#dark az

[starlightazriel]

bee 4

desc: (fem reader) modern au best friends to lovers, roommate az, angsty + smutty, multiple parts

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol abuse, angst, az being slightly violent/dark/dominating and self destructive, TOXIC MASCULINITY, girls kissing girls, adolescent fluff, reader is insecure, very light public smut, az being a hoe (I know it hurts me too)

a/n: awwww snap

wc: 3.8k

other parts can be found on my azriel masterlist

four

"Im sure you just misheard him Kat for the millionth time," I sighed heavily, peering at my reflection in Kats mirror. The past few weeks had consisted of relentless torture. First was the torture of being almost uncontrollably horny for Azriel every single waking moment of the day. Second was the torture of him not really being around since he had tattooed me. And third was the torture of Kat not leaving me alone about Azriel apparently saying that I was his when Riley and him were arguing about who was going to do my tattoo.

Az was busy. With the anniversary of the shop coming up next week and Rhys selecting him to represent the shop for the upcoming tattoo event where he would compete with the other artists around the area... He just wasnt home. I would see him quickly in the morning, we would do that thing that we did where I would try my best not to stare at his morning wood, he would smirk and give me a friendly hug goodbye that would linger for too long. And then I would watch him leave out the door.

"I didnt mishear him y/n! He said it, and he meant it! He wants you," Kat urged as she looks at both of our reflections in the mirror, she fixed my dress, smiling proudly at me. "Rhys and I talked about it, everyone can see this shit except for you," her matter of fact tone had me whirling.

"Kat what? You can't talk to his friends about this," I winced slightly, thinking about what that conversation could have looked like.

"Rhys is my friend too, you know?" She rolled her eyes at me, reaching up to fix a piece of my hair, I swatted her away. "Rhys thinks Az just cares about you, and hes not used to fucking people that he cares about so obviously Bee its going to scare him. You know what hes been through and...You two are obviously in love with each other, anyone with eyes can see that,"

"You guys need to stop talking about us behind our backs," I mumbled quietly, but her words stuck with me. The fact that Rhys had said that had to mean something, he knew Az as well as me... Maybe certain dark parts of Az better than me. "Hes not in love with me."

Of course I knew Azriel cared about me, he always had, but it had always been platonic. It made sense, of course he would be scared of leaving our comfort zone, the one place for both of us since we'd met that we could be ourselves that we didnt have to pretend or put on a show for anyone else. We had been each others safe space for years, and it wasnt like I wasnt afraid either... I was mostly just in denial after loving him for years, pining after him, watching him with gorgeous incomparable older girls and then women when we grew up. It was completely unbelievable for me to think that Azriel was actually looking at me as anything more than just the girl that moved in next store that would never leave his side.

"So then do what I say tonight and then if nothing happens I'll shut up and leave both of you alone about it for the rest of your lives!" Kat had not shut up about her plan for me to seduce Azriel and then make him so jealous that he would fly into my arms tonight while we were all out celebrating the upcoming anniversary and Azriels portfolio making the top ten best tattoo artists in the area for the event they were doing.

"Im not just going to seduce him Kat," I said the word like it was dirty as I stared back at my pathetic reflection in the mirror. I wanted to change out of the ridiculously tiny dress that she had me in. "If it happens between us I want it to be natural, I don't want to force anything," I sighed softly, repeating what I had been saying for days just in different words.

"You won't be forcing anything. It's called making the first move! Strong women have been doing it for decades," she giggled softly and I rolled my eyes at her again, giving her a look before looking back at my reflection.

"I don't even look like myself," I complained quietly, staring at myself in the mirror. The dress was tiny, she had lined my lips and put gloss on them, some fake eyelashes, blush, contour. "I look like a damn clown Kat," I grimaced wondering what Azriel would even think when he saw me. I never wore anything more than lip gloss and mascara, I felt completely ridiculous, and I also didn't know how I was going to walk in the heels she had given me.

"The sexiest clown I've ever seen," she giggled in response and hooked her arm into mine, pulling me away from the mirror.

-

When my eyes landed on Azriel at the bar my stomach churned. Dressed to impress. He wore black jeans, a black vintage looking button up t shirt with the first few buttons undone, his chains hanging on his chest, his rings on his fingers... When he wanted to he knew how to look good, and he looked so damn good. Not that he ver didnt look good but you could always tell when he really made an effort. Fresh line up, his black slightly wavy hair falling over his forehead, his delicious jaw, perfectly golden brown skin with tattoos everywhere. My lips parted, noticing a new one curling up the side of his neck. I wanted to kiss it. I wondered when he got it and turned to ask Kat but she was already talking to some guy.

I pursed my lips, my eyes drifting back to Azriel, our eyes locked as he had been looking at me already, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He watched me curiously, and I bit my lip, feeling naked under his gaze like usual. "See he's already looking," Kat interrupted, her voice sounding slightly giddy. "Let's grab some drinks!" She tugs me along toward the bar, toward Azriel, but we end up on the opposite side of the bar, his brows are drawn together slightly as he watches us. Rhys and Cass were next to him, they could be heard across the bar yelling loudly about some bet that they had made between each other, Az was quiet as usual though, and he was watching me.

I wanted nothing more than to go say hello after having barely seen him, but Kat had told me that it was very important that I let him approach me first tonight, even if I'd be making the first move. I was only going along with her dumb plan so she would see how dumb it actually was and finally leave me alone about Azriel. Kat ordered us chilled tequila shots for the first round and we clinked our glasses together. "It's crazy not to go say hi to him, I've never done that before," I say to Kat, my eyes still landing on Azriel every few minutes, I couldn't help it.

My mouth went dry when I looked again and he was talking to someone now, a woman, he glanced back at me again but then quickly back to the woman in front of him. She looked gorgeous from what I could tell, even though her back was facing me, a pang of jealousy hit my gut. This is so stupid.

"I promise its going to be fine," she laughed before waving over some of her other friends she introduced me to her friends Lily and Lylah, they were twins, almost identical, gorgeous... But I couldn't seem to focus on any conversation they were having, I was too busy being distracted by Azriel who was still speaking to the random woman across the bar. He didnt look particularly interested, but he smiled at her and my gut wrenched.

Shot after shot and I was getting anxious I knew it wasnt horribly out of the ordinary for Kat and I to be off on our own when we were out, she had always told me we'd never bag anyone if the boys were looming over our shoulders. Usually we at least said hi though.

"Dance with me for a little!" Kat giggled, her words slurred from all the tequila shots we had been doing.

"Kat you know I don't-" I tried to protest but she was already dragging me into the throng of bodies surrounded by the DJ's station. "Our friendship is starting to feel like a lot of you dragging me into anything," I shout over the music dramatically, but I couldn't help but smile as I kept my eyes on Kat, trying to pretend it was just her and I in her living room.

"There you goooo y/n," Kat laughs softly pulling me closer to her, I just laugh and shake my head, thankful for all the liquor in my system giving me the courage to dance with her. I glanced back at Azriel, there was no way I was forgetting he was there, especially since he was talking to someone.

"Doesn't seem like its wor-" I started to say but Im interrupted by Kats lips on mine. "Kat what are you-" I tried to say but she's kissing me, her arms are still around me, one of her hands finding my hair. I couldn't help it as I kissed her back, her lips were so soft, and she tasted like strawberry lip gloss.

"I had to," she laughed casually as she pulled away, her fingers pulling from my hair.

"You're crazy," I laughed, my heart still racing the tiniest bit from the surprise of her kiss. The rush. I glanced back at Azriel, who wasnt even looking at the woman speaking to him, his eyes were fixed on me, brows drawn slightly together.

"Only a little bit, you look too damn good tonight not to get a kiss, even if it isn't the kiss you deserve I had to give you a little sugar," she giggled again, her words slurring slightly as she looked at me with hazy eyes.

"Good thing I have you," I said and laughed, spinning her around on the dance floor even though it definitely wasnt the song for it.

"May I?" the scent of his cologne fills my nostrils and my eyes lift to meet gorgeous amber colored ones.

"May you..?" I stuttered slightly blinking up at him, tall, clean cut, red hair, pale skin, piercing eyes and devilishly handsome. His clothing and jewelry looked like it would cost me a years worth of shifts at the bar. Kat drops her jaw at me behind his back in approval, her eyebrows drawing together before she quickly said she was going to get us drinks and she wouldn't be far, the man didnt even bat an eye or look at her for that matter.

"Dance with you? Buy you a drink? Kiss you the way your friend just did?" He asks, his voice smooth and seductive, I almost would have fell for it if it wasnt for his cockiness.

"You're just assuming that she's not my girlfriend," I retorted, arrogance emanated from him... But it was kind of sexy. He was way, way out of my league though.

"Oh?" He cocked his head to the side, his eyes twinkling with amusement, he obviously liked this game. "She's your girlfriend? Then why did she leave you here?"

I opened my mouth to say something but closed it quickly because I couldn't think of anything to say. My eyes met with Azriels, he was gripping the glass in his hand tightly, his jaw clenched as he glanced between me and whoever the man in front of me was.

-

"Is there something more interesting behind me?" the annoying voice asked, Azriel couldn't even remember her name even though she had given it to him maybe twenty minutes ago? He didnt even know how long it had been that she had been here pestering him, however long it was too long.

"Everything behind you is more interesting," he muttered, his eyes only flicking to hers for a second before back to Bee and Eris, the fuck was he even doing here anyway? Azriel already knew the answer to that though, he was sniffing out all the dumbasses with empty pockets he could find to run his product around the city. Azriel only knew this because Eris was his dealer.

"Asshole," the woman whirled on her heels and stormed away but Azriel didnt even bother to look at her again. The fuck did Eris want with Bee. Probably that fucking dress she was wearing. What had Kat even been thinking? Dressing her up and parading her around like some kind of toy, kissing her. His throat felt so dry and his blood felt so hot. The liquor coursing through his veins mixed with the lines he had done in the bathroom earlier were only enhancing his anger. A small bead of sweat formed on his temple and before he could stop himself he was up, the barstool he had been sitting on nearly tipping over at his carelessness. Azriel pushed past the crowd his face feeling hot and red, his eyes narrowed, focusing on Bee as she smirked up at Eris.

"Fuck you doing?" were the only words that left Azriels mouth as he grabbed Bee by her arm and yanked her hard. She squeaked out his name in surprise and protest stumbling backward and almost falling but he made sure that she didnt.

"Azriel?" Eris speaks, his eyebrows drawing together as he watched Azriel manhandle her.

"She's good, Im good," his voice is almost a growl as she struggles to get out of his strong grip but hes tugging her toward the back door.

-

"Az what the fuck are you doing?!" I cry out softly the cool night breeze kissing my skin as he pulled me out of the door to the club. I was stumbling behind him, tripping over my heels, my arm was aching at his intense grip, my heart pounding in my chest. Great fucking idea Kat.

"No, Bee, what the fuck are you doing?" He whirls, pushing me back and my body hits the wall on alleyway to the club, my head smacking gently against the cool brick. Azriel wraps his hand around my throat, gently squeezing, my lips part in surprise, my toes curling involuntarily.

"Azriel, ow, fuck," my head was spinning, a mixture of shock from Azriels behavior and all of the liquor in my system.

"What the fuck are you doing Bee?" He repeats, his eyes boring in to mine, his hazel eyes were dark, blank except for rage, his breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling quickly. "When did you start letting Kat dress you up like a fucking slut?" he presses, his fingers tightening around my throat, my heart is pounding, my pussy throbbing and leaking in my panties as I stared up at him. "Who the fuck even are you? You can't even say hi to me? Kissing Kat like a fucking whore on the dance floor, batting your fucking eyelashes and smiling at Eris like youre fucking easy, hes my fucking coke dealer Bee, are you that naive?" he was so close, I could feel his breath on my skin, smell all the fucking liquor he had drank. I was stunned, Azriel had never spoken to me like this. Never put his hands on me in this rough... Claiming way. I was reeling, my nipples ached as our chests brushed with each breath we took.

"Az, I-" I breathed, my eyes flicking down to his lips, back up to his eyes. I knew I should be angry at him, I knew I should push him away and yell at him for the way he had treated me. But I couldn't, I could never push him away, and there was some part of me that liked every second of it. I needed more.

"Im going fucking crazy," he breathed out, almost as if he was realizing where we were, who I was. His fingers loosened around my throat and I didnt hesitate, I kissed him. My entire body melted, leaning into him, embracing him as his hand moved from my throat and into the back of my hair, tightening and tugging there. I moaned as his arm snaked around my waist, pulling our bodies flush, I could feel his hard cock pressing through his pants. I whimpered softly as he slid his tongue into my mouth, the way he kissed me was so needy and feral.

My head was spinning, I couldn't believe it was finally happening. He was kissing me, touching me. His hands were everywhere now, desperately trying to get to know my body, I moaned again, tipping my head back as he slid his fingers under my dress and over my soaking wet panties. He cursed quietly under his breath, his lips moving over my neck, sucking gently as he rubbed me through my underwear. I moaned, rocking my hips back and forth against his fingers until I was coming completely undone in my panties. I gasped softly as Azriel pulled away, confusion covering my face, feeling almost empty with out him there, against me. Like he had ripped warmth itself away from me.

"Az why did you sto-" I can't finish my sentence because I notice his face, my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

"Bee youre too drunk, Im drunk.. I shouldn't have put my hands- We just can't do this-" Azriel struggled for words, I felt tears sting at my eyes. His throat bobbed, his eyes becoming so distant. I hadn't seen that look in a while.

"Az-" I tried again but he just shook his head, his jaw flexing nervously.

"Im sorry Bee. Go back inside," his eyes are guarded, hes lighting a cigarette now, looking anywhere but me. I opened my mouth to say something but he turns and walks away, leaving me feeling humiliated in the alley way. I turned, and practically ran back inside, tears rolling down my cheeks as I tried to find Kat I had to leave, now.

-

Azriel nearly stumbled out of the car, his current double vision not doing anything to help his balance. He hadn't wanted to fuck anyone else besides Bee since he'd walked in on her in his room. He was realizing now, that he couldn't do that. He cared about her too much, so much that he had hurt her.

Even if she wanted to. Even if she was doing all this dumb little shit to get his attention, he couldn't allow it. He put his hands on her, he had hurt her. And what had she done? She kissed him. Because she saw him, she knew that wasnt really him. She knew the real him before all the drugs before all the mindless sex and the ego boost he had gained from tattooing. It scared the absolute shit out of him. He knew he would have to change for her, he knew accepting the way he felt would make him want to change. He couldn't believe weeks ago he had been thinking about actually fucking her. His kiss with Bee was replaying over and over in his head, how could he stay away knowing what it felt like to kiss her but still not knowing what her pussy tasted like?

His thoughts had him walking more swiftly to the door and he stopped, rubbing his face to try and compose himself and not seem too blasted out of his mind. He rang the door bell and waited for only a few moments before Cecille appeared before it, her wrapped up in a bonnet for sleep, a matching silk robe draping over her naked body.

"Azriel?" she asks, her voice cool and disinterested but her eyes lit up. "I told you never to come without calling, my husband could be here," she tilts her head, looking down her nose at him.

"Is he?" he asked, his eyes settling on her breasts, he couldn't help but compare them to Bee. It made his ears hot.

"No," she responds, a smile tugging at her lips, the wrinkles by her eyes becoming more pronounced. He invites himself in then, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.

"So get on your knees," he commanded, resting his hands on her shoulders and coaxing her down to the floor.

Azriel watched boredly as she sucked him off, his fingers gripping her hair and pushing her deeper onto him, watching her choke and gag. Normally this would have made him feel better, it would have made him forget whatever he was worried about.

Nothing... Not even this could get his mind off of Bee.

-

"Az we need to do something," her eyes welled up with tears, she hugged her body, peering at him as they sat on the hill next to the school.

"I told you Im fine, there's nothing to do Bee," Azriel shrugs, ripping up pieces of grass, tossing them in front of them.

"There has to be something," she raises her voice, staring at him, she was angry and she didnt understand how he wasnt. His lip was fat and bloody his nose bruised and swollen but it was nothing compared to the giant bruise that covered his ribcage. "We can talk to the principal and they can help us with the police-"

"No cops Bee," he cuts her off, his tone somber and serious, but his eyes softened at the sight of her. It warmed something deep inside of him to know that someone cared about him. Actually wanted to help him. "I'll end up in foster care, it's worse. Ive been there," he adds, sighing quietly and rising to his feet.

"I just hate this Az, I hate seeing you hurt. I hate that they can just do that to you and nothing ever happens to them," she looks up at him, her knees hugged to her chest. He winces slightly at the sight of her crying, he hated that.

"Im seriously fine, Im used to it," he shakes his head, holding his hand out to help her up, she doesn't budge. "I can't go into foster care because then I'll never see my best friend Bee again," he tries again, smiling down at her, he needed her to stop crying, it bothered him so much.

"You shouldn't be used to it, and we would find a way to stay in contact," she argues, her eyebrows drawing together as she looks up at him in frustration.

"No cops Bee," he repeats, and she sighs in defeat, looking away from him. His hand is still extended to her, waiting. "Come on. Cheer up," he urges, sighing heavily. "Ice cream?" she finally turns to look back up at him and reluctantly takes his hand with tearstained cheeks.

"Fine, not today Az, but some day we are doing something."

-

a/n: </3

comment if you'd like to be tagged in the next part *** very quickly stoned proof READ ILL GET TO IT fr LMK IF YOU SEE MISTAKES

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria

[solbaby7]

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

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

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

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

Not when the only prize to Azriel—was you.

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

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

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

Gods, his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[theostrophywife]

disturbia.

author's note: this is very different from anything i've ever written and largely inspired by this song. it's quite dark, so trigger warning for dark!az, predator/prey, and dub-con elements.

the shadowsinger had a sinister secret.

azriel was hungry. he craved, he coveted. within him was a festering desire, blossoming like a nightshade, unfurling its poisonous fruit with quiet malevolence since the day he first laid eyes on you.

you.

he desired you, ached for you. didn’t you know that he would do anything for you? didn’t you know that he would kill for you?

surely not.

because if you did, you wouldn’t be wasting your time on that pathetic excuse of a male that called himself your boyfriend. if only you realized that azriel was the only person for you. the one that knew you, the one that loved you, the one that watched you.

the shadowsinger couldn’t help himself. you made it so easy. hasn’t anyone ever taught you to cover your windows? to double check the lock on your doors? to reinforce the wards around your home?

if azriel didn’t know any better, he’d think that you were doing this on purpose. maybe you wanted him to see. maybe you pretended not to notice him in the shadows. maybe you feigned ignorance to the fact that he snuck in through your window every night, watching and waiting.

with his shadows enveloping him, azriel was nearly invisible in the swath of darkness that was your room. the shadowsinger claimed his post by the corner, squinting through the faint sliver of moonlight cascading over your writhing body.

at first, he thought you were asleep. perhaps in the throes of a nightmare.

but he was wrong.

your breathing sounded soft and ragged, the pounding of your heart echoing in his ears as you twisted through the sheets. a crease formed between his brows as he crept closer. you were utterly oblivious and completely unaware of his presence. you weren’t dreaming at all, but instead touching yourself.

mesmerized, the shadowsinger watched through heavy lids as your dainty fingers slipped between your legs, taunting and teasing as you spread your own slick through your puffy folds. azriel’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as the sweet, heady scent of arousal filled the room.

he'd crawl on his hands and knees for a chance to taste you.

the little whines and pants that escaped your lips sounded like heaven to his ears. the shadowsinger gripped the edge of your four poster bed as you spread your legs even wider, blankets sliding off of your creamy thighs as your fingers plunged into your soaking wet folds. you arched against the bed so prettily, cheeks flushed and lips bloodred as you bit down on a moan.

“fuck,” you keened as your fingers found purchase against your clit. “so good. so fucking good, azriel.”

azriel paused in the darkness. his breathing stilled. shadows peered over his shoulders. he was dreaming—he had to be. only in his wildest fantasies would you be moaning his name while fucking yourself with your fingers.

“gods, just like that. feels so fucking good,” the breathy cadence of your voice made his cock stiffen in his trousers. “don’t stop, azriel.”

one of azriel’s shadows snaked across your torso, twining through your soaked fingers to provide assistance. you bit down on your bottom lip and blood rushed straight to the shadowsinger’s already hard length. as soon as you sensed his shadow, your eyes flew open, blinking yourself back to reality. azriel could hear the thunderous beat of your heart as you scrambled and pushed yourself against the headboard, trembling at the sight of him lurking in the shadows.

it was one thing to fantasize about the shadowsinger, but quite another to find him prowling towards you in the dark.

“how did you get in here?” you asked with a fraught tone.

"the window," the shadowsinger said, his eyes trained on you. his voice, which sounded like cold death, caused the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle. "you should really check the locks before touching yourself. you never know who could be watching, little dove."

azriel inched closer, watching as your arousal transformed into something much sweeter—fear. you clutched the blankets up to your chest, but the thin fabric slipped between your fingers, giving him a perfect view of the sheer baby pink lace that barely concealed your body.

"what—what do you want from me—" your voice trembled as the shadowsinger smirked.

in one swift motion, azriel yanked you to the edge of the bed, the silk of your skimpy nightgown riding up your thighs as he wrapped your ankles around his waist. scarred fingers toyed with the flimsy straps of your gown and your breath hitched as his rough, calloused hands made contact with your sensitive skin.

"i think the better question is, what do you want from me, little dove?" azriel fisted your hair and tugged forcefully. "i heard you moaning my name.”

your cheeks reddened. it was supposed to be a fantasy. a dirty little secret that you only allowed yourself to indulge in within the privacy of your room. azriel wasn’t meant to know that it was him you thought about when your hands were between your legs. or that it was him that you imagined when your boyfriend was on top of you.

ex-boyfriend, now that you finally admitted to yourself that he could never please you in the way that you desired. still, the shadowsinger didn’t need to know that.

“you heard wrong. i wasn’t moaning your name. i was —i was thinking about my boyfriend. he’ll be back any second now.”

a blatant lie. one that azriel clearly saw right through.

“no, he won’t. you never let him sleep over. why is that, little dove? does he not satisfy you?” azriel drew patterns upon your skin, his soft voice calm yet menacing at the same time. “does he not seduce you in the ways that you wish to be seduced?”

your eyes fluttered close as the shadowsinger tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his cool breath fanned over your overheated skin as he grazed his teeth along your earlobe. “i bet he can’t fuck you like i can.”

too far. you had let this go too far. you were supposed to hate him. azriel was the hunter; you, the hunted. the shadowsinger was a wolf waiting to sink his claws into his doe-eyed prey. everything about him should have repulsed you, but instead you felt seduced by the dark, demented male.

"i don't know how you got in, but i think you should leave," you breathed, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy with unshed tears. you tried to make your voice sound as authoritative as possible, but it faltered into a soft, raspy murmur, which only made the shadowsinger smirk arrogantly. "you're scaring me—"

azriel gripped the back of your head, lightly tugging at your scalp. despite the alarms blaring in your mind, you couldn't help but lean into his touch. he felt warm and solid against you, his muscled thigh pressing against your core. "oh, but i don't think i am, little dove. i think you wanted me to hear. i think you've known that i've been watching you for a while now and i think you it turns you on."

underneath the blankets, your fingers curled around the mug you had swiped from the dresser. before azriel could come any closer, you smashed the glass to the side of his head, but it met empty air instead. the winged male disappeared into a veil of shadows, submerging the room in utter darkness. the mug clattered to the floor just as his low, husky voice slithered through the silence.

"run."

you bolted out of your bedroom, bare feet thudding through the hallway as you raced for the stairs. behind you, azriel chuckled darkly as you gave chase. you knew he could easily catch you by moving through his shadows, but he didn't. it was almost like he was enjoying this. like he was getting off on frightening you. he was the predator; you were the prey.

and you didn't stand a chance against him.

but still, you flew past the front door and ran through the clearing behind your house as fast as your aching legs would take you. the moon glittered overhead as you tripped over the roots and branches of the sinister forest, running and running with nowhere to go. your nightgown caught on a bramble of thorns and the delicate lace ripped at the hem, revealing even more of your already exposed skin.

the cold winter air caused you to shiver violently, but you had no time to ponder your discomfort as you rounded on a thicket of oak trees. you cried out as something sharp pierced your skin. a thorn had scratched your face and blood welled like crimson tears upon your cheekbone. with shaking hands, you swiped at the scratch and winced at the sting of pain.

"poor little dove," azriel cooed, materializing out of nothingness. you pressed against the nearest tree, the rough bark biting your skin as you attempted to place distance between you and the shadowsinger. the slash of his smirk made you shiver. azriel prowled through the forest like a wolf, his golden eyes hungry. "so frail and helpless. let me help you, little one."

the shadowsinger cornered you, his dark wings blocking any means of escape. you whimpered as he caressed your cheek. his breath was warm against your face as he licked away the droplets of blood dripping from your scratch.

“don’t,” you cried out, shoving at his immovable chest. “don’t touch me!”

azriel took hold of your wrists and slammed you backwards against the oak tree. the rough bark scratched at your arms and legs, feeling like a thousand tiny needles all over your body. with tear stained cheeks, you looked up at azriel. the eerie silver light from the crescent moon kissed his sharp, elegant features. he was classically handsome, beautiful in a lethal sort of way. you clenched your thighs together as those whiskey eyes hungrily raked over your figure, stripping you down with the lick of his gaze.

everything within you screamed that the shadowsinger was a sick and twisted predator. one who had snuck into your bedroom and admitted to watching you. the dark obsession azriel fostered for you made him a very dangerous male. it should have triggered your adrenaline to help fight back, but instead, you found yourself frozen in place as his fingers skirted over the hem of your dress.

“your mouth says one thing,” azriel murmured while he hiked your leg up over his waist, watching with a small smile as you shuddered in response to his touch. “but your body says another.”

“so what will it be, little dove?” the shadowsinger teased as his lips ghosted over the hollow of your throat. much to your chagrin, you sighed softly and arched against his warm, wet mouth. “the way i see it, you have two choices. you can keep running through the woods, cold and alone. knowing that i’ll eventually catch you. or you could accept your fate. stop fighting this, angel. admit that you want me.”

you spat in his face. “you’re fucking delusional!”

something dark and dangerous flashed through azriel’s hazel eyes. beneath that cold, icy exterior, his frozen rage began to thaw.

azriel dug his fingers into your hips, forming bruises in his wake. “and you’re in denial,” he hissed harshly. “even now, i can smell your arousal. you’re soaked, practically dripping for me. i bet that pretty little pussy of yours is aching for my cock.”

“you’re wrong,” you said defiantly despite the traitorous throbbing in your core. “i want nothing to do with you, shadowsinger.”

“don’t fucking lie to me, little dove.”

a harsh response sat on the tip of your tongue, but it never made it out. instead, a lewd moan replaced the insult as azriel dipped two fingers across your wet, soaking folds. out of instinct, you wrapped your legs around his trim waist and steadied yourself with both hands braced against his chest.

“filthy fucking liar,” azriel hissed into your ear. “you’re so wet, little dove. my fingers slipped right in.” you whimpered as he curled his middle and pointer finger inside of you. “gods, you’re tight. i can feel your pussy clenching around me. thought you wanted nothing to do with me, hm?”

“i don’t—��� the shadowsinger hit the spongy spot within your walls and stars erupted behind your eyes. “oh, fuck azriel—“

you mewled as his thumb found purchase against your clit. he expertly teased the sensitive bundle of nerves and you felt all sense and logic depart from your lust addled brain. “oh my gods,” you breathed, feeling that familiar rush of heat. “oh my fucking gods.”

“that’s right, little dove. i’m your god now.”

this wasn't right. everything about this situation was fucked up, but nothing had ever felt quite as heavenly as azriel's fingers. the shadowsinger slipped a third digit in and the scarred and calloused ridges covering his hand provided the perfect amount of friction against your aching cunt. you could hear how wet you were, soaking his palm as you tightened around him.

"take it, little dove. doesn't it feel good to take what you fucking want?" azriel whispered as he kissed bruises against your neck. "ride my fingers just like that. not so scared now, are you? i told you, no one else could fuck you like this. i can make your body sing, pretty girl." you wrapped your legs around his waist in a death grip and blubbered against his chest.

you were supposed to be scared of him. you were not supposed to like this, but fuck you did. there was no denying the pleasure that racked through your body as you rode his fingers. "please—oh."

the shadowsinger took advantage of your parted lips and crushed your mouths together. you should've pulled away. you should've slapped him across the face, but you did neither. instead, you twined your fingers through his hair and allowed his tongue to slip past your defenses. azriel growled when you moaned into his mouth, panting as you rolled your hips against his middle.

"so fucking greedy, baby." azriel nipped at your ear and gripped your waist. "can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me, little one. look at you, using my fingers to get yourself off. c'mon then, keep fucking my hand just like that."

a jolt of electricity crackled in your veins as you grinded down and matched his pace. it was heaven, it was hell. azriel's shadows flicked around your clit and unraveled you from the inside out.

“keep making those filthy sounds and i’ll have no choice but to fuck you against this tree." azriel hissed harshly as your cunt squeezed around his fingers in response. "oh, that's what you want, isn't it little one? you're not satisfied with my fingers, are you? you want my cock, too."

the shadowsinger's dark laughter skittered over you like shadows. "i thought you hated me, hm?"

"i do," you declared, looking up at him through your lashes. "i fucking hate you."

azriel smirked. "but you want to fuck me even more."

"no—" your breath hitched as azriel grinded against you. the evidence of his arousal pressed into your middle—long and hard and throbbing.

"i know you want it, little one." the shadowsinger rolled his hips as your head fell slack against the tree. "i know you want to sink down onto my cock and take every fucking inch like a good girl. isn't that right, pretty girl?"

you whimpered in response as he pulled his trousers down, freeing his cock from the constraints of the fabric. the tip, pink and swollen and dripping with precum, teased along your entrance as you tried to wriggle away. azriel groaned as the head of his cock parted your folds slowly.

"just the tip, baby." his breathing turned ragged as your warmth and heat hugged around him. the sensation alone could have made him cum. "feels good, doesn't it? stop trying to fight it, little dove. you know you want it. you know you want me."

tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried to fight the urge. you should stop. you should run. but azriel felt too fucking good.

"azriel, please."

"no." the shadowsinger growled as he gripped your jaw harshly. “don't whine. don't beg. take what you fucking want, little dove. that's the way this works. i want you, so i’m taking you. you need to do the same."

whatever shame you may have felt dissipated. there was no use denying the obvious. you may have hated him, but you wanted to fuck him even more. pushing aside your pride, you sank down onto azriel's cock with a gasp. your arousal instantly coated his length, making the shadowsinger feel as though he was drowning in your pussy.

"fuck," azriel choked out. "pussy's so wet, baby. so fucking tight too. that's it, pretty girl. clench around my cock just like that and i might fucking fall in love with you."

you clawed at azriel's back as you grinded into him, greedily bouncing on his cock as you moaned. the shadowsinger thrust upwards and fucked into you, making you squelch and squeeze around his length. the shadowsinger grunted with each thrust, driving himself deeper and deeper. the coarse bark scratched against your back, but the pain barely registered as you rolled your hips over and over again.

“azriel. azriel. azriel.”

“are you praying, baby?” azriel mused with a sharp thrust. “you should be, because no one’s saving you from me tonight. i’m your damnation, little one. i’m going to ruin you. and you’ll fucking beg for more.”

you sobbed as he pinched your right nipple with one hand and flicked his tongue over the left. there was something feral in his gaze as he drank in your eager responses, almost as though your little sighs and moans were more delicious than the finest liquor money could buy. azriel hissed when you tugged harshly at the back of his head, moaning into his mouth as his tongue claimed you. his fingers wrapped around your neck just as he sucked on your bottom lip, massaging your lips with his.

“we should stop. this is wrong. this is—“ you murmured, lifting your hips up and up until only the tip of his cock was inside of you.

“stop then, pretty girl.” azriel mocked as he held you in place. “stop riding my cock and walk away.” the shadowsinger paused, waiting for you to peel yourself off of him.

tears streaked down your cheeks as you held him closer, hands greedily slipping underneath his shirt to feel his warmth. “i can’t. its too good.”

the shadowsinger’s laughter echoed through the clearing as he slammed all the way in, rattling your brain while he fucked you against the oak wood. “that’s what i fucking thought,” he taunted.

azriel kept burying himself inside of you over and over again, drawing out your pleasure. the sound of skin slapping against skin was filthy, vulgar, and downright obscene, but it was nothing compared to azriel's mouth. every foul word that fell from his lips burned like a sweet, searing flame. azriel was a dark god and you've never felt more pious in your life as he worshipped you with his body. you cried, nails raking over his back in thin, red lines. blood seeped through his shirt as you clung onto him, but the shadowsinger made no complaints.

“can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. bet you wanna cum, huh?” azriel said as he sucked your collarbone. “go on then, little one. milk my cock dry. be fucking greedy with it. turns me on how desperate you are.”

you wailed at the utter filthiness of his words. with a sharp stroke, your vision blurred and your legs shook violently underneath you. “oh gods,” you sobbed, feeling as though you were in a trance. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

azriel’s sensitive cock throbbed as your hips stuttered, your glorious pussy clenching around him like a jealous lover. you creamed him from base to tip and he bit down on your shoulder to mask the growl that crawled up his throat.

“that’s my good little girl,” azriel praised, purring against your ear. “your pussy is fucking heaven. oh fuck, gonna cum inside you pretty girl.” hot ribbons spurted inside of you as azriel continued thrusting. “feel that, little one? that’s what you do to me. you drive me fucking wild.”

azriel grunted as he finished. “this pussy is mine and so are you. do you understand, little dove?”

the haziness of your orgasm made your head swim and you barely registered the pathetic little nod you gave. azriel smirked as you collapsed into his arms. his dark wings wrapped around you protectively. whether they were your prison or your refuge, you had no idea. all you knew was that your body buzzed from the mind shattering orgasm.

“no one would blame me if i kept you,” the shadowsinger murmured as he caressed your cheek. “i don’t care if it’s wrong. i want you. i need you and no one can take you away from me. i’d fucking gut them if they tried.”

you whimpered at his words, but azriel was undeterred by the fear swimming in your gaze. probably because the heady scent of your arousal had filled the air again. so eager for him even though he had just fucked you dumb.

“you’re fucking mine, little dove. and i’m never letting you go.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Salt On My Tongue[***] 

Dark!Azriel x Vanserra!Reader

warnings: themes of somnophilia, bdsm, dacryphilia; implied use of an aphrodisiac and sleeping medicine; noncon; masturbation; fingering; cum play; (arguably) incorrect use of underwear; spying?

word count: 8,118

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The sun is still rising from the horizon, casting a deep orange gold across the tiles of the kitchen floor when Azriel enters, shadows gliding in his wake, and you’d guess he likely hasn’t slept.

“Morning,” you greet, a faint smile on your mouth, watching him hopefully as he makes his way to the teapot sat in the middle of the small table, pouring himself a cup. It isn’t often he visits since he’s kept busy with his own work, dealing with who knows what in the dark shadows that cling to  him. That and the whole point of you being here is to keep your existence under wraps. It’s unlikely anyone would get suspicious, particularly since you’re convinced he and his brothers are the only ones who even know the location of this safe house, but he still keeps the visits to a strict minimum.  Not like anyone would come looking for you, after the bargain that was struck between your eldest brother and the High Lord of the Night Court. The only reasons Azriel has to visit at all, are either to get a semblance of peace and quiet—he’s never said so, but you’ve gathered that’s the case over the decades—or… 

Azriel takes a seat at the table, wings shifting at his back as he stretches the tension-tied tendons, powerful muscle flexing as he spreads each wing in turn, already pulling a notebook from a shadowy pocket. His tea steams nearby, pencil already scratching over paper and you glance to the calendar on the wall, hopes steadily becoming more and more substantial, but he’s continuing with his work. 

You try to wait—he’s busy, he has work to do, he doesn’t enjoy your company—but when he’s one of the only people you really ever get to see, restraint is difficult. Most of your discretion and discipline slips the leash when he visits, jumping and bounding with exhilaration at seeing someone again, even if it is someone so cold. 

It’s only when his tea boils over, steam fluttering in simmering ribbons from the teacup that he raises his gaze to yours, expression disagreeable. “You’re a grown woman,” he says, pinning you with a cold look, “behave like one.” 

“Sorry, Azriel,” you reply quickly, getting a hold of your magic, leaving his tea alone. Your lips press together, hands in your lap while your fingers wring impatiently beneath the table, waiting expectantly. But he watches you for a few moments more, dragging out the silence, as if daring you to speak out of turn, before going back to his notebook, pencil once again scratching over the paper, and you could bite your tongue from frustration. 

Instead you swallow thickly—you’re entirely justified in interrupting him, in this case…—sitting straighter in your chair, fingers hooking over the edge of the table where he can see them. “Azriel,” you try, wanting to get his attention. He makes a low noise of acknowledgement, but his pencil continues scrawling neatly across the narrow lines of the paper. “Eris is visiting today isn’t he?” You blurt out, unable to contain it any longer. It’s the only other reason he would be here with you, other than for his own reasons that you’ve long given up on trying to understand, and the timing is aligned, too. Your oldest brother usually visits some time during spring, as preparations are less hectic in the Autumn Court, magic just that little bit more tame while the rest of the world passes through the opposing season.

“He can’t make it this year,” Azriel replies, not looking up, “he’ll visit next year.” 

You blink, the words hitting like stones against your skin, bruises already flourishing in their wake. “…what?” 

Azriel doesn’t reply, knowing you heard him the first time and unwilling to repeat himself, but you push forward regardless. “Azriel, what do you mean he can’t visit this year. He always visits. What’s in his way?” 

“How should I know,” Azriel replies, pencil scratches grating against your ears. 

“What reason did he give?” You push, leaning forward in your seat, forearms crossed beneath your breasts to brace yourself. “He would have said something. What was it?” 

“He didn’t say. Probably busy scheming.” 

“He wouldn’t,” you insist, but he looks like he’s hardly listening to you. “Azriel,” you say, a little louder and a little harsher than you should really be speaking to him. 

He doesn’t take his attention from his notebook, continuing with those frustratingly neat scrawls of writing, not even bothering to recognise the pain that’s undoubtedly written across your features. Your jaw works, throat rolling, before your brow is narrowing, pinning his mug with a look, watching as the steam becomes thicker, fluttering more violently, swiftly bubbling from a gentle simmer to an obvious boil, scalding water splashing in places across the table in less than a fraction of a second. Sharp eyes flick to the cup, then slice up to you, his brows narrowed in mild displeasure, before a cold, silky darkness snatches your sight away. 

You inhale sharply as his shadows coil over your eyes, acting as a blindfold so you have no control over the direction of your magic, powers draining away as the darkness smothers your flame with little effort. 

Azriel watches with a passive look on his face as a tear drips from beneath his shadows, spilling down your cheek but evaporating before it hits the table. Good. He tucks the visual away, carefully prying it from his immediate memory and locking it up somewhere dark and depraved. 

“Has it crossed your mind that maybe he doesn’t want to see you?” Azriel asks from across the table. “If he missed you so much, he would find the time.” 

“You’re lying. Tell me why he couldn’t make it.” You’ve never spoken like that to him before. Always tried to keep a tone of respect when interacting with him, since you’re in his lands, in his house. Your life arguably in his hands, in a way. 

“He’s the one who sent you away in the first place,” Azriel replies coldly. “He’s the one who sent you here, right into his enemies’ hands.”

“He’s the one who made the sacrifice,” you argue back, tears simmering as they burn at your cheeks, “all you’re doing is lending a house to someone. There’s hardly any downside on your end of the deal. He’s the one giving things up.” 

“And he’s the reason why you’re so lonely,” Azriel replies, ice creeping into his voice as you advocate for your brother. “And now you’ll be even more on your own, since he couldn’t even be bothered to find a few hours for you. We’re the ones looking after you. Tell me again how much he loves you?” 

“Like you’re any better?” You manage back, voice wobbling, because you are alone here. So, incredibly isolated. Sure there are the animals, the birds and the insects, the constant chirp and chipper from the outside, but it’s nothing like interaction with other people. And there have been times you’ve resented your brother for that. For keeping you safe only by putting you in a cage. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” 

Azriel’s icy voice breaks through your thoughts, and if it weren’t for his shadows blindfolding you, you’d be staring at him. 

“You barely visit,” you manage hoarsely. “And even then, you make no secret that you loathe my presence. You hardly tolerate it.”

“I need to concentrate on my work. It’s basic respect I’m asking for,” he replies, yielding not even an inch of ground in this one-sided battle. “I’d be happier if you didn’t visit at all,” you shoot back, heart aching in your chest. 

Silence stretches, and your ears strain, searching for some kind of sound. 

“Those words would hold more weight if you actually meant them,” Azriel replies at last, and your head tilts to the side, turning to the right where his voice came from. “But as it is,” he continues, voice lowered to a near whisper, flinching when his lips brush the shell of your ear, “you’re easier to read than a picture book, and a liar—just like your brother.” 

Then he’s stepping away, shadows pulling with him, and your eyes wince for a second before they adjust, watching through blurry vision as he sits back down, pouring himself a fresh cup of tea. 

You’d boiled the last one down to the pit of the mug.

————

You’re sat on your mattress, back pressing into the full pillows you’ve stacked together, a small, yellow-tinted light clipped to one of the posts of your bed to give enough illumination while reading, when Azriel knocks on your door.

You keep your attention glued to the pages of your book, purposefully ignoring him the way he had done to you this morning. “Dinner’s ready,” he says, causing you to pause. He’s caught you off guard with that one. Even when you were first transferred to this hidden away safe-house, without knowing how to cook or prepare meals for yourself, having always had cooks or servants deliver food to you, he’d rarely helped you, leaving you to struggle and learn on your own. Mostly from watching him prepare things. 

And occasionally giving yourself food poisoning. 

“I can cook my own food, thank you,” you reply, wishing you had the spine to drop the pleasantries at the end, but you’re too scared of pissing him off. He’s your only real connection to the outside world, the only constant you have in your life at the moment. “Well you haven’t tonight, and you’ll be going to bed soon, so make an exception.” 

“I can decide when to eat, and when to sleep, on my own, too, thank you,” you reply, a little more tersely, wondering how much he’ll allow. You’ve got to be careful in this battle—you don’t know how to read him, don’t know if you’re pushing too far and he’ll suddenly wage war on you.

“You can’t, by the looks of it,” he replies, eyeing the clothes you’re in—definitely not your usual sleepwear. “Are you planning to try and sneak out later tonight?” 

“No,” you respond, primly. You don’t want to tell him you’re out of night-gowns to wear. Most of your clothes have been piled up, supposed to be washed. You haven’t been in the right headspace to do much though, having been too excited, and then recently too sad to. “Well get changed, and then we can eat.” 

That gets your attention, eyes locking over the top of your book, your legs being drawn tighter to your chest, watching him warily. You swallow—you’ve never eaten together before. “Is this about earlier?” You ask, forcing your gaze back to your book, away from his penetrating eyes, feeling as though he can read you like a…well, like a picture book.

Azriel is quiet for a pause before answering. “I could have been less harsh,” he relents, and you meet his gaze again, surprised. “You’re…apologising…?” You ask, a piece of your apprehension swayed. “No,” he says firmly, voice cooling to that icy sharpness again, swift enough to have you doubting the previous gentle tone he’d used. Not exactly gentle, actually, but anything compared to this tone will count as gentle in your mind. 

“Well, I’m tired, Azriel. I hope you sleep well,” you say, as much as a dismissal as you can force yourself to say, too worried about stepping out of line to say anything truly harsh. But he doesn’t take it, remaining in your door. “You’ll eat before bed.” 

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you lie. Half lie. You’re in no mood for eating after this conversation. 

“Just come and eat. You’ll feel better when you’re no longer hungry.” 

“I can make my own decisions, Azriel,” you reply sharply, irritation simmering gently in the pit of your stomach. 

His hazel eyes harden at the tone, at the flame you know is probably flickering in your gaze, shadows darkening unpleasantly as a merciless look crosses his features. “Stop being a brat and eat. I’ll be in the living room.” 

And then the door clicks shut. 

————

You keep the woollen blanket pulled over your shoulders as you quietly and reluctantly make your way to the kitchen, hoping to take whatever you can find back to your bedroom, and eat there. You haven’t decided whether or not it’s a cowardly decision or not. 

The kitchen table is empty, and you glance about, but can’t see whatever food Azriel had mentioned. That’s fine though, you’re more than happy to put something together for yourself, make to do so, when a presence gathers at your back. You stumble forward, spinning around to find the exact male stood silently at your back. “I— You scared me,” you stammer thoughtlessly, before remembering you’re trying to hold your ground against him. Some ground, at least. 

“Food’s in the living room,” he says sternly, watching you with that cold gaze of his, icy enough to have the small, soft hairs rising up the length of your back, prickling at the nape of your neck. You swallow, raising your chin a little higher, keeping yourself calm as you level him with a somewhat composed look. “I’m going to eat in my room,” you say, trying not to let your apprehension show, steeling your spine to hold firm. But—

“You’re eating with me.” 

You blink. Blink again. “I’m— I’m eating in my—”

“With me.” He repeats, pinning you to the cold tile floor with a look worthy of the Winter court. Glacial, and commanding. “Okay…” you mumble, glancing away from the hard look. 

Azriel seems to be satisfied with your adherence, turning in the doorway a few moments later, obviously expecting you to follow. 

And you do. 

————

Your breaths have turned somewhat deep, chest rising and falling evenly, but he’ll keep you here a little longer before waking you. 

His book is sat—finished—on the arm of the sofa, his wings draped over its back, empty plates discarded in the sink where his shadows had carried them once you’d both finished. You’re a pleasant change to the personalities he becomes accustomed to in his own family, stubborn and sometimes standoffish. It’s pleasant to simply have to apply a slightly cold look to you, and have you fumbling beneath it, acquiescing to his demands. 

Azriel glances to his side, and takes you in.

At some point between finishing your meal and starting on your own book, you’d become lethargic and dozy—he’d known you’d be going to bed soon, and there’s a kernel of satisfaction in his chest that he would know you so well. That he was right, rather. 

Your head had tipped onto his shoulder, fingers clasped greedily between the pages of your book, begging to be read for only a little longer but lethargy had stolen you away. Your lips are mostly shut, a small parting between the centre points where your upper lip rises from your lower one, and you look quiet. A little later he’d been stumbled by his instincts, lithely wrapping an arm around you so your cheek smushed against the crook beneath his shoulder, and you’d seemed almost more contented, fingers sliding out from the home of your book to lazily grapple across his stomach, delicately snaring their way around his side, arm strewn across his lap as you huddled into his warmth. Your comparatively small figure instinctively yearning for the physical company of another. 

Azriel dips his head, taking a soft inhale of your scent—you smell like the sun, and grass that’s been freshly cut, something thick and blossomy laying beneath it. His nose brushes your hair, but he hardly registers it, pressing closer so you’re flush with his side, his hands splaying across your soft and supple form, dipping beneath the blanket you’d carried with you from your bedroom. His fingers glide subconsciously up your arm, wrapping over your shoulder as he brings his lips to graze the crown of your head.

Hazel eyes snap open, and he pulls himself away, heart beating hard in his chest. 

Azriel tries to cast his gaze elsewhere, anywhere aside from the lovely female curving herself into his side, like a small animal nestling during hibernation. Her scent is in his lungs, in his body, in his blood, wrapping itself securely around him, but he knows he can’t allow himself any further. You’re Eris’s sister—there’s enough baggage in that title alone to keep him far, far away. 

There should be enough, anyway. 

Shadows brush a strand of hair from your face, and you shift in your sleep, hand briefly clutching at his side as you shift, practically pressing your face into the crook of his shoulder and neck, each teasing breath tickling the sensitive skin. Azriel clenches his jaw, and lightly grips your hair, plying you back so he can see your sleep-softened face. He swallows thickly when he sees your lips are parted a little wider, his blood heating as he stares quietly, intently. His breathing becomes a little shallow, and he finds himself leaning forward ever so slightly, as if drawn in. 

But then he looks away, brows narrowed in deep disgust at himself. He will never see you through a romantic lens—you’re Eris’ sister. Those affectionate touches that sometimes seep from his fingertips into your skin cannot happen. 

Ever. 

Azriel glances back at you, before firmly shoving you down into the sofa.

He knows can be a little rough with your body without having to worry about any consciousness surfacing. 

Your head is tipped over the far arm, exposing the elegant length of your unmarked neck, spine arched to fit the curve of the furniture and he presses his lips to the small swell in your throat, pressing firm, rough kisses down to your collar bones, pulling your scent down in deep lungfuls. His roughened palms guide your thighs apart, and his hips press tight between your own, firmly grinding against the soft heat of your sex as he satiates the wicked desire curling down his spine. It’s been months since he last saw you, and he denies himself any sort of sexual relief if it is not like this—with you with him. 

He still remembers the searing disgust he’d felt after the first time one of these thoughts had shown to have such a firm grasp on his desire. But then he’d understood it was fine to play with you sexually, to dangle you across his fantasies, flip you into various positions so long as he kept his lust under control. He’d come to understand that it was better this way, to contain you within his mind through such an objectifying lens. 

To reduce you so fundamentally to something he could toy with. 

Azriel stiffens when a small noise slips from your throat. Beneath his lips he can feel the fluttering beat of your pulse, erratic and wild, like a butterfly caught in a web. Desperate to escape with the trembling stutter of its lovely, delicate wings. 

He shifts his weight onto one arm, allowing the other to slide between your legs, palm cupping your heat, and he groans softly, head hanging so his brow is resting between your breasts. His breathing becomes laboured, lips grazing against your skin as his fingers splay across your underwear, able to feel the small bump at the apex of your thighs beneath the knuckles at the base of his fingers. 

Digits press tentatively against your entrance, and he exhales heavily, lust building in his chest, but…

Azriel pulls away from your body, his muscles soaked and groaning with lethargy and strain. 

His jaw works, steadying himself while his shadows rearrange your disarrayed limbs, closing your legs and bringing the blanket to wrap across your torso again before returning to him. 

He takes a steadying breath, calming his arousal before settling himself at the furthest part of the sofa, allowing his shadows to creep back over to you, waking you from your sleep. 

————

You blink wearily, eyes peeking open and then you’re squirming gently against the cold brush of something swirling over the intimate expanse of your throat, brushing beneath your ear. 

With some effort, you manage to sit upright, spine hurting from being curved over the arm of the sofa, and you gain awareness swiftly enough to spot the darkness darting away back to its master. Your lips part slightly as you inhale for a sigh, limbs stretching, shoulders pulling back to relieve the tension that’s stitched them together. You look about, a yawn rising from your throat and you cover your mouth as you rub your eye. “I…did I fall asleep?” You ask, trying half-heartedly to blink away some of the sleep and get your bearings. 

“You fell asleep,” Azriel confirms, not looking up from his book, apparently nearing its end. “How long for?” You ask, pushing back as another yawn seeks to rise from your chest, fatigue weighing heavily on your eyes. He turns a page, attention following along the lines, reaching the sentence’s end before responding. “Half an hour.” 

You glance up at the clock on the mantle piece, realising how late it’s gotten. You hope this won’t make it difficult to fall back asleep once you get to bed. 

Pulling the blanket a little closer across your chest, legs bending further at the knee to curl into yourself, you glance to where the empty plates should be but realise he must have already put them away. “The food was nice…” you hedge, feeling a thinks is in order, even if you didn’t ask for it. Azriel makes a sound of disinterested acknowledgement, and your lips press together in a thin line. Wasn’t the reason behind making food to supposedly ease the tension between you? 

“You know, I’m not sure there’s any point in saying this, since you’re so stubborn,” you say, trying to get his attention. Hazel eyes pause over the page, before his gaze is shifting to rest on you, his lips slightly downturned with displeasure. You swallow, but persist. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be less cold to me, Azriel.” You wait, tension tightening in your throat for his reply, but he remains utterly silent, and you gather he has nothing to say to you. 

You incline your chin. “You know you’re the only person I really get to see.”

“You get to see your brother,” he replies evenly.

“Really, Azriel? What was the point of even making this meal? Of visiting me? You could do it all without me even aware, but choose to make your presence known,” you argue, clutching the blanket tighter. “It’s like you’re trying to make this as miserable and as isolating as possible. It’s like you’re trying to punish me for something I’m not even guilty of.” 

“I don’t owe you my time.” 

“No…but you don’t owe me coldness either.” 

His hazel gaze sharpens, heavy brows narrowing to darken the hollow atop his eyes. “Very well. Come here.” 

Your shoulders stiffen, lungs tensing as you look at him, lips parting subconsciously in question. “…What…?” 

The Illyrian raises himself from the sofa, his towering, lethally muscled body unfolding, talon tipped wings flaring slightly at his back, shadows seeping from his skin, slithering onto the floor. His arms open threateningly, an icy glint in his eyes, palms open as if poised to wrap around your throat should you step too close. “Come here,” he repeats lowly, a sinister drag grating in his throat, a look like detest tucked between his brows. “If you want comfort, I can give you comfort.” 

His shadows deepen as they pool on the floor, obscuring the rug from sight, making it appear as though he’s stood atop inky black water that will swallow you beneath its icy surface the minute you get too close. 

And yet despite every obvious warning, every fibre of your body prickling at the looming danger, you can’t help the tremble in your fingers, or the feeble flutter of your heart as anticipation filters through your veins. 

The shadows are even colder than they look, an ice more piercing than the sharp bite of the air that settles across the land in the dead of winter, but when your arms tentatively wrap around his waist, he’s warm. Perhaps the only comfort you can find in his Illyrian-trained body—the jutting press of his hip bone; the way a handle of a blade is digging into your leg from where it’s strapped on the outside of his thigh; the sense of threat that wraps itself around you when his arms close in and you know you wouldn’t be able to escape should he choose to end you right there. 

You lay your brow against his chest, head lowered slightly as you memorise the feel of touch, skin tingling beneath the contact points, and you don’t want to let go. 

“Is this really so difficult for you?” You whisper. 

————

Would she cry if he kissed her? 

If he laced his destructive fingers through her hair so she was forced to look at him, and roughly set his mouth over hers? 

Or would she lean into it? 

Would she be so desperate for the feeling of touch against her skin, the taste of sweat in the air, the sound of lips and tongue and teeth meshing, that she would curve into it? 

Would the smell of iron bother her, if he chained her to his bed?   

————

You look up at him silently, but his features are hard and set, an impenetrable wall behind his eyes and you sense you won’t get anywhere with him. Your brow falls back to settle on his chest, taking in the last moments before you have to pull away. 

But his scar-toughened fingers lace through your hair so you’re forced to incline your head to look at him, and his lips are parted as if to speak, but he pauses. Watching you. 

Your eyes scan his features, but he’s unreadable. 

His thumb shifts ever so slightly against your scalp, as if to stroke across you, but he doesn’t. Instead his grip loosens, and it’s time to step away. 

“Get to bed,” he orders quietly. Releasing you. Lightly pushing you away. 

“You need some rest.” 

————

You’re thrown off by the encounter. He’s so contradicting.

Why be so cruel about your brother only to turn around and offer you a warm meal? Why the cold attitude only to allow you to sleep peacefully at his side? Why so threatening when he lets you so close? 

And now this, too. 

You don’t know how to feel, and it scares you. 

Laying atop your bed are three folded shirts, a cut of square paper laying atop the stack. 

‘Use these for now. More will arrive next week.’

You remain at the edge of the bed, fingers turning slack as you stare at the small script, blanket sliding down one shoulder. Blue, dark blue, and black. It’s easy to tell they’re far too large. It’s easy to tell they’re probably…

The blanket pools on the floor, shaky fingers raising the dark blue fabric from your bed, the shirt unfolding. You bring the collar to your face, pressing your nose into the material, inhaling softly. 

They’re his. 

Your lips part on a trembling exhale, heart fluttering as your fingers stutter in the fabric, inhaling deeper, trying to memorise the scent. It’s the only comfort you can get, kept so far from the world. 

It’s an effort to part with the newly discovered comfort, worried he might change his mind and remove them by the time you’ve emerged from your washroom—but they’re still there, exactly where you left them. From the sound of it you’ll only have these for a week, and then he’ll take them back. Is it worse to give comfort then take it away, or to never give it at all? 

You can’t help but feel this is the crueler of the two options. 

The linen is somewhat rough against your freshly softened skin, rasping over your arms, shoulders, breasts. The hem settles at your mid-thigh. The sleeves are too long but you don’t roll them—the size is comforting. Like you’re wrapped up and looked after. You’re on your own for so much of your life, you rely on yourself the overwhelming majority of the time—you can permit this dependence. 

Maybe you can permit a little more, too. 

Crawling onto your bed, you carefully unbutton the black shirt, laying your pillow on the interior, before buttoning it back up. You pause, looking down at the make-shift body. Teeth push against the inside of your bottom lip, tugging on it in thought. Is this okay? Is it weird? 

You can’t let him see, is all. You’ll unbutton it in the morning. Fold it up and put it with the blue one. Hide any evidence. 

But for now, you settle atop your mattress, still unaccustomed to the rasp of linen against your skin, the presence of his scent filling your room, infusing into your sheets, and pillow. It’s dark enough outside for you to feel safe enough to admit that it’s heavenly. It’s dark enough to settle beside it, wrapping your arms around the soft ‘torso’, pulling it to your chest. It’s dark enough for you to not feel ashamed as you treasure the safety his scent brings, easily sending you off into sleep. 

It’s dark enough for you to not have seen the shadows lurking beneath your bed. 

To not have felt the eyes watching you intently. 

Just waiting for you to let down your guard. 

————

The house is dark, and the house is silent.

You’re asleep, and there’s oil in his veins, burning like liquid fire, making him soar. 

It’s just you, him, and his shadows. Not a soul in sight. 

 

The Mother might even look away, turning her gaze from what he’s about to do—the wrongs he’s about to commit, and the decision he’s going to repeat. By all means you’re under his protection after Rhys decided to put you here, in his safe-house; he can make whatever call he likes. You’re his. 

Azriel moves like a wraith down the hallway, closing in as his hunger grows, starvation licking at his bones, threatening to turn them porous should he deny the need in his body for much longer, being drawn to you by an invisible thread that gleams resplendently within the darkness of his heart. As though a tether is guiding him to you. Calling him to you. 

Your bedroom door doesn’t make a sound when he enters; his pause is caused by an ulterior reason. A sickening satisfaction unspools in his gut as he paces to the foot of your bed, his shadows curling with glee at the sight they greedily hoard, stuffing their memory full of the view before them. How you’re curled beneath the duvet, a pillow clutched to your front, hugging it between your thighs, cheek pressed to the swell of the cushion where your arms have pushed the feathers to each end. The dark blue collar he can see peeking out from the floral-patterned duvet. 

He allows his hand to palm himself through his leathers once, needing to take the edge off before continuing. Reminding himself stimulation is yet to come. 

Shadows seep forward onto the bed, crawling across the pale coloured sheets, clutching at their edge before slowly dragging the coverings away, revealing your sleep-softened form. 

Azriel pauses. His breathing quickens, pulse spiking as his lips part, pupils surely dilating to take as much of you in as they can, the world noticeably brightening as he makes room for more light to filter in. Better to see you with. And the— 

He inhales deeply, dragging a laboured breath into his lungs in attempts to steady himself, spotting the black shirt wrapped around the pillow you’re clutching. Your thighs wrapped around the cushion you’ve draped in his shirt, saturated with his scent, chosen to keep so close to your body when you’re at your most defenceless. 

You shift in your sleep, squeezing ‘him’, nosing at the collar of the shirt. 

It’s like you’re doing it to entice him. For the sole purpose of keeping his attention, provoking his arousal. Even in the depths of unconsciousness. 

Azriel swallows, shadows rolling the thick duvet to the side to make room for their master on the bed, before softly trickling toward you, making to wrap around your legs… He changes his mind, calling them back at once as he settles on the mattress, not a single sound to be heard as he infiltrates the safety of your bedroom. 

You skin is soft and hot beneath his hands, hands that wrap around your calf, cupping the interior of your knee to bring them apart, shadows afforded the job of removing the pillow, rolling you onto your back. 

His breathing has deepened, arousal thoroughly distorting his scent as he takes in the way the fabric drapes over your form. The hem has ridden up your thighs, revealing your hips and the pure white cotton covering you; the collar is undone, teasingly exposing the length of your throat to him, taunting him with something he can’t have; the dark blue fabric settles perfectly over your breasts, erotically draped to hint at form without the crudeness of nudity. He doesn’t want or need the aid of sight, of nakedness. Keeping you hidden, and wrapped in darkness is much more enticing. 

Azriel reaches forward, having settled between your legs—bent at the knee and propped up by his shadows—daring to coast his palm up your front, gliding between your breasts in a show of ownership, fingertips lightly settling on your sternum. Feeling the rise and fall of your chest with each regular, even breath. His eyes trail lower to where the hem of the dark blue shirt meets the bare skin of your thighs, and he takes a peek at what’s beneath. Dragging the hem up by only a few inches, just shy of your navel. Azriel’s thumb skims the area, fingers grazing with a feather-light touch across your abdomen. Imagining what it would be like to feel his outline beneath his palm. 

His eyes roll with arousal, before he’s retracting to attend to himself, gripping his cock in his hand, hot and heavy and aching. 

Azriel swallows, giving himself the reprieve of a few dragging strokes to alleviate the tension before lazily swiping his thumb over his tip, gathering the precum that had begun leaking. He looks at the creamy liquid beaded on his thumb; looks at the cream colour of cotton; looks back. Azriel reaches forward, focus glued to your cunt as he rubs his thumb against the apex of your thighs, cotton darkening as the damp saturates, pressing his arousal into you. He bites down on a groan. 

It’s been so long—he can feel it in his body, the want, the need. He’s deprived himself of you for far too long, getting caught up in court matters—with your father finally dead, and your eldest brother assuming the throne, times have been turbulent, alliances on the constant verge of crumbling, but he’s seen it all through. And now he gets to destress. Away from Velaris, away from Windhaven, away from the Hewn City. All that tension, all that strain, and a week or so confined to this house with you. 

He wishes he could put bruises into you, rub your wrists raw from iron shackles, litter your thighs with his teeth marks and imprints of his fingertips, just so he could truly break the new High Lord of Autumn. He finds his lips curved at the thought of Eris discovering even a fraction of the nightmarish things he’s done to you…

Azriel remembers the first step he’d taken on this path. How he’d wanted to see you squirm. 

You hadn’t shut up when you’d first been moved here, constantly nagging him for updates on what was happening, pawing for details about your brother, testing his patience. He’d wanted to knock you down a peg or two, give you reason to fumble when looking him in the eyes, so he’d taken to slipping small doses of an aphrodisiac into your tea just to have the pleasure of watching you squirm. Trying to pretend nothing was wrong when he was watching, not wanting him to know the instincts occurring within your female body. He remembers how he’d provoked an argument, making you believe you’d started it…how he’d stared you down then, and you’d buckled. Skin hot, pulse fluttery in your throat. He’d wanted to grip you by your soft cheeks and force you to look at him…the satisfaction would have been worth it. Seeing how ashamed you would be, thinking the arousal was your own fault…thinking that he thought the arousal was your own fault. 

That would have been good to see Eris’ reaction to. 

Or the time he’d released into his hand, then spending minutes patiently watching the slow drip, drip, drip of cum as it fell into your mouth. The last of it smeared across your lips. Salt on your tongue in the morning. 

How would the High Lord of Autumn react, how far would he break to know that all he sacrificed had been for nothing? Risking torture if their alliance had been discovered, the bargain made Under The Mountain, leading the rest of Prythian to believe you dead for the sake of keeping you safe. And instead you’d been tossed straight into the Spymaster’s cruel and crooked hands, free to twist and warp and break. 

And with Eris out of the way, he could… 

Azriel’s eyes go briefly out of focus, centuries of discipline slipping as he settles over your sleeping form, tentatively lowering himself to your throat. Shadows tip your face to one side, your cheek laying against the pillow, exposing the tendon keeping your head on your shoulders. Hot breath fans across your skin, lungs trembling with desire, exhaling puffs of yearning that he has no right to possess. 

His wings shift before turning lax, settling across the bed as he gently drags the flattened end of his tongue up the skin of your neck. 

His cock twitches against his stomach, almost painfully hard from the arousal burning in his blood. 

Like before when you’d fallen asleep in the living room, he shifts his hips to rest between your own, the thick length of him resting bare against the pale cotton. His breathing becomes laboured as he rolls his hips, precum leaking from his tip, drizzling down the underside of his cock, smearing down his length and saturating your underwear. Rubbing himself against you, the pressure created between your bodies like liquid heaven. Relief bottled and stored, ready for him to take from whenever he pleases. 

He needs release. He doesn’t want to wait any longer, and he doesn’t have to either. You’re right here, legs open and ready. Won’t your underwear look pretty with his cum dripping over it? Where he can rub more of it into the material? Let you unknowingly sleep with his release tucked so intimately between your thighs. 

Gods, the mental image has him panting for breath, sitting back as he wraps his hand more roughly around his cock, affording swift, hard strokes to himself, keeping that picture in his mind. But what if… 

Azriel forces himself to stop, panting heavily now, his eyes widened marginally from the idea that happened to pass into his mind. Hazel eyes flick down to your underwear, his hand squeezing his cock as he pauses. He swallows, skin feeling hot and flushed. Maybe he could…

He swallows again before he releases himself, ignoring the shake in his hands as his fingers slide beneath the cloth at your hips, latching onto the band before slowly, carefully inching it away. Parting it from your body, pulling the cotton up your thighs, cresting the curve of your knees, delicately removing it from your legs, pulling the underwear from beneath your feet. Azriel stares at what’s now in his hands. Hazel eyes flick to your bare heat, then back to the underwear. 

Breathing deeply, he raises the white cotton to his face, nosing at the fabric before taking a lick. His hand moves on its own, stroking his cock as he pulls the scent of your sex into his lungs, wanting it to disperse into his bloodstream, become part of his body. His discipline is slipping, and fast. He doesn’t want to obey it. He doesn’t need to, here. 

His heart jumps with relief at the stark realisation. There’s no need for him to keep his discipline—so long as he leaves no trace of himself that you’ll find, he can do whatever he likes. Whatever his mind can conjure up. It’s a dangerously freeing thought. 

Azriel shifts closer, his heart pounding as he settles between your thighs, inhaling deeply when he guides the head of his cock to nestle at your entrance. Not going in, just resting there, slotted nicely between your lips. You feel so warm. So warm, and wet, and inviting. Gods, you’re wet. Not enough to make an entrance smooth—not by a long shot with his size—but he can still feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. 

Uncaring for dragging this out any longer, he spreads your underwear over his palm so the dampened gusset will rub against his cock, stroking himself repeatedly, wanting to see what you’ll look like with cum splattered over your bare pussy. Gods, you’ll look divine, with release wetting your cunt. How pretty it’ll be, getting to rub it into your clit. 

Azriel gasps deeply, biting down on a growl as the high hits him, muscles turning taut, bucking into his hand as pleasure overrides his senses. He opens his eyes to watch as he spills onto your heat, spurting thick ropes of cum between your legs. Fuck, he can’t help himself. His hips buck just as the thought passes through his mind, the head of his cock slipping inside of you and he refuses to let himself pull back, emptying the rest of his cum into your cunt. 

It takes a while for him to realise what he’s done—the mess he’s made on you and inside of you. 

Fuck. 

Azriel heaves a sigh of frustration, realising he’s also made a mess of your underwear, strings of cum already sticking the fabric to his cock. He needs to clean it up. 

Discarding your underwear for now, he reaches forward, applying a gradual pressure to your abdomen in attempts to begin squeezing his release out of you. Azriel licks his lips when he watches it begin to drip from your entrance, scooping it up with his middle and forth finger. More slides out after. So wasteful. He needs to get it all out. Azriel slides his fingers inside of you, curling them to try and guide his release out. 

A quiet sigh slips from your lips. 

Azriel turns rigid. His cock twitching. 

Hazel eyes flick down to your bare heat, and he repeats the motion, this time watching you. Your features scrunch faintly, and he realises he can make out the pinch of your nipples through his shirt. He leans forward slightly, shadows attentive as he slides his thick fingers in further, his attention narrowing entirely onto you as he presses upwards. A noise gets caught in your throat. Something sweet sounding, and wanton.

Azriel presses deeper, fingers sliding in further, curling lightly, pushing and rubbing at different parts until…

You flinch in your sleep, a softly startled moan slipping from your lips. 

He curls the pads of his fingers into that spot, bending them at the knuckle so the digits slant into the part that’s dragging these reactions out of you. He pushes against it, hungry for more, thumb habitually settling on your clit, oscillation made easier by the slippery cum splattered across your cunt…that he’s feeding back into you. 

Azriel bites down on a groan as he scoops more of it up before pressing his fingers back to your entrance and shoving it in, pushing what was already released inside further, tucking it away as he searches for that spot again. He needs it to be kept inside of you. It’s not enough to have it coating you, he needs you to unknowingly have it within your body, perfectly storing it away. A secret shared between him and your cunt that you’re oblivious to. 

The rise and fall of your chest is much more pronounced, and he wants to push the shirt out of the way so he can lay his mouth over your breasts, flick his tongue over your doubtlessly sensitive nipples. How would you react to that? With his fingers hitting that spot, his thumb over your clit, his tongue and shadows pinching and licking at your breasts? 

You’d come on the spot. 

————

You jolt awake, panting and breathless. Far too hot, and…fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck… Mother above…

Your hands scramble, shoving the duvet away as you roll on top of ‘him’, thighs straddling the pillow as your hips buck frantically. You cry out as one of the buttons scrapes across your clit, teeth pushing into your lip to muffle the moans working up from your chest, grinding down against the clothed cushion, dragging your hips across the plush comfort, aiming for the buttons. 

Panting and flushed, you stiffly roll onto your back, flopping down into your mattress trying to regain your breath. 

You glance down at yourself. Thighs parted, bent at the knee. The shirt riding up your stomach that you hastily push back down. 

Teeth prod at your lower lip, toes curling as your fingers explore between your legs. Slipping beneath the band of your underwear. They come away glistening, a thick, creamy strand connecting your digits to your cunt. 

You flush, hurriedly drying your fingers on your inner thigh, trying to get rid of the evidence. 

Cauldron boil you, that’s never happened before. Sure, you’ve had hours of heightened sensitivity, when you could feel every hair on your body, every scrape of fabric across your skin, horribly aware of the clothing touching your shoulders, your arms, your breasts, but never something so intense. Never…this. 

It’s always when Azriel’s around. 

Shame sparks, and you tug your hand away from your heat. Rolling quickly onto your side to pretend it away. 

You clutch the pillow tighter to your front, soothing your erratic pulse with that scent. His scent. Maybe because you’ve just woken it feels stronger, thicker…heavier; more concentrated than you remember it being. Probably your own arousal mixing with the remnants of what he left of the shirts. 

Gods, you’re not going to be able to look him in the eyes tomorrow. Not without thinking about…

You beg your mind to shut up. 

He’s the only male you’re getting to see. It makes sense your body might instinctively want him.

You just wish you didn’t feel so guilty for thinking of him, when you were on top of that pillow.

————

It doesn’t take long for you to nod back off, and Azriel internally relaxes. 

His skin is too hot, arousal spiking his temperature to an almost unbearable degree, but he’d had to escape quickly when he’d felt the high rising in your body. A sixth sense telling him you were there. Maybe he can’t be as rough as he thought with you. 

He knew he should have stirred in some of that sleeping powder with your meal. 

Next time. 

First, he needs to deal with the heat radiating from his body, the remnants of arousal still prominent in his blood. The still aching weight of his cock. But he’s done for tonight. That was a close enough call on its own; he doesn’t yet want to resort to ties and blindfolds and gags. Even if that sixth sense tells him you might enjoy it, if done right. With how eagerly you’d pressed yourself against him, how you’d nuzzled up to the pillow, how quickly you’d come on his fingers…

This time he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of imagining what it would be like having you move for him. Getting to see how you might arrange yourself under or over him. What you might like to touch, and suck, and ride. 

The steamy heat of your bathroom isn’t helping with his temperature. 

He should leave. 

But next time…

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff @feerique @ratgirl2020

dark!az taglist: @honeyandhalfmoons

[quona]

walk the streets of japan 'til i get lost -------------------------------------------

prints | ko-fi | commission [edit: prints available for this one]

AZIRAPHALE DISCOVERS JAPANESE STREET FOOD IN EDO PERIOD JAPAN, HOW COULD I NOT DRAW THIS This piece is one of THREE that I painted for the VERY FIRST ISSUE EVER of /r/GoodOmensAfterDark's WINGZ Magazine, a filthy smut rag that all of us---editors, directors, writers, and visual artists alike---are very proud to present to you. Check it out here: WINGZ Mag Spring '24 (Reddit) Direct link (PDF, 90MB) Direct link for Mobile (PDF, 8MB)

Detail shots in full res after the jumppppppp

title from Audioslave's "Doesn't Remind Me"

i walk the streets of japan 'til i get lost cause it doesn't remind me of anything with a graveyard tan and carryin' a cross cause it doesn't remind me of anything

@goodomensafterdark

[agentc0rn]

Day 6 - Fairy type

[azul1462]

Berserk Dark Cacao redesign for my au. Due to Dark Choco getting hit with the spell gone awry in my au during that fight, Cacao's berserk form gets a completely different purpose. In my au the form occurs when Cacao's bottled up sorrow and pain becomes too much for him to bear so he quite literally destabilizes and becomes that melty monster thing until he can calm down.

[laudaddysmitten]

Writers Guild Presents:

"Stunning View"

by LaudaddySmitten

Ineffable May day 16: "1827"

Ch 1: Hell's Graveyard Shift Is Run by Interns

Summary

When Hell fails to notice Crowley’s Very Good Deed, he is left in an Edinburgh graveyard trying to navigate a world tilted by laudanum. Fortunately for him, Aziraphale has no intention of leaving him to fend for himself. Fortunately for both of them, Crowley's compromised brain-to-mouth filter leads to a far more enjoyable evening than they expect.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale through a long, drunken pause during which his brain's temporal lobe made an admirable effort to process Aziraphale's words. It was mostly unsuccessful, but it could hardly be blamed for the visual cortex hogging all of Crowley's attention.

“You're so lovely!” He loudly blurted out with a toothy grin, before continuing. “You're like…glowy. Twinkly? No, 'bright’, probably. Oh I know the word- beautiful! You're beautiful. Beautiful Angel. Oh! And when you smile like that it's even better!”

CW/TW: Canon-typical substance use (but NO dub con); Rated Explicit (eventual smut)

Continue reading on AO3:

This baby is chock full of: fluff and humor, fluff and science, romantic fluff, fluff and science and smut, fluff and smut, & fluff and science smut. (Yes I mean what I said.) 😉🔭🥰 🧬🔥

Art banner (here's the uncropped version ^) by the amazing @lexarturo - thank you so much, it turned out so perfect!

Thanks to my most longstanding (and long-suffering) beta reader: @olfactoryventriloquism

And the @goodomensafterdark Writers Guild for all the support and even more betas:

@outrageousring5655 @happynachohologram

Astrophysics beta (yes, I really needed one of those, and yes, she's just the person): @nosferatini

And many others who read at least chapter 1 for me and gave great advice! @fishey-me @kotias @southernfriedamy @sixbynine-da @ghst-signal @foamfollowerisfallen @unapologetic-apathy

Also thanks to @bea-n-art for creating this Laudaddy portrait I've been obsessed with and inspired by since she made it. It's kept me motivated to write.

[acourtofthought]

"Elain handled the darkness of the Cauldron therefore she can handle Azriel's darkness."

Elain handled the Cauldron because she's brave and has strength of character. Using that to try to prove that she'd be fine with Azriel's cruelty darkness is so far off the mark it's wild.

Feyre, married to the High Lord of the NC - a HL who who misted people at Amarantha’s behest, who stole from someone he would have liked to have as a friend, who shamed Feyre and called her human trash (all in order to protect her and Velaris), when she herself brought down an entire court filled with innocent people to take out her revenge on Tamlin, even struggled around Az at first.

Currently struggles with Az's actions:

The author herself said she'd be scared of Az:

She wrote Rhys saying Az's stare sometimes scares the shit out of him.

Azriel created a symphony of pain for his victims, he's not being forced into taking things to that sort of extreme. That's not someone just doing what they have to do, that's someone taking things well beyond necessity.

Yet somehow Elain, who in the authors own words has a different sort of strength than the sisters who belong in the NC, who is gentle and kind and is bothered by cruelty would be the one who would fully embrace Azriel's darkness?

Elain who begged Feyre not to hurt Graysen, tried to get her to swear to leave Graysen unharmed? That Elain would be fine seeing what Az does to unarmed prisoners?

This Elain?

This Elain?

There is a HUGE difference between bravery and saving someone from death versus someone who methodically carries out torture and defaults to it as their go to method of handling enemies.

Elain used TT to stop the King from harming her loved one. Az uses TT to carve people up and draw out their suffering. They are NOT the same.

In SF, the author drew attention to the fact that Nesta, not Feyre or Elain, was the Archeron to see Az:

I also saw this person claiming that if Elain can handle Lucien's "darkness", she can handle Az's, that Lucien is a loose canon compared to Az.

Lucien:

Az:

It's true, Az barely says much at all but it's not because he's more controlled than Lucien, it's because he's always on a razors edge of losing his temper and rarely opens up about himself to anyone which is proven in the text.

I've hit my limit in added images but there are multiple examples of Lucien reigning in his words and temper.

Does Lucien at times snark at others? Definitely and that's why he's the best. But to say he's the loose canon is a joke.

There's zero shame in loving Az, to get a thrill from his darkness and rage, but if someone truly thinks Lucien and Az are written similarly than I have to say they don't truly understand how Sarah has written these characters at all.

And to those who say if Elain can't handle Az's darkness than neither can Gwyn..... These are the same people who claim she's so forgettable they barely remembered her in SF yet now they're claiming they know what she can and can't handle. When you get down to it Gwyn is a new character and that means Sarah can further develop her personality any way she wants in the next books compared to the many books and interviews telling us who Elain is.

Considering Gwyn already said this, however:

“Did you know shields weighed so much? I certainly didn’t. No wonder the Valkyries learned to use them as weapons as deadly as their swords.” She sighed. “They’d have been quite a sight in battle: cracking open enemy skulls with blows from their shields, throwing them to knock an opponent onto their backs before skewering them …” She rubbed her shoulder again. “Their arm muscles must have been as hard as steel.”

I don't think she'll have any trouble with Az's brutality at all.

[principiumindividuationis777]

Above is Bela Lugosi (then going by the stage name Olt Arisztid) as Lord Henry Wotton, gloating and leering over his naive protege, Dorian Gray, portrayed by Norbert Dán, in a 1918 Hungarian film adaptation of the The Picture of Dorian Gray, originally entitled Az élet királya.

[arcturustarlight]

Oh, and by the way, Azriel's attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face, is no where near romantic first meeting as some people want it to be. Not to mention how it's so far away from Azriel's original personality.

[yaralulu]

just saw fanart of azriel drawn with those sexy tan lines and nipple piercings and yeahhhhhh. mmmhh yeahhhhhh

[aresaturnsblog]

[kuruna]

Every day the idea of AZ eventually obtaining a Stonjourner makes more and more sense to me... It's like they were made for each other... Separated by 2 generations, but I shall bring them together!!

Inspired by this little passage in "Legends and Romances of Brittany" by Lewis Spence:

"M. Salomon Reinach tells us of the Breton belief that certain sacred stones go once a year or once a century to, 'wash' themselves in the sea or in a river, returning to their ancient seats after their ablutions."

[cowcat-with-a-hat]

My name iz ebony darkness dementia raven way or sumthing like that

Happy halloween prepz (/ref)

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Mirror, Mirror

Word count: 3700+

Warnings: dark, unhappy ending, mentions of blood, wound, masturbation, depression (?), maybe bit of obsession - I can't think of anything else, so let me know if there is something

This was on my mind for quite some time and I was debating with myself if I should write it or let it go, but why not to write it. I admit, it's little bit too dark even for me and I really hate to torture my sweetheart Azriel, but maybe there is somebody who will like it. Hopefully next time I will get some nice, sweet idea instead, because he really doesn't deserve this

All started just by an accident. Azriel was passing a small mirror in his room when he noticed something bright out of the corner of his eye that definitely didn't belong there. He returned few steps back to look in the mirror properly this time, just to find out it wasn't some kind of a random illusion. It was really there.

He was looking into a delicately furnished bright bedroom that was nothing like his dark one. As he looked around he noticed somebody small curled up in a ball, resting on the bed. He carefully touched mirror's surface with tips of his fingers. He didn't know what exactly he expected, maybe he merely hoped for some kind of a portal to another world, but he was disappointed to find out it's just a normal, ordinary mirror.

The person moved, slowly sitting up on the bed and stretching out arms above her head. She stood up and sleepily walked to the mirror. Her beauty stoke him straight to the heart, making him forget how to breathe. She stepped to the mirror and Azriel backed further to his dark room afraid she would catch him stalking on her and freak out. But she didn't seem to see anything except of her own reflection.

He leaned back to the mirror admiring her beautiful features. But in the moment he raised his hand to touch her, caress her, the scene disappeared and instead he was staring at his own reflection. Disappointed he shut his mouth which he had to open at some point. All excitement suddenly faded away, leaving him with painfully throbbing heart. Who was she? Where was she? He wanted to know more about her, but no matter how long he gazed into the mirror, the vision wouldn't return. After few minutes he gave up and left.

Since that day every time he was passing by mirror, hope raised in his chest and he had to check it out. He became so obsessed, that everybody had noticed his strange behaviour and Cassian wouldn't stop making jokes about his 'sudden narcissism', but Shadowsinger didn't care. The beautiful girl occupied his mind 24 hours a day even though he tried to stop thinking about her. After few days he was really frustrated.

"Why did you show me that girl if you planned to never let me see her again?" Azriel punched the frame of mirror in his room so hard that it almost broke. "How am I suppose to find her now? I have no idea who she is or where she lives. I want to see her again. I have to."

Shadowsinger abruptly turned around and ran fingers through his silky dark hair, closing his eyes to calm down. He felt so silly behaving like this because of some stranger he saw only for a minute or two. Decided to put the mirror away, he turned back to it. His mouth fell open and eyes widened as soon as he spotted that bright room again.

Surprised he took the mirror to his scarred hands and sat down on the edge of the bed. Quickly he looked around that bedroom, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. He sighed in disappointment, but he decided to seize the opportunity and take better look around.

The bedroom was furnished with light coloured wood furniture with touch of white. There was a massive bookcase full of books, next to it stood beige armchair with fluffy white pillow. Sheets on the bed were also in beige and white colours.

Opposite the mirror on the left side of the bed there was a big window and curtains were open. But the sight it offered was totally unfamiliar to him. He had never seen such high and tasteless grey buildings and neon billboards. His brows furrowed in even bigger frustration. This definitely wasn't world he lived in. His hope went out like a burnt candle.

Azriel jumped up and the mirror almost fell out of his hands when the girl appeared in front of it. He didn't hear her to come, but when he thought about it he didn't hear any noises now nor before.  

The girl sat down in front of the mirror and spreading some cosmetics around she started putting makeup on. He watched her with interest, examining her features closely. Her face seemed to be even more beautiful than he remembered.

“Who are you?” Azriel whispered to himself, with pain in his deep voice. “Where are you? How to get to you?” He gritted his teeth. For moment he considered to put the mirror down because what's the point of watching such beauty when he couldn't get close to her and make her his. But he couldn't take eyes off of her. This had to be some sort of spell.

He kept watching her, jumping from one mirror surface to another. He wasn't sure how it worked, but he felt so peaceful and relaxed while watching her prepare meals, go for a walk, read and paint that he didn't want to stop.

She had to be an artist just like Rhys' mate. Feyre was one of the best artists he knew, but this girl.. Her paintings were so realistic, so lively as if they were about to start breathing and moving around at any moment. He had never seen such kind of art. It was mesmerizing.

Azriel completely lost track of time and before he knew, he spent entire day watching her in the mirror. She stood up, putting paint brushes aside and he followed her as she moved to the bathroom. She began preparing the bath and while water was running, she washed off makeup and started to undress. Blushing Azriel put the mirror down. But even though the heat was consuming his cheeks he couldn't stop peeking at it. He bit down on his lower lip so hard he drew blood. Closing eyes he sighed deeply and picked up the mirror once again.

The girl was already in bathtub so far away from the mirror that he couldn't see more than her head and shoulders. However they disappeared, too, as the mirror in her bathroom fogged up. His shoulders slumped as he released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

'What a pity,' he thought ashamed. Shadowsinger forced himself to put the mirror away, placing it downwards on the nightstand and stretched on the bed. He felt excited and tired at the same time. His thoughts were still swirling around the girl until his pants began to feel too tight. He tried to resist his needs, but it only got worse. Reluctantly Azriel reached down, squeezing and fisting his cock until he found release. However it wasn't enough and he had to repeat it several times to feel completely satisfied. And only then he was able to finally fall asleep, dreaming about her.

A week passed while Azriel stayed shut in his room, holding the mirror and watching the girl day and night. He became obsessed with her. More he watched her, more he needed. He longed to touch her, to speak with her. He wanted to bring her to Velaris, show her his world while spoiling her and loving her. If she asked him to fall to his knees to the dirt and worship her, he would gladly do so. His heart ached so much, he choked, unable to breath without her properly.

A knock sounded on the doors. Azriel's shadows twisting around his arm whispered to his ear that it's Cassian. Again. He and Rhysand were trying to find to him. Cassian stopped at his door several times a day, but when no answer came from inside he eventually left. Rhys' claws were rubbing against his mental shields, at first just asking, but now demanding to let him in. Azriel didn't want to talk with them nor see them.

This time Cassian was more persistent and knocked again. Azriel ignored him, watching as the girl sat down to her lunch. Meal she prepared looked so delicious that he wanted to devour it all.

“What are you doing here?” Cassian was standing in open door, leaning against the frame with arms crossed on his chest. He looked irritated and worried at the same time. “Disappearing like this without a single world. Can you imagine how worried we all are. We were looking for you everywhere. Can you explain why you didn't answer me before? Or why you ignore Rhysand?”

“I have something important to do,” Azriel snarled back at him. “Get out, Cassian.”

“And can you tell me what is so important that you sit closed in your room and ignore our every attempt to contact you?”

“That doesn't concern you. It's my private thing. I have right to have some privacy and life out of the family. And now leave me alone.”

“Hey, bro,” Cassian sighed and tried to be nicer. “Have you even seen yourself? You look horrible. What's wrong? Something happened? Is it some girl? C'mon, talk to me.”

“There's nothing to talk about. Just leave me alone.”

Cassian gritted his teeth, his fingers curled into fists. “As you wish. You know where to find us when you decide to get out of here,” he muttered, visibly pissed off and left slamming the door behind.

Azriel exhaled, putting the mirror aside he leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. He felt like a stranger in his own body. What's wrong with him? Why he couldn't stop thinking about the girl? Why he couldn't stop watching her? Nothing made sense to him.

That evening standing in bathroom Azriel was brushing his teeth while watching the girl getting ready for bed in the mirror above the sink. Suddenly girl raised her hands up in defense, her face a picture of dread. She backed into the corner closer to the mirror. A man with knife in hand came into view. Azriel instantly stopped everything he was doing, his nails dug into the mirror's frame.

“No,” he hissed through clenched teeth. He was immediately consumed by fury. If he could he would fly in there and kill that man right there on the spot without mercy. But he couldn't and that enraged him even more. A lump formed in his throat as the man got closer to the girl and stabbed her to her abdomen.

“No!” he bellowed, but that was the only thing he could do. The girl fell down to the floor with her back leaning against the mirror. Azriel pressed both of the hands to the mirror, desperately wanting to catch her, to get her to safety. “Please, let me in. Don't make me watch her die before my eyes. Please.. please..” he pleaded with the mirror, pushing against its cold surface.

Surprisingly the mirror gave in and Azriel's fingers dipped into something similar to cold thick liquid. So thick he had to push with all his strength to get through it. Finally his fingers touched still warm soft flesh. He gritted his teeth and pushed even more against the resistance of mirror until his arms were wrapped around girl's waist. Getting her to his side was even harder. His legs were slipping on the smooth stones of the floor, so he pressed one of them against the sink and continued pulling. Slowly, very slowly her body began to emerge from the mirror's surface. She groaned and hissed in pain.

“I'm so sorry. Just hold on a little longer,” he growled through gritted teeth. Finally her entire body got to his side and both of them collapsed to the floor. Azriel groaned in pain when she fell onto him. Without wasting more time he swiftly laid her down to check her.

The girl was unconscious and the blood rushed from her wound already creating a small pool beneath her, but she still breathed.  Azriel took two towels, pressing one to the bleeding wound and using the other one to secure it in place. Carefully he quickly lifted her up in his arms and rushing to the closest balcony he flew out. As soon as he got out of the wards around the House of Wind he winnowed straight to Madja's house.

Petite female jumped up when he so suddenly appeared in the middle of her living room, but when she saw the girl in his arms with blood soaking through towels, she immediately guided him to small medical room attached to her house. Azriel laid girl down on the bed.

“She is human and already lost too much of blood,” he said breathlessly still recovering from fight with the mirror and the fall.

Madja just nodded, hands full of bandages and tinctures as she returned to the bed. She put it all down on small table next to the bed and pulled girl's shirt up. Azriel watched as she cleaned the wound and stitched girl up without asking where he found her or what happened. When she was done she poured some medicine to the glass and made the girl to drink it.

“She should be fine for now, although the wound will take some time to heal. I will give you a tea to relieve the pain and medicaments for blood supplemental and..  anti-inflammatory. She needs to take it four times a day. Because of the massive blood loss, she will feel dizzy and cold. Make sure she is warm and drinks enough,” she instructed him while she was preparing vials with medicine and pack with tea to which she attached all necessary instructions.

It took entire week until the girl woke up and became able to sit up for a while. During the whole time Azriel had never left her side. Every time she shivered with cold even though the House heated Azriel's room so much it was almost unbearable, he scooped her into a tight hug wrapping his wings around them, hoping his bodyheat would warm her up. Thankfully it really worked.

There in the dim light getting through the membrane of his wing, he told her about himself, his family, the city and this world, even about the mirror and watching her. She couldn't respond with more than a light press of her fingers to his arm, but he knew she was listening to him.

Meanwhile his shadows were lurking around, afraid to touch her with their cold fingers, bringing in whatever they needed. They also made sure there was always hot tea on the nightstand.

Azriel let his brother in and told him what happened. At first Rhysand was really angry and gave him a long speech, but together with Cassian and Feyre they made sure to stop by several times a day to check on them.

Soon enough healthy colour returned to girl's face and she became strong enough to leave bed. Every day Azriel took her on a short walk around the House. And as she grew stronger, he began to take her down to the city showing her around. She was all smiley and cheerful, looking around in amaze and Azriel loved to watch it. He loved her so much there weren't enough sufficient words to describe the depth of his feelings. Seeing her good mood he felt like smiling, too, and often he really did. He didn't mind even her touch. He craved it and sought for it.

Despite his fear that she would mind touch of his scarred hands, the girl always leaned into it, seeking him just as much as he did. She would hold his hand, fingers entangled together, lightly tugging on it when she spotted something new or interesting. He offered her to move to own room, but to his delight she decided to stay in his, snuggling to his side every night. They grew together and lived as any couple in love would, because they were the couple deeply in love.

Azriel tried to learn something about her, but no matter how many times she tried, no voice came out. Even Madja couldn't find out the cause and fix it. The girl tried to write her answers, but every time she picked up the pen, she froze on the spot, blankly gazing on the sheet of paper in front of her, unable to write a single letter down. It was too frustrating for both of them, so they stopped trying it and rather enjoyed each other.

Despite this she still could paint and she did. Her paintings were just as beautifully surreal and so alive like before and even better. They were full of light and colours, sometimes capturing scenes she saw in the city.

However most of her pictures captured Azriel in different moments. Looking at them he felt like he was looking in the mirror. Very strange mirror. He recognized himself, but at the same time it was hard to believe it's him. Azriel on the pictures looked so handsome, happy, relaxed and attractive, everything the real Azriel had never associated with his person. It was hard to look at those paintings, but even harder was to not to look. This is what she sees when she looks at you, his shadows whispered and hearing those words his heart even more swelled up with love.

Everything seemed to be like a perfect dream. Azriel was happy, too happy. It was too good to be real. For some reason he expected something to happen. And it really did.

Two weeks after she got well, she began to change. At first it was hard to notice it. She would stop for a moment, her gaze grew distant and smile disappeared. But as soon as he asked what's wrong, she returned to her usual self and shaking head she smiled.

Another week later he found her looking longingly in the mirror. It seemed she was in some kind of trance, her hand reaching up and slowly moving to its surface. Feeling a sudden anxiety Azriel ran to her and tugging her to tight embrace he turned her back to the mirror. It took few seconds until she recovered. She seemed to be disoriented, having no idea what she was doing. Since then Azriel watched her more closely. He was afraid that she would return to her world, if she touched the mirror. Just in case, he put all mirrors in his room away and asked even House to do the same with the rest.

But everything got just worse. Day after day she was becoming sadder, her healthy colour was fading away before Azriel's eyes. Eventually she lost her appetite and turned into a ghost, too weak to stand up from bed. Nobody knew what was wrong with her. Madja gave her some medication, but it didn't work at all. Azriel stayed with her day and night, pressing her to his body and telling her stories. He felt so helpless. He wanted to scream to the world and beg Mother and all gods whose names were forgotten to help them, to save her.

Once in the middle of the night Azriel sat on the bed with sleeping girl curled on his chest. Lately she mostly just slept. His fingers were shaking as he lightly caressed her along the spine, his nose pressed to the crook of her neck. Inhaling her fading sweet scent he silently cried. She was so weak. His head already knew what his heart refused to admit. These were last moments they had.

A silent knock sounded on the doors and Rhysand peeked inside. His brows furrowed when he saw them. “May I?” Azriel just nodded, his eyes still closed as another tears ran down his cheeks. Rhysand came to the bed, sat down on its edge and squeezed his brother's shoulder.

“I met with Helion.. I'm sorry.. He can't do anything for her,” Rhysand said in grave voice. Azriel just nodded. He already knew it. “Helion also shares my opinion. I'm really sorry for what I'm about to say.. it isn't easy, you know.. but we both agreed that she most likely needs to return.. back to her world..”

Azriel shook his head and more tears fell from his eyes. “I was thinking about it too.. and came to the same conclusion.. but I just can't..” he sobbed, his voice failing him. “I can't let her go.. I can't live without her.. I don't want to..”

“I know,” Rhysand squeezed his shoulder. “Nobody wants her to go.. but it's for her own good..” Azriel didn't answer, instead he held the girl tighter. Rhysand watched him for a while, trying to soothe his pain.

The dawn was coming. Girl's breath became shallow. It were her last moments. The both of them knew it.

“Do you want me to do it?” Rhysand asked gently. Azriel just silently nodded. A tall mirror appeared right next to the bed. Holding the girl Azriel stood up in front of it. He looked at her face for the last time. He kissed her with all his love, bidding his last goodbye to her.

“Please, let her return back,” he sobbed, voice full of raw pain. “Let her get well.. Let her live...”

Mirror's surface rippled in answer. Azriel took girl's hand and pressed it to the mirror. She melted away like a morning mist and Azriel remained standing there empty-handed. Scream full of pain broke through his pursed lips and he fell to his knees. Rhysand was immediately there, enclasping Azriel's shaking shoulders. With his free hand he stroked his back.

Meanwhile the girl on the other side sat up. She was pale, but instantly she felt much better and stronger. She looked around in confusion, recognizing her old bedroom. She was back in her world.

Quickly she turned to the mirror behind her and her nails dug into its frame. Instead of her reflection she could see a broken man with wings kneeling on the floor. Azriel was looking back at her, tears rolling down his cheeks while Rhysand next to him was trying to calm him down. She shook her head and tears wet her cheeks. That was the last time she could see him. The mirror rippled and all she could see after that was her own reflection.

“Goodbye, my angel,” she whispered feeling his taste mixed with salty tears on her lips and crying she curled into a ball on the floor.