knowledge Y/N, there are rules that we must not to lay hands on another High Lord or Lady, not without consequence. I suppose that’s why he launched at you,” Thesan explained, willing a glass of water in front of you and giving you a sorry smile.

You took a shaky sip, barely having a moment to register the silent exchange between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhys. Whatever their stern expressions meant, you knew Beron was in deep, deep shit. 

The rest of the meeting went smoothly – you convinced Thesan and Kallias to consider your proposal, and agreed to meet with them in future after they took some time to study your plans in more detail. In total you had four courts agree, two remained uncertain, and one definite no. It was overwhelming result, and you were riddled with both excitement and anxiousness at the thought of expanding your mission to not just one, but three new courts.

As the meeting adjourned, you found yourself thinking of Eris, and couldn't help but feel empathetic. You may have an unwelcome bond binding you to the two males who broke your heart, but at least your future wasn't dictated by someone as hideous as Beron. Eris would never be that free.

You spent your evening writing to the other volunteers and your uncle, and preparing plans and strategies to begin work in Summer. It would be beneficial to start there, to have more experienced healers on board. 

There was a soft rap at your door, and Feyre’s blossom-like scent floated through the gaps. 

Quill now mid-air, your heart fastened with momentary worry. But you took a breath - it was just a conversation, you could grant her that. After all, there were many more meetings with her and Rhys to come if you hoped to expand to the Nigh Court successfully. You'd also likely need to return to the Night Court yourself…

Stopping your spiral of thoughts, you cleared your throat. “Come in,” you called, placing your quill down and turning in your seat. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No no. Please, come in,” you gestured.

She strode with confidence, dark drapes of her dress flowing behind as they sparkled like the Velarian sky you hadn't realised you longed for. “I won't stay long, I just wanted to tell you that you were incredible today.” Those grey eyes pinned you with sincerity, before fluttering with a sideways glance.  “And perhaps I’m also here to see how you’re fairing after the meeting. I’m sorry, I didn't think Beron…"

You huffed humorously, your head cocking down as you let out sound of exasperation. “Gods, he truly is as awful as they say.”

“Yes,” Feyre said with a stifled grin, her head shaking. “He really is.”

“Thank you, for defending me. Your response to him… it was–"

“Too much, probably.”

“Insidiously epic.” You were grinning.

Feyre laughed now, swinging one leg over the other before fingering a nearby trinket. “You know I can't resist the opportunity to toy with a male like that.”

You matched her smile, warmed by the mischievous look. The exchange was genuine and comfortable, fun even – exactly how your friendship had been for so many years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Feyre.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, a small but sad smile finding her lips. “Of course.”

You looked at your hands then, fidgeting with them in your lap. You had to ask, you just had to. 

“How are they?”

Feyre didn't falter. “Well enough. Cassian has been training a new generation of Illyrians to regrow our army, and Azriel has been busy with his work in Hybern.”

Your eyes were distant as you thought about them, separated by work. Azriel was still undertaking missions in Hybern? Was there truly more secrets to unravel there? Gods, the thought alone made you wince in pain, that whole damned continent a waking reminder of Meryl and everything you had lost. You knew Azriel would be tortured by the same cycle of thoughts on those lands.

“They work hard,” you offered with pulled brows, not really knowing what else to say. 

“Just like someone else I know.” Feyre’s pained smile soft yet full of suggestion. She might as well have said it – they’re not the only ones burying their pain in work. You supposed she was right, you had set a stellar example at that.

“But they’re doing better, really,” she added, resuming natural movement and surrendering you from her gaze. “They’re healthier, and they look after one another.” 

Your lips pulled into a small smile. “I’m glad.” And you meant it. 

Feyre had matured over the past year – you could see it in her poise, hear it in her voice. It was a nice thing to see, to watch a fellow immortal grow in such ways.

“I will leave you to your planning.” She stood then, her incredible dress sweeping the floor once more.

Pausing by the doorway, Feyre turned to you. “Rhys and I are so honoured to have your work come to our court, even with the challenges to be faced with the Council. You should be proud, Y/N. We certainly are.”

You nodded, your lips pulling in a smile that twitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. I’ll send a letter to meet soon, and we can discuss plans then.”

“We look forward to it.” Feyre’s smile was warm and true.

“As do I.” And so was your own.

————

“Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait a few more days? We could journey back together.”

You rolled your eyes, securing your bag to Podie as Tamlin fussed behind you, tightening the knots. 

“I must get back and help the team start the expansion. I don't have a few days to spare.”

“I know, I just… worry for you.”

You snorted then, hauling yourself to your horse. “I journeyed here myself, you know.”

Tamlin sighed, reaching to stroke Podie’s mane. “I know. I just, I’m not sure, I have a feeling–“

“You’re fussing.”

“No, I have a feeling.”

“A feeling of fussing?”

Tamlin pinched his nose then. “I don't know why I try,” he muttered. 

You grinned. “I’ll see you in two weeks time, Tam.” With a gentle nudge to Podie’s sides, you started the long journey home.

Never mind that Tamlin had found you shortly after Feyre left your room last night. Never mind that he searched you over for any signs of injury that Beron might have left, or that he distracted you jokes and conversation and stiff drink on your balcony that lead to welcomed sleep. You would certainly not think about the way his deep hushed voice soothed you until your eyes closed, or that he knew exactly how to stroke your hair as he comforted you after the things Beron had said, long after you had stopped responding. 

When you had woken he was gone, so this time apart would serve you well to clear your head and re-establish those murky lines of love and friendship, desire and lust. 

“Take safe routes,” he called out, waving you off as the castle of Dawn Court disappeared behind the trees.

You forced yourself not to look back. 

————

The journey from Dawn to Spring would take six days of travel. With no ability to winnow or fly, it was a pace you were not accustomed to. 

But you would bare it with higher spirits than ever, because you got what you came for, what you’d wanted your entire life. You were making the world a better place, and only just getting started. 

Forgoing the coastal scenery you had indulged in on your journey up, you chose a route close to the inner border with Autumn, avoiding the congestion of the capital and heading through the most direct route. By your third morning you had already reached Summer, forgoing rest and carving your journey time to start your eager plans once home.

As the sun began to set that evening, Podie began fussing with fatigue. 

“I know boy, I know,” you soothed, patting at his neck. “We’re almost there.” 

And sure enough, the bustle of the town you had marked on your map sounded in the distance, smoke trails rising above the tree tops as signs of life revealed themselves. You had marked this town for its inn, where both you and Podie could rest properly for the night.

But rest would have to wait, as your ears pricked at a young voice. Turning, you saw wild auburn hair on a thin and ashy body, large eyes pleading to whoever walked past. 

“Please, ma’am, sir, someone help!”

But the other fae continued to look past her, offering mumbled apologies and averting their gaze. Disheartened, you tutted under your breath. The child was from Autumn, that much was clear, and you knew the other fae ignored her for it. This was exactly the kind of mentality you were trying to amend.

Having just secured Podie’s reigns at the stables next to the inn, you wiped your hands on your pants, approaching the girl. “What’s wrong youngling?”

The little girl all but crumpled. “Please, my mother, she-she can’t, I don’t-"

Crouching down, you soothed the young girl with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Is she unwell?”

Dirty hands rubbed the tears spilling from her eyes, and a nod was all she could offer. 

Your eyes flicked to your satchel still strung on Podie. There were vessels of Geranium in there, samples you had shown to the High Lords. 

“Can she walk?”

The little girl trembled, locks bouncing as she shook her head. Gods, those locks, so similar to Meryl's…

A fresh batch of tears poured from her eyes then, as she pointed behind her. “There are no healers in our town. I didn't know where to go!”

“It’ll be alright, I have some medicine in my bag. Can you take me to her?”

She girl’s lip quivered. “But it’s over the border,” she whispered.

You gave her a sorry smile. “I thought as much. Never mind, let me grab my bag, and you lead the way.”

Fuck Beron – fuck his senseless borders and militant court. Someone was in need of healing, so you would help them, plain and simple.

The girl was still thanking you by the time you returned with your satchel. You hoped you had enough Geranium to heal her mother to to a capacity until a trained healer could see to her. 

The young thing all but sprinted, and you maintained a steady jog to the Autumn border. Green blended with red here, the breeze already cooler as dried leaves danced with live ones. 

“My town is down this trail,” she pointed to a winding path. “It’s not far.”

You nodded, taking your first step in Autumn without a second thought. And when you reached the winding path, where the trees now hid the backs of Summer Court and the life that called there, the girl stopped in her path, turning with an eery slowness. 

You jumped back at the white film that now filled her eyes, her mouth downturned and sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head lolling sideways. 

You hadn’t a moment to process the horror of it before hands pinned your arms and smothered your mouth. 

Fumes swarmed your senses, burning your nose and throat before you were overcome with poisonous haze, your cry swallowed in cloth as the world turned black. 

————

Rhysand handed the last of his bags to the door man, giving his guest room at Dawn one final sweep. 

Feyre had left a few days earlier to be with Nyx, but many of the High Lords had stayed to use the mutual meeting grounds and have much needed discussions after the war. But his business was done and he would finally return home, his heart aching for Velaris. 

Even his brothers would be there this time, having returned from their own missions. He was eager to unwind and be surrounded by the laughter and company of his family together again. Well, almost all of them. 

Tamlin’s scent pricked his nose, and Rhys resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the complicated and bloody history they shared, forcing himself to be civil with Tamlin would always draining, and right now he just wanted to get home. 

Night magic flung the doors open, revealing the distraught High Lord, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a letter. 

“Whatever can I do you for, Tamlin?” Rhys mused, before finally turning to face him. With one look at his expression, he flicked his eyes to the letter in Tamlin's hand, his stomach sinking immediately.

“What’s happened?” Rhys asked quickly. 

“Y/N – she was due back in Spring three days ago. Her uncle has written to say she hasn't come home.”

Rhys could feel the violet draining from his eyes. “Perhaps she took a few more days to herself?”

“She wouldn't do that.” Tamlin said firmly. 

Rhys nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line as worry brewed even further. He was right.

“There’s more.” 

Rhys quirked his brow. 

“Podie was found stranded at an inn in Summer, east of the capital.” 

“Podie? Who-"

“Her horse Rhysand! They found her damned horse, left there for days!”

Rhys swallowed, his mind narrowing to a steely focus – the way it did before battle. 

“You said east?”

Tamlin swallowed thickly, a knowing worry pulling at his features as he nodded. “Just shy of the border.”

Black flooded the little violet left in Rhys’s eyes. “Fuck.”

Tamlin stalked towards Rhys, forcing the letter into his hand. “Call for her mates, immediately.” 

But Rhys already was, his mind screaming out to his brothers, to Feyre, to anyone who could find her first. 

“Is it done?” Tamlin asked, green eyes desperately scanning the lucid male in front of him. 

Rhys was quiet for a moment, before sucking in a sharp sudden breath. He faltered then, grasping the bed post with a wince as his magic recoiled within. 

Because somewhere in Velaris, across the mountains and seas and stretch of land the separated y/n from her mates, a panic so deep and rage so violent consumed any magic in reach, even the most powerful High Lords. 

Rhys wasn't there to witness Cassian and Azriel’s siphons shattering, to see the way red and blue power - now freed from their bounds - instead consumed them, filling their veins and pulsing against muscle. 

Rhys nodded once at Tamlin, confirming what they both knew.

There would be a war to retrieve Y/N alive. And Beron was as good as dead.  

————

Beron took a leather parcel from the last of his guards, before ushering him from your cell. 

You had been here for days – or so you thought. Time was a difficult thing to grasp in your haze, and there was no light here. It was quite too, the only sound of dripping dampness, and the occasional screams and pleas from a women. That voice was so far away, you weren’t certain it was real, or that it wasn't your own. 

Beron had visited you the day you were taken, his dark eyes glowing with hideous intent at the sight of you bound in his dungeon. He hadn’t said much, only promising with sickening glee that he’d be back soon. 

You half expected him to beat you, to hurt and punish you for humiliating him at the High lords meeting. Gods, you even anticipated death. But the High Lord kept you hydrated and healthy enough, all be it drugged and weak. Which meant a different fate awaited you, perhaps one worse than you could imagine.

You cursed at the sight of the weapon he unfurled from the leather pouch. It was a rapier of kinds – too large to be a knife, too small to be an ordinary sword. But it was the ungodly glow of the thing - the churning ribbons of deadly silver turning in on itself - that terrified you most. 

“What is that?” you panted, your eyes wide as Beron’s grin grew. 

“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to find such a tool, Y/N.” He angled it this way and that, eyes glowing with admiration as silver danced in them. “The terrible things I had to do to have this made, to even hold it in my bare hands.”

It was pointless to press further into the metal slab you were bound to, cuffs digging at your ankles and wrists as you reopened the same wounds you had fought against for days.

Beron was drawing closer, the rest of the room darkening as the rapier glowed so bright, commanding your attention. The air grew colder, as if those lethal ribbons were consuming the warmth for itself.

“I think we’re alike, you and I.” Beron eyed you with a sickly smile before he began to pace, moving his sword with him.

Your chest heaved with panic, your eyes trailing him as you begged for anyone to find you. Your mates, that tether, perhaps they would hear you? But the bond had weakened since left unacknowledged, and as you fished for it within you could feel how it had thinned.  

“I don't like having my things taken from me, Y/N. And I’m certain you don't either. That’s why you were alone, wasn’t it? Without your mates, hm? They took something of yours, and you didn't like it one bit.”

Your eyes snapped to Beron the moment he mentioned them. Fuck. Fuck. Eris, that kniving worm, had told him exactly what he needed to know.

“I’ve had something of mine taken from me over and over again for almost a century. The one thing that was promised to me – sworn to me by oath, bound to me by a ring.”

What nonsense was he spitting? Unless… oh gods.

“You see there’s a particular High Lord who seems to think he can help himself to what is mine. And apparently, my whore of a wife agrees.”

The Lady of Autumn. What Feyre had shared with you about Lucien, about his mother and Helion – it was all true. And Beron knew.

You gulped, your stomach churning as you forced your voice past the strain in your throat. “What in gods name does that have to do with me, you twisted senseless fuck.”

Fear seeped from you, and you knew he could scent it. 

Beron chuckled, shaking his head before crazed eyes found yours. “Do you know what my wife said to me when I confronted her, Y/N? Do you know what she claimed, what she threw in my face, after centuries of marriage, of sharing my home and my court and six fucking sons?”

You were wise enough not to answer. 

Beron shifted, easing back into lethal calm. “She tells me of a bond. Bound by the cauldron, she claims. She says that she’s sorry, to please not hurt her, to please not hurt him. And then she begs me to let her go.”

Bile rose to your throat. “What have you done to her?” you gritted, fighting against your cuffs once more. “Have you- did you-”

“Kill her?” Beron finished, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Of course not. I am no monster.” He paused then, halting his pace. “I love her.”

It was almost convincing. 

“But so began my journey, sweet Y/N, to help my dear wife from her delusions. I keep her here, a few cells over. She’s very eager to receive her treatment and rejoin the throne again as my loyal wife.”

You had to blink through your nausea. The begging, those screams – they were real. It was her.

“By no means was it an easy task to find a tool like this – something so magnificent, crafted straight from death itself. But I do it for her.”

Your stomach dropped. He had harnessed death itself? This was beyond insidious - Beron had been driven insane by his jealousy.

Beron’s eyes flicked from the weapon to you, noting the way you stiffened.

“Ah yes, death. Not an easy thing to befriend, certainly not an easy thing to yield. It took a life to harness it’s power, life from my very own family.” 

Beron’s words were becoming harder to hear as your heart pounded in your ears. And then it clicked, and you could have sworn that time stood still as his words played in your head. He had mentioned six sons, not seven.

You had not known a fear like the one you felt now, a sickening tremble overtaking as you knew what he would say next.

“Please,” you begged, twisting in your restraints. “Please! Don't say it!”

“Although I suppose Lucien wasn't truly my family, not really.”

A scream ripped from you, your eyes clenched shut as your mind reeled at the horror. Lucien – Tamlin’s friend, Feyre’s friend, your friend too. Killed as a sacrifice for this insidious narcissist he had thought was his father. 

“Oh none of that, Y/N. You act as if I enjoyed it. Lucien was my son in many ways. But a power this great,” he said, casting the sword before his eyes. “Well, it demands an equally great sacrifice.”

Anguished sobs escaped you, tear tracks gleaming from the glow of death before you.

“How could you?” you screamed, writhing against your chains. “He trusted you!”

Beron’s eyes darkened. “It’s as I said,” he growled. “I will not have my things taken from me. For decades I was humiliated and lied to while she slinked from MY COURT to have an affair with another High Lord. Years spent playing me a fool, lying to my face and CLAIMING a SON as my OWN!”

You trembled at the hate in Beron’s voice, walls rumbling as he beheld other-worldly power from the weapon in his hand. You knew his words had hit their mark, and faint wails could be heard outside your cell. The Lady of Autumn could hear it all – Beron was punishing her, forcing her to listen.

He was quiet then, watching you fail to stifle your own sobs.

He moved closer, raising a hand to stroke at your hair. “Shh, shh. Now now, dear Y/N. I may hate you, but I’m a man of reason. I don't believe in spilt blood.”

You jerked under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut and begging to the Mother to not let you die at the hands of this deranged murderer.

“I haven't bought you here to kill you. You’re valuable to me, you see.”

You forced your eyes open. 

“I merely want to break your bond.” 

There was a ringing in your ears as a panic burst through your veins so quickly you felt you would simply combust. 

“And I suppose I don't care should you survive this or not.” Beron said with a shrug, before pointing that ungodly sword at your heart, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped from your chest.

--------

Part 7>>>

A/N: Hi. Hiiiii. Are you... are you ok? Hoping Lucien's death didn't hurt too bad. ❤️  Thank you always for your patience on this chapter, I so hope you liked it (or at least made you feel the feels). I cannot wait to explore feral Cass and Az, and probably Rhys and Feyre and Tamlin too lol Drop a comment or an ask any time, I looooooove hearing your thoughts on the fic, it makes my day each and every time <3 Thank you, and I love you. MWA! ❤️ 

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate epilogue 

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: “Pure silence filled the room, and Feyre shifted on her feet, wondering if maybe she’d crossed a line.”

Warnings: illness, mentions of violence, death, & blood

A/N: I’m sad this is over, but I've really enjoyed writing it. thank you all so much for your love on this little series <3

She took a deep breath,  steeling herself for this conversation. “When I die-“

“We don’t know -“ Cassian interrupted.

“Please,” she cut him off. “Just .. I need to say this.” 

His mouth tightened, but he nodded.

“Don’t give up. This world still needs both of you,” she swallowed harshly. The tears had already come. 

“And it doesn’t need you?” Azriel said, voice breaking half way through. 

“The world doesn’t get a choice, with me.” 

Cassian ran one hand through his hair, gripping hard enough she thought he might tear it out. “I can’t lose you. Not like this.” 

She snorted. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he didn’t find this amusing, not one bit, but he knew laughter and humor was one of her coping mechanisms. 

“Do you think I want to die?”

“I didn’t say -” She held her hand up, and Cassian’s mouth slammed shut. Her mouth quirked up at the corner, well trained. Azriel rolled his eyes. She did hold both of their leashes, but he wouldn’t tell her that. 

“It’s happening. I refuse to insult myself or the healers pretending otherwise,” she reached out her hands, palms up, and they each took one without hesitation. “If you want to be angry, do it when I'm dead or not looking. I’m the sick one, you have to listen to me.” 

Cassian looked like he was about to disagree, thought better of it, and pulled her into his chest. “We’ll see who’s listening to who tonight,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. 

-

Pure destruction stood in front of him. A killing field. Some parts scorched, raw power incinerating everything in its path, others still coated with blood and mismatched body parts. There would be no identifying who had fallen. 

Rhys would never be glad his cousin died, not in millenia, but he’s glad she didn’t have to see the war waged. She’d died weeks before it broke out, and triggered a deadly rage in both Cassian and Azriel. One the world might never see again. 

-

They never missed starfall. 

“You’ll still get to see me once a year.” She waved her hand towards the sky, about to say the most ridiculous love-sick words he’d ever heard, “I’ll be waiting for you, my spirit still traveling between worlds. We’ll find each other in whatever comes after, in the next life, maybe even shoot through time and space together.” 

Cassian’s mouth quirked up at one corner, before he picked her up and spun her in circles until she flicked his wing. 

Cassian braced his forearms on the railing, eyes fixed on the sky. “Which one do you think is her?” He didn’t need to look to know Az was right beside him. They asked this question every year, and each time came up with a different answer. He liked to think she was switching forms, maybe trying to play a joke on them, or play another game. 

-

Azriel peered down in the Cauldron again, after pulling Amren out. He’d hoped, foolishly, that she might be in there too. 

He knew Amren, even spluttering and catching her breath, caught his movement. Azriel tried to avoid her, but she eventually caught up to him and Cassian.  

“She wasn’t there,” the sorrowful, almost pitying, look in her eyes pissed him off. 

“I didn’t ask,” he said coolly. 

“Maybe not,” she assessed him. “But there’s your closure.” 

“What … what does it mean, she wasn’t there?” Cassian asked. 

“It means her soul isn’t trapped in limbo.” 

Azriel really, really didn’t want to speak about this, but Cassian kept going. “So she’s moved on?” 

“No,” Amren said sharply. “It means she’s waiting for you idiots,” Amren really never missed the chance to throw an insult in there, “in peace.” 

Cassian caught Azriel’s eye. In peace. It was a small comfort, like a bandaid stuck on a gaping wound. He knew she wanted him to move on, to go find his “peace,” but it was never the same without her. An empty space inside of him he couldn’t fill. For years, he avoided every reminder of her, did everything he could to drown out the screaming abyss threatening to tug him under. It took Cassian to pull him out, to knock some sense into him and tell him she’d be pissed off. 

-

“Cassian and Azriel had a mate.” Rhys told her quietly. Feyre paused. The sorrow in his voice threw her off. Had. 

“What happened?” She asked softly. 

“She died. Y/n was my cousin, Mor’s younger sister.” 

A part of her heart shattered. She hadn’t known he had another cousin, or that Mor had a sister. They never spoke of her. Feyre didn’t … she didn’t like that. Not that she hadn’t been told, but that they weren’t keeping her memory alive. Maybe that was unfair of her, all things considered she hadn’t been around them that long, and some wounds never truly heal. 

“Will you show me her?” She let Rhys read the silent request in her eyes; I’ll make a portrait. Her mate swallowed, before giving a short nod. 

Winter Solstice came, and to say Feyre was nervous would be an understatement. She’d decided to pull Azriel and Cassian aside before, not certain if they’d want a vulnerable moment like this in front of the rest of them. 

She handed them two identical portraits, wrapped in soft paper. 

Cassian shot her a grin, “Finally take up the offer to paint me in the nude?” 

Feyre snorted, huffing out a laugh. “Open it.” 

They both did. Pure silence filled the room, and Feyre shifted on her feet, wondering if maybe she’d crossed a line. 

For the first time, she felt like she could see every raw emotion going through Azriel’s features. 

Rhys had shown her a specific image, the three of them perched on the roof of the Townhouse, her feet swinging back and forth over the edge, a glass of wine in one hand. Azriel’s shadows subtly pinning her - keeping her from tumbling into the rose bushes. She leaned to the side, Cassian standing trying to snatch the glass from her - a wide grin on his face. Azriel watched from behind, amusement lining his features. An open emotion she hadn’t seen frequently from the male. Her mate had flown in, catching the perfect angle. 

Cassian carefully placed the painting on the table - like it was made of pure gold, and wrapped her in a tight hug. 

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[surielstea]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Poly!Bat boys x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a petty arguement Reader gives the three males the silent treatment, they use their best efforts in getting her to break.

Warnings: Smut | Minors dni | Double penetration | oral (both m & f receiving) | threesome | p in v | anal | clit play | nipple play | overstim | controlled orgasm | multiple orgasms | bondage (shadows)

A.Note: Finally another bat boys smut, sorry it’s taken me so long!! Just as a reminder everyone is consenting, may seem a bit dubious due to the fact that reader is choosing to be silent but I promise you she is very much into it.

6.5k words.

I stepped into the house, the familiar sound of my mates bickering reaching me before I even closed the door. Kicking off my heels, I padded toward the sitting room, curiosity already piqued as their voices rose and fell.

Leaning against the archway leading to the foyer, I paused, catching sight of them. Cassian sprawled lazily across the couch, Rhys perched like the picture of regal authority in his armchair, and Azriel sat back with his arms crossed, shadows coiling lazily around him.

"Obviously, I'm the favorite," Cassian declared, his tone smug and entirely self-assured.

"Remind me," Azriel countered coolly, "which one of us has the largest wingspan?"

"That's completely irrelevant," Rhys drawled, looking between them with barely veiled disdain. "Everyone knows it's the charm that matters. And mine is unmatched."

I blinked, taking another step forward, the wood creaking beneath my foot and giving away my presence. Three heads swiveled toward me, hazel and violet eyes locking onto mine as I tilted my head and crossed my arms.

"What are you three arguing about now?" I asked, exasperation lacing my tone as I moved closer. I stopped beside Azriel's chair, resting my hip against its side and arching a brow at them.

Cassian grinned up at me like a cat who'd just found the cream. "We're debating who you love most."

Azriel and Rhys shot him withering glares, clearly not impressed with his confession.

I frowned. "You know I love all three of you equally."

"Sure," Rhys purred, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "But you must have a favorite."

"And it's me," Azriel added, his rare grin making his dimples flash. My heart softened at the sight—until the smugness in his tone caught up with me.

"No," I said, my frown deepening.

"Ha!" Cassian crowed, slapping his thigh. "You hear that, Az? Not you."

A flicker of something like hurt passed over Azriel's face, and I instantly regretted my tone. I opened my mouth to explain, but Cassian cut me off.

"C'mon, sweetheart, you don't have to lie. We all know I'm the favorite."

"No!" I said, louder this time, frustration creeping into my voice. "I love all of you equally. It's not a lie."

They exchanged looks, disbelief written all over their ridiculously handsome faces.

"You three know how I feel," I pressed, my voice softening as I tried to make them understand. "There's no competition. It's impossible to have one of you as a favorite when I love all of you for entirely different reasons."

Cassian, ever the instigator, grinned. "It's just a little fun, sweetheart."

"It's not fun for me," I said, my tone sharpening.

"Darling, relax," Rhys soothed, ever the diplomat. But then he ruined it with, "Some of us are just more lovable than others."

My anger crested.

"Relax?" I repeated, my voice dangerously calm. "You know this is a sensitive subject for me. Yet here you are, turning it into a joke."

"Love, we didn't mean—" Azriel began, but I cut him off, stepping back when his hand reached for me.

"No." I shook my head, my resolve hardening. "If you're going to keep this up, then leave me out of it. None of you will be joining me in bed tonight until you sort yourselves out."

The room erupted in protest.

"Sweetheart—"

"Darling—"

"Love—"

I held up a hand, silencing all three of them. "I don't want to hear it. I'm going to bed. Alone."

The protests followed me as I turned on my heel and marched down the hall, a smug little smile tugging at my lips despite my irritation. By the time I reached the bedroom, the sounds had faded, and I closed the door behind me with a decisive click.

Stripping out of my work clothes, I pulled on a soft set of pajamas and slid into the massive bed built for me and three oversized Illyrian warriors. The empty space on either side of me was glaringly obvious, but I pulled the blankets up to my chin and resolutely closed my eyes.

If they wanted to fight over who was my favorite, they could do it without me.

Tomorrow, they'd crawl back with apologies. They always did.

And maybe I'd make them work for it.

None of them had come to bed last night—or at least they'd found somewhere else to sleep. That was just as well. It saved them from my wrath this morning.

Still, as I woke up in the emptiness of our shared bed, I found myself missing the familiar sensation of warm, strong arms around me. Missing their presence, their scents lingered on my skin.

I huffed, pushing the thought away as I sat up, rubbing at my eyes. The ache in my chest wasn't their problem—not yet. Not until they earned it.

Slipping out of bed, I grabbed a soft robe, tying it loosely as I shuffled toward the door. My hair fell free around my shoulders as I walked down the hall, the faint sound of sizzling drawing my attention. My steps slowed as I turned into the kitchen, where Azriel stood at the stove, shirtless, his shadows lazily curling around him.

The sight was enough to make my breath hitch, but I schooled my expression, crossing my arms as I approached silently.

"Good morning," he said softly, his dimpled smile appearing the moment he noticed me. He leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of my head, his hand finding the small of my back like it belonged there.

I raised a brow at him, pointedly ignoring the way my skin warmed at his touch.

"Breakfast is ready," he murmured into my hair, his hand slipping lower, brushing the curve of my hip.

I stepped back, breaking his contact, my lips sealed shut.

His smile faltered, just slightly, but he recovered quickly, turning his attention back to the pan. "Decided on silent treatment?" he asked, his voice as smooth as silk, a teasing lilt in it. "You know we're sorry, love."

I moved to the counter, ignoring him entirely as I reached for a mug and poured myself a cup of tea.

"Come on," Azriel tried again, leaning one hip against the counter as he watched me. His hazel eyes glimmered with amusement—and a hint of something darker. "You can't stay mad at us forever."

I lifted the mug to my lips, meeting his gaze over the rim as I took a slow sip.

His dimples appeared again, this time edged with a trace of mischief. "You're not even going to tell me if you want more sugar in your tea? No?" He sighed but was far from giving up, turning back to the stove.

I pushed off the counter and retreated to the dining table, plate and mug in hand. Settling into my seat, I found Rhys already there, watching me like a predator sizing up its prey. His violet eyes sparkled with intrigue as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles.

"Won't speak to us, darling?" His voice was rich, a purr meant to coax me. "How cruel."

I arched a brow at him, picking up my fork and taking a bite of my food.

"Really? Not even a word?" He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "You're killing us, you know that? Utterly heartless."

Cassian strolled in a moment later, his hair rumpled, his shirt half-buttoned, and his grin wide. "Ignoring us I hear?" He plopped into the chair beside me, sliding an arm across the back of my seat. I didn’t want to know how Cassian had already found out—Rhys’a daemati powers never ceased to make me shiver. "That's fine. I've got other ways of making you talk."

I ignored him too, stabbing another piece of food with my fork.

"Cold as ice," he muttered, shaking his head with mock disbelief. Then his grin sharpened as he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. "Don’t worry, we'll thaw you out, sweetheart."

Azriel appeared then, refilling my half-full mug with a quiet precision that belied the smirk tugging at his lips. He set the carafe down and crouched down beside my chair, resting his forearms on his knees as he looked up at me.

"Love," he murmured, his voice low enough to send shivers down my spine. "You can punish us however you like. But you're making it very, very hard not to make you put that fork down and remind you just how much we adore you."

I swallowed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Rhys chuckled softly, the sound rich and knowing. "You're stronger than I thought," he mused, his fingers drumming against the table. "But let's see how long you last."

The three of them exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them.

Cassian's hand brushed my thigh beneath the table, his grin wolfish as I shot him a warning glare. Azriel's shadows curled around my ankles, cool tendrils dragging up my calves. And Rhys, well Rhys just leaned back in his chair, his smirk promising retribution as his violet eyes burned into mine.

I was determined to hold my ground.

But with these three? That resolve was bound to be tested.

It’s been days and I have not cracked. I refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. It started as a petty game, but after a while, I was beginning to enjoy the yearning in their eyes, the professions of need they spoke into my skin. It was cruel, and I would’ve stopped it a long time ago if I knew some sick part of them didn’t enjoy it too.

I found myself curled up in the library, attempting to lose myself in the pages of a novel. The silence was comforting—until it wasn't.

Azriel's shadows had found me first, curling along the edge of my book and brushing against my fingers like curious cats. A moment later, their master appeared, leaning against the doorway with that infuriatingly calm expression.

"Figured I'd find you here," he said softly, stepping inside. His steps made no sound on the plush carpet as he approached.

I ignored him, my eyes fixed on the words in front of me.

He crouched down beside me, his head tilting as he studied me. "Still nothing?" he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that."

I turned a page, though I couldn't have recited what I'd just pretended to read.

He shifted closer, his shadows swirling lazily around us. "I've never minded the silence," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Allows me to think about things I’d prefer not to be distracted from."

One shadow darted forward, brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, then lower, tracing the line of my collarbone. I held perfectly still, refusing to react, though my heart raced as another shadow slid up my leg, curling just beneath the hem of my dress.

"Oh, sweet girl," he murmured, leaning in so close his breath ghosted over my ear. "I can hear your pulse. I can see the way your chest rises a little faster. You can't hide from me, love."

I turned another page, my expression neutral.

Azriel sighed, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "You're really not going to give me anything?" he asked, his dimples flashing as if he found this amusing. "Fine, I'll be seeing you at dinner then." He leaned closer and pressed a lingering kiss to my neck.

He rose gracefully, his shadows retreating as he disappeared into the hall, leaving me alone with a racing heart and the lingering brush of his touch.

When I finally left the library, I found Rhys waiting for me in the sitting room, lounging on the couch like he owned the place—which, of course, he did.

"There she is," he greeted with a dazzling smile, patting the spot beside him. "Come sit with me, darling. Let's talk."

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms as I leaned against the doorway as if to say he’d be the one doing all the talking.

"Still not speaking?" he asked, his smile softening into something more mischievous. "You wound me, truly. But I have a feeling I know how to fix this."

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly the entire room was filled with the soft strains of music.

"Dance with me," he said, holding out a hand. "No words required."

I stared at him, unmoving. This was a new thing he’s been doing. Finding new elaborate ways to spend time with me that didn’t include talking, or sex, which was limited—but it was cute.

He sighed dramatically, rising to his feet and closing the distance between us. "I know you're angry," he murmured, his hand brushing against mine. "And you have every right to be. But I'm going to make you forgive us, one way or another."

Before I could step back, he tugged me into his arms, one hand slipping around my waist while the other cradled my hand.

The music swelled, and Rhys began to sway, his movements smooth and effortless as he led me into a slow, intimate dance.

"You're not even going to react?" he asked, his violet eyes locking onto mine. "No little smirk? Not even a glare?"

I remained stoic, though the corner of my mouth twitched despite my best efforts.

His grin widened, and he dipped me suddenly, his nose brushing against mine as he whispered, "That's my girl."

He dipped closer, his lips pressing against mine. For a moment I melted into it, relishing in the familiar sensation that I hadn't experienced in only a day but it somehow felt like years.

But just as he leaned in I was pulling away. I pushed against his chest, breaking free of his hold as I turned and marched out of the room, refusing to let him see the smile threatening to break through.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was determined to keep my composure. Cassian, however, had other plans.

He cornered me in the kitchen, his broad frame blocking my path as I tried to reach for a glass of water.

"Not so fast," he said, narrowing his brows as he looked down at me. "You've been avoiding me all day, sweetheart. It's starting to hurt my feelings."

I brushed past him, grabbing the glass and filling it at the sink.

"Oh, come on," he groaned, leaning against the counter. "You're really going to ignore me? After everything we've been through?" Cassian was the first I mated with, it was just me and him for a long while. For him to pull this card was unfair, then again I was being unfair just as well.

I took a slow sip of water, my gaze fixed on the window.

His grin turned wicked. "You know, I've been thinking. Maybe the silent treatment is your way of admitting you can't resist me."

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, setting the glass down and turning to leave.

He caught my wrist, tugging me back against him with a playful growl. "You can't walk away from me that easily."

His hands slipped to my waist, and before I could react, he hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

I writhed, kicking my legs as he laughed, the sound deep and rich. "Keep squirming," he teased. "Still not talking, let's see if I can change that."

Cassian carried me through the halls like I weighed nothing, his arm hooked firmly around my thighs as I lightly smacked his back. My protests were silent, but the swat of my hand made him chuckle all the more, his laughter echoing through the house.

"You've got fight in you, sweetheart," he teased, adjusting his grip on me. "But I think it's time we settled this like adults."

I didn't bother rolling my eyes again—he couldn't see me, anyway. I let my arms dangle, feigning defeat, though the corners of my lips twitched as I fought the urge to smile.

We entered our bedroom, where Azriel and Rhys were already lounging, both looking up in unison at the sound of Cassian's boots hitting the floor.

"Look what I found," Cassian announced triumphantly, setting me down in the center of the room. His hands lingered on my waist as he steadied me, his hazel eyes bright with mischief. "She's still not talking, but I figured you two might want a chance to plead your case before we make her.”

Azriel's brow lifted, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. Rhys leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable—but his violet eyes gleamed with something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

"Darling," Rhys began, his voice smooth and soft as he rose to his feet. "We owe you an apology. All of us."

I crossed my arms, letting my gaze flick between the three of them as I arched a brow.

Azriel was the next to speak, standing and stepping closer, his wings rustling as he moved. "We shouldn't have joked about something we know is important to you," he said, his tone quiet but sincere. "It was thoughtless, and we're sorry."

My lips pressed into a thin line, but I didn't waver, keeping my expression neutral.

Rhys took another step forward, his hands open in a gesture of peace. "You've always made it so clear how much you love us, and we let our own egos get in the way. We didn't mean to hurt you, darling."

I glanced at Cassian, who was watching me intently, his earlier playfulness replaced by something more earnest.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, his voice dipping into that gentle tone he used only when it was just the two of us. "You've given us so much of yourself, and we've never once doubted your love. Not really. We were out of line, and I'm sorry."

The sincerity in their voices tugged at my resolve, but I stayed silent, letting the weight of their words settle in the room.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Azriel and Cassian before turning back to me. "We don't deserve you," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But if there's anything we can do to make it up to you, just say the word."

Azriel's wings shifted, his shadows curling around my ankles like an embrace. "Anything," he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto mine.

Cassian reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he tilted his head, struck by my silence. "Please, sweetheart. Just tell us what we can do to fix this."

Their pleading was almost enough to break me, but I couldn't resist drawing this out just a little longer. I gave them a small, pointed shrug as if to say, You'll have to figure it out.

Rhys groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Please, love. Don't torture us," he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Azriel's lips twitched in what might have been a smirk, his shadows flaring. "She's enjoying this."

I remained silent, my expression unyielding as I tilted my head to glance at him. The playful gleam in his hazel eyes deepened into something darker, something more determined.

"Alright, then," Casisan murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You leave us no choice."

Before I could react, Cassian swooped me into his arms, lowering me onto the plush mattress with a gentleness that belied the heat in his gaze.

Cassian leaned over me, his hands bracketing my hips as he smirked down at me. "I swear to you, we’ll have you screamin’ by the end of the night."

His lips claimed mine with a fervor that left no room for hesitation, his hands tugging my legs apart so he could settle between them. He kissed me like a storm, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a hunger that made my head spin.

When I refused to make a sound—even as his hand slipped beneath my shirt, brushing over my ribs and upward—his smirk deepened. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered, nipping at my lower lip.

His mouth trailed down my neck, his teeth scraping lightly against my skin before soothing the marks with his tongue. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider as his lips moved lower, leaving a scorching path over my body.

"Still nothing?" he asked, his voice a low growl as he paused just above the waistband of my shorts. "I'll have to try harder."

I didn't get the chance to see Cassian's next move before Azriel stepped in, his shadows swirling around me as he knelt beside the bed. His golden eyes burned as he leaned in, his voice a dark whisper against my ear. "Let me show you what silence gets you, love."

His hands were everywhere—sliding over my hips, gripping my waist, tugging me toward him. The shadow singer's touch was as relentless as the teasing flick of his tongue against my pulse, his teeth grazing the tender skin.

"You can keep quiet all you want," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my spine. "But I'll make you beg if I have to."

Rhysand was the last to approach, his movements slow and deliberate as he lay at my side. His violet eyes were molten as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips. "Darling," he murmured, his voice like silk. "You've punished us long enough. Don't you think it's time to let us make it up to you?"

He tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another to my jaw. His hands were a gentle contrast to the sharp edge of his teeth as he bit down lightly on my neck, his lips curling into a satisfied smile when my breath hitched.

"Ah," he purred, pulling back to meet my gaze. "There it is. That little sound you just made—it's a start."

The three of them surrounded me, a seamless symphony of touches and teasing that left my body trembling, and my willpower dangerously close to crumbling. Cassian's strong hands gripped my hips with an unyielding possessiveness, his lips blazing a hot, open-mouthed trail along the sensitive skin of my thighs. His stubble raked against me, the contrast between rough and soft making my breathing falter. Each kiss he pressed lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin as he traveled upward with excruciating slowness, teasing me with the promise of more.

Azriel's shadows slid over my skin like liquid silk, cool tendrils ghosting across the places left untouched by his hands. They tugged at the hem of my dress, easing it upward until it bunched around my waist. His scarred hand palmed my breast beneath the thin fabric of my gown, his thumb brushing over the pebbled peak before pinching it lightly. My body arched instinctively, the sharp jolt of pleasure making my breath catch. He rolled the sensitive bud between his calloused fingers, his grip firm but not rough, as if he was savoring the feel of me.

Rhysand, ever the orchestrator, claimed my lips in a kiss that left me utterly breathless. His mouth was warm and insistent, his tongue sweeping across my bottom lip before dipping inside to tangle with mine. He kissed like he fought—with precision and control, leaving no inch of me unclaimed. His free hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head to tilt my face up to his. I could feel the smirk against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing my lower lip before sucking it into his mouth.

Azriel's scarred fingers worked my nipple mercilessly, the sensations sharp and electric. I clenched my eyes shut as Rhysand's mouth moved to the sensitive column of my neck, I bit down hard on my lip to keep from moaning. He nipped at the skin, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh before his tongue licked over the spot to soothe the sting. His lips latched onto the base of my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and I couldn't stop my back from arching into him. My hand found its way into his midnight-black hair, threading through the soft strands as if I needed something to anchor me.

Below, Cassian was relentless. His large hands slid down my thighs, spreading them wider as he knelt between them, his broad shoulders keeping me open for him. I felt the heat of his breath against my core, and then he was there—his tongue delving between my folds with a hunger that left me gasping. The first swipe was slow, deliberate as if he was savoring the taste of me. He groaned low in his throat, the vibrations sending a shiver up my spine.

"Already so wet, sweetheart," Cassian murmured against my pulsing core, his voice thick with desire.

He latched onto my clit with a fervor that made my head spin, sucking harshly before flicking it with his tongue in quick, teasing strokes. The pressure was perfect, just enough to push me closer to the edge without letting me tumble over. My hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more, but his hands tightened on my thighs, pinning me in place.

Not an inch of me was neglected. Azriel's lips replaced his fingers, the heat of his mouth closing over my nipple as he sucked and flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak. His shadows coiled around my wrists and ankles like silken restraints, adding to the sensation of being completely surrounded. The combination of his rough hands, his soft lips, and the ghostly touch of his shadows made my skin tingle with a heightened awareness.

Rhysand's teeth scraped along my pulse point, his tongue following the path of his bites as he painted my neck with evidence of his attention. Each mark he left sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my legs, the sensation only amplified by the wicked curve of his lips against my skin. His voice, a deep, seductive purr, wrapped around me like a velvet caress.

"Still so quiet, darling," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and teasing. "But for how much longer?"

Cassian's tongue thrust into my entrance, and my breathing stopped, halting the desperate cry that threatened to escape. He worked me with an intensity that had my body trembling, his tongue swirling and lapping at me with a precision that only years of experience could bring. The scrape of his teeth against my clit sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me, my legs trembling as I fought to keep my composure. I clamped my lips shut, determined not to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out.

Azriel's shadows tightened around my wrists, holding me in place as his free hand trailed down my side, his touch sending shivers across my heated skin. His lips left my breast, his golden eyes dark and heated as he watched me struggle.

"Let it out," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "We want to hear you."

I shook my head stubbornly, even as my body betrayed me, my hips grinding against Cassian's mouth. His deep chuckle rumbled against my core, the sensation pulling another muffled sound from me. Rhysand's smirk was audible in his voice as he tilted my chin up, his violet eyes glowing with wicked delight.

"Stop holding back, darling," he teased, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "We’ll break you sooner or later, might as well give us what we want."

Cassian's tongue worked me mercilessly, his grip on my thighs unyielding as he kept me spread wide for him. Each stroke of his tongue and suck of his mouth sent me spiraling higher, the coil of tension in my core winding tighter and tighter. Azriel's mouth had moved to my other breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue, while his free hand slipped lower, his scarred fingers skimming over the slick mess Cassian was drawing out of me. Rhysand was still at my neck, his teeth marking a trail up to my ear, where his breath fanned hot against my skin.

My body trembled, overwhelmed by the three of them, every nerve alight with pleasure. The room blurred at the edges, the sensations crashing over me like waves, but still, I clung to my silence, refusing to let them have the satisfaction of hearing me break.

"You're so close, aren't you, darling?" Rhysand's voice was a low purr, dripping with smug satisfaction. His hand slid up my side, his thumb brushing against the swell of my breast, slickness left there from Azriel’s mouth.

I clenched my eyes shut, biting down harder on my lip to keep the desperate moan building in my chest from escaping.

"Not yet," Azriel murmured, his voice rough and amused as his tongue flicked over my nipple. "She can’t come until she begs."

Cassian hummed against my core, the vibrations making my hips buck against his mouth. He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. "You taste so good, sweetheart," he rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. "I can feel how close you are. Why don't you use your words and ask for it?"

I shook my head, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Rhysand chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh, love, you should know better than to deny us," he said, his fingers tilting my chin up so I was forced to meet his gaze. His violet eyes were blown with lust, and before I could shield myself, I felt his presence slipping into my mind.

He was using his daemati powers, to show me the lewdest things imaginable. Azriel behind me, his shadows binding my wrists as he thrust into me with that ruthless precision that left me shaking, Rhys beneath me, simultaneously meeting those thrusts as both of them worked me in sync, and Cassian, his head tilted back as he shoved his cock down my throat, hand in my hair, guiding me down inch by inch.

Each vision was more vivid than the last, the sensations blurring with reality until I couldn't tell where the images ended and their touches began. My hips bucked wildly, my body desperate for release as the coil in my core tightened to the breaking point.

"These visions, they can be a reality," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft but teasing. "Just use that pretty voice of yours, yeah?"

Cassian's tongue flicked over my clit in a maddening rhythm, his fingers pressing into my thighs to keep me still. Azriel's teeth scraped over my nipple again, his hand continuing its torment, circling my puffy clit, his shadows trailing over my stomach like phantom touches.

I was on the edge, my body trembling violently as the pleasure built and built, but they held me there, refusing to let me tip over. Cassian pulled back just enough to look up at me, his lips curved in a wicked smile. "Just one word, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Say it, and we'll give you everything you need."

The coil in my core tightened impossibly further, my body arching into their touches as my lips parted, a desperate plea hovering on the tip of my tongue. But still, I held back, clinging to the silence even as I teetered on the brink of shattering.

My willpower crumbled under the weight of their teasing, my need outweighing my pride. My voice was hoarse and breathless as I finally broke.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Cassian paused, his grin triumphant as he leaned closer. "Louder, sweetheart. We need to hear you."

"Please," I gasped, my voice louder this time, my body trembling with need. "Please, I need you. Let me come."

The three of them stilled for a moment, their gazes dark and heated as they exchanged a silent, satisfied look. Then they moved as one, their touches no longer teasing but possessive, determined to give me exactly what I'd begged for.

Cassian wasted no time after my whispered plea. His wicked grin turned feral as he tightened his grip on my thighs, dragging me closer to the edge of the couch until I was back on that brink. His broad shoulders wedged between my legs, and his breath fanned over my slick folds, teasing and hot.

Azriel's hands held my upper body steady as I arched into Cassian's touch, his lips capturing my nipple again, teeth scraping lightly. His shadows coiled around my torso like ribbons, pinning me in place even as they caressed my flushed skin. Rhysand leaned in close, his fingers tangling in my hair as his lips brushed against my ear.

"There's our good girl," Rhys purred, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "So loud for us."

Cassian's tongue worked me mercilessly, alternating between plunging deep into my core and swirling over my clit in maddening circles. His hands gripped my thighs tighter, holding me open for him as he devoured me like a feast. His nose pressed against my sensitive bundle of nerves with every movement, and I could feel the growing pressure inside me building to a breaking point.

I pulled at my restraints, needing him impossibly closer. "Cassian," I whimpered, my voice breaking as he sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it in rapid, devastating strokes.

"That's it, sweetheart," he growled against me, his voice rough and ragged. "Come for me. Let me taste all of you."

The coil in my core tightened, snapping with a force that left me gasping. My release crashed over me, waves of pleasure tearing through my body as I cried out, trembling uncontrollably. Cassian groaned in satisfaction, his mouth never leaving me as he licked and sucked, drawing out every last shudder of my climax.

"Look at her," Azriel murmured, his voice thick with desire as he watched me fall apart. "So perfect."

Rhysand's grin was wicked as his thumb brushed over my parted lips. "She's exquisite when she lets herself go," he said, his voice low and reverent.

Cassian finally pulled back, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a triumphant smirk. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "And I'm not done with you yet."

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged a knowing look, their hands already moving to shift me into a new position, their gazes dark with intent.

"You want that vision, darling?" Rhysand asked, his tone teasing but filled with promise. "Want all three of us at once?"

I looked up at him, legs still shaky as I nodded my head with bright eyes.

The three of them wasted no time shifting me into position, their hands working seamlessly as though they had done this a thousand times before, making quick work of discarding their pants as well as the rest of their clothes.

Rhysand guided me onto my hands and knees, his strong hands gripping my waist as he positioned himself beneath me on the mattress cover. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief and raw hunger as he pulled me astride him, his hard length pressing insistently against my slick entrance.

Azriel knelt behind me, his shadows curling possessively around my body, brushing over my skin like phantom hands. His warm, scarred fingers traced the curve of my hips as he pressed his chest against my back, the heat of his cock brushing against my back entrance.

Cassian stood at the edge of the bed, before me, his thick member already glistening with arousal. He stroked himself slowly, his predatory gaze locked on my face. "You've been holding out on us all day, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice deep and commanding. "But not anymore. Let's hear every single sound you've been hiding."

Rhysand grasped my chin, tilting my face toward him for a slow, sensual kiss. "Let go for us, darling," he whispered against my lips, his tone dripping with authority. "We'll take care of you."

I barely had time to nod before Rhys lifted my hips and thrust into me, filling me completely with one fluid motion. My moan was immediate, loud, and unrestrained as my head fell back.

"There she is," Rhys purred, his hands guiding my hips to roll against him. "So good for us."

Azriel pressed his cock against my other entrance, his fingers spreading me open with slow, teasing strokes. "Relax for me, love," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Let me in."

I gasped as he pushed inside, the stretch making me tremble as he filled me. The sensation of both of them moving within me was too much, my body tightening around them as pleasure ignited every nerve, a burning sensation ran its way through me.

After not having them for a week, gods it was like the first time again.

"Fuck," Azriel growled, his hands gripping my hips as he thrust slowly, building a rhythm that matched Rhysand's. "So tight, so perfect for us."

Cassian stepped closer, his hand tangling in my hair as he guided me toward his thick length. "Open up, sweetheart," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel that pretty mouth."

I obeyed without hesitation, taking him into my mouth and moaning around him as his taste flooded my senses. He groaned, his hips rocking gently as he set a steady pace, his hand tightening in my hair.

The three of them worked in perfect harmony, their bodies moving against mine as I moaned and whimpered, unable to hold back the flood of sounds that spilled from my lips. Rhysand's hips snapped upward, his cock hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. Azriel's thrusts grew deeper, his growls vibrating against my back as his fingers dug into my skin.

Cassian's hand cradled my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he pushed deeper into my mouth. "That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with praise. "Take all of us, sweetheart. Let us hear how good we make you feel."

The overstimulation was overwhelming, the constant assault of pleasure pushing me over the edge again and again. My body shook with every orgasm, my moans turning into cries of ecstasy as they drove me higher, their touches unrelenting.

"Look at her," Azriel rasped, his shadows coiling tighter around me. "She's perfect like this, falling apart for us."

Rhysand's grin was wicked as he rolled his hips, drawing another scream from my throat. "Ours," he declared, his violet eyes dark with possession.

Cassian thrust deeper, his cock filling my mouth as he growled, "She's lovin’ every second of it."

My cries grew louder, my body writhing as they pushed me to the brink again and again, their movements synchronized to keep me hovering on the edge of bliss. The floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping the torrent of pleasure and sounds they pulled from me, each one more desperate and raw than the last.

I was theirs completely, and they were determined to claim every inch of me.

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[randomgurl2326]

Next To My Wife

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: The one time Azriel let his two worlds collide…ALSO…Based off of this quote from EPIC The Musical: After everything you’ve done, how will you sleep at night/Next to my wife

Warnings: Blood, Torture

The dungeon is cold. Second only to the Winter Court. The sounds of a male’s cries and screams are music to the spymaster’s ears.

The cobalt siphons on the Illyrian warrior’s leathers shine bright down here. Like they knew what he’s doing and that he takes pleasure in it.

The male doesn’t let the guilt creep in. Not yet. Guilt is for the conscience. Conscience is for home. He can’t afford conscience at work. That’s a luxury only innocence can have…. His sweet girl, innocent—

No, he can’t think of her now. Never let the two worlds touch, is what he tells himself. Keep the innocent innocent. Keep the bloody bloody.

Never let them touch.

Azriel’s shadows envelop the faerie. The whisps talk animatedly as they watch their master work. Suggestions ring through his ears from the tiny shadows.

The whip, master, the whip.

No! No! Truth Teller, Master. Surely that will get the job done.

The shadowsinger grits his teeth and lets out a grainy, “Quiet.”

The shadows whispers lessen to a dull roar. Azriel’s shoulder’s tense as he speaks, “Tell me what you know about Beron Vanserra’s dealings with Hybern.”

The faerie hesitates for only a second before hardening his gaze and answering, “Fuck. You.”

The spymaster breaks two of the male’s fingers as a result of his defiance. Azriel tightens his grip on the faerie, “Wrong answer. Tell me before I rip out your fucking veins one by one.”

The faerie male cries out in pain. Finally submitting to the spymaster, “Alright! Alright! I’ll tell you!” The next one quieter, “I’ll tell you.”

Azriel presses down on the other male’s jugular, “I’m listening.”

“T-the High Lord wanted a deal,” the Illyrian senses the quiver in the faerie’s voice, “A-a protection deal o-or something, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

The dark whisps of shadows stir again, sensing a lull.

He’s lying, master.

He knows but doesn’t want to tell master.

If pretty girl were here she’d be able to—

Azriel squeezes his eyes shut at the mention of his girl. Don’t let the two worlds touch, he says to himself, leave the conscience at home. The spymaster’s eyes open once again, reminding him of where he is. What he’s doing.

Scarred hands press down harder on the male’s protruding neck, “Enough of the bullshit. Tell me what you know.”

The faerie winces, “S-security! Security… he wanted to trade Night Court secrets in exchange for security with Hybern. Beron wanted stability. He senses a war. I-I don’t know what secrets he was gonna share. I just know that they were heavy.”

The Illyrian’s shadows exert approval of the truth. Azriel grunts and twists the male’s arm backwards, pushing his leather boot clad foot down on his back and forcing his head down.

The shadowsinger smirks and leans down to the faerie’s ear, with a dark voice he says, “Thank you… But you’re no longer needed.”

He unsheathes Truth Teller and stabs it in the male’s shoulder blade. He waits a beat before slowly pulling it out. The agonizing cries of the faerie bounce through the otherwise quiet halls of the dungeon. His whimpers bring a twisted delight to the spymaster.

Once the dagger is fully removed, Azriel stands and gives one last stomp on the faerie’s foot for good measure.

“Someone will be here in the morning to either clean your remains or your wounds. Make sure not to bleed too much. I do like this dungeon.”

Azriel walks off and cleans Truth Teller with a rag nearby. Just as the Illyrian is about to exit, he hears the faerie’s pain-stricken voice, “After everything you’ve done, how will you sleep at night?”

Azriel stops at the exit and smirks. He doesn’t dignify the faerie with a glance as he says in his gruff baritone, “Next to my wife.”

[soulofapatrick]

The Bat Boys and their Kinks

Summary: Just what I think the bat boys main kinks would be

Words: 951 words

Warnings: smut

➩ Overstimulation - Rhys takes immense pleasure in seeing you unravel completely. He doesn’t rush—he’s patient, thorough, and relentless, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re trembling in his arms. He whispers soft reassurances, telling you how beautifully you fall apart for him, even as he gently coaxes you into another wave of bliss. To him, overstimulation is about worship, proving just how deeply he can satisfy you.

➩ Praise kink - Rhys thrives on building his partner up, and this extends seamlessly into the bedroom. His velvety voice is full of admiration as he murmurs how beautiful, strong, and perfect you are. He takes pride in watching your cheeks flush and hearing the little sounds of pleasure you make in response to his words, each one spurring him on to give you more. 

➩ Brat taming - Rhys relishes a challenge, and when you act out, it only excites him further. He’d let you push his buttons just enough before stepping in with a commanding smirk, pinning you down and reminding you exactly who’s in charge. His punishment is never cruel—just firm enough to leave you breathless and begging for more, ensuring you remember your place at his side.

➩ Cunnilingus - Rhys loves giving, and he takes his time with it, savouring every moan and tremble he elicits from you. His strong arms hold your thighs steady, even as you try to close them around his head. His tongue is deliberate, teasing, and relentless, ensuring you fall apart completely before he’s satisfied. He considers it his favourite way to worship you, often finishing you there alone because your pleasure is his reward.

➩ Semi-public - Rhysand is daring and loves the thrill of intimacy in risky places. Whether it’s a secluded balcony overlooking Velaris or a shadowed alcove in the Court of Nightmares, the danger of being caught only adds to the excitement. He delights in the way your cheeks flush with the risk, always leaving you aching for more once you’re safely alone again.

➩ Thigh riding - Azriel loves watching you come undone in this way. He’ll sit back, hands firmly gripping your hips as you grind against his thigh, guiding your rhythm but letting you take control. The tension in his jaw, the way his shadows curl around you like they want to pull you closer, makes it even more intense. He murmurs dark, filthy things as he watches the flush creep up your skin, savouring every sound you make. 

➩ Hair pulling - There’s something about the way your head tilts back when he winds his hand into your hair that drives him wild. It’s not just dominance—it’s the control, the soft gasp you make, and the way you arch into him, fully at his mercy.

➩ Cockwarming - Azriel’s patient and intimate nature makes this a perfect fit. He’d relish the quiet closeness and the trust it requires, enjoying the stillness and connection before building to something more intense. Sometimes he's just so bone tired from it all. he just needs to feel you, nothing more. sitting you on his lap and sinking his cock into your welcoming walls. face burying into your neck and savouring the feeling.

➩ Marking - Azriel has a possessive streak that comes out in moments of passion. His lips find the tender places on your neck, his teeth pressing just enough to leave reminders of him behind. He loves knowing you’ll carry those marks, a secret only the two of you share.

➩ Silent sex - Azriel thrives on quiet intensity. The thrill of needing to stay quiet, of muffling your cries into his hand as he thrusts into you, makes every touch electrifying. His shadows keep watch, ensuring your secret moments remain just that—yours alone.

➩ Face fucking - Cassian’s dominance shines in moments like this. He loves the rawness of it, his hand gripping your hair as he looks down at you with that predatory gaze. There’s a wild edge to the way he thrusts into your mouth, groaning at the sight of your lips stretched around him. It’s not just about the act—it’s about the trust, the way you surrender completely to him, and the smug pride that comes with knowing you’re his.

➩ Breeding - Cassian’s primal side comes alive with this kink. The thought of you full of him—marked by him—drives him wild. He growls promises in your ear, holding you tight as he whispers how good you’d look carrying his child. It’s not just physical; it’s deeply emotional, tied to his protective instincts and desire to build something lasting with you.

➩ Dry humping - Cassian finds this teasing and playful, a way to build anticipation until you’re begging for more. The friction, the way you move together with clothes still in the way, and the growing desperation in your eyes all fuel his desire. He’d laugh lowly in your ear, loving how frustrated and needy you get, knowing he’s in control of when things escalate.

➩  Rough Sex - Cassian thrives on intensity and passion, and rough sex is where he truly lets loose. He’s all growls and harsh grips, pinning you against the wall or bending you over whatever surface is closest. His sheer physical strength makes every moment thrilling, and he loves the way you cling to him, leaving scratches down his back as he pushes you both to the edge.

➩ Body worship -  Cassian adores every inch of you, and he makes sure you know it. His hands roam your body with reverence, his lips pressing kisses to places you didn’t even know were sensitive. He’d take his time, murmuring how perfect you are, marvelling at every curve, scar, or freckle. For him, this is about making you feel like the goddess he sees you as.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222 @illyriassweetheart