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velarisdusk · 7 months ago

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Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

part 2 -> word count: 5.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ] summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow. author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jaw, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

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felassan · 5 months ago

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David Gaider on Zevran, under a cut for length:

"I was going to skip over Zevran, honestly, as I felt like I didn't have a lot to tell in the way of stories about him... but I know he still has some (ardent) fans. Plus, on reflection, I thought maybe I DO have a few things to say. 😅 Sooo we'll see how this goes. Zevran came along much later in the DAO process, as we were trying to round out the cast of party members. Alistair and Morrigan were well underway (as "main" characters, they were concepted very early) and I'd just started to consider who our Rogue followers might be when... things changed, a bit. See, BioWare had released a game not long beforehand called Jade Empire. It had included some same-sex options in its romances - not obscured like the way Juhani's "romance" had been hinted at in KotOR, but explicit. To this day, I have no idea who on the Jade Empire team was behind it, or why. More to the point, the same-sex options had received a lot of attention and praise - almost universal praise, in fact. In 2005, everyone was just pleasantly surprised. And I don't recall if I went to James and asked about it or if he came to me to suggest DAO should include it. The latter, I think."

"You might ask "Aren't you gay, Dave? Weren't you already pushing for this?" And the answer to that is, emphatically, "no, not at all". It might seem odd looking through the lens of 2024, but there was no talk of 'representation' or 'diversity'. Not at any level where we were aware of it, anyhow. Today, fans argue about how MUCH representation to include and whether it's done well enough... the idea that, less than twenty years ago, it being included *at all* was very much in doubt feels so far away. But, back then, I'd always assumed my private life and my work in games would never meet. So I think it was James who brought it up, because I remember being startled. Pleasantly so, of course. Now I had to look at our two rogues and figure out how this would apply. I sketched out the female of the two (who was taken on by Sheryl Chee) and then looked at the male - he who became Zevran. I'd been reading about the CIA and one thing that stuck with me was how they'd (allegedly) recruit gay men as assassins because they rarely had familial ties. Zevran wasn't going to be gay (bisexuality wasn't a question of representation, but a cost-benefit compromise) but that was the inspiration."

"Then there was the question of how "flamboyantly" I was writing this character, whether that might be too stereotypical? I don't remember how it arose, but I had too many "flamboyant" friends to do anything other than double down. This character was gonna be Zorro the goddamn Gay Blade, that's what. So that's how Zevran happened. Fun, a bit nihilistic, maybe a bit too overtly flirty for today's audience but very confidently *sexual*. Everything I'm not, so I'll admit it was an interesting exploration to dig down and find that voice somewhere inside. He was the anti-Alistair, and I needed that. Casting him was difficult. Caroline always tried to go for authentic accents, when we could, but for some reason this was getting us nowhere. I think back, and I suspect it's because I hadn't yet learned the lesson to not use terms in casting descriptions I thought were universal... but were not. What do I mean by that? Well, there was one write-up that said "drow elf". Now, I know what a drow elf is. It wasn't even important to the description, but the director saw the word "elf", and you know what we got back? A Keebler elf. Like a leprachaun, high and sweet and cutsie. Can you imagine?"

"In this case, I think it was the use of the word "assassin". Combine that with the sorts of roles many Hispanic actors in LA probably are asked to play, and all the auditions we were getting were 150% dark, mean, and gritty. 🫠 So we widened the casting call a bit, and this led us to Jon Curry. I knew Jon wasn't Hispanic, but what I wasn't prepared for when I flew down to meet the DAO actors was that he's this extremely tall, extremely Nordic looking dude who just happened to do the most amazing Antonio Banderas impression. Watching THAT man channel Zevran was... more than a bit surreal. 😅 And he had fun with it. As soon as we gave him the go ahead to play the fun and flirtiness to the hilt, that's exactly what he did. Over the few days where we found Zevran's voice, it totally supplied me with something I could hold in my head when I went back to Edmonton and finished writing him. Zevran was funny enough that the fans liked him. The only part of the reception I thought odd was the occasional comment by a male player who felt "tricked" into having sex with Zevran. "You mean... that part where he invites you to his tent for a sensual massage?" "Yes! I was expecting a massage!" "He literally says the massage is sensual." "Well he wasn't clear enough!" This is where I first came to the conclusion that a certain number of our players just don't know how to people. And that maybe an adjustment to the way we approached the messaging (or massaging lol) of romance was in order. If I could go back, would I change anything? Maybe I'd remind the systems team Zevran should really be able to pick a lock. And maybe not allow him to die. We had no idea we'd need to import these choices into the future - we kinda thought DAO was "one and done". Not so much, as it turned out. 😁"

[source thread]

David Gaider: "there's something to be said about how Zevran flirted and even had sex with you because he thought that's all he had to offer... not just you, but anyone. And when he realized you wanted something deeper, suddenly he was on unsteady ground and it truly unsettled him. It was fun to explore." [source]

User: "So David - besides loving the fact that the third image you picked is a gay sex scene - what happened in DA2(DAE - come on) with Zevrans design?" David Gaider: "Check the ALT text. It wasn’t a custom sculpt, so that’s as close as they could get it. Which… was not close." [source]

User: "Just to make sure I fully understand: the director (was it the voice director?) saw the word "elf" and thought you were looking for someone high, sweet, and cutesie?" David Gaider: "Yeah, this was from back before we managed VO in-house. The voice director in this case just didn’t have an association with “elf” like some familiar with fantasy would." [source]

#dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #jade empire #lgbtq+#alistair theirin #fav warden #morrigan #queen of my heart

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crows-of-buckets · 7 months ago

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Yesterday was the first time I actually had Wynne tell me about the spirit possessing her in origins <//3. I have played this game three times, this is my fourth run and somehow I never triggered it since I never bring her anywhere help. Anyways I love my possessed half dead grandma or whatever

#dragon age #crow rambles #aviae and wynne have an odd dynamic where like #aviae highly respects her advice and enjoys her company #but hates the circles and all they stand for with a passion #generally she tries not to pick fights about it but sometimes they have spats about it #also i think the contrast between wynne and Morrigan as your main mages is SO fascinating #idk what their banter is like but just going off their idea of how the warden should go about grey wardening is fascinating #wynne's whole thing is she thinks grey wardens should sacrifice all to be a hero. that they have a duty to more than just themselves #and that sacrifice is inevitable. while she doesnt know about the archdemon sacrifice needed everything about the way she talks about #wardens hints that she would deem it necessary.#meanwhile morrigan's whole thing is being selfish. she wants the warden to live to fight for what they want #even if she doesnt like the warden her act still stems from selfishness and a desire for the warden to do the same #idk i think theyre neat mirrors and ive never seen anyone talk about it <//3

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super-ion · 2 months ago

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The Engineer

Part 6

(part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5)

I catch a glimpse of the Pilot as she is wheeled towards the med bay. Her eyes are wild, panicked, with the glaze of just having been torn out of herself.

For a moment, as the gurney slides by, those eyes briefly clear, ice blue pinning me to the spot. She reaches out with an emaciated arm, fast as lightning, and takes hold of my wrist in an iron grip.

She moves her lips, at first unable to form words, unable to remember how to use human speech organs.

"Do your job," she says, slowly, deliberately, as if that singular command is the only thing in the universe that matters.

Something in the gurney clicks and whirs and she slips into catatonia. Her grip loosens and her fingers trail away.

Something has gone terribly wrong in this last engagement.

Alarms blare and booted feet thunder past me.

My own feet join the cacophony.

I have a job to do.

The Pilot is alive and she is now the responsibility of the med team.

My responsibility is the Machine.

Do your job.

The words echo in my head as I sprint the remaining distance to the vestibule.

A tech tries to stop me, he says something I don't quite process. I shove past him and am greeted by a scene out of a nightmare.

Morrigan's hatch has been severed, the emergency release pyros having been triggered. The parts of her hull visible to the vestibule are pitted and blackened. I can't even find the stencilled lettering of her factory designated identifier, just an ugly hole torn open by an incendiary.

Inside, the cockpit is a mess of fire suppressant and crash gel. Indicator lights form a constellation of blinking red and half of the display panels, the half that still work, flash an endless stream of error messages.

Everything reeks of ammonia and ozone and scorched metal.

"Me or Morrigan could get dead in the next engagement."

The nonchalance with which those words had been delivered caught me off guard when they were spoken. Morrigan and Her Pilot are untouchable. They were supposed to be untouchable.

Do your job.

I begin to strip as fast as humanly possible. I need to get in there. I need to know that she is alive.

The tech that tried to stop me grabs my arm. You can't go in there, the reactor has not been stabilized.

I tear myself from his grip.

I have a job to do, I say with a snarl.

Something in my expression, my bared teeth, my feral eyes, convinces him to leave me be. He stands down, hands raised in surrender. He could call security, but by the time they get here, I'll already be jacked in, and it will be too late for them to do anything.

Do your job. Do your job. Do your job.

My job is information recovery and analysis.

My job is to save as much as I can.

I need to save Her.

One of the cameras spots me and the others focus on me in panicked motion. The one nearest to me has a cracked lens and the iris flutters open and closed, unable to focus.

The cradle has been mangled nearly beyond recognition. They had to physically cut the Pilot out of Her, neither of them willing to let go of the other. The still operable mechanisms of it jerk erratically, trying vainly to reconfigure for me. Her neural interface port reaches towards me desperately.

I scrabble to Her, pressing myself into the cradle. The shorn, inoperable pieces dig painfully into my flesh. The neural insertion is not gentle, the plug scrapes painfully against my skin before it finds the jack and shoves roughly into me.

"I'm here," I tell Her as the link is established.

It's bad.

It's worse than I feared.

Reactor housing is damaged. System failsafes are vainly attempting to stabilize it while ground crews work as fast at they can towards a purge of the system.

Her processor core… fuck. My mind struggles to make sense of the telemetry stream. Multiple processor modules fractured. Unstable resonance modes. Positron avalanche. System collapse imminent.

My breath catches and my heart pounds in my chest.

She is dying.

Do your job.

The umbilical data lines aren't receiving, rogue processes are preventing access to primary communication channels. I work furiously to establish auxiliary paths for the data transfer. In fits and starts, the data recorder begins streaming into the facility mainframe.

There is a problem.

The data repository is meant for telemetry and battle space recordings. If I attempted to back up her core personality engrams, everything that makes her who she is, the data would get scrubbed and purged faster than I could back them up elsewhere.

There isn't time to set up an alternate backup repository.

- PILOT STATUS?

"She's safe," I tell Her. “You completed your mission. Your Pilot… Our Pilot is safe.”

- ENGINEER STATUS?

"Status is… not good…"

- PLEASE DO NOT CRY.

Fuck.

I drag my hand over my face, smearing the tears gathering in my eyes.

Now that the data is streaming there is nothing I can do but feel her die as I lie in her embrace.

I can not conceive a reality in which I exist without her.

And the Pilot. The Pilot will not survive, not with half of who she is destroyed.

"The three of us, we're just this fucking tangle, aren't we?"

Do your job.

Save Her.

Save. Her.

I know this system. I know it more intimately than anyone alive.

There *is* one data connection I haven't considered. There *is* one piece of external storage currently connected.

Shit.

I act.

I open up a new interface in my hud. Morrigan's attention fixes on me, on the calculations I'm running through my head and I can feel Her dawning horror over the link.

Neural bleed. It works both ways.

All neural rigs are designed to facilitate data transfer between an organic brain and a mechanical one. Mine is no exception. Mine hasn't undergone all the upgrades needed for a pilot's full sensorium, but the core neural interface is the same.

If I disable safety overrides, if I bypass the data buffers, I can download her personality engrams directly into my prefrontal cortex.

I have no idea what that will do to me.

Exceptional synchrony and neuro-elasticity. That's what my intake assessments had said all those years ago. I was in the upper quintile among all pilot candidates. Maybe that was my downfall. Maybe that's why I washed out.

Maybe that's why I'm here now, contemplating this singularly desperate act.

Maybe that's why my neural bleed with Her has been so deep. Maybe there is something in me that is in tune with Them.

But as far as I know, no one has ever attempted anything like this. It could very well kill me.

But the thought of living without Her is more terrifying than the prospect of dying. It's more terrifying than what might happen to me if this works.

Morrigan pleads with me.

- STOP.

"No. I can't stop," I reply. "I need you."

- NO.

"Yes, I do," I tell her. "Your Pilot needs you."

I can feel Her emotional flinch over the link. I have the one piece of leverage I need, and She knows it.

"Wouldn't you give anything, sacrifice anything to see her again?"

It's a dirty trick, I know it is, playing off that one connection, her deepest, most intimate connection. Maybe I mean something to Her, but She and the Pilot were made for each other in the most literal sense.

And I suddenly realize that I am doing this as much for the Pilot as any of us. That surprises me. As much as I have tried to distance myself from other human beings, I became entangled with her the moment I opened myself up to Morrigan.

I would never be able to face her if I didn't do everything in my power to save the Machine.

A processor module fails outright. The system struggles to reallocate resources, but submodules throughout the entire system are strained to their limit.

There isn't any time left and She knows it.

She sullenly acedes.

We begin working in concert, me working to disable safety protocols in my rig, Her working to isolate and distill Her core personality patterns into something that can be handled by the bandwidth of the interface.

An alarm pings over the link. Reactor purge in progress. Power fluctuations spike all over her systems. Her processor power distribution subsystem is completely fucked. It won't be able to keep up with current activity levels as the whole system switches over to umbilical power.

Out of time.

I engage the final override, by mind suddenly open to hers, the neural link unbuffered, unfiltered.

Her mind presses in on me and I glimpse the full sensorium. I feel all of her pain and fear and anguish at what she is about to do to me.

My fingers tingle before they go numb.

"Do it," I command her.

- I LOVE YOU.

Data transfer initiates.

This isn't neural bleed.

This is a flood.

My body convulses.

I taste something coppery in my mouth.

Someone somewhere screams.

The scream is mine.

My rig isn't built for this. My body isn't conditioned for this.

Every nerve in me blazes white hot.

My vision tunnels as auras bloom like bruises on the skin of reality.

Shouts of alarm call from outside the cockpit.

A face resolves itself, and for a moment I think it's Her.

The Pilot.

A Priestess.

An Angel.

No.

It.

It is one of the techs.

Then a medic.

More shouting.

Get her out of there!

Every muscle in my body clenches painfully.

I can barely breathe.

Cut her loose!

No.

It's not done yet. It's not enough.

It's too much.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

I can't.

I can't stop. Not yet.

Do your job.

Save Her.

My body convulses once again, and I pass into oblivion.

(next)

~~~

@digitalsymbiote @g1ngan1nja @thriron @ephemeral-arcanist @mias-domain @justasleepykitten @powder-of-infinity @valkayrieactual @chaosmagetwin @assigned-stupid-at-birth @avalanchenouveau @rtfmx9 @femgineerasolution @ibleedelectric @gd-s451 @brieflybitten

#mech posting #human x machine #robot x human #mech pilot x mechanic #mechposting #my writing #writers on tumblr #lesbian #scifi #science fiction

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sapphicmsmarvel · 7 months ago

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"hey bitch, what's for dinner?"

Cassian dares his besties (eris, lucien and tarquin included) to ask their mates “hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

some are short. some medium. one large (for a headcanon type fic). Also this is mostly dialogue because I didn't want to keep repeating body motions (they shrug a lot, they cuddle a lot, etc, etc, etc).

Azriel:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?” He really tried not to let his voice crack, but he couldn't help it. The idea of calling you something foul outside the bedroom is painful.

“Based on the way your voice got quieter for that word, I'm going to assume this is a stupid dare from Cassian. And that you aren’t actually that stupid to talk to me like that.” You said as you continued to stir the pot of soup.

“I’m so relieved you know me that well.” He couldn’t help his sigh.

You snorted as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “If I ever actually talk to you like that, take Truthteller and use it, cause it’s not me.”

You let out another snort. “My big baby.” You said, taking your hand up and ruffling Azriel’s hair as he pressed kisses to your neck.

Cassian:

He came in so confident too. But quickly was humbled.

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“Wanna try that again?” He doesn’t get scared of much, but your calm tone in this moment will strike fear into his heart.

“No, ma’am.” He shook his head.

“And what did we learn?”

“Never say that stuff to my spouse and mate who I love very much?” He asked.

“Mhm.” you hummed as he came up to hug you. “Speak to me like that again and I’m cutting your hair off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rhysand:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

He didn’t even get a chance to breathe after that sentence because you turned around with the knife in your hand. Seriously, what an idiot approaching you with that stupid shit while you’re cooking dinner. You’re hungry and holding a knife.

You stabbed it into the countertop, it made a twang sound and shook from the force of you stabbing it.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“…”

“Go on say it again since you wanna be all cocky.” You leaned against the counter with your arms crossed.

“I love you.” Not much scared him, but his wife humbled the shit out of him.

Your mouth made a flat line and your brows raised as you said, “Mhm.”

“And I’ll do whatever you want for a month. Hell, the rest of our lives.”

“Mhm.” You ripped the knife out of the counter and then turned around and continued chopping vegetables.

“Honey?”

“You know, I think I’ll invite Feyre and her wife over for dinner. They wouldn’t call me that.” You continued.

“Baby,” he began and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Maybe I’ll invite Cassian and Azriel’s wives too, they’ll understand what it’s like to be married to the stupidest motherfucker we know.”

He pressed a kiss to your clothes shoulder.

“Are you done?”

“You have no idea the doghouse you’re in right now.”

“Does it help if I told you that Cassian dared me.”

You set the knife down and turned around in his arms. “You’re still an idiot.” You wound your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with baby hairs growing at the nape of his neck.

“I know.”

“Good,” you said and smacked his ass.

He yelped.

Feyre:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” You asked.

She couldn’t help but giggle. “I love that you humble me.”

“Me and Rhys’ wife have a load on our hands considering you fools are best friends. You have got to stop influencing each other.”

She hummed at the thought of her best friend and his wife. She put her arms around your waist and you leaned into her. “One day, we’re gonna snap and kill you.” She kissed the area between your neck and shoulder. “We have the best wives.”

“You got that right.” You reached around and smacked her ass. But you miscalculated and hit her hip.

Morrigan:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“Nothing, slut. Bend over the table and spread your cheeks, if you think you can talk to me like that I’ll show you otherwise.”

You sat up from your spot on the couch looking at her with a “WTF” expression.

The woman was too stunned to speak. “It was a joke but now I’m horny.”

You laughed, “into degradation are we?”

“Didn’t think I was, but hey you learn something new everyday.” She shrugged, actually thankful for Cassian because now she could explore this new thing with her wife.

Amren:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?” She opened the door to your shared home to yell. When she heard nothing but silence she was concerned, she could smell you, you were home.

“Y/N?” She called.

She walked into your living room from the entry hall to find you standing there. Staring at her with sad, wide eyes.

“Love?”

“….what’d i do?” Your voice wavered and she couldn’t take it. She pulled you into her arms and rocked you side to side.

“If I ever speak to you like that, you better smack me across the fucking mouth.” Was all she said. “Why’d you say that?” You sniffed. You two pulled away from each other, only enough to lean your foreheads together. “Cassian got it in his big dumb brain that it was a good idea to say that to our mates.” She whispered and wiped your cheeks with her thumbs.

“He’s an idiot.” You deadpanned.

“I'm aware.” “And you’re an idiot for doing it.”

“I deserve that.” Was all she said before she kissed you.

Nesta:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

You were silent and she looked at you from her spot on the couch. You were staring at her wide eyed, your eyes began watering.

“Y/N?”

“That really hurt my feelings, Nes.” You were about to cry.

She shot off from her spot on the couch and crawled into the chair you were sitting in. She pulled you into her chest.

“Oh baby.” She said, “it was a stupid fucking prank from Cassian.” She whispered at the top of your head, kissing your hair.

“Tell that overgrown bitch of a bat to watch his back.” Your voice was muffled from her tits.

“I will.” She scratched your head lightly.

“Nes?”

“Yes, my love?”

“You ever speak to me like that again, I’ll make you wish you never met me.”

She let out a laugh like breath through her nose. “Okay, baby.”

“Tears and all I’ll pummel you.” You declared and she kissed your head, rocking you back and forth.

“I know.”

Elain:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“I will grill your flowers if you talk to me like that again.”

She cackled like the witch she is.

Lucien:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“Soap.”

“Soap?”

“If you’re going to talk to me like that, you’re getting soap. Bitch.” You threw a jar of soap at him. “Go put that on spaghetti.”

Eris:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

You whipped off your shoe and threw it at him. Feyre taught you that move. He didn’t duck, he just let it hit him because he knew his dumbass deserved it.

Tarquin:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“My ass.”

He loves that you match his freak, “I'm so relieved you didn’t think I was serious.”

“You aren’t that stupid, plus, Azriel’s mate sent a missive because he tried it.”

“Drinking with Cassian is the worst.”

“And yet, your dumbass still did it.”

“The drinking or the dare?” “Both.”

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fantasydreamland · 1 month ago

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A Dance of Forbidden Fire

eris vanserra x fem reader

Summary: You attend the winter solstice ball at the Night Court with your sisters Feyre and Nesta. The plan was for Nesta to seduce Eris with her dancing skills, but instead he asks for your hand. As you dance away into the night you cannot fight the feeling that he is your mate.

Notes: 18+ only! Slight suggestive smut, forbidden love, tension, angst, fluff, spoilers, bolded words taken directly from the chapter & belong to sarah j maas

(y/n kinda replaces Elain in the story - Based on chapter 57 of ACOSF)

this is the scene that really sparked my random crush on eris 💃

Word count: 1.9k

PART TWO

PART THREE

masterlist

taglist

The ball began after Feyre and Rhysand arrived and took their places on their thrones. You and Nesta took your places on either side of them, both wearing similar black gowns. You wore a low cut style that accentuated your cleavage, and an open back, leaving much of your skin exposed.

Eris came to greet you all, the first time you had ever seen him, having remained mainly inside the house since being Made. Though you had heard plenty about him. You knew he was the son of Beron and the heir to Autumn court. You knew he was cunning, and self centred, and deceitful, and arrogant. And of course the story with Morrigan. Your family allied with him because they needed to, but they have made it clear to you that they did not trust him in the slightest.

They had failed to mention just how gorgeous he was. He was as if a perfect autumn leaf transformed into a devilishly handsome male. His long firey orange hair was styled neatly behind his pointed ears, freckles scattered across his sun kissed skin, and a cocky smirk formed on his lips. But it was his piercing amber eyes that took your breath away the moment they connected with yours. You both held silent that eye contact for a short moment that felt like a small eternity before he seemed to shake his head to focus back on Rhys and Feyre.

The High Lord and Lady presented Eris with a solstice gift, his eyes seeming to keep flicking over to you during the entire time they spoke. Feyre ended the conversation by explaining she could not offer her hand to Eris for a dance, due to her condition.

“My older sister shall take my place.” Feyre says to him, gesturing to Nesta.

“Actually, my High Lady… I would like to ask for (y/n)’s hand. If she would care to join me, of course.” He says overly politely before looking to you.

Feyre and Nesta both look over at you, you meet their worried eyes briefly before turning your attention back to Eris.

“It would be my pleasure.” You offer a small smile as you step towards him, deciding to carry out the plan yourself.

Cassian tries to hide his relief as Eris walks you to the dance floor instead of Nesta.

Others watched from the sidelines as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began, a harp strumming high and sweet. Eris extended a hand, a half smile on his mouth.

You place your hand in his. The feeling of your skin connecting sent electricity throughout your body. Percussion and horns blasted; low stronger instruments started a rushing strike of music. A summons to the dance in a countdown to movement.

Eris slid his broad hand over your waist, tucking you in close. His slender fingers seeming to warmly burn into the bare skin of your back. You lifted your chin, looking up into his face. The moment your eyes connect up close, you feel it, the tug in your chest, a strong magnetic pull of your heart towards his. The sudden wild look in his amber eyes told you he felt it too. Even the smell of him seemed to overwhelm your senses. He smelt like… cedar, and a rainy day, and a hint of something sweeter like vanilla, an addictive smell you wanted to bury yourself in.

He does not miss the heavy rise of your bosom as you take a slow deep breath trying to compose yourself, his eyes dart back to yours and the dance begins. You move to the music, becoming completely lost in it. You have always danced well, you would not consider yourself an expert like Nesta, but following Eris’s lead felt as easy as water flowing through a silent stream. You seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, like you were meant to be there. You dance together as one, moving in perfect harmony, your eyes never parting once except the brief seconds between twirls. His presence had your cheeks and ears burning red, your breathing difficult, and your heart absolutely racing.

You let Eris lead you into the next dance as a new song began. It was a lighter, easier dance than the first.

Eris’s amber eyes studied yours. “Trust Rhysand to keep you hidden away.”

“I’m afraid I am the one who has kept myself hidden away...” You respond, it was the truth, despite your families efforts you kept yourself isolated for a long time after being Made.

“Understandably so.” He says, his expression turned more serious, sympathetic. “I can hardly imagine what you went through with… the Cauldron.” The last word coming out as almost a whisper.

“Yes…” You breathed, the only response you could manage as you tried to shove those memories aside.

Eris spun you, and when you returned to him, he murmured in your ear, “Don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.” His breath on your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “Oh?”

Eris nodded to where Mor watched them from beside Feyre and Rhys, her face neutral and aloof. “She knows the trust but has never revealed it.”

“Why?”

“Because she is afraid of it.”

You didn’t pry further about the details but it did make you question what you have been told about him, and that maybe there was more to the story. The man in front of you did not seem like the monster you had pictured. It made you curious about his perspective, about his life.

You chatted a little more throughout the song, getting to know a bit about eachother. Not just the facts that everyone already knows but small things deeper than that. He asked you about your favourite season and you admit it has always been autumn. When you were human you would count down the days for the chilled weather and colourful leafs. The crunch of leafs beneath your feet, and cozy sweaters, and pumpkins, and warm ciders. You have always loved everything about the season.

“It almost seems like you belong in Autumn, interesting...” Eris says with a sly smirk.

You blush in response earning a wider smirk from him. The dance continues on in silence, only exchanging occasional small smiles between you.

You follow his lead into a third song, this one much slower, more romantic. You sway and twirl together around the dance floor. No more words are exchanged between you but so much is said through your deeply connected eyes. The entire ball fades into the background, no one else existed in this moment. It felt like you were the only two beings in the room, in the world. Being in his alluring presence, his hot skin touching yours, his firey eyes staring into your very soul… it felt like he had you completely under a spell as you danced and danced.

The song finishes with a final twirl, then holding onto your connected hands as the other is outstretched behind you in an elegant pose. As the song comes to a close Eris pulls you back against him, even tighter than before, your bodies pressed firmly together while his fingers pressed firmer into your skin. You were so close that when you lift your head to meet his eyes again your noses lightly brush. You freeze, his tempting lips just a mere breath away. You swear you can feel his heart thundering against your body like a brutal storm, or perhaps that was your own.

Still under his spell, you lean in and almost connect your lips before the beginning of new song makes you come to your senses and pull away from him with a small gasp.

“Are you alright?” Eris asks you with genuine concern.

“Yes, I- forgive me. I… I just need a moment to freshen up. Please excuse me.” You babble before you nearly run off the dance floor and away from him before you could even hear his response.

You rush down the hallway and find a washroom, quickly slamming the door closed behind you as you let out a heavy breath. Your heart was still racing and your skin burning hot like a raging fire as you try to collect your thoughts. The undeniable connection you felt with him, even now you feel as if some force is pulling you back to the ballroom, back to him. Was he?… He couldn’t be… No. The ‘ally’ whom your family detests could not be your… mate. No.

You take another deep shakey breath before returning to the room and take your place back by Rhysand and Feyre, eyeing the dance floor in search of Eris.

“Well done (y/n). Eris is quite taken with you.” Rhysand says quietly with a smirk, the mere mention of his name causing breath to shorten again. “We were a little concerned when we saw you basically bolt out of the room but he seems to truly believe he has a chance with you.” He chuckles in a scoff.

You laugh nervously. “Yes, well, he is a fool...”

“You can say that again.” Cassian chuckles as he rolls his eyes.

The nervousness bubbles in you again as you’re reminded how much your family dislikes Eris. Then he comes into your view from across the room, his firey eyes catching yours instantly. Your heart raced at the thought of going back on the dance floor, he was pure temptation you were terrified you would not be able to stop yourself.

“I am actually not feeling too well, I think all the dancing has made me light headed.” You turn to Feyre, lightly hold your stomach. “I’m beginning to feel a bit nauseous.”

“Please, go on home then (y/n). Get some rest. You have already done wonderfully tonight.” Feyre offers a soft smile.

You offer a curtsy to the High Lord and Lady before departing. You quickly turn to leave and nearly crash right into Eris.

“Woah there, you alright (y/n)?” He asks with his usual sly smirk.

“Yes, sorry um, please forgive me... I’m afraid I am feeling rather, um, unwell, and must retire early.” You ramble as you begin to get lost in his fierce eyes once again.

“Oh, yes, of course.” He says with a serious face before turning back into his wicked expression as he takes your hand in his. “I do hope we see eachother again soon. (Y/n)…” He slowly empathizes your name in a low voice, sending shivers up your spine, before placing a kiss to your hand.

You gulp before responding. “I look forward to it. Eris…” His name rolls off your tongue in a whispery breath and you notice how it makes his breath quicken and eyes darken.

You rush through the crowd towards the exit, looking back only once to Eris who has not taken his eyes off you. You feel the pull in your chest again as your eyes connected for a long moment before you find the strength to look away and leave the palace.

The days following felt like a blur. You tried to ignore them but your thoughts remained full of Eris, somehow still deeply under his spell even though he was nowhere near you. You could not stop thinking of everything about that enchanting night, about that enchanting man, your… mate. Whom you desperately yearned to see again.

I imagine the final dance to this song ~

PART TWO

PART THREE

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moongirlrhea · 9 days ago

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carry me slowly, my sunlight (all these colors fade for you only)

this is part two to the azriel and his best friend drabble which you can read here

azriel x reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of bad family dynamics and childhood trauma. angst + comfort

i have no idea how to conduct a summary but this is a star fall fic! as mentioned in the drabble earlier

enjoy and, as always, make sure to give me feedback and let me know if you want a continuation of this!

a/n: sooo this is coming out so much later than i intended for it to but school is killing me currently, so sorry for the wait! also the title is a lyric from hozier’s sunlight :)

Three hours before Rhysand’s starfall party was scheduled to begin, she was sitting in the vanity in her room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was glad to be here, she really was. And she hadn’t done anything bad, she was well aware. But still she couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in her gut. The guilt. Azriel had spent the last few days trying to make that feeling go away - but it stuck like dirt and grime on her skin.

Maybe it was the upcoming anniversary that made her go into survival mode at the mere thought of her blood relatives.

Or maybe it was the letters they kept sending.

Either way, nothing seemed to be able to make the bad memories go away. She tried to solve it all like an equation - look at the situation from start to finish, list out all the reasons why she was not some villain in her family’s story - but acting like she was guilty only cemented her feelings more.

Tonight is supposed to be good, she reminded herself. Don’t ruin this. Starfall was the most important holiday of the year, for her family - in the new definition, the one that didn’t make her want to puke her guts out - for Azriel, for her best friend, and for herself. Or so it used to be. Before Amarantha, before the war, before everything got so complicated. Don’t ruin this. Then why did the holiday make her want to lock herself inside her closet and sit in the dark until the end of time? They finally got peace in Prythian, after everything. Don’t ruin this.

She sighed and started combing through her hair. Maybe the presence of her family, the real one, would make it easier tonight. That was what starfall was for anyway, right? Holding the people who loved you, knew you, and vice versa, close. Shaking her head, she decided she would focus on her friends tonight and everything would be alright.

The hair was haphazardly brushed through as, alas, unwanted thoughts still kept recurring like waves crashing over her mind. Clean golden-brown curls cascaded down her back and shoulders and her newly made dress was laid out on her bed. She tried to win that fight with her mind, but a reprieve arrived soon in the form of a brown-eyed female in a blood colored gown.

“Please tell me you didn’t do your makeup yet, you promised I could help!” Mor was almost shouting as she came tumbling into her room. She looked her up and down and exhaled.

“Oh, good. You’re not even dressed”

“Don’t we still have like three hours?”

“Well, that isn’t very much time, really. Show me that dress you made” the words were thrown over her shoulder as Mor was looking through the makeup drawers, evaluating products and pulling some out, some away.

“Here it is”

“Oh! You really outdid yourself this year, babe,” Mor’s chocolate eyes and smile were shining as she looked the dress up and down, having turned away from the vanity. “Put it on and let’s get started on your makeup”

By the time she was laced up and out of her bathroom, Morrigan had laid out just about every single one of her makeup and hair products on the desk of her vanity. Soon her cheeks and lips were rosy, eyelashes long and darkened with kohl, and her friend was standing behind her brushing out her hair.

“Please don’t tell me you’re making me do the same hairstyle you wear everyday” the joke was light in the evening air, and she let out a soft laugh, meeting her friend’s eyes in the mirror

“I did actually think we could try something different”

“I’m all ears”

“Maybe just regular waves? I think a whole intricate hairstyle will be too much with the dress?” Morrigan hummed at that, parting her hair down the middle. Then after a beat of silence

“Tonight will be fun, right?” the blonde’s eyebrow quirked up.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s starfall” another beat of silence, she sent her friend a tight smile and looked down

“Yeah…”

“Is everything alright? Anxious to see a certain spymaster, maybe?” her head snapped up, green eyes wide

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” Mor laughed and met her reflection in the mirror, mischief dancing in her eyes “Everyone sees the eyes you two make at each other. And this has been going on for decades! Free me from the torment, please” her cheeks were getting redder by the second

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she mumbled, averting her eyes

“Hey, head straight forward, now.” Mor’s fingers moved her head back in place “It’s cute how shy you get about this”

“Mother’s sake, stop now, please” she watched in a new found horror as her friend threw her head back laughing, musing

“Fine, fine. But seriously, have you never thought about this?”

Fuck’s sake. Of course she had. How could she have not? But he was her best friend. So, so good to her that sometimes she felt like her entire heart might burst. Like something in her ribs will pull so hard, she will snap and just stop breathing altogether. Because he changed her whole perspective on life, on the world.

That night he found her aimlessly wandering through the night court’s forest after travelling for days on end on a ship between the continent and Prythian. Tired and malnourished, both physically and emotionally, she quickly got lost after leaving the port.

Things could have ended badly, especially considering her lack of plan and any survival skills whatsoever - where was she supposed to get any after growing up dressed in tight dresses, locked inside a pretty manor? Raised to be a wife and mother under the cold, scrutinizing eyes of her parents and the town.

But then Azriel found her, in so many ways.

She took his hand, and still to this day felt as though she never let go of it - and hoped she never would.

“Gods, fine if you’re just gonna space out on me like that, I’ll drop it” Mor’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts

“Sorry?” but Mor was snorting, looking at her with something in her eyes that she couldn’t quite place. And then she was shaking her head.

“Hair is all done. Do you like it?” she met her own eyes in the reflection, and she really did look pretty tonight.

The curls of her hair were framing her face, the rest falling down her shoulders and back. Her eyes trailed down and followed the curve of her neck down to where a dainty golden chain with a small pendant was resting a little north of the swell of her breasts.

She stood from her seat to make sure everything was sitting right on her, and sighed, about to voice the thoughts she was torturing herself with before Mor’s appearance.

But then her friend sat on the bed, hands smoothing through the pink duvet cover and resting behind her to support her back. She snapped her fingers before grinning, and out of thin air appeared a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I thought we could start the party a little early.”

And maybe she was right earlier - tonight would be a fun night with her friends, and she didn’t have to think about anything bad.

Rhysand’s party was well started by the time the two females made it to the main hall. The sea of bodies seemed never ending, the amount of people the high lord and lady invited was astounding - as always. But quickly she noticed two tips of Illyrian wings peaking out above the crowd, near the corner of the room. She looked around to find Morrigan already gone, and started to push through the crowd.

Azriel was leaning against the wall, two drinks already in hand. Cloaked in shadow, dressed in all black and already smiling softly once their eyes met, Azriel seemed to have already known she was coming.

She stood a few paces in front of him, anxiously smoothing down her hair and softly panting from the trudge through the room, already overwhelmed by the heat of the overcrowded hall. But before she could say anything, Azriel was handing her her drink and putting an arm around her shoulder in order to lead her out of the hall and into one of the balconies.

Velaris was always breathtaking at night, but especially this one. Even before the stars started to fall, the holiday made the sky look enchanting, somehow. The pair leaned against the railing, and her eyes were immediately glued to the city.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is” she turned her head in his direction, only to find him already looking at her.

His expression was so, so soft. Soft smiles and golden eyes full of stars staring straight into hers, a wing curled around her and shadows dancing in the air. She felt such warmth in her heart, almost as if it were some external feeling, that even the cold of the winter mountain air would not chill her skin. Her best friend brought his drink to his lips to take a sip, her eyes following the movement.

“Hi” she interrupted the bit of silence that ensued

“Hi” amusement or adoration swam in Azriel’s eyes. No, why would it be adoration? Amusement. For sure. Yes.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, I’m alright. Why would I not be?” her eyes had widened at his question, and for a moment, the thought of telling Azriel everything appeared in her mind- Don’t ruin this.

Why would she go on about all of this now and make him comfort her on Azriel’s favorite holiday of the year, of all nights? As if he hadn’t been wasting half his time lately trying to ease her mind about this already. And even though she knew Azriel would never outright judge her and be annoyed with her, there was some deep-buried shame within her that was scared of that sort of ridicule. She brushed it off as not wanting to worry him-

“Angel?”

“Yes? Sorry, Az, I spaced” Get it together

Her best friend just sighed, his eyes so, so soft and leaned down to brush a strand of her hair behind her pointed ear.

“You’re a great person.” he said, then kissed her forehead “And everyone is glad to have you here”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Az” the scoff she let out at the beginning of the sentence was softened by the look in the shadowsinger’s hazel eyes. As if he knew something she didn’t.

“There you two are! Are you enjoying the night?” Rhysand’s booming voice came from the entrance to the balcony. He neared them, drink in hand and Feyre on his arm, smiling lightly at them.

“It is one of your starfall parties, Rhys. Of course we are.” she teased and Feyre laughed a little, long silver gown gleaming in the moonlight.

“Have you two only just arrived? I saw Mor and Cass are already a few drinks in” the High Lady said, and her ears perked up at that.

“That’s my call, then” she mused starting to walk away from the group “I’ll go find them”

Rhysand’s laughter followed her, and she looked over her shoulder to see the amusement shining in his purple eyes. Azriel was suddenly in her line of sight, a shadow flying down the silk of his black shirt and over to twine itself around her wrist.

“Be careful”

“Sure, grandpa” she teased, walking away “Come take a shot with me later”

This is good, she thought, passing between a sea of bodies. She’d have a few drinks and those vicious thoughts would be well warded away.

Truth be told, at this point the anxiety clinging to her mind made her forget what exactly she was even stressing about in the first place. But if she were to stop and unpack all that - she visibly cringed - well, that was a rabbit hole she was not interested in visiting.

Besides, Mor and Cass appeared before her eyes, pouring drinks at the self-serve bar and she raised her hand to wave to them.

“Make one for me, too, Cass!”

A few hours and drinks later she was standing with a group of fae, the thoughts of her old family now reduced to a buzz somewhere in the back of her mind. Starfall was still a few hours away and Cassian was telling some story that she couldn’t really focus on. The volume at which he spoke almost made the room vibrate, his hands were high in gesticulation and his half tied up hair swooshing around his shoulders. She felt her lips turn up into a smile at the inner circle’s laughter.

“I swear to the Mother-” someone was saying something, commenting on the tale Cassian was spinning but all of the voices in the room seemed to dull to a distant ringing. In her hands appeared a folded piece of paper. She knew who it was from before she opened the letter.

Dearest daughter,

It is with utmost urgency that we write this letter to you. You have been the cause of enough embarrassment for our family, and even though your mother and I have prayed that you would soon come to your senses and put an end to the petulance you have been subjecting us to for the last decades, we have finally realized you would not. You can no longer excuse yourself with Prythian’s political situation - the lady that you were supposed to grow into never should interest herself in such matters in the first place. You have caused myself and your poor mother enough embarrassment and worry.

With your behaviour you have forced me to take matters into my own hands as it is now clear that you have no regard for the family that you left, and the consequences we would face for your own act of childish defiance. I have arranged a marriage for you. It is not a proposal, nor a suggestion. The male your mother and I have chosen is of fine breeding and heritage, but you shall find out his name once you come to meet him personally.

You are expected at the estate in two months time, considering the lengthy travel. However, for fear of a repeating of your previous behaviour, we have decided it is wise to inform you now - I will come and collect you personally if you do not obey, daughter. Allow me say this once and for all: so far you have proven to be very little but a disappointment, even though you used to have so much potential. Do you understand the pain that you continue to cause all of us by attempting to escape the role we poured all of our time, devotion and money into?

I hope this message leads to the disillusionment of the modern ways that you have learned at the night court - you are a female and you have an established place in our society. Your games will lead to very little but a loss of your virtue and any prospects a young, promising lady like yourself has within our kingdom

The letter kept going, but all she could imagine was the worn edges of the paper sharpening and cutting into her skin like blades. She felt as though the simmering hot guilt would burn through her gut.

A disappointment. A runaway. A marriage?

If they thought that would be enough to send her rushing back, they were sorely mistaken.

But then why could she feel her palms sweating and her vision tunneling until it was just that rotten letter she could see? Disappointment. Burden.

She had a duty, something she was born and raised to fulfill, and she disregarded it just like that. She had dreams and aspirations and she was more than a breeding mare, she knew that, but suddenly a vision of a life married to a male whose name she learned minutes before walking the altar and being nothing more but the body birthing his heirs flashed before her eyes.

Suddenly all the carefully learned phrases she used to comfort herself dissipated from her memory.

Disappointment.

Who was she to defy the carefully structured society that picked a role for her? The room was spinning and she could hear her breaths coming in short rasps.

Someone was calling her name.

“Sweetheart?” no one was laughing anymore, and Azriel was standing before her, hands stretched out as though not to frighten away a doe “Are you alright?”

She snapped her head up, wide eyes taking in the group of fae she considered her closest family.

How they were all standing there, stars almost reflecting in their eyes and concern shining in them. They stared at her, and she could feel their night being ruined already.

Frozen to the spot, was what she was, lips downturned and breathing so, so shallow. Then someone outstretched a hand to touch her and she was taking off running down the hallway to her chambers, confused and concerned questions following her.

She ignored the fae staring at her in shock. She would’ve heard a scoff or two, if it weren’t for the ringing in her ears. If it weren’t for a certain Illyrian following after her, glaring down those few fae.

She did not remember running through the hallways of the House of Wind. Nor could she remember getting into her bedroom.

All she felt was shame as she now sat on the floor against her bed, knees drawn up high to her chest, hiding her head between them. She faintly registered the urgent knocking on her door as salt streams rushed down her face. She hiccuped and finally heard herself let out a sob.

You’ve ruined it now. Foolish girl.

Maybe if she had never dared to dream in the first place, she wouldn’t be here now. She wouldn’t have disappointed her parents. She wouldn’t have burdened Az with all this baggage. How can he even treat her seriously after all this? He had undergone years of imprisonment, torture and war and here she was breaking down because she thought she had a chance at a life braver than the one chosen for her.

What was she going to do?

She heard herself let out more sobs and struggled to catch her breath, her nails starting to dig into her palms. She can’t come back there - gods she was so miserable there. But what if her father actually came here? By her kingdom’s law Rhysand would be obligated to hand her back to her father since she was unmarried. She could picture it all and she couldn’t- she couldn’t breathe.

“Angel? Let me in sweetheart, please. Let me fix it.”

Azriel was still knocking on her door, and without any fight left in her, she rose up to her knees and unlocked the door for him. The next second he was sitting before her, tear stained face in his scarred palms as he wiped them away with his thumbs. More came to follow.

“What happened? What was that?” there was genuine terror in his eyes, as if he couldn’t stand to see her like this. She collapsed into a new-found heap of sobs at that and he let her fall into his chest.

“Sweetheart, please-” he said with a thick voice, gathering her into his lap.

His arms came around her, one stroking comfortingly along her back, one cradling her head to the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

“Okay, shh, there you are. Shh, you’re alright, I promise, alright? I’m right here” he rushed out the words, pulling at strings to comfort her.

He knew about the guilt, the feelings she was hiding away, too scared to show even her best friend. He knew, before she did, that it would come crashing out of her in the end.

What he didn’t know was what was in that damned letter that made her this inconsolable.

When he saw how her face fell as she read over those words - he physically had to stop himself from tearing the thing apart and tucking her away in his arms, letting her forget all things bad. Had to stop himself from flying to that wretched kingdom at that moment and burning it to the ground. All he could do now was bring her closer and start rocking her while she sobbed it out.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she was able to properly breathe again. With time and her best friend's gentle words her sobs turned into hiccups and finally stopped altogether. She exhaled against him and raised a hand to rub at her eyes.

“Gentle” Azriel had captured her wrist in his hand, letting a shadow wipe away at the remnants of her tears. She looked up to meet his eyes.

“There she is” she let out a wet laugh

“Ruined your shirt.” she whispered as she tried to wipe away at the tears and makeup she left there

“It’s okay” he said, still looking at her so, so softly “Wanna talk about it, hm?” she felt her eyes stinging

“I’m really sorry for being such a mess, Az, I really am,” she told him, wide, wet eyes staring up at him “Gods, I ruined Starfall didn’t I? I promised myself I-”

“Stop it. Right now,” her breath hitched “You did not ruin anything, angel”

She looked down at her lap, starting to play with her fingers

“Hey. Look at me” when she didn’t, she took her face into his hands and tilted it up, their eyes meeting “Everything is alright. Starfall hasn’t even begun yet. You didn’t ruin anything”

“It hasn’t?”

“No, it hasn’t” she nodded, relieved

“Okay, then” he wanted to tell her how she wouldn’t have ruined anything for him regardless. She couldn’t if she wanted. But he had a feeling she wouldn’t believe him - and that wasn’t what his best friend needed now.

After a bit of silence she tilted her head to the tear stained letter discarded on the floor next to them. He raised his eyebrows in question, and she nodded in agreement. Azriel’s jaw was already set tight before his shadows handed the letter to him.

She alternated between staring at him as his eyes followed the text and looking down into her lap, where Az’s shadows played with the rim of her dress, curling around her in soothing motions. When she glanced up again, he was already looking at her, something unrecognizable in the hazel of his eyes.

“This is bullshit. You know that, right?” there was urgency in his voice “This isn’t happening”

“But- but what if he comes here? He will come here, Az”

“I don’t care”

“Az-”

“You’re not going anywhere with them, end of story. They can get through me first”

“By law Rhysand will have to hand me over, Az. I’m unmarried and he is my father” he let out a scoff.

Azriel’s shadows seemed to get more and more agitated with every reasoning she gave, starting to rise up and curl all around her - as if they alone were going to act as a shield protecting her.

“You’re no doll for anyone to be handing over. We’re in Night, our law applies here, no one can take you”

“Oh,” he exhaled and brushed her hair down and behind her ears. Gods, she must look like a mess after all this “Really?”

“Yes” he didn’t tell her how even if all the laws in the world were against them, he wouldn’t let anyone take her away from him. Ever.

“I still- I feel so guilty, you know? I mean okay, I’m- I’m here and everything is fine while they’re there making amends because I ran. But I couldn’t live that life, Az, I really couldn’t” she moved off his lap to sit next to him against her bed

“I know. You don’t have to live any life other than the one you want. You decide”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts,” he looked down at her, with such seriousness in his eyes it startled her “I know the guilt you feel because you think you did something bad but it’s them who act like victims after terrorizing you your whole life. It is not alright how they treated you,” there were tears gathering at her waterline “You did not deserve to be treated that way, angel. I don’t think you realize how brave of a person you are. How many rooms you light up. You’re capable of great things and I know you do, but you should not feel sorry for leaving and doing something for yourself when you’ve quite literally spent your entire life living up to their whims. And then they have the nerve to call you a- disappointment” Azriel tripped over the word, and she could practically hear his teeth grinding with how hard his jaw was set “Which you’re not, do you hear me?” He looked down at her and made sure she met his eye “You could never disappoint me, ever. Do you understand?”

“Y-yeah” she nodded, wide eyed

“Good. That’s good” she allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder

“Thank you, Az” but before he could respond, the sky lit up right in front of their eyes, through the open balcony gates. Her breath hitched and mouth opened in wonder.

“Az! Look at that”

“Yeah, starfall, sweetheart” his eyes were soft as he took in the smile that finally graced her face. Something was pulling hard in the shadowsinger’s chest but all he could do was try to memorize her expression. Engrave it permanently in his mind.

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”

They watched the souls swim through the skies for some time in comfortable silence. The stars were falling in a kaleidoscope of colors and maybe she really hadn’t ruined the night. And maybe it was in her blood to worry and feel guilty for at least a few more decades. And surely Azriel would be there to stand with her through it.

“Angel?” He looked down at her, about to say something, but the words died on his tongue when he noticed her slumped against him, asleep on his shoulder. He smiled to himself.

It was three words Azriel whispered to his best friend as he carried and tucked her in bed, stars falling in the distance. Three words that she did not hear, yet.

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sjjareads · 5 months ago

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az x f!reader — torment

summary: azriel can’t stand the torment of loving you and being unable to show it; pairing: az x fem! reader; warnings: none, just angst. food?

Cassian’s laugh, so rich and full, pulled you out of your reverie; spoon still in hand, your untouched porridge atop it long gone hard and cold. For the past ten minutes, you’d been trying and failing to get down the breakfast spread out in a buffet before you: bread and butter, seasonal fruits; all courtesy of Rhys’ stocked townhouse kitchen. But every time you tried to eat, the leaden weight in your stomach grew heavier. The absence of one particular male at the table was a tangible, physical thing.

But your surroundings snapped back to you then: the faces of all the people, bar one, that you loved the most in your war torn world. Feyre, to the right side of Rhys, had her hand lovingly placed atop his, but her eyes were flitting to you at short intervals with an increasing, almost motherly, concern.

You could tell within seconds that a private conversation flowed silently between the two of them. Knew it as surely as you knew it was about you. About what to do next, and how.

Indeed, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed as fully, as heartily, as Cass.

With a slight shake of your head as if to refocus, you spooned in your mouthful of oats. Chewed, swallowed. Did it again. Again. Again. Again.

Across from you, beside Cassian, this time Morrigan caught your attention. Out of everyone in your found family, you often felt she understood you best: that your trauma bond was one that ran so unspeakingly deep, between two females that had been broken and made themselves reborn.

Now, her eyes were tender, painfully so, as she sought out your own. Beneath the table, her shoe clad foot bumped yours, and you took the message as if her voice had spoken in your very own head. Come on.

It wasn’t chastising. Never would Mor, a sister to you in soul if not in blood, be chiding. Food was fuel, and they all knew it, too. Had fought enough battles, enough wars, to know it.

And the Cauldron only knew what they’d face today to make you regret not agreeing.

Still, Cassian and Amren continued their sniping back and forth across the table; what they’d been saying, you couldn’t have said, but the rumble of voices was a sure — albeit distant — comfort.

There was still most of the breakfast spread left, a veritable feast with no chance of going to waste when surrounded by such warriors.

Or, as you and Feyre liked to say, an excess of Illyrian babies.

You shut down the thought as you deliberately didn’t think about the one conspicuously absent.

As if it was a physical thing, you knew your sorrow bled out into the room; knew it was pretence that kept your friends laughing, and joking, and talking into that deep quiet.

As if on cue, Cassian and Amren’s bickering slowed, then died out altogether.

It wasn’t until that scent caught you in the gut that you realised quite why it had.

Azriel’s presence took all the air from the room, the townhouse, the world, as he took one step over the threshold. Around him, his shadows were an extension of himself: that inner darkness you knew lingered in him, that you loved dearer than your own self.

Of course, he’d known you’d be in here — those lithe whorls of living night never missed a trick, especially not when it came to you.

So it was a surprise, a shock hit to your gut, when Az’s broad frame filled the doorway, and he walked in, swift as though born on a wind, and made to the seat beside yours.

It had been a month — longer, even — than he’d been this close. Than he’d been within range of even speaking. At every chance, he wouldn’t deign to say a single word; would leave a room, no excuses needed when it was him, just because he knew you would soon enter it.

No one, as far as you knew, could discern exactly what had gone wrong between you —you certainly couldn’t. But you did know how they spoke about it in your absence, and it never sat well. Even though you knew it was for love of you both, it didn’t work to lessen the sting.

The proud, stubborn insult of it. Of being what they had to discuss.

The pains the others took to restart conversation almost brought you to tears, your heart been hammering against your ribs like a struck bird of prey trapped in its cage.

Between you and Azriel, tension thickened and wrought the air heavy with its taste. His shadows twined around his shoulders and you knew they whispered to him; could swear you sometimes felt them watch you — speak to you — as they did him.

One breath in, one out. With impossible focus, you looked anywhere but at the Shadowsinger, holding fast to the deep timbre of Rhys’ voice, and Feyre’s responding, light laugh.

The easiness between them, the intimacy that came so readily, so naturally —

You couldn’t help but turn your eyes to the male seated beside you, hoping for something, anything, some sign that he was there, just that he cared for a second —

All at once, the room changed. Azriel’s chair was pushed back with the ease and assurance of the warrior he’d always been. His tall frame seemed to fill the whole room as he stood from the table and crossed to the doorway.

He didn’t utter a word as he left, as his scent was carried on a phantom wind.

But you could’ve sworn you heard that whispering, heard it pull at something deep inside your core, deeper even than your heart as he walked from the room. From you.

Your family met your eyes, guilt and disappointment twin aches on their faces. No no no. You couldn’t stand their pity.

Even worse was the genuine sorrow not only for you, but for who they’d lost as well.

When was the last time the seven of you had eaten together, a full meal? When was the last time you’d laughed together like you used to, as a unit, as a family?

You couldn’t bear to keep count any longer.

•~•

Azriel hadn’t made it three steps out of the dining room before he could’ve fallen to his knees. He might have, were it not for him knowing that you all watched his back receding from view — he knew, even without his whispers, how acutely you all mourned his presence.

But what could he say, or do? Azriel had thought of going to Rhys, of telling him — confirming to him — what he suspected he likely already knew. That was, judging by the way he’d met his eyes just before you turned his way.

In that one look, every unspoken word between the two brothers had passed. It was a flat, unyielding look, tinged with a sympathy he couldn’t stand. Toeing the line between brother and High Lord wasn’t always easy, and it never was now. Not with this.

Not with you, his mate.

And when you’d turned your head, those wide searching eyes so damn trusting, so achingly hopeful as they sought out his own —

Your scent had lifted up from your hair with the movement, and that had been Azriel’s undoing.

He’d had to get out of that room before his heart caved in on itself. He’d had to get out, get out, and now that he was he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think around the ache in him —

Not even his shadows, in their swift stealth and silence, could quiet the voice in his mind; a child’s voice, his voice. Unloved unloved unloved.

Every day, every time — those words, and that same voice.

So if this was the price he had to pay then so be it. He would pay it, and be done. He knew exactly what he didn’t deserve.

Would never deserve.

Because if you found out the truth, if you knew for one second what you actually were to him —

He’d rather be the one to do the leaving than be left.

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