#feyre & nesta know what's up

[praetorqueenreyna]

Me on my phone at 11 pm trying to piece together the rhysta nonsense

[acourtofquestions]

Since (haven’t read CC yet) 3 Maasverse main characters thus far are artists in one way or another (something I love in fandoms and especially these/Maasverse)

With:

Aelin the musician (composer/piano forte player) & appreciator of the arts. Fashionista. & semi-ballerina.

Nesta the dancer (a lil lovely scene tidbit I thought was freeing and mostly fun)

And of course Feyre THE Artist (& best example as this is crucial to how she sees the world).

Especially with the latter 2 in ACOTAR & our Archerons; even their father was a wood carver/sculptor… (let’s stick with the latter phrase… cause it’s too soon for carver to be heard as anything other than CREEPY “bone carver”😅) … so that leaves us with one; Elain.

Random HC here but: what if Elain’s a singer?

Specifically thought of this because of a certain other “singer in the series” ;-) *psst* Azriel the “shadowsinger” cause while I know that’s not what they meant, it sounds fun to me :-)

[slytherhys]

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

4th day of Christmas - Ice Skating

Better Safe than Sorry (Elriel Drabble)

Velaris in the Winter was like a fairytale come to life. Small wooden stalls dotted the bank of the Sidra, vendors selling everything from hot beverages, to books, to trinkets from every other court. Fairy lights hung between lampposts, giving the city an ethereal glow even in the soft light of the Winter sun. Just to the side of the river, a rink of ice welcomed everyone for a spin, the laughter of children filling the air alongside the cheery music that so often played the streets.

It was truly a Winter Wonderland, and Feyre couldn’t be gladder she had dragged Rhys and everyone else to enjoy the festivities alongside the Velarians.

Even if her attention now lied elsewhere.

Feyre took a sip of her hot cocoa, frowning as her eyes followed Elain struggling to stand straight on her skates for longer than 3 seconds. Elain leaned against the barrier surrounding the ring, her cheeks rosy as she let out an embarrassed chuckle, eyes rising to whoever stood to her side.

She felt, rather than saw, Nesta approach her, shivering and cursing the cold under her breath. “Care to tell me why you’ve been standing here for the past ten minutes?” She asked. “It’s fucking freezing.”

It was – Feyre had lost feeling in her toes about 5 minutes ago, but she was just too enthralled to do anything about it. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to actually reply. Not when she spotted the male effortlessly skating towards Elain, a gentle smile on his face as he reached out a hand to help her.

“Feyre?” Nesta called again, huffing indignantly when she got no answer in return.

Feyre kept her eyes on the rink.

Elain, her hand in Azriel’s, tried to skate again, yelping as she stumbled against Azriel’s body the second she tried to move. Feyre tilted her head, watching as Azriel pulled her closer, head bent as he asked her something that earned him a blush and a nod.

“What are you looking at?” Nesta grumbled, eyes following Feyre’s line of sight. Feyre could feel the second Nesta spotted them, head tilting as well. “Oh.”

They watched as Elain and Azriel started to skate again, Elain much more at ease now that she was holding his hand, clinging to him - watching him - as if she feared she’d fall if she even dared step away. Azriel, for his turn, was watching her right back.

Neither seemed to notice the ease Elain now seemed to skate with.

Feyre hummed. “Didn’t Elain have skating lessons when she was younger?” She asked, watching as Elain “slipped” again; as Azriel immediately reached for her, hands going around her waist. Even from where she stood, Feyre could see the blush darkening his cheeks.

She finally turned to Nesta, as if trying to check if she was seeing what she was seeing. 

Nesta smiled, a pleased look on her face. “Yes.” She smirked. “Yes, She did.”

[rosenecklaces]

the types of brain you need to have to really be the kind of person to hold elain and nesta age as a ¨gotcha!¨ as evidence that they are oh so terrible about their first interactions with feyre... one of them is just like one year older if not two than her... yall now that, right. thats common knowledge... right?

i want all of you to tell me if youre mind and maturity at 21-22 changed completely from your 18-19 self all of a sudden, quickly

[silvreflames]

everybody: god nesta is such a fucking bitch she’s so mean for no reason

nesta, taking on the role of auntie like it was made for her: my little baby 🥰 my sweet little nephew my favorite little guy in the whole wide world 🥰 look at how big you grew look at your pretty wings 🥰 and so strong too just like your mama 🥰 my sweet boy yes i love you so much 🥰

[thatpurpledudetrey]

acotar modern au but feysand and nessian relationship got ruined ever since rhysand and cassian started to binge watching skibidi toilet and scrolling through yt shorts

[sunbrightheart]

lucien’s love language is essentially him giving his jacket to an archeron sister in need.

[lady-tortilla-chip]

It’s worse when Feyre said her, Nesta, and Elain used to fight with each other all the time, so clearly Elain knows how to be mean too but people really skip over that part a lot 😭

People cherry picked details from acotar according to what they liked. The reconciliation between Nesta and Feyre is completely forgotten, never fucking mentioned. Honestly, before reading that part I thought both the haters and the stans were dramatic af for no reason. Now I’m like WOW the stans are right all you haters fucking suck and cannot rEAD.

Also. A bitch who is sweet to my face is way worse than the bitch who owns it.

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce snippet

Battle far off sounded like so much noise. A low, chaotic, roar, but through it all- bells.   Like the town square of Nesta’s village, the huge walls that lined the sea shore, arches across the land, holding bronze monstrosities.   Ever ring had an unnatural echo, carrying on the wind. A relay, Cassian realized, hands full of the torn fabric Nesta just kept shoving into his hands, binding up the wound on her leg too tight and then again with foul curse, hissing in pain.   She looked up.   And there, in her eyes, Cassian could see what he could already smell, fire painted so bright across the horizon Nesta’s stricken face threw it back at him.   “That’s not Archeron land,” she said, the closest Cassian had ever heard to Nesta pleading, desperate. “That’s not”-   Cassian knelt in the surf, irregardless of human modesty or anything but the fact that Nesta’s hands were covered in her own blood. Sea water had to hurt like absolute hell, but Nesta endured it silent. Seething. He did not need to ask to know that those tears were not for pain- not for her own.   Dripping down her jaw like liquid light, trees catching and catching, no natural fire-   The bells only grew louder.   “They’re not trying to reach the sea,” Cassian sounded about as helpless as he felt, struck in sheer horror.   Horrible beyond measure, Nesta sucked in a breath. The facsimile of a laugh- half a choking cry. “They won’t. There’s nowhere for humans to run when faeries come to kill them. All we have are warnings.”

Just a warning, just a sound, just a plea- Cassian could hear the dying, all through, a single song.   “They don’t know,” Nesta sobbed, fury a weight pulling at the wind- the ocean lashed around them, current frothing over Cassian, pulling at his wings, his hair. Even under the salt spray, every inhale was a growing horror: burning flesh. Pitch and poison. Hybern had started the fire, and fed it, too. “That where the message reaches there will just be more soldiers.”   She shook off his hands.   Dragged herself out of the water and back across the sand.   Cassian had lived more than five hundred years. If he lived five thousand, if he lived at all, past the weight of this failure, he would never forget. Nesta, facing the fire, sky bleeding red as magic kindled a thousand human homes in an effortless instant.   The boom- trees buckling and glass shattering, not loud enough, not to Cassian’s ears, to block out the screaming.   Nesta, screaming, just once.   Nesta, turning, all tears wiped away. She could barely walk and still did not seem to falter, back set to her burning homeland.   “We have to go.”   Still, at least one bell rang out.

[florencemtrash]

Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin. 

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips. 

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears. 

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was. 

But that was his own fault. 

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.” 

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing. 

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered. 

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there. 

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass. 

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured. 

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now. 

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame. 

No.

  Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own. 

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you. 

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look. 

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!” 

“I have more just like them.” 

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips. 

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel. 

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.” 

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out. 

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another. 

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.” 

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word. 

“Yes… I know.” 

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home. 

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. 

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching. 

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it. 

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him. 

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again. 

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong. 

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.” 

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand. 

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows. 

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching. 

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin. 

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it. 

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him. 

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else. 

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.” 

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.” 

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.” 

“I like it when my clothes are loose.” 

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth. 

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!” 

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door. 

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing. 

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others. 

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now. 

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward. 

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics. 

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome. 

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!” 

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered. 

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go. 

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace. 

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?” 

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!” 

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care. 

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!” 

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face. 

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating. 

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled. 

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave. 

“Well?” You snapped. 

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.” 

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy.  “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…” 

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.” 

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.” 

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was. 

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged. 

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—” 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly. 

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his. 

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs. 

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic. 

But his hands. 

His hands. 

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste. 

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree. 

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there. 

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt. 

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt. 

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more. 

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving. 

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…” 

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.” 

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth. 

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago. 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Azriel, it’s ok.” 

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—” 

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.” 

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it. 

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He started laughing too. 

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support. 

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled. 

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.” 

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. 

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere. 

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance. 

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily. 

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones. 

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.” 

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.” 

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away. 

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted. 

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone. 

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in. 

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt. 

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides. 

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath. 

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.” 

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening. 

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore. 

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this. 

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears. 

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms. 

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.” 

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.” 

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions. 

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.” 

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.” 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House. 

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself. 

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air. 

[ambivalence-is-me]

All I Want (One-Shot)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Do opposites really attract? Feyre didn’t think so but Y/N and Azriel prove her wrong.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff

A/N: this is kinda from Feyre’s pov, beginning of ACOMF. I’m in love with the idea of someone from the outside looking at two people in love. I’m thinking of turning this into a series? Or just more one shots? Like write about the dates, the wedding, that stuff. Let me know if anyone would be interested to read it!

————————————————————-

Feyre was shocked. Well, lately it seemed that’s all she was: shocked with a side of skeptical and scared. How else was she supposed to feel after everything she’s been through? She’s thinking of the very first times Rhysand took her to the Night Court. It was during one of those ‘’visits’’ that she first met you.

‘’She’ll help you with anything you need’’ he had said and that you did.

Feyre had taken one look at you and didn’t really know what to think. Physically you didn’t look like a threat, you were beautiful (it seemed there weren’t ugly faes) and your posture was relaxed, like you weren’t standing in front of the Cursebreaker but just another fae. You were smiling kindly at her, no judgement in your eyes and then you started talking.

And you never really stopped.

You were a yapper. Answered all of Feyre’s questions as best as you could and more. You walked her through the court’s history, culture, customs, everything. On her second meeting with you, she had concluded you definitely weren’t a threat. Instead, you were easygoing, kind and just freaking…happy? It seemed like you were always shinning, that nothing can bring you down. Feyre had tested that after a particularly bad day when Rhysand was driving her up the wall. But instead of running away, you stayed and helped her, saving Rhys from another shoe-throwing incident.

You had this soft and gentle angle that reminded her of her sister Elain. But you weren’t quite as graceful as Elain. You were louder, clumsier and upbeat, not afraid to strike up a conversation with anyone about anything. And you definitely weren’t like her sister Nesta but she could tell you shared her observation skills.

Truthfully, for Feyre, you were a saving grace. Someone she could go to in this new world that was thrown at her. She never really expressed any of this of course, scared that if someone found out you’d be in harm's way but she kept you close to her whenever possible.

That’s why Feyre was extremely happy that you were accompanying her to a dinner with Rhysand’s family. Thanks to the information Feyre had gathered from you and meeting them beforehand briefly, she inferred that you obviously knew them but you never stated what was your relationship with them.

Which is why Feyre is now shocked to see the turn of events.

She had expected you to be close friends with them, how can you not? You were a social butterfly and if Rhysand’s family was anything like him, she was sure you had befriended all of them. And you had but not in the way Feyre had expected.

‘’Feyre darling, care to share why you look so shocked?’’ Rhysand asked her with that stupid smile of his. But she couldn’t even bother to answer him, not when she was still staring at the scene in front of her.

Again, Feyre had met these faes…briefly. She’d experience Mor’s welcoming energy, Cassian’s cheeky smiles and jokes, Amren’s silver bright eyes and of course…Azriel’s quiet and intimidating presence. The latter preferring to stay in his shadows and observe the chaos around him.

Which is why Feyre NEVER expected for him to be with…you.

Obviously Feyre didn’t know him, not at all, just what you and Rhysand had told her but she was confident that her observations of him helped her come up with an idea of him. It seemed that she was wrong.

They were all gathered in this beautiful grand room, just chatting and sipping on expensive wine before dinner. Cassian and Amren were in conversation in a corner of the room, the latter looking annoyed at whatever the big Illyrian was saying. You, Mor and Azriel occupied a big comfortable looking sofa. You and Mor leading the dialogue and Azriel, unsurprisingly, was just sitting there listening and assessing. But that’s not what had Feyre shocked. No, it was the fact that you were almost sitting on the Shadowsinger’s lap.

He had one whole arm wrapped around your waist, it screamed ‘’she’s mine’’. His other hand touching your hair softly, as if he put any more pressure on it, it would break. His eyes went back and forth between all of the faes in the room but stayed mostly on you. And Feyre didn’t know if he knew that he was smiling.

SMILING

A small soft smile that Feyre didn’t know the Shadowsinger was capable of. It made him look a thousand times more irresistible. A thought that didn’t go unnoticed by Rhys, who arched an eyebrow at her in return. But Feyre didn’t say anything, she opted to try and hide her surprise and continue on with the evening.

An evening that only continue to bamboozle her. At the dinner table, you were sitting infront of Feyre. Azriel on your left side, Cassian on your right. It was a pretty funny picture Feyre would love to paint. Your frame and sunshine aura in the middle of two big intimidating Illyrian soldiers. As she had expected, you were mostly leading the conversation during dinner. Cassian and Mor quickly keeping up with your jokes and laughter, Rhysand chimed in at times but seemed content to take it all in with a soft smile. But Feyre was observing Azriel and Azriel was observing you.

His eyes didn’t seem to wander off too much, seemingly staying on you throughout the night. He looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Honestly, Feyre had never seen anything like this up close. There were no doubts that this male was incredibly in love with you and honestly, Feyre didn’t even know how to react.

Feyre thought she loved Tamlin at one point but now, after witnessing how Azriel looked at you, just this one look, she was extremely in the wrong.

If you moved, Azriel moved. He was so attentive to your needs: refilling your drinks, serving you more food, he held your hand, brushed your hair away from your face; all of it without you having to ask once. At one point, you looked at him with a smile Feyre hadn’t seen from you before and kissed his temple. An act so simple and yet so intimate that Feyre had to look away. Small tears graced the corner of her eyes, her chest felt so…whole?

She was in a room full of so much love that it was overwhelming her. This isn’t what she expected at all.

You seemed to notice that something was wrong with Feyre. Asking her with your eyes what was wrong. But she didn’t say anything, just gave her a look that you hoped would understand that said ‘’we’ll talk later’’. And later you did.

‘’You’re with Azriel?!’’ She had all but exploded the next day when it was just the two of you.

You smiled and said ‘’Yes’’ like it was a fact so obvious that Feyre should’ve have known. But it only confused her more.

‘’But-you-you’re so…’’

‘’Different?’’ You finished. The same smile still on your face. Feyre could only nod.

This wasn’t the first time someone had questioned your relationship with Azriel. To be fair, you were the very first one to question it back when you started courting a couple of hundred years ago. Because the truth was that you and him truly were opposites. You, an extrovert and him obviously an introvert.

But it was your differences that somehow made it work, that completed each other. At the beginning it had taken time. You never seemed to stop talking and you worried that it was only annoying Azriel. But you never did, at least, he insists that you don’t. But you’ve learned to know his little quirks and expressions. You’ve learned when to stop your yapping around him, particularly only for few moments after he’s had a bad day. You’ve learned his ways, and he learned yours.

He learned to interpret the moments when you kept a conversation going because you wanted to and not because you felt like you HAD to. He learned how to ground you back and remind you that your job wasn’t to make everyone’s day brighter. He learned to take care of you, and you took care of him.

You explained all of this to Feyre, a soft smile never leaving your face when you talked about your Shadowsinger and Feyre couldn’t help but smile back.

‘’In the human world, we- ‘’..She cleared her throat. ‘’When people love each other, they get married but here that seems so…miniscule. Like, marriage isn’t enough for the love you and Azriel have.’’

It was the best thing Feyre could say because really, she didn’t know how else to compare the love you and Azriel seemed to have.

You beamed at that. ‘’I thought the same actually but our wedding day was one of the best days of my life. Right after our mating ceremony.’’

Feyre looked confused. Mating ceremony? But you only kept smiling.

‘’ We’d already been married for a hundred years when the bond snapped. Mating bonds are so special and rare, Feyre’’ You looked at her.

‘’I was already blessed to have found a male that loved me and all of my loudness. And then, to be gifted a mating bond with him?’’ You shook your head as if you still couldn’t believe it.

In truth, even many years later, you still couldn’t. And that was all Azriel. He made you feel so incredibly happy and whole. He still made you feel like a fool, as if you’re a female who’s experiencing falling in love for the first time. And perhaps that’s why the shock Feyre had felt still hadn’t left. Because she couldn’t comprehend how you and Azriel made it look like it was just yesterday that you got together. Like you were still in the honeymoon phase.

Feyre had seen married couples in her village. They fought and yelled at each other frequently, almost never held hands and especially didn’t show public display of affection. But what you and Azriel had didn’t look like that AT ALL.

Later, after you had left saying ‘’Azriel said he had a surprise but I’m pretty sure I know what it is. I don’t care what his job description is, I can find out what he’s planning!’’, Feyre was still processing your love story.

It didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem real that two people/fae could love each other so much, who would do absolutely freaking anything, including die, for each other. After her experience with Tamlin, Feyre wasn’t sure if she’d ever have what you and Azriel have. Deep down inside, she wanted it. She felt like she didn’t deserve it, specially after what she’s done but…she hoped that maybe one day, however far it may be, she would have someone who would look at her like Azriel looks at you.

[yaralulu]

it’s also wild when you think about how Lucien’s vibe is literally 🍁Autumn 🍁 and Elain’s vibe is literally 🌷Spring 🌷and somehow sjm is gonna throw them in the day court … how did she come up with that one

ok i wasn’t originally gonna say anything but god i’m so glad we’re finally having this discussion about lucien and the day court. i’ve always been such a strong believer that lucien’s transition to day won’t be a fun and easy one ( i don’t even think that should be where he ends up but that’s a conversation for another day). like imagine you’re 300 something years old and suddenly you’re being told this random dude is your father and this random court is your home and oh you’re actually heir!!! …. WHAT.

I know lucien’s very good at adapting to new situations and stuff but he’s clearly very attached to spring and autumn. Home will always be the spring court and autumn court and i don’t think he can just change that. not easily or quickly anyways.

now is he 100% gonna end up in the day court? yes but i’m gonna be bitching about it anyways

[pellucid-constellations]

By the Book

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff and Azriel panicking <3

a/n: Enjoyyy :) And let me know what you think pleaseee!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Maybe you should try something different.” 

“Something different?” 

“Yeah,” Cassian shrugged, kicking back in his chair. “Put some moves on her, give her eyes—something interesting to gain her attention.”

“I’m not just trying to gain her attention, Cassian,” Azriel grimaced. “I—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not an idiot. I see how you look at her. But you don’t want to scare her, you know?” 

Azriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I scare her?” 

“No, no,” Cassian assured, lazily waving his hand in the shadowsinger’s direction. “But y/n’s new. She’s still got all the nerves of working for a high lord and being in court. And she’s kind of—well, you know.” 

Azriel raised a brow, remaining silent in lieu of further questions. Cassian gave him a look, one Azriel did not replicate, and then sighed dramatically. 

“Az, come on. She’s new and she’s young. She’s all innocent and skittish. If you drop all of your big feelings on her she could run for the hills.” 

“She’s not that young,” Azriel refuted, face now pressed in confusion and contemplation.

“Young enough to be shocked by a mating bond so early in her life.” 

Cassian’s words left a blanket of silence over the room. The fireplace crackled, the chair beneath Azriel groaned, and shadows wisped around bookshelves and walls. 

“Is it obvious?”

“No,” Cassian shook his head, straightening his lax posture. “I was honestly just confirming a hunch. But now that I know…” 

“What should I do?” Azriel stressed. 

“Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned from Nesta’s interesting choice in literature.” 

~~

Azriel had waited all day for you to show up at the townhouse. Radiating nervous energy only visible in the way he continuously shook out his hands, the spymaster was armed with an arsenal of tactics Cassian swore by and a vigorous motivation. 

Part of him had been wary of the “smooth moves” the general had shared, but another part took his brother’s warnings to heart. He didn’t want to scare you off and you were rather young. Not a child by any means, but if Azriel had found his mate within his first hundred years, he probably would have panicked. 

And you were just reaching a centennial.

Gods, and Rhysand had only just hired you a few months ago. 

Before Azriel could spiral and abandon his possibly catastrophic plans, you walked in. 

Arm and arm with Feyre, you breezed through the front door with a canvas in hand and a laugh still fresh on your lips. Azriel wasn’t sure if it was the mating bond or just you that caused his chest to ache. 

When you caught his eye, a bright smile plastering onto your face, Azriel deduced that it was just you. 

“Hi, Az,” you called, unwinding yourself from Feyre and stepping close enough for Azriel to scent the paint mixing in with the sweet smell of your perfumes. “I stopped by Feyre’s studio after work. I painted the Sidra but it looks… well, just look at it.” 

Azriel trailed his gaze down to the painting, but much of him was still lost in the giggle that followed your words. The “Sidra” was more of a collection of uneven lines and dots meant to be clouds, but Azriel found himself offering a few gentle compliments despite it all. 

You tugged the painting down to your side with a disbelieving scoff, quirking a brow at the shadowsinger. “Do you make it a habit to lie to me, Az?” 

There was paint on your cheek—just a small splotch, but enough to grab his attention. 

“If she has something on her face, you reach up and get it for her. But you have to get real close and grab her face. And look into her eyes—yeah that part was important.”

Azriel’s wings rustled in anticipation at the opportunity, but he pulled them in tightly and hoped you missed the tell. The shadowsinger took a small step forward and tucked his fingers behind your ear, letting his palm press against your jaw and his thumb swipe along the paint by your nose. 

One, two passes and the pigment was gone, but he hadn’t looked into your eyes yet and Cassian said that was key. 

Hazel eyes shot up to meet your wide, unblinking gaze. Azriel held his hand against your skin for another moment, relishing in the feel of you as your mouth parted to take in a sharp breath. That sharp inhale was followed by a shaky exhale, and Azriel decided that was a good cue to release his hold. 

And although his mind was running rampant with a slew of emotions and panicked thoughts, he took a step back and looked at his thumb nonchalantly. 

“There was paint on your cheek,” he stated, because Cassian also said he needed to act stoic. 

Azriel already considered himself stoic, but that was before he had held your face in his hands. 

At some point, the painting in your hands had fallen to the tips of your fingertips, the canvas just barely hanging from your grip. You licked your lips and stuttered out a few incoherent utterances before landing on, “Oh, thank you.” 

Azriel nodded, and a beat passed with only the whisper of shadows and the shallow intake of breath. 

Until a throat was cleared behind you, and Azriel distinctly remembered that you had not walked in alone. Avoiding his high lady’s knowing gaze, Azriel jutted his hand out to a random wall in the townhouse. 

“Should we hang it up?” 

~~

You were leaning against a wall in the House of Wind, forgotten drink in hand, gazing around the room with a content gleam in your eye. Rhysand had these parties every once in a while, but this was your first time attending one. The soft way you looked at his family—at Nyx and the stubborn way he escaped his parents—made Azriel’s throat tighten. 

You were part of that family now too, whether you knew it or not. 

You were part of him—a piece of his being just steps away. 

“You put your arm above her head and talk low. If you’re feeling adventurous, a hand on her waist.” 

Right. Cassian said not to scare you. 

Revealing his undying love for you would most likely scare you. 

Azriel abandoned his drink on a platter and closed the space between you. 

Arm above your head. 

Talk low. 

A hand on your waist? Maybe. 

This was ridiculous. Azriel knew how to talk to women. He had spoken to plenty of women and they had been more than happy to oblige him. Azriel knew he was attractive and was considering throwing this whole plan away, but then you looked up at him and he found himself placing his arm above your head anyway. 

Mother save him. 

He pressed in close, his forearm just inches from your head as he gave you a soft smile. “Hello,” he greeted, sure to keep his words low.

You wrapped your drink in towards your chest and smiled back, lashes fluttering as the shadowsinger held your gaze. 

“Hi, Azriel,” you smiled back. 

Shit, what was he supposed to do now? 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, only because you were so pretty and the bond within him was glowing with so much warmth that he could think of nothing else to say. 

You hummed. “It’s rather lively. It’s nice that Rhys invites so many of his people. I really do love this court.” 

I love you. 

No, he couldn’t say that. 

“I’m glad you approve.”

Stoic. Perfect. 

A gentle conversation flowed between you. Azriel hung his head low as he discussed past parties and strangers and restaurants along common streets, and you angled your chin up so the words spoken were just breaths away. Azriel did not move from his position and you did not escape further into the wall. 

“Do these go all night?” you asked, breaking eye contact for one of the first times since Azriel’s arrival. 

He looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “Sometimes. With Nyx around, maybe not tonight.” 

You took a sip of your drink. 

Azriel turned back around. 

The pull to you was inescapable. He glanced down at your waist, the way you had turned to your side to look at him directly, and then he reached out. 

His hand fit perfectly, shadows sliding out to wrap around your body. Azriel took the time to watch how his fingers pressed up to your ribs, and then, in an act much bolder than he felt, he tugged you forward and lowered his mouth to your ear. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

You had placed your hands on his chest during his unexpected motion, your fingers tight against his shirt. “A little,” you breathily replied. 

He could feel the warmth of your skin against his lips. Just a small turn of his head and he would taste it as well. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. 

No, Cassian had said—

“Azriel?” Your call threw him out of his thoughts. Pulling back, he met your eye. “Are you tired, too? I think I might turn in early.” 

Were you asking him to follow you? 

He would follow you anywhere. For anything. 

But if he were overstepping… 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room? Or fly you back to your apartment?” 

You took a step back, Azriel’s hand slipping from your body. 

A piece of him melted away at the loss. 

You bit back what looked to be a smirk. “I got it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Az?” 

He watched you walk away from him, silently cursing Cassian. 

This had to have been his fault somehow. 

~~

The next opportunity Azriel got was accompanied by a flurry of concern. 

He had come to walk you home from the clinic after a long day with Majda, his shadows informing him that you were tired, overworked, exhausted. When he opened the door to your disheveled figure slumped over a counter, the bond within him sent him rushing to you. Or perhaps it was just an intrinsic drive—just the love he held for you.  

“The hair is a big one. Tuck it back behind her ear. The males in Nesta’s books always go for that one.” 

To be honest, Azriel wanted to do much more than tuck your hair behind your ear. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and fly you home and tuck you into bed. But Cassian had warned him against grand acts, so the shadowsinger accepted your tired smile with a soft one of his own. 

“A bad day?” he softly asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning over the counter. 

His hands fell just a small breadth from yours. 

You sighed in agreeance, forehead meeting the wood between you before turning back up to the male. “Come to laugh at me?” 

Your hair had fallen into your face. 

“Never,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve come to walk you home.” 

“Hmm, always walking me somewhere, aren’t you?” 

A confused smile graced the shadowsinger’s face, and then he took his brother’s advice and brushed fingers against your temple, sweeping your hair from your eyes. His touch ran down the slope of your ear, your lashes fluttering at the texture of his skin. Azriel gave into temptation and traced a line down your jaw as well, taking advantage of the tire that seemed to overcome you as you leaned into his touch. 

Cassian’s tips seemed to work so much better when the two of you were alone. 

But not too well, Azriel reminded himself, the male beginning to pull his hand from your face. 

You caught his wrist in your unsteady hand. 

“When are you going to tell me?” you accused, a slight squint in your eye. “I really do appreciate all of the stops you’re pulling out, but I’m wondering when you’ll stop walking me home and start being honest.” 

Azriel’s mouth parted in shock. “What do you—” 

“The hand on my waist was a good touch, I will say. I didn’t think you’d go that far. Especially not after you forgot to kiss me and instead offered to hang up my gods-awful painting.”

Azriel felt his face begin to heat. There was no way you had picked up on his flirting so quickly. But, Azriel thought in mortification, he had been stiff, paused too many times trying to remember Cassian’s words. Maybe he had been obvious. 

Oh, Gods. 

“Azriel,” you called. A soft call accompanied by a slight tilt of your head. He looked at you despite himself, lost in the haze you created in his mind. “Are you going to tell me now?” 

Cassian had been wrong, clearly, because the way you looked at him was so sure. You held his hand against your face and a tired smile still lit up your features and you didn’t look scared at all. 

And then the bond within him moved. 

A tug. 

And then another 

You had known all along. 

“You’re my mate.” He stumbled over the words, each falling from his mouth with haste. “My mate.” 

“I am,” you whispered, turning his hand on your cheek to press a kiss to his palm. “And you are mine.” 

“I’m going to kill Cassian,” Azriel mumbled under his breath, but the sound was lost between breaths as you surged forward to kiss him.

And Gods, did he kiss you back. He kissed you and kissed you and forgot every bit of advice from Nesta’s books, because he didn’t need it. All he needed was you and every iteration of the future that was now promised between lips. 

He should have known better than to ask for advice. 

You were his mate. 

He didn’t need sly moves to win you over. 

He didn’t need anything. Just you.

[bookbitchx]

"There is no such thing as High Lady."

Call Tamlin a misogynistic sexist asshole or whatever else you want, but he's right.

High Lady is a title Rhysand gave to Feyre.

It's honorary.

It wasn't 'earned'. She wasn't 'blessed' with it, and she certainly wasn't chosen by the land and the magic.

If there was a title and it meant something, don't you think Viviane, of all women, would've been granted it by the lands for holding down the fort in Winter Court for 50 years while Kalias was stuck UTM?

Kalias could've also easily slapped the title on her like Rhysand did with Feyre, and yet he didn't. You know why? Because Viviane doesn't need it. She's already respected and seen as his equal by his court and the others for what she has done.

Feyre can't say the same, can she?

SJM sets it up as this badass moment of empowerment, but all I saw was Rhysand giving a baby (by Fae years) a title and letting her run loose with it as well as letting it go to her head.

The first thing she did after getting that title was go and get revenge on a whole ass court because she had issues with its High Lord which is insane in of itself but it brings me to my point, that there was no political repercussions where as if Rhysand had done it, it would've declared an internal war between Night and Spring.

It would've been a good ass arc if she had learned Prythian politics, history, diplomacy, the cultures, and customs of the other courts, including her own, so much as visited the other courts, slowly climbed the ranks and learned instead of Rhysand shoving that crown on her head and down everyone else's throats.

It's like taking me, a complete clueless, inadequate foreigner, and making me the Queen of England. Utterly ridiculous.

"You just hate Feyre being High Lady because you want Nesta to be one."

The same thing goes for Nesta, babe. NONE of the Archeron sisters are qualified to be High Ladies, honorary or not.

One of the hills I will die and kill on.

[solbaby7]

Feel Me

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, sexual descriptions, tensionnnn, cocky!az , minors DNI

summary: Fae males don’t make love like the sweet boys you knew in the human lands. Fae’s fuck.

based of the request in [ part 1 ]

—

No one else was supposed to be home.

Rhys and Feyre had left long before the morning dew could mist over the lawn. Cassian and Nesta had slipped out hours ago with their leathers on and hair neatly braided after a steaming cup of coffee.

Buttered pancakes steam on a plate, bacon sizzles on the stove and your hips sway in tandem with whatever bouncy song your humming. Strawberry stumps grow in a pile to your left, knife slicing at ripe fruit contentedly until a sneaky wisp of darkness snatches a piece for its master. “You planning on sharing?”

“Depends on how nicely you ask.”

Azriel doesn’t bite, he only raises a brow with a smirk growing at the corner of full lips. “Was it polite words that initiated Elain’s legs straddling your waist the other night?” Shock shoves the ability to form a sentence out the window and you despise the way your eyes linger on the mess of dark hair atop his head—thoughts wandering to less than respectable places when picturing other ways to muss up soft strands. “Bacon’s burning.”

A frustrated scoff pulls from your throat, a blush fanning across your cheeks and gratefulness floods your chest when you actually have something to busy your hands with to avoid Azriel’s honeyed stare. “Not that it’s any of your business,” You hiss, avoiding spattering oil while forking meat from the pan. “But, I was just helping out a friend.”

“Helping?” His morning voice was sinful; a low rasp coupled with lazy lids and a t-shirt that fit entirely too well.

“I offered sound advice.” The house cleans while you plate, stealing berry stumps as a warm rag is ran over the countertops. Hot water is poured in a mug, a tea bag string twirled around the handle. Azriel’s already next to you, twisting open the honey jar and passing it over before you can reach for it. “I demonstrated to ensure a thorough understanding—nothing more.”

“And what exactly were you demonstrating?”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business.” Syrup drowned pancakes are shoved into your mouth, favoring the possibility of choking on fluffy goodness over engaging in this conversation for a second longer.

Azriel doesn’t feel the same way, blocking off your hasty exit with his body. Was he always this tall? Giant wings hover behind him and they rustle softly when you reach out a hand to gently push him away. It was a mistake on your part—initiating physical contact because now all you could focus on was the warmth that ebbed through the soft cotton of his shirt and the hard muscles hiding beneath it. “Make it my business.”

You don’t pull away, too entranced with the smell of him. The feel of his body against your fingertips. The barely there distance that toed the line of entirely too close. “I don’t understand why you’d even care.” You mutter, snatching your hand away when you catch yourself subconsciously rubbing at the dark fabric. “I was—“ Words stammer, breath catching over the intensity of his stare and you have to will your voice to steady itself. “I was teaching her how to properly be intimate with a male.”

“I didn’t realize there was a proper way.”

“You know what I mean,” You ramble, obviously flustered when swatting away the inky fog that attempts to swipe crispy bacon from your plate. “She asked for advice and I gave a few tips to make her feel more confident—more comfortable. I was being friendly.” The pancakes have started to go cold around the edges but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Azriel keeps stalking closer, arms boxing you into the counter with ease.

“Hm,” His face is unreadable, void of any emotion but your certain his eyes go just a touch darker when you lean back, your shirt rising; broadcasting a sliver of your stomach and the pale blue panties peeking out of your sleep shorts. “And if I wanted some friendly advice—would you help me with that too?”

Breakfast is long forgotten, your eyes following the plate being pushed away by hands much bigger than your own. A shaky laugh emits, strands of your hair tickle at your cheeks and you’re painfully aware of your attire—or lack thereof judging by hardened peaks poking through delicate silk. “Az, you’re no blushing virgin. What could I possibly help you with?”

Cool shadows trace over bare legs, teasing up your calves and curling around your knees. “I can think of a few things.”

A predatory darkness coats every word, lids narrowing challengingly at you from above. There’s nowhere to run and truthfully you didn’t want to; falling into the trap of his insinuations until the smell of your arousal was becoming anything but subtle. But, then again, who fucking cared when this was exactly what you’d been craving for as long as you could remember. Filthy little fantasies about the Illyrian soldier had plagued your mind for decades. You were reduced to haughty looks and bitten lips while he sparred shirtless with Cassian, sweat gleaming against his chest and the sharp ring of swords colliding. Dirty desires that flared when you’d bump into Az late at night, his hair messy and eyes hazy—that lazy smile and those pet names that he’d let slip when he was too tired to overthink them.

Could it have been possible that Elain had been right?

That you just needed to look to find what you were yearning for.

You pray you don’t appear as desperate as you feel when your eyes scan his own; sifting through the shades of warm caramel and burnt sephia as if they’d shift into mystical beings with endless answers to your list of questions. “Such as?”

“Maybe,” The syllables are drawn out with a sing-songy lilt that has your legs shifting. “—we can start with why you thought she’d be using your tricks and charms on me?” You blame the breeze sifting through the curtains on the shiver that rakes up your spine.

The counter is cold when you lift yourself onto it, palms flat and back curving against the window pane. You shrug, breaking the eye contact and turning your head to face the flying creatures fluttering their feathery wings in the bird bath. “I hadn’t considered it’d be anyone else. You and Elain spend lots of time together and she’s obviously beautiful in that delicate, sweetheart in need of saving sort of way.”

“Careful, you almost sound jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Well, not anymore. But, he didn’t need to know that you’d ever wasted a second of sleep on him. “It was just an observation.”

“A poor one.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m not going after your job.” Your arms cross over your chest, knees childishly nudging at the top of his thighs to push him away but he remains steady like a brick wall. Irritation pushes the fluttery twist of yearning out of the way the longer Azriel peers down at you with that look in his eye—that stupidly handsome smirk plastered on his annoyingly kissable lips. “Any other questions you’d like to interrogate me with?”

The vitriol in your tone only furthers the grin on his face, eating up the fluctuating emotions he pulls from you like a full course meal. “Just one more.” A breeze shifts through the open window, cutting through the strands of your hair and the smell of your conditioner permeates the space between you. “How much longer must I wait for you to pursue me before I have to take you for myself?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all you’d like but not for your pardon.” It’s said so swiftly your brain barely registers the suggestive nature of it before he’s talking again. Sweeping you up in the whirlwind that was Azriel and all you could do was hold on tight for the ride. He obtains a boldness you could only dream of, hips jutting forward between your legs to keep you from slipping away; closing the distance until his wants and desires are anything but unclear when pressed so firmly against you. “How much longer?

You swallow, the movement tracked by a hunters stare as you scramble to pull together a coherent sentence. “I suppose that depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you have any almost lovers that you’re still pining after?” Shadows glide over the countertop, sneaking behind you and urging you forward. Silky sleep shorts shuffle upwards with the motion and Azriel’s wastes no time in his exploration. Warm hands rake up the length of your legs leisurely, tracing over barely there scars and memorizing moles many overlooked. “Or do you only want me because you’ve never had me?”

Tension hold thick in the air, heavy mugginess that coats your skin with an uncomfortable warmth as you and Az sized each other up—waiting to see who’d break first.

The odds didn’t seem to be swaying in your favor.

“Never had you?” Azriel repeats as if you’ve told a joke, confidence roaring in his veins from the reactions your body offers him. Goosebumps follow the tantalizing trail of his fingers up your legs, thighs subconsciously shifting wider, granting access for more of his body to touch against your own. “Every time I close my eyes, I have you.” He has to know the effect this has on you. That must be why he insists on stealing your backbone and converting it into a makeshift leash until you’re completely pliant in his grasp. “Not exactly conventional. Nowhere near comparable the real thing, I’m sure.” A wicked gleam twinkles in his eyes, his hard chest the perfect contrast against the softness of your own. “But, it’s certainly served to be good practice.”

“Azriel—“

“How much longer should I wait?”

The barely restrained need he emits makes your stomach clench. Forces your eyes to dart from his own to his mouth; lingering, lusting.

Fuck, not much longer at all. It felt like the clock was ticking and with each second that passed, your fate grew nearer and nearer.

Instinct speeds up the process, nudging you closer until the tip of your nose brushes against his own. It’s cautious—exploratory. Testing what was allowed and what wasn’t but Azriel’s patience only stretches so far and waiting for this—for you—is an impossible task.

His mouth covers yours in a claiming clash of eager lips and hands desperate to learn the shape of you.

You’re no better, nails raking through inky strands and scouring the strong slope of his shoulders like a woman starved. A relieved sigh tickles at his skin when he kisses over your cheeks, down your neck; until that spot just below your ear forces out low whines. “Az,” Your chest heaves, lungs struggling for a full breath. “Someone will see us.”

Azriel groans, lips searching for the spots that shut you up. The spots that had your spine curving and leg hooking over his waist. You lean back, anticipating the cool chill of the wall but all you meet is soft sheets and fluffy pillows as inky shadows disperse around the room. “Better?”

“Almost.” Eager fingers grip at the offending fabric hiding golden-brown skin beneath, attempting to yank it free. “Take this off.”

“You’re not this demanding in my dreams.”

“And in mine, your mouth isn’t really used for talking.”

Azriel’s efficient in adjusting to your suggestions, tearing apart soft silk as if it were nothing more than a piece of parchment in his quest of baring more of you to him. Hips buck up and nails dig into the hard-earned muscles of his back while his mouth sucked marks across your chest. Warm hands dip under the waistband of your shorts, back curving softly in anticipation as preening little moans cut through the darkness of Azriel’s bedchambers.

When he finally touches where you need him most, teeth sink harshly into the fat of your bottom lip; the feeling of his fingers dragging slow circles over the thin cotton of your underwear becoming the perfect torture. It feels too good to ponder on about the arousal soaking through your delicates or the desperate pleas for more that tumbles from your lips like sinful prayers.

Any remaining clothing falls carelessly to the floor, the hard length of him resting at the crux of your thighs. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t I feel sure?” Your brows are a little pinched when you stare up at him, a hand wedging between your bodies to guide the swollen head of his cock to your entrance.

“You feel like mine,” Az confesses hoarsely. Inch by deliciously devastating inch is pushed to the brim, hazel eyes transfixed on the snug wrap of your pussy and the warmth that follows. “Like you were fucking made to take my cock.”

He was better than you’d ever pictured, stealing your very breath away with each dragged out stroke. “Az,” His gaze is heavy, sliding up to meet your own with dark promise casting shadows against god-like features. “Please, just move.”

“Here I was trying to get you properly adjusted,” A biting grip begins at your waist, fingers digging precious prints into your hips as Azriel positions you as he pleases. Bare thighs are braced in the crease of his arms, a cocky smirk ghosting his face. “But you just wanna be fucked.” Eyes roll behind fluttering lids when the pace picks up, the position forcing you to take every inch until all you can offer is choked moans and garbled praises.

Claiming marks are placed wherever Azriel’s mouth can reach, muffled groans and deep grunts of pleasure vibrating against your skin as he carves out a space specifically made for him. You don’t last long, lips searching for his own as you clench around the length of him; toes curling and manicured nails biting at the base of his wings.

“There you go,” He croons, gently tucking stray hairs away from your face—a complete juxtaposition from the relentless way his cock fucks into you. “Taking me so well.”

Bleary eyed and boneless you are in his grasp; allowing him to act on every secret fantasy and salacious desire he'd harbored longer than he could remember until you feel the vicious twitch inside you, his hips stuttering and seed spilling.

The room reeks of sex, sheets sodden and clothes too ruined to walk out of there wearing them without looking like you belonged in a pleasure hall.

Not that it would matter—Azriel won't let you go now; hooked like an addict to their drug of choice. "You were wrong, you know." Your brow raises in silent question. "Now that I've had you, I can't see myself ever wanting anything else."

[acotarxreader]

Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think she’s dead?”

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

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

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

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

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

“Well she’s not dead”

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

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

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

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

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

“You forgot” Feyre returned

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

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

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

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is Velaris”

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

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

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

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

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

“YN? That’s an odd name”

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

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

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

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

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

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

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

“Human? And what are you a fish?” 

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

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

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

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

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay so not a dream…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh slay”

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

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

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

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

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

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

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

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

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

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“We are sending her back!”

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

“She can’t stay here Az!”

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

“This is Rhysand”

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

“Don’t flatter him YN”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me” 

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

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

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

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

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

“Who said anything about worms?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

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

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

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

“You live such insane lives here”

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

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

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

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

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

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

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

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Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two