#nesta i totally get you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ch3rrybbie · 7 days ago

Note

hii since you're taking requests could you write something with azriel? maybe something where reader is bonding with Lucien over unrequited mates (except azriel doesn't know they're mates, it has only snapped for her) and she thinks he wouldn't want her but he totally does and is super jealous and then happy ending lol. thanks!

Afterglow

Warnings: angst, reader is depressed?, mentions of canon violence

Note from author: tysm for the request, uni is being uni atm so struggling to write so quick lol but I hope you love itttttt will try get other request and next Randall part out heheh.

———

Lucien had to take you to the great open of the spring court. He was desperate to console you. His worry was etched across his face and yet you felt nothing.

So he sat beside you and waited.

———

You started off into the vastness of the green. Breathe. If you squinted a little the scenery grew blander and reminded you of the mortal lands.You thought back to how this pain had grown.

Your mother had always warned you love made you weak. She saw how deeply you loved Feyre at such a young age, you’d go tripping over branches just to be near her. She saw that if that was how much you loved a friend , to truly love someone would almost certainly destroy you. And human turned fae you felt how much the bond was too heavy to carry.

Your love for Feyre took you north of the border, you were by her side through every fight. Fists clenched and teeth bared. She was your sister and you fought like it. You’d seen every turn of leaf with her and you were so ecstatic to see her reunited with her blood sisters with a baby on the way truly, finally happy.

Yet you were in despair.

———

You, Feyre and Lucien had an instant bond. You rode all over the spring courts, ate, danced and laughed together. Tamlin however, your lip curled at the thought of him.

After being whisked away to the house of wind you remember the exact day you met the cause of all this hurt.

You’d suddenly felt a presence coming, you turned to Rhysand and demanded to know who was here. Both Feyre and Rhysand were stunned as you were still human. Then he approached alongside Cassian and you could barely tear your eyes away. Your heart knew him, your soul , your very being.

And yet he was nothing but sterile towards you only relinquishing a firm nod. Cassian on the other hand swept you up like a mighty warm wave telling you he’d heard lots about you.

———

Months later when your mission to Hybern went disastrously wrong the pain of seeing Azriel broken and dying on the hard stone floor made you want to sweep him up into your arms. All splashing and screaming from Nesta and Elaine had been tuned out you couldn’t help but stare at him breathing cinched. You tried shouting down whatever feeling you had but nothing. Your eyes urged him to get up, look up anything.

“Bring her”, the king lazily waved his hand at you. His men dragged you by your hair, you writhed and screamed.Closer and closer they dragged you level with Azriel and the others. The great hall span and they slammed your head against the stone, chaos ensued with Feyre screaming and Elaine wailing.

In your blurred state you opened your eyes to see shadows and a scarred hand straining your way.

You awoke the freezing water. The cauldron was somehow ice and fire it burned and cooled. It was life and death itself. You prepared yourself to accept the latter.

The mother lent down and kissed your eyes,she bound her blood to yours and gave you a gift.

You didn’t remember much after that.

———

You were in a coma for many moons, Feyre and Rhys sent for healers across the land mostly because your gift from the mother had shown itself. Your longing for home had caused the room they rested you in to be flourishing. It was a sight to behold even Nesta admitted.

Great roots twined around the bedposts, ivy curled around the door, moss and wiry grass shot up from the carpets and flowers bloomed. Elaine took to maintaining your garden, Nesta read to you and Feyre wept over you and stroked your hair. When Lucien had arrived to court he ran straight to your room and shadows seemed to watch over you in everyone’s absence.

Everyone did their part in looking after you, everyone but Azriel.

Throughout your sleep, the flowers rustled, grass weaved its way up to you and roots kept watch. All whispered the events around you, another odd gift of the Mother.

The day you awoke you wasted no time in searching for Azriel, the last you remembered he was dying. You followed the great rope in your soul that had replaced the string that previously tugged you to him.

The study was still and beautiful as you remembered, more so in his presence. His wings grew taught as he sensed your presence. “I’m awake” you couldn’t help but proclaim.

He turned, “I can see that” he coldly threw back.

Your world crumbled, even as fae he couldn’t love you or even feel more than indifference.

He brushed past you, “I shall alert the others”.

You shoulders sank, and yet your heart warmed at the thought of seeing everyone. After an hour of being grabbed, hugged and kissed. You’d all shed as much tears as you could. Feyre and Lucien offered to walk you to your room.

Before you slipped into your room you couldn’t help but ask, “Is he okay?l”. They didn’t even need to ask who, Luciens face softened and Feyres grew taught.

“The past few months have been hard for him Y/N”, Feyre gently lay a hand on your shoulder.

You attempted to be sympathetic before losing control of your temper, “And it wasn’t hard for me?! The least he could’ve done was visit once!” You threw the great oak door to your room open and slammed it in their faces uncaring of how juvenile you were being.

“Y/N” Feyre pleaded, you heard Lucien pull her gently away stating you needed space.

You allowed your anger to flow out of you, translating into great black ropes of thorns growing everywhere and they bowed out of the way of no one but you. That’s not to say everyone didn’t try. One by one they knocked and burst in, only to be defeated by thorns which was entertaining for awhile until you realised yet again everyone came but him.

You send crawling ivy about the house searching for him. It found him in the garden with Elaine, you let it shrivel and die there. You didn’t care who saw anymore.

The thorns grew sharper.

———

Lucien burst in one afternoon he didn’t speak a word, he barelled straight to you. Strands of his fiery hair and drops of blood left in his wake. He grabbed your wrist dragging you out of the fetal position. He winnowed you to the only place he had ever truly seen you happy.

Spring court.

———

“She’s gone!” Feyre cried panicked as she burst into the study. Rhys rushed to her as Cassian and Azriel shared a confused glance.

“Who?” Rhys questioned.

“Y/N, Lucien went up to try coax her out and they’re gone”

Rhys and Cassian froze anticipating Az’s reaction.

Azriel stormed out the room with Cassian not far behind.

“Az where in the cauldrons name are you going we don’t know where she is yet”

“I don’t need to know” he spat back

Cassian gripped his shoulder, “Don’t be stupid” he chastised

“What if it was Ness”

Cassian let him go stunned into silence.

Rhys informed Az mentally you were in the spring court offering to winnow him but he was gone and soaring towards his heart.

———

Lucien carefully started to talk from beside you.

“We were so happy here so I just- , I don’t know I thought I could force that joy back” he looked at your mournful gaze and sighed.

“He’s your mate isn’t he?”

Your head snapped towards him, Lucien could’ve sworn the grass did too.

“Elaine is mine”

The wind stopped and the grass stood still.

You said nothing crawling closer and laying your head on his shoulder, you felt at home.

You felt like a child again.

Tears blurred your vision and you let them slip.

The wind resumed, grass swaying peacefully.

“You know I’ll always love you Lucien no matter what, I mean not like that but you know”

He roared with laughter making you jump and burst out laughing.

You both calmed and watched the vast fields you could’ve sworn you heard the roars of Tamlin in the distance. He stayed away nonetheless.

You rested your head back on Lucien’s shoulder and your tears swelled again.

“What do we do?” you mournfully asked him.

You felt him breathe in sharply before cutting out

“I don’t know” a pause, “but I know you can’t do what you were doing we’re worried about you and rightfully so, I mean you’re been down right lazy. And so cliche, come on thorns-“

You cut him off shoving him over, you never would get used to the new strength you had.

You saw the playful glint in his eye and lept to your feet sprinting away he gave chase and you were back to where you started running around fields being chased by one of the platonic loves of your life. You wished Feyre could happily be here again.

But you finally felt happy again.

Truly.

———

Azriel no longer had to sense your presence he heard your giggles from afar. What he saw made his fists curl. Lucien had grabbed you and started spinning you around. His fury pushed him to land with an earth shattering crack.

He advanced on Lucien as he dropped you in confusion.

“Azriel what are you doing-“

Lucien fell to the ground as Azriel shoved him with thankfully not all of his might.

You surged forward to come between the two. Azriel felt as though the reedy grass was wrapping around his legs.

“What in the cauldron are you doing?!” You yelled, fury sounding across the clearing.

Lucien’s eye squinted as he assessed the situation a slow smile crept onto his face, “I’ll leave you two to it”.

He disappeared.

Azriel still seemed furious, “You can’t just disappear like that Y/N you scared us half to Hybern and back”

Your rage was once again summoned , “Do not delude yourself into thinking you care for me Azriel”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He spat back

You felt your hands start to shake with anger coursing through you, all this time he disregards and runs from you and NOW he wanted to play possessive.

“You do not get to turn up and demand me to stay at your beck and call when half the time you fly out any room I enter! Shouldn’t you be guarding Elaine or finding places to hide from me”.

Shame finally dared cross his face and he turned from you. His shadows grew more agitated. They retracted from being near you, their proximity startling you.

You turned on your heel and marched into the woods, you needed to get away from him. Before your rage turned into a confession.

“Y/N” you heard him mutter.

You fell into a soft march that was further percussioned by his footfall.

Great knarled trees lining the meadow attempted to stop him from entering the dense forest but he pushed through his shadows staying a whisper away from you.

His shadows didn’t bother reporting back to him.

He knew where you were.

Hunched over the pool of starlight he could’ve sworn you’d crawled out of it,the softening sun cast a glow through the dense trees, a fallen star had come and somehow stolen his heart.

He didn’t even want it back.

———

The pool transfixes you, Feyre had shown it to you during your time there and it soon became your private diary. Little whispers you’d let skim across the surface and lift the weight from your shoulders. When you met the inner circle and came to know Velaris you were so sure you were home. That the stars had listened. You were now sure they must’ve forsaken you, ripped out your heart and replaced it with a dying star.

You paid no mind to the crunch of leaves, you’d already felt him follow you there was no need for him the make his presence known.

“Go home” you spat coldly eyes not lifting from the pool of starlight.

“Come home with me” he gently offered.

“My home is closer to here than I ever thought it could be in Velaris” you muttered.

His hurt was palpable.

Good.

As Lucien just did he relented and came and sat next to you in silence.

The dying star inside you was getting darker with the realisation you’d always feel like way about him and you couldn’t have a mortal lifespan this would be generations of hurt.

So you spoke.

“Why Azriel, why are you here who sent you” you muttered dejected.

“No one. I-….” He trailed off lost thought, jaw clenched with the unspoken.

“Tell the truth” you sighed.

“Please just for once in all the time you’ve known me give me something” you begged.

He looked back over to you, wind brushing over you how he longed to.

He steeled himself, guard finally dropping.

“I was so afraid watching you that day”.

Silence as your brow furrowed.

“Your human body was so fragile, tossed around like blown sand.” Eyes tearful and locked on you.

“And I had to lie there dying and watch you almost die and that was a greater anguish than anything they could’ve unleashed on me”. He sighed as he saw you squint at him.

You stood angrily finger pointed at him as Nesta did. He couldn’t help his lip twitching,you really were one of them.

“If this is some ploy to bring me back to Velaris you will find you’re sorely mistaken in its use.” A great seething hiss of air spat at him.

He couldn’t help but laugh, only you could take a confession with suspicion. From almost crying to the woman he loves to laughing in her face, could this day get any worse?

“You jest?! I laid in wait of you for seven moons Azriel and you were nowhere to be seen! Lusting after Elaine I suppose” A dry laugh cut from your mouth.

All humour abandons him

“Is that what you suppose?” He huffed.

He rounded on you and stood towering, gathering the patience he needed to confess.

Patience found he continued.

“I couldn’t bear to see you laid there unmoving” he breathed deeply he looked furious. “I’d only just recovered so I sent my shadows although I suspected they were already watching when I couldn’t”.

Your face softens. Shoulders sagging.

He continues, breaking those walls you so flimsily held against him.

“For that I apologise, I should’ve been there no matter how much it hurt. I was with Elaine because her gardening reminded me of you the most” he smiles “after you so spontaneously decided to decorate it was the closest thing I had to you, the only thing of you I could touch”

Your lips part in want.

“I have wanted you from the moment I smelt you, and when I saw you my fate was sealed” he smirks at your lust struck face, hand going to cup it.

“Why not tell me?”

“I saw how well Elaine and Lucien’s discovery went” he smoothed his fingers against your lips.

You seized his hand, “I felt it when I was human, I felt you when I was human and I always will”.

Tension was strung like the fireflies now floating above you as dusk encroached.

He smiled and crushed his lips to yours in what felt like a thousand years of longing.

You both drew back just staring at each other,relief blatant.

“Let’s go home” his eyes pleaded.

“Sure” you smile

“I’ll cook” you smooth hair behind his ear as his eyes widen.

“Are you sure?” He asks warily.

“I tell you I’ve known you were my mate when I was human and you question me?” You laugh heartily.

“Now move it bat boy” you march off with a smirk.

He has no choice but to follow his heart.

And come up with an apology and thank you for Lucien.

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cressidagrey · 4 months ago

Text

The Witching Hour - Chapter 1 - Nesta

Summary:

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings:

Nightmares, mention of the blood rite, friends with benefits sort of relationship, stabbing (in the past), magical mental health care (sorta)

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

The night air was crisp, but not cold, a welcome reprieve from the summer heat.

But none of this was calming down Nesta's racing heart, even when she stamped down the panic that rose in her chest.

She shielded the bond from it as well as she could, not wanting to wake up Cassian...again.

Nesta didn't know what it was but...but somehow the nightmares that involved the Blood Rite were...worse than even the ones that involved her father dying...the ones that involved that gods-forsaken cauldron.

Somehow the Blood Rite...somehow that was leaving her in a state of panic that nothing could touch. Not even Cassian. And he tried. Her mate did try.

She tried to. She tried everything...making herself so busy with training and work that she should fall into bed with pure exhaustion...sleeping with Cassian and hoping that maybe the pleasure of that would wipe away the nightmares…

Nothing worked.

Nothing helped. Each time she closed her eyes, the same images would invade her mind. The endless days of battle, the gruelling journey through the mountains, the horrors of the Blood Rite...they all appeared with a sickening vividness that made it seem like she wasn't just experiencing a mere nightmare, but actually reliving those horrible days.

It made her throw up and want to cry...want to roll herself together in a miserable little ball because she didn't know what else to do anymore

The panic rose in her chest, making her heart pound in her ears. She was getting desperate, desperately searching for a way to make the nightmares stop. She was considering sleeping outside, on the balcony in the night air, just for a change of scenery.

It seemed ridiculous, but...but at this point...at this point, she'd try anything.

She took a shaking breath, her hand gripping the balcony railing tighter, her knuckles turning white. The night air, usually so calming, was doing little to ease the tightness in her chest.

She was contemplating going back inside and trying to sleep again...just closing her eyes and hoping that maybe this time she would experience something different...when suddenly, she heard the flapping of wings...

Nesta turned her head towards the sound, her senses on high alert. The wings sounded large, powerful, and...familiar.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Azriel appeared before her, slipping over the balcony railing, shadows swirling around his shoulders. "Nesta," he greeted her calmly, giving her a slow nod...like it was totally normal for him to appear on her balcony in the middle of the night.

"You weren't there at dinner," she blurted out because she hadn't seen him since this morning.

"I had a late dinner with an old friend," Azriel answered. Azriel's response made sense, even if the notion of a "late dinner" with an old friend sounded strange to Nesta. But then again, who was she to judge? Azriel spent most of his time being the Spymaster of the Night Court, so she supposed it shouldn't surprise her that he had...odd friends.

"Oh," was all she could manage in response.

"I didn't know you had friends." She immediately regretted her words but Azriel just chuckled.

"Just the one," he promised her, as he leaned against the railing next to her. She caught a sense clinging to him that she couldn't place.

She eyed him carefully, her eyes taking in the mysterious shadow clinging to him. It was a scent that she couldn't quite place, but it was oddly...familiar, too.

Azriel chuckled again, his voice still as calm and steady as ever.

"Just the one," he repeated. "An old friend, from a long time ago."

"Can't sleep?" He asked quietly, his voice a deep rumble.

She gave a slight nod, not looking at Azriel. The nightmares were the one thing she didn't want to discuss with him or anyone for that matter. She didn't want them to know how weak she was, how she still couldn't get a rein on her emotions and her thoughts. She didn't want them to think any more of her as a fragile, broken thing than they already did.

The thought of it, it made her sick.

But...but she had a feeling that Azriel wouldn't judge her, or look at her in that way. Maybe she could...maybe she could ask for help. Or at least...let him know that something was wrong.

She swallowed hard and then said, her voice hardly more than a whisper: "No, I can't...I can't sleep. The...the nightmares."

Azriel gave a nod as if he already knew. His voice was still that same calm and steady as he said, "The Blood Rite?"

Nesta gave another nod. How had he guessed so easily? But then again...it wasn't that hard to guess. The nightmares hadn't started until after that event.

But at least these days she didn't wake up with her entire room engulfed in silver flames anymore. She took a shaking breath, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She wasn't a child. She shouldn't be affected by this. She shouldn't be this much of a mess...

"I am surprised you didn't wake up Cassian when you got up," Azriel said suddenly.

Nesta’s eyes widened a little bit at that. Was she that obvious? Did she look that shake? She had hoped she'd done a better job of putting up a mask in front of the others.

"I didn't want to bother him," she replied quietly. "Let him sleep...I wake him often enough."

"He's your mate," Azriel said evenly. "He would want to be there for you."

His words were like a punch to the gut. She knew that her mate would want to be there for her, and would want to help her. Hell, he probably would already be here, holding her, comforting her...if he knew how bad the nightmares were.

But...but she didn't want to burden him like that. She couldn't keep burdening him...

"He tries to comfort me and then he gets no sleep as well. And I will not be the reason why he has a moment of inattentiveness that ends up costing his life, just because I can't control myself," Nesta hissed.

Her voice was bitter as she spoke. She hated admitting it, saying it out loud...but it was true. She was a burden. She was holding Cassian back, making him waste his nights trying to soothe her instead of getting the rest and preparation he needed for a mission.

She couldn't keep doing that to him. She just...she just couldn't.

A silence fell between them then, her words hanging in the air. She didn't know what Azriel was thinking, what was going on in his head. But he didn't try and refute her words, which only further confirmed the terrible thoughts swirling in her mind.

Another beat of silence, as Nesta let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

Another beat of silence, as she let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

"You are not a burden," he repeated, his voice even. "You are anything but."

She didn't reply, just continued staring out over the railing, her hands gripping the cold stone until her knuckles turned white. She was a burden, she knew that. And she didn't know why he was lying to her, trying to convince her otherwise.

"I have nightmares too," Azriel said suddenly.

Her eyes widened and she jerked her head around to look at him. Wait, what? Azriel had nightmares?

Her mouth opened, an astonished question on her lips, but Azriel didn't give her the chance to ask. He continued in the same even tone as if it was no big deal: "And many of them are about the Blood Rite too."

Her mind was reeling at his confession. Azriel had nightmares about the Blood Rite? The strong, mysterious warrior, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster of the Night Court?

She couldn't even process the words. And he said it so casually, so nonchalantly as if he was merely discussing the weather and not admitting to being tormented by such horrible, painful nightmares.

"Even now, 500 years after it happened."

His voice was still emotionless, still so calm and steady, even as he admitted that.

It was unfathomable. How...how did he manage to survive through 500 years of these nightmares? She barely could make it a week…

She couldn't even fathom what it would be like, to have those memories torment her for 500 years and counting. To have no hope of them ever stopping.

A silence fell between them, her mind reeling at Azriel's confession. She was about to ask something, to say something...when he suddenly spoke again.

"You want them to stop? The nightmares?" He asked, his voice quiet, yet with a hint of command in it. A hint of that darkness within him, the shadows that swirled around him like an ever-present cloak.

Her eyes widened, a shiver running down her spine at the command in his voice. She gave a slow nod, not trusting her voice to speak.

Somehow...somehow the shadows around him seemed to swirl and dance a little faster, seeming almost excited at her nodded response.

She would give everything for these nightmares to stop

Her voice was a mere whisper, but the honesty in it seemed to resonate like an echo in the night's silence.

She would give anything to stop reliving those memories, to stop seeing those images, to stop...to stop feeling this pain. Anything, she'd give anything for that respite.

Azriel continued to regard her with those dark eyes, those shadows whirling around him. A part of her wondered, for a moment, just what the shadows were thinking. Did they know what Azriel was about to offer, what he was going to say? Was that why they seemed so excited, so anxious…

"Then let's go." He said that so easily as he held out his hand for her and Nesta took it.

In a heartbeat, she'd taken his hand, her slender fingers closing around his. His grip was warm, strong, and...and it felt oddly steadying. Like an anchor to the ground.

The shadows engulfed them in a swirling vortex of darkness. For a moment, her heart thundered in her chest, a brief moment of panic at the feeling of being lost amid the shadows, at being so far from the ground.

But then...then the shadows seemed to shift, Azriel's firm grip on her hand the only anchor to reality, to the ground.

A moment later, the shadows faded away, and she found herself standing in a street in Velaris.

"I thought you couldn't winnow at the House of Wind," she said weakly.

"No winnowing. Shadow Walking," Azriel corrected her absentmindedly.

What? She had no clue what even was the difference.

"I am only wearing my nightgown," she hissed at him a moment later.

For the first time since they'd left the balcony, Azriel turned towards her, his eyes taking in her appearance, raking over her form.

His dark eyes scanned over her frame, her pale nightgown and slippered feet. For a moment, she felt self-conscious, almost shrinking back from that gaze...but then a smirk curled his lips.

"Don't worry, she won't care," he said drily. "She's seen a lot worse. And a lot more."

“It’s the middle of the night!” she protested next.

“It’s a full moon. She’s pretty much nocturnal during this time of the month,” he waved her off.

What kind of friend was this even?!

"Who is she?" Nesta demanded as Azriel led her to a door that was looking...harmless.

"Just a friend," Azriel said simply, his step not faltering as he led her towards the unassuming door.

It looked ordinary, so much so that a passerby would never guess that there was anything special behind it.

He didn't elaborate on the mysterious "she" who was behind the door...and Nesta had a feeling that he wouldn't, not until the moment she would see his friend for herself.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as they approached the door, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation swirling within her.

Azriel was being infuriatingly coy about everything. He wouldn't tell her who they were visiting, how he knew this person, or why this person could help her.

All she could do was follow him towards the unassuming door, her nightgown swishing around her ankles.

When they reached the door, Azriel gave her a slight smirk, as if silently saying, "Ready to find out?"

Nesta shot him a glare back, her eyes narrowing. If he was trying to drive her crazy, he was doing a good job of it.

She had about 5 different insults on the tip of her tongue, but before she had a chance to voice any of them, Azriel pushed open the door, revealing a...darkly elegant interior.

Her breath caught as she stepped across the threshold, her eyes scanning over the elegant yet dark interior of the shop.

Dark tapestries hung on the walls, illuminated by the dim light of the numerous candles scattered throughout. The scent of various herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the lingering scent of something...stronger. There was a...mysterious energy to the place, a sense of something ancient and powerful.

And then, Nesta came eye to eye with a pitch black...something. Golden eyes with slitted pupils watched her from the darkness and she froze. Like a cat, it stared at her. But for a cat, it was...too big. Too tall. It would at least reach Azriel's waist.

Her heart quickened at the sight of the...thing, watching her with its unblinking golden eyes. It was like a cat, but wrong, far too big to be a house cat. She was frozen, her body tense as she held the gaze of the feline creature before her.

She was about to whisper to Azriel what the hell this thing was if he could explain this...but it was Azriel who broke the silence.

"Hello, Bella," Azriel said, his voice smooth and even.

His words sent a small shock through her, her eyes widening as she stared between the strange cat creature and Azriel. Bella? This creature was named Bella.

Azriel continued, as if oblivious to her shock, "I hope you don't mind me bringing some company this late at night."

The feline creature...Bella...huffed in response, seeming to look at Azriel with those golden eyes, as if silently judging him.

For a moment, Nesta was convinced that the creature would attack them, throw them out of the house, but then...

Suddenly, Bella turned her golden gaze back to her, those feline eyes seeming to scan her from head to toe.

And then it moved.

Bella moved with a fluid, almost graceful motion, its jet-black fur rippling as it stepped out of the shadows, its golden eyes still on Nesta.

It was a cat. A massive cat. A huge cat. Big enough that it would reach Azriel’s waist. Bella yawned, showing a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. Nesta thought she was going to faint

The cat-like creature circled her, its movements slow and deliberate. Her heart was still thundering in her chest, her eyes wide as she followed Bella's every movement, half prepared to flee if the creature attacked.

Nesta tried to remain steady, to keep her breathing even, but her heart was racing, drumming against her chest.

Bella continued circling her, those golden eyes never leaving her form for a second. It was like the creature was studying her, silently judging her, and it made her feel...uncomfortable.

"Oh, she likes you," a female voice said. "Did you bring us a toy, Shadowsinger?"

The new voice startled her, and her head jerked to the side just in time to see a woman moving into the room, stepping out of the shadows near the back of the room.

The woman was…utterly gorgeous, with green eyes and long red hair cascading down her back.

Her eyes widened as she took in the woman before her, her body covered in a gold satin nightgown that clung to her curves and left very little to the imagination.

The woman -who could only be called a Goddess - smirked and was amused as she took in Nesta, her eyes scanning over her from head to toe in the same manner as Bella had.

She was clearly taking in every detail, her gaze sharp and unwavering, as if evaluating every bit of her appearance and body.

"I am not a toy," Nesta bristled.

"Of course not," the woman said with a smile, her voice smooth and silky. "But you are very pretty."

The compliment sounded more like a statement, like the woman was judging a painting or a piece of jewellery. Her words were not rude...but they didn't hold much kindness, either, more like simple facts.

And they didn't do anything to soothe that flicker of envy that had arisen in Nesta at the sight of the other woman's beauty.

"We are in need of your services, Cate," Azriel said at that moment. Cate. Such a normal name...for such a woman. Her ears were pointed but...Nesta would have bet anything that she wasn't High Fae. She wasn't sure what she was but she wasn't...

Her eyes darted to Azriel, who had stepped up next to her, his gaze on the woman - Cate, it seemed she was called - with an expectant look.

"Services?" Cate repeated with a raised brow, her eyes flickering between them, before a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. "And what sort of services can I render you, Shadowsinger?"

Her mind was spinning to try to make sense of the exchange, of that subtle… undercurrent of something that lay just beneath the words.

It was almost like there was a conversation happening she wasn't privy to, like they were speaking in a language she didn't understand.

She glanced at Azriel, trying to read his expression, but he was giving nothing away.

Cate's smirk widened as she took in both of them, her green eyes scanning over them with that sharpness that made Nesta feel more self-conscious of her own plain nightgown.

Azriel, meanwhile, remained as stoic, his features betraying nothing of his thoughts. He seemed to be waiting...but waiting for what, exactly?

The silence seemed to stretch on between them, the tension so heavy that Nesta could almost feel it pressing against her skin.

But then Cate moved, the silky fabric of her nightgown flowing around her as she took a few steps towards Azriel. Her eyes were still on Nesta, a smirk still on her lips as she purred out, "Why don't you tell me what services you require?" The woman's voice was low, almost sultry, and her eyes...her eyes were still on Nesta, studying her still.

Azriel's face remained expressionless as he spoke, his voice calm as he said, "She is in need of your help. She's been having nightmares. Bad ones. The same ones, over and over."

Cate's face changed into a look of understanding, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she took in the information. Her eyes flickered towards Nesta before returning to Azriel.

"The same nightmare," she repeated, her voice now thoughtful, before adding, "Every time?"

Azriel gave a grave nod, his voice steady as he replied, "Yes. Every night."

Cate's eyes widened just a fraction, her face taking on that thoughtful expression again, as if contemplating the information.

The woman suddenly moved towards a small table on the side, gesturing with a, "Sit. I'll make us some tea." Cate's words caught her off guard, her eyes widening a fraction…At that moment, Bella the cat walked over to her and rubbed herself against her legs.

Nesta froze for a moment, half expecting the creature to bite her. Instead, the cat merely purred as it rubbed its head against her shin. She glanced at Azriel questioningly, but he only shrugged in response, seemingly well used to the cat’s…usual antics.

She took the hint, stepping over to the nearest chair and hesitantly taking a seat.

The room was so still, the only sound was the soft rustle of Cate's nightgown as she moved to prepare the tea, the occasional purring of the cat…now letting itself be pet by Azriel, leaning its massive head against his thigh.

Azriel relaxed. She had never seen him that relaxed before. The shadows were swirling around Bella, the cat lazily swiping at them and that was that.

Nesta, on the other hand, was anything but relaxed.

"What is she?" Nesta hissed at Azriel.

Azriel's expression remained unchanging, his gaze fixed on Cate as she moved about the room, preparing the tea. "Cate?" He repeated, not looking at her. "She's a witch."

Nesta's eyebrows shot up at the revelation. A witch?

A witch. The one time she had been confronted with the idea of a witch had been in Illyria. Devlon had been terrified at the idea of Nesta being a witch.

Her mind immediately flashed back to her time in that cold, wretched camp.

Devlon, the sneering face of the war-camp lord. The memory of that small village, the whispered conversations…She couldn't help but remember the fear in Devlon's eyes when he confronted her about the rumours about her being a witch. He'd almost looked terrified like the mere thought of a witch was enough to frighten him.

And here in front of her, a witch stood before her, preparing to make her tea. She tried to keep her nerves in check, but her heart was hammering furiously.

Cate set the tea set down on the table in front of them, her movements graceful and fluid, like every move was a performance.

"Don't worry, I haven't eaten anyone in centuries," Cate quipped as she brought the tea to the table. "You can ask Azriel."

Cate's words startled her, a jolt of...fear mixed with surprise rushing through her at the woman's casual mention of potentially eating someone.

Slowly, Nesta turned back to Cate, trying to control the pounding of her heart in her chest. "You...haven't eaten anyone. In centuries," she repeated, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

Cate gave her a smile that was full of teeth as if she knew exactly what effect her words were having on her. She seemed to find the whole thing amusing, her green eyes sparkling with humour, as if she was enjoying the fact that she was frightening her.

Azriel started laughing.

Nesta turned towards him quickly, utterly bewildered by the sound.

He was laughing. Azriel was laughing, his eyes sparkling with...amusement at the look on her face.

"She's joking," he said, his voice laced with humour. “A poor sense of humour, but still a joke.”

"You tend to like my sense of humour," Cate quipped, seating herself, a smile playing around her mouth. "I have never eaten another fae or faeries, I promise you, Nesta Archeron," she said easily.

Cate's words should have reassured her, but still, there was something about her that made her feel...unsettled. Cate moved with the grace of a predator, her every gesture full of a...confidence, a power, that was hard to ignore.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.

Cate's smile grew wider at the sound of her question, her green eyes lighting up with amusement.

"Azriel told me, of course," she said, her voice smooth and silky.

Her gaze flicked over to Azriel, who was still watching the interaction with those calm hazel eyes.

It was...annoying. He was just watching them, like this was all some sort of game to him. Was it all just...a game?

Nesta couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation at the thought. And at the fact that he seemed perfectly relaxed while she felt like she was ready to jump out of her skin

Cate noticed the irritation on her face and her smile grew wider, a spark of mischief in her eyes as she took in her expression.

"You're annoyed, aren't you?" Cate said smoothly, her voice full of amusement. "Annoyed that Azriel hasn't told you more about me, hasn't warned you about the 'scary witch'."

She couldn't help but flinch at the accuracy of Cate's words. She was annoyed. Annoyed that Azriel had brought her here without properly preparing her, without telling her more about the woman she was about to meet. It all felt...like a power play.

"It's not about you, it's about that mate of yours," Cate said with a shrug. "The General and I have had a rather...tumultuous past."

"With that, she means that she has once stabbed Cassian on general principle," Azriel jumped in with some amusement. "He has never forgiven her."

She felt her eyes widen in surprise, not just at the revelation that Cate had stabbed Cassian, but at the casual way Azriel mentioned it.

And yet, somehow, she suspected there was a lot more to the story than that...and that there was also a lot left unsaid between the two of them.

Cate rolled her eyes at Azriel's comment, her voice full of dry humour. "Cassian has always been one for holding a grudge, hasn't he?"

Her gaze flicked between the two of them, her mind swirling with questions...and curiosity.

There was a history here, between the two of them. A history filled with, it seemed, a whole lot of tension and...probably a lot of violence. And yet, they still seemed friendly. Even close, in a way.

Nesta was dying to know more, to dig deeper into the complexities of their relationship, but they were both being so...cryptic, answering some questions while conveniently ignoring others.

"Now," Cate spoke, her voice soft, "How long, exactly, have you been having these nightmares, Nesta?"

Her attention snapped back to Cate at her question, the mention of the nightmares sending a pang of anxiety through her.

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady as she answered, "A few months, now."

Cate's face grew serious at her reply, the amusement and mischief in her demeanour fading away, replaced by a look of concern. She leaned back in her chair, studying Nesta intently like she was trying to discern something from her expression.

"A few months," she repeated thoughtfully. "And they're every night?"

She gave a small nod, her heart rate picking up at the intensity of Cate's gaze. She didn't like how perceptive those green eyes were, how it felt like the woman was able to see straight through her, straight into her mind.

"They get...worse, every time," she muttered, her voice low. "Louder, more vivid."

She could feel Azriel's eyes on her as she spoke, the weight of his gaze heavy on her skin. But she didn't look at him, too focused on Cate, on the witch studying her so intently.

"The Dreamcatcher Spell," Azriel said, his voice even. "Can you cast that on her?"

Cate's eyes flicked to Azriel for a moment, a flicker of some undefinable emotion passing over her face before her gaze returned to Nesta. She took in the Shadowsinger's request, considering it for a moment.

Finally, she nodded, her voice calm and cool as she replied, "I can. Yes."

Her heart skipped a beat at Cate's confirmation, a mixture of anticipation and...fear stirring inside her. The Dreamcatcher Spell. She had no idea what that was, what it would do. But Azriel seemed to trust Cate.

"What..." she began, faltering briefly before steadying her voice. "What exactly does that spell do?"

Cate's expression was calm as she replied, "It's meant to help with vivid, recurring nightmares." Her eyes, though...her eyes seemed to hold a flicker of something else, something that made her stomach twist. "It won't help you get rid of the nightmares altogether, but it will...ease them, a little. Blurr them around the edges. Make it possible for you to go back to sleep...it blunts the emotions attached to these memories."

Her breaths came out a little faster at Cate's explanation, her heart rate increasing at the thought of...having the nightmares be eased, even a little. It sounded...too good to be true, almost.

She glanced at Azriel, whose expression was unreadable, before turning back to Cate. "And...there's no drawbacks? Nothing I should be worried about?" Cate gave her a shrug, the corners of her lips turning up in a small smile.

"Do you really think Azriel would trust me with his sister's mind if he hadn't had me cast the same spell over him dozens of times?"

His sister? He claimed her as his sister?

Her head snapped towards him, but Azriel just inclined his head.

Azriel trusted her The Shadowsinger, who was always so careful, who was so skilled at maintaining his secrets, trusted this...strange witch enough to let her cast spells on his mind?

"There's nothing to be worried about. The worst side effect could be a headache," Cate continued. "And that would be from an unskilled witch."

Her eyes flickered back to Cate, her mind still struggling to sort through the implications of all this. Azriel really did trust the woman and...

She wanted to believe her. Wanted to trust Cate's words, and believe that there were no dangers or side effects.

But a small part of her mind was still sceptical, wary of letting someone—a witch even—mess with her mind.

"How much does it cost?"

Cate's smile widened at her question, a hint of sharp teeth visible as she leaned back in her chair, her hands coming to rest on the armrests.

"You are wary about letting me mess with your mind, aren't you?" she said smoothly, her voice full of humour. "You're thinking, 'What's the price I'll have to pay for this?'"

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep her voice steady as she asked again, "How much?"

Cate's smile grew into a full-fledged grin as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I'm not going to take your firstborn if that's what you're worried about," she said, her voice still amused. "I don't want gold or jewels or anything of the sort."

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction at Cate's words, her anxiety receding slightly at the reassurance that she wouldn't have to pay anything like those things. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more...a catch.

"Then...what?" she asked, her voice still a little wary.

Cate's expression didn't change as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flickering over to Azriel for a moment before returning to Nesta.

"You don't need to worry about that," she finally said, her voice calm. "Azriel and I…We've...done each other a few favours, over the years.""

Her heart leapt into her throat at Cate's words, her mind swirling with more questions. Favours? Azriel had asked favours of the witch? What kinds of favours?

"That's all?" Nesta insisted, her eyes narrowing a fraction. It didn't sound like that was, in fact, all. The way Cate kept looking at Azriel, the way she said they had done each other ‘favours'...

It sounded like there was a lot more to that than she was being told.

Nesta shot Azriel a look, her eyes narrowing at his seemingly relaxed demeanour. He was being so...unfazed by all of this. So calm, while she was the apprehensive one. He really didn't seem concerned about her letting Cate cast the spell.

Nesta let out a breath, letting her eyes focus back on Cate.

She also hadn’t expected to be led into a chalk circle in the middle of Cate’s living room…or for her to light the candles with a wave of her hand…

Nesta watched in complete befuddlement, her eyes wide as Cate began to chant. The language sounded...foreign, guttural, the words flowing out in a steady rhythm.

She had expected...something different. She had no idea what, but it wasn't this.

Her breathing was uneven, her heart pounding in her chest, the sound almost drowning out the strange language.

And then it was done.

Nesta watched as Cate finished her chant, the final words reverberating through the air like a spell. For a moment, the room was utterly quiet.

And then...nothing happened.

She stared at Cate, waiting for...something, anything. But the witch just kneeled there, peering at her through half-lidded eyes.

"That's it?" Nesta asked, her voice coming out hoarse and a little shaky. "It's...done?"

Cate gave her a small smile, not saying anything, just watching her with that intense green gaze of hers.

She shifted a little in her position, feeling strangely...naked under the woman's stare.

"That's it," Cate agreed. "What did you think was going to happen?"

She swallowed, feeling a little foolish for her question. She didn't really know what she was expecting. Something flashy, maybe. Or some...sign, some kind of indication that the spell worked.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice a little sheepish. "I suppose I thought...it would be more dramatic, somehow."

Cate let out a chuckle at her words, the sound rich and amused. "That's what everyone expects," she said. "Some grand gesture, some great wave of magic."

She lifted her hand, a small flicker of green magic dancing over her fingertips. "The truth is," she continued, "most spells are not as interesting as people think they are."

"Most?" she repeated, her voice curious. "So some are?"

Cate's lips curled into a small, sharp smile at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

"Oh, some definitely can be," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "It depends on the witch, really. Some love to show off. Others...prefer the subtle approach."

"Don't let her fool you, she loves to show off," Azriel said drily.

"Only for you, shadowsinger," Cate shot back, flirtation clear in her voice. And then, somehow the last thing Nesta had expected…The last thing was for her to gain her feet, cross the room and kiss Azriel. Right on the mouth.

She could only watch in stunned silence as the kiss deepened, as the Shadowsinger's hands came up to caress Cate's face, to pull her closer.

It was so...unbelievable. So unreal. But also...so...hot.

She kinda wished Cassian was there.

The thoughts swirled in her mind, her body heating up just from watching them. Watching Azriel lean in to kiss this dangerous, gorgeous witch with effortless grace like he'd done it a thousand times.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the kiss ended. Azriel stepped back, his cheeks flushed and his breathing slightly uneven.

Cate, on the other hand, looked completely unflustered, her hair still perfectly arranged, her expression unruffled. She simply smiled at him, a secretive, intimate smile, before turning back to Nesta.

For a moment, all Nesta could do was sit there, utterly gobsmacked, her mouth still hanging open slightly.

Finally, she found her voice, forcing out, "Uh...How...long has that...?"

Because, judging by the casual intimacy between them, this...relationship, or whatever it was, definitely wasn’t new.

Cate let out a small laugh at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

The look in her eyes was almost...predatory, as she added, "We've been… friends… for a very long time, haven't we, shadowsinger?"

At her words, Azriel's cheeks darkened, his ears turning slightly red as he let out a grunt of assent.

Nesta’s eyes darted to Azriel, taking in his flushed cheeks and averted gaze, the way he shifted his weight slightly, as if uncomfortable. It was so rare to see him off-balance, so rare to see him anything but completely composed.

And it was all Cate's fault. This witch somehow had the Shadowsinger flustered and blushing like a schoolboy.

"We've had...quite the history," Cate continued, her voice smooth and velvety.

Her words were cryptic, and somehow also laced with innuendo, as if there was a whole world behind them, a world full of…memories.

Nesta couldn’t help but wonder just how...intimate their 'history' was.

"Now, if the nightmares persist, have Azriel bring you back to me. Otherwise, you should be nightmare-free for the next few months,” Cate said easily.

She nodded numbly, her mind still trying to process the implications of all this.

Nightmare-free for the next few months. That was good. That was...incredible, actually.

But her mind was still swirling with so many other things…mainly Azriel and Cate and this...history of theirs that she knew nothing about.

"And…" she began, faltering slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts. "If I...do need to come back..."

Nesta trailed off, her eyes flickering to Azriel as she thought of what she was about to say. It felt intrusive, and yet she couldn’t help herself from asking, “What are your…rates?”

Cate raised an eyebrow at the question, tilting her head as a small smile curled her lips.

"My rates?" she repeated, amusement clear in her voice. "Well, that depends on the…service, I suppose. Some things can be done for a few gold coins."

The look in her eyes, in Azriel’s eyes, said some things couldn’t be bought.

Her mind was still trying to process the implications of that, when Cate spoke again, her voice now completely free of amusement. "But some things...can’t."

Azriel visibly stiffened at her words, his eyes flickering to the witch, a silent communication passing between the two of them.

"Some things," Cate reiterated, her eyes fixed on Azriel, "can only be paid for in... favours."

Nesta was getting the distinct feeling that she was intruding on some unspoken conversation between them, on some agreement, maybe, that she knew nothing about.

"What kind of… favours?" she asked, glancing between Azriel and Cate, her mind swimming with possibilities.

Cate smiled a sharp, predatory smile, her eyes flickering to Azriel before returning to her.

"That," she said, her voice now dripping with sweet condescension, "Is for Azriel to explain, should he choose. Though I’m sure you’ve gathered some idea of what such favours could entail by now."

Azriel rolled his eyes. Nesta stifled a small laugh at Azriel's reaction, his eye roll speaking volumes. It was clear that he was used to Cate's taunting, used to her...provocation.

"Good Night, Cate," he said drily and the witch laughed as they left the house.

"See you soon, Shadowsinger!" she sing-songed in response.

The night air outside was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warm intimacy of the cottage.

Nesta took a deep breath, trying to clear her head off the whirlwind thoughts that had been running through it.

The kiss between Cate and Azriel, their history, their…agreements.

It was all so…unexpected. So strange and…intriguing.

"I thought you were in love with Mor," she finally settled on saying.

Azriel shot her a look at her words, a mix of irritation and...amusement, perhaps.

"I am," he replied, his voice gruff. "But Cate and I…" He paused, his expression becoming contemplative as he chose his next words carefully. "Cate and I have...history. It's...complicated."

"And Elain?" Nesta asked, crossing her arms. Whatever had been going on between Azriel and her younger sister…before it had come to a screeching halt sometimes around Winter Solstice.

Azriel's face shuttered slightly at the mention of Elain, his jaw tightening. "Elain…" he began, his voice hoarse as he looked away. "That's…over. It was a mistake, really." His voice was rough, almost...ashamed as if the memory of his involvement with her sister pained him

"Elain has a mate," Azriel said carefully. "It has been made very clear to me that I have no right to interfere with that." The way he said these words made Nesta wonder who exactly had done that.

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice as he spoke, a resentment that he quickly masked with a brusque "It doesn’t matter."

But, it did. It mattered to him, that much was obvious from the tightness of his expression, from the tenseness of his shoulders.

She could guess who had made that clear to him.

Feyre must have found out about it – or, perhaps, Rhysand. And they must have intervened.

She swallowed. It made her uneasy, though she understood why Azriel had…pulled back from that. Unless Elain finally outright turned Lucien down…getting in the middle of that was just begging for a fallout.

“And you and Cate?” she asked hesitantly.

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction.

"Cate and I..." he repeated, his voice hoarse. "We have...a history, as she said. An agreement, you could call it."

He let out a huff of breath, almost like a sigh.

"We're...friends," he finally said, his voice firm, though there was an edge in it that suggested there was more to it than that

“Cate…Cate makes it very clear what she wants from me,” Azriel said quietly. “When we happen to be in the same place, every few years, we…spend time together. We aren’t beholden to each other in any way. She takes other lovers and so do I,” he said with a shrug.

Azriel’s words were quiet, spoken matter-of-factly, as if he were simply stating a fact. But there was an undertone of something deeper there, hints of…feeling, maybe.

It was so rare to see Azriel openly talk about this stuff, to lay bare even a portion of his personal life.

“Cate has never been scared of me. I appreciate that.”

He said that like he held that so precious. That little fact.

Nesta could just stare at him.

"It’s...nice," he said quietly. "Being with someone who doesn't...shy away. She’s much scarier than I am after all,” he quipped, a small smile on his far too handsome face.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #my writing #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #The Witching Hour

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writingsbychlo · 2 years ago

Text

UNWIND | azriel

summary; azriel is caught up in his head, and needs to fuck out his frustrations with the woman he loves.

word count; 8543

notes; I can’t tell if this is hot or pure shit so lmk because this is a little more than my usual smut levels. also, this is a vague follow up to ‘focus’ but very very loosely. can totally be read as a stand-alone fic.

The lights were flickering in the halls as you walked along, the steady bursts of uncontrolled power bursting throughout the House of Wind, thrumming like an irrational heartbeat. The closer you got, the stronger the pulses became, the more frequent the flickering was, and the thicker the air seemed to get.

You’d known Azriel for decades now, long enough to have seen these moods before. It wasn’t the worst one, not by far, nothing compared to the night Rhysand found himself trapped, or Feyre was taken back to Spring. Nonetheless, it didn’t make it any better.

Cassian had fled after dinner with Nesta in his arms, the Townhouse looking like a very appealing prospect to visit for the night, and you knew that even though the ripples of his errant power never reached as low as the library, even the priestesses would be on lockdown from Azriel’s mood tonight.

He’d never lay a finger on anyone, he never had, but it didn’t make the tumbling stones shaken loose from the mountainside any less scary, or the mass of writhing shadows and rage any friendlier.

It felt like plunging your head under water as you stood outside of his bedroom door; breath held, utter silence thick around your ears, heart beating so hard it was resonating audibly inside your skull. When your fist tapped against the wood, you barely heard the echo. A steady thrum of power was all you got in response. A warning, a threat, a question of who had dared come close, you weren’t sure.

No more came.

The bursts of power seemed to simmer, to become like a crawling, bubbling mess, so close to boiling over, spitting around your feet instead of steady pulses. The door finally creaked open, when you’d just about given up, wood scraping across the stone tiles to reveal the chaotic darkness inside.

As soon as you had cleared the entrance, the door slammed shut behind you. Only through the flickers of wild shadows could moonlight filter through, all of the lights on but none of the glow reaching you, and it was only by the one velvety shadow curling affectionately around your wrist that you were able to find any guidance through the onyx tornado at all.

The shadow at your wrist dipped down, twirling between your fingers like the phantom touch of another’s hand in your own, leading you in slow stumbles through the room. The cold of the night hit you before any moonlight did, and it was only when you stumbled through the streams of shadows like a curtain that your lungs let you take a deep breath once again.

Chilled, cold air wrapped around you like a blanket, bursting through your senses and renewing your mind once again. The touch at your wrist slipped away, a rogue tendril that rejoined the frenzy now that you were safely through the storm, and Azriel stood before you. Hunched at the waist, forearms braced on the stone balcony railing as he stared out at the endless distance.

He was tense, built like stone and mountains, walls of solid muscle pulled so taut that his wings didn’t even touch the ground. His bare feet clung to the stone, skin pebbled in goosebumps everywhere except his covered legs, swirls of ink over his shoulders disappearing into the night sky.

Tonight, Azriel wasn’t as flirty as he normally was. Tonight, he’d shut down entirely. That line that had been crossed weeks ago in the training ring felt like a million years ago now as he shut you out. He was so caught up in his own head that you weren’t even sure if he knew you were here.

“Azriel?”

An answer to your question, as he jumped in shock, straightening to his full height, and twisting to face you. His eyes were dull and yet burning with rage, face contorted into a frown that you weren’t used to. Normally, he offered you a sweet smile, a smirk or a wink. A soft kiss to your forehead or cheek, a brush of one scarred finger over your blushing cheeks.

None of it came now.

“What are you doing here?”

You swallowed thickly, throat like sandpaper as you tried to form a response, to form words under the ire of his glare, but refusing to back down. He may be terrifying to the world, but he was the world to you. “Your shadow came when I knocked. I assumed you sent it to open the door.”

His gaze flickered angrily over his shoulder, like in the swirling mass he’d be able to pick out the traitor precisely, a snarl on his lips before he was looking back to you. “I didn’t. You shouldn’t be here.”

It was a dismissal, one he punctuated by turning his back on you and resuming his lean against the railing, breath clouding in the air as he let out a world-weary sigh. “Azriel…”

“Did you not just hear me?” His fingers clenched on the stone, so firmly that his knuckles turned white. The mountains practically shook again with his shout; “Leave!”

That power thrummed out again, heavy bursts that hummed over the building and rattled the glass windows as you stepped closer, flares of glittering blue from his siphons where they sat in a pile, useless to the rippling power now on a table beside him. Daring to take another step closer, he stiffened again.

You moved, closer and closer until you were within reaching distance, the space between you both swallowed up, but you didn’t dare to touch him. His wings twitched on either side of your body, tightening in like they did when he was preparing for a fight. Instead of reaching out, you cleared your throat softly, letting him know just where you were behind him.

He growled, turning slowly, cautious to ensure that no part of him touched any part of you, and the air was all but crackling with unshed tension around you. Insults, curses, harsh words were conveyed in his gaze, everything in an attempt to get you to leave that he had yet to say.

Before he could say any of them, you raised your hands slowly, making sure he could track every movement as his eye widened, like taming a beast instead of a man. When your palms settled over his cheeks, the preternatural stiffness and stillness he’d taken on melted, his shoulders began to slump, like he was being dragged down into the very earth itself, even as he still towered over you.

“Az, sweetheart…”

Still, he did not touch you. Even as the anger in his eyes only softened to pain, and the clench of his fists smoothed his hands out from fists by his sides. “You shouldn’t be here.” It wasn’t a threat this time, but instead was a plea, begging you to leave with a tenderness you were familiar with from him.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You murmured, voice unable to reach above a whisper in fear of shattering the fragile peace. Sweeping your thumbs over his cheekbones, his throat bobbed, eyes held steady with your own. “Let me be here for you.”

“You can’t be here, because I’m not okay. If I hurt you, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”

Your heart shattered at the admission, his shadows pulling in closer and closer to you both, no longer afraid of their master but seeking to comfort, a blanket wrapping around the both of you at the base of your legs.

You didn’t reply verbally, instead, you gave him every chance to pull away, to stop it, as you leaned up, taking your time as you rose, until the breath was shared between you both, his steady breaths now shallow pants.

Your lips met his jaw first, just to the left of his chin, a soft kiss that wasn’t nearly enough. Another just a fraction higher, and another, until your lips were pressed to his cheek and he was letting out a shaky breath by your ear.

“Baby…”

“Do you really want me to leave, Az?” Your lip skimmed over his, reciprocated by his pucker but you didn’t give into it just yet, sliding one hand to the back of his neck and the other up over his cheek. Slipping your thumb between your mouths, you stoked over his lips once, his haze fixed. “Tell me you don’t want me here and I’ll go. But, I don’t want you to be alone, when I’m here for you if you want me. I’ll always be here for you.”

The message was clear, and you gave him a single and fleeting kiss to his lips, tearing away from his space and falling back to the flats of your feet. One step back, just enough to think.

Your foot lifted, never making it as far as a second step away, before he was finally reaching out. His hands gripped at your hips, yanking you forward roughly until you were falling into his body, colliding with cold skin and solid walls of muscle.

“I don’t want you to go. I just want you here with me. I always want you here with me.” The confession sounded like it pained him, hoarse on a throat yelled raw already, the Azriel you know fighting the darkness enough to break through to you for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m ready to show you this part of myself, I don’t want you to be scared of me. I can’t lose you.”

The hands settled on your hips flexed, like he was trying to be gentler but they came back just as tight, spaces where there would be bruises in the morning. He’d tried so hard to resist touching you at all, but now, you weren’t sure you’d be able to break free even if you wanted to.

Tracing your arms over his arms, back up to hold his face, this time, he tipped into your touch, lashes fluttering shut for just a second as he sucked in a breath.

“You don’t scare me, Azriel. No part of you scares me. Not your shadows, not your knives, not your moody scowl. I know every part of you, I care for every part of you. This isn’t about me, I’m not the one in need.” You weren’t sure what had happened in Hewn City, only that it must’ve been bad. Whatever he’d seen, whatever he couldn't stop, it was dragging him down into despair and rage. “So, tell me, do you want me to stay or do you want me to go?”

His forehead came down, leaning on your own. “I want you to stay.”

Your noses bumped, a smile forming on your lips as he nuzzled in as close to you a she could get, his arms wrapping around you and holding you firmly to his chest, until your heartbeats echoed together. “You didn’t come to dinner. I was worried about you. Maybe we should get you some food?”

“I don’t want to eat,” He whispered, the words like ice over you as the softness dropped from his tone once again, the wild animal rampaging in his mind taking over once again. One hand was sliding up from your waist now, loose enough to travel over the expanse of your body, across your torso and over your breasts until his fingers were flexing once again, but this time around your throat.

In one swift movement, you were being spun, back pressing into the unforgiving stone of the wall railing, cold spreading along your skin as your shirt rose behind you. His eyes were darker now, the pretty caramel shade you loved so much almost swallowed entirely by the dark, his lips forming an equally dark smirk to match. But he waited, he was like a predator waiting for the prey to give permission to be hunted.

And you did.

A single nod was all it took, until he was surging forwards, lips crashing into your own, a kiss so urgent and fierce that the breath was knocked from your lungs. The implication was clear, everything about Azriel was an open book tonight, unlike his usual way of hiding his emotions.

He didn’t want gentle, he didn’t need soft. What Azriel needed most was to let out this energy, to use it for something other than self-destruction and hatred, to burn off every angry part of himself in a way that would make him feel good. He’d once told you that your mind was unfocused, on everything but where it needed to be, and he’d helped you clear it with his fingers between your legs.

His mind needed the opposite, needed to let go of what he was clinging to, to release it. He didn’t need to focus, he needed to let it all go. Perhaps a mindblowing orgasm would do the same for him.

His lips were unyielding against your own, a scrape of his teeth over your lower lip until you yelped, and his tongue plunged into your mouth at the opening. The hand on your neck flexed, your whimpers cut off by his lips and you had no chance at all, drowning in everything front he feel of him to the taste of him. Stolen kisses had nothing on this, this crescendo of overdue emotions and pent-up feelings, and despite it all, there was still a reverence underneath that told you your Azriel was fighting all the while to hold onto you.

Through every gasping breath you managed to take between assaults of his lips, you got less and less oxygen, vision spotting until you felt almost delirious from the burn of your lungs. When his hand loosened just fractionally, his mouth torn from your own only to leave wet marks across your jaw and neck, you heaved in breath while you had the chance.

“Azriel, let me touch you. Let me help you, make you feel good…”

“Oh, you’ll make me feel good, baby. Don’t worry about that.” His voice was sharp and lethal, like a blade slicing across your skin where he mumbled it into the juncture of your neck. His teeth followed, a bite on your skin, your head tossed, back arching until you were dangling over the balcony, his hand at your neck all that kept you stable.

You were on the tips of your toes, bared for the man he pulled back, licking over kiss-swollen lips and using a half-lidded gaze to take you in.

“So fucking beautiful. Inside and out. So kind and sweet and godsdamned perfect. All for me.” He whispered, your heart skipping a beat in your throat because, despite the fire in his gaze, there was honey in his voice. “I hate myself for how much I want to fucking ruin you.”

“I want nothing more than that,” Your promise made his head snap up, his admiration and longing taken over by raw desire and anticipation. Once furrowed brows smoothed out, relaxing enough for him to raise one in solitary judgement.

“You’re going to regret saying that, sweetheart.” Unlike when you’d said it, the pet name was laced with venom and rough promises, coated in something that made your skin break out with a shudder once again. He closed in on you, even closer, until your toes were hardly touching the floor at all, dangling at his mercy entirely as he hummed to himself, eyes scanning along you as he considered to himself just how he wanted to proceed. “I bet you’d do anything I asked of you right now, wouldn't you? Would you get down on your knees for me, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let me fuck your pretty mouth until I was satisfied?” Your legs clamped together, one of his fingers dragging your lower lip down, biting his own eagerly, before he was slipping two fingers into your mouth, cutting your answer off. His smirk told you he already knew the words you’d have uttered, anyway. “Show me. Show me how good you’d be if it were my cock in there, instead.”

Your lips sealed around his fingers, your tongue dragging along marred and ridged skin within your mouth, as far as you could go until your eyes watered and you were suppressing the urge to gag. His lips parted, gaze fixed on where his digits disappeared between your lips, the thrill of it sending a shock of electricity down your spine, coiling at the base of your stomach with hot need.

The look on his face was nothing short of worship, even if he was in control, you still held the power.

Lapping at the skin, you grazed your teeth lightly over his knuckles as you pulled back, his soft growl your only clue of his reaction before bobbing your head back down again. Before you could repeat the motion, however, he was tugging his fingers back, a wet pop and a trail of saliva snapping, and the hand on your throat tightened to lift your head up for him again. Your sights clashed, and he already looked about as ruined as you felt.

He was shaking with need, you could see the vibrations in his shoulders, the hum of the occasional shadow that darted up high enough to dance over his shoulders, before joining the pool at your waists.

Those two wet fingers dragged down, a shock of coldness over your bare skin before his fingers were snapping the elastic of your leggings against your hips. He only chuckled at your gasp, before his hand was dipping under this time, fingers teasing down between your legs until he was dragging a moan from you at the featherlight touch over your clit.

“Oh, look at that. You didn’t need to get my fingers all wet for me after all, you’re fucking dripping for me.” Swirling two digits through the wetness already accumulated, your head fell back, a whimper of his name carried away on the winds.

“You once told me that I was too in my head. You helped me focus, just like this. Let me help you unfocus now. Let me touch you, let me make you feel good.” One hand gripped at his forearm around your throat, gentle but firm, holding you secure where you all but balanced over the edge. The other reached for his hand, hidden under your leggings and the swirl of shadows as he dipped one finger into your core, sinking it slowly into you. “Az…”

“Making you feel good, sweetheart, watching you come undone is what’s going to help me. I want you to scream my name so loud I can’t hear any of the bad thoughts, just you.” As he spoke, he pulled his touch back, only to snap back in with both fingers instead of one, and your back arched again with a cry of his name.

Again and again, his fingers dragged over every spot within you that made yous hake only to snap back against you, not letting the limits of your clothing stop him at all. Then again, it never had before, either. Just like in that training ring, he started to tease. The palm of his hand over your clit, grazing with each thrust that was never quite enough. Your hips rolled down to meet him, scrabbling, desperate for more, and his condescending laugh was hidden in your skin, but you felt every piece of it.

Heat flooded your skin, the begging you were rapidly approaching sitting like bitter acid on the tip of your tongue. Your fingers scratched anywhere you could reach, clinging to him while demanding more, thanks and request all in one. You could feel it, the whisper of pleasure over your nerves, so close but not enough, and a sob fell from your lips as his taunting.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

With a simple flick of his wrist, he was twisting his hand, reaching deeper, using all the things he’d learned about you like muscle memory to find every spot that he needed to.

“Please, Azriel!”

“Please, what?” He echoed, pulling back enough to set his forehead on your own again, lips brushing, feeling your pants wash over his face, letting him taste everything he did to you from your needy whines and gasps. “Tell me what you want.” He threw your own words back in your face, you’d made him ask you to stay, and now he wanted you to ask him to make you come.

Your lips stopped the words, another cry of his name, shaky and pathetic as he held your orgasm just out of reach, his fingers slowing to almost a stop, barely moving at all, and your frustration was so palpable you felt like electricity was jumping from your skin to his own, every hair standing on end. “Azriel! Please, please, let me come!”

“There’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With the perfect crook of his fingers, Azriel had you shaking, hurtling towards an orgasm that would leave your mind spinning, head empty when that was what you were supposed to be doing for him, but the pleasure was too heady for you to care.

His fingers buried deep in your cunt, his lips on your neck, tongue and teeth stinging and soothing as he marked you, mumbled praises interspersed with filthy promises, it was all too much. With a heavy swipe of his thumb over your clit, his name finally fell in a true scream from your lips.

He didn’t let up, not when your clit began to throb or walls pulsed. Not until you were shaking so hard through your orgasm that you were all but crawling up and over the edge of the balcony did he stop, leaving you unable to breathe for an entirely different reason as he wrung your body out for pleasure.

His hand finally left you, catching you at the waist when your knees buckled, his fingers tucking into his mouth to suck the taste of your from them, a lewd act that had your cheeks flushing with heat and your stomach tingling with need again already. Clinging onto him, your nails left crescent moons in the exposed skin of his chest, red marks on his forearms where you’d clawed at him, but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, he looked wilder now then he had before.

“That… that was even better than last time.” You panted out. He’d used all those tips and tricks he’d learned about your body from the last time to play you like his favourite game this time, driving you to an earth-shattering orgasm with a few touches and buttons pushed, knowing you too well.

Your only reply was a harsh kiss, his tongue forcing its way between your lips to let you taste yourself as he held you solidly to him. Your lips were slow and languid where his were hurried and desperate, mind still working far too quickly, still holding onto so much, the night nowhere near over if he hadn't started to let it go.

A shadow swiped across the back of your legs, your body sinking slowly towards the ground as this time he doesn’t bother to correct you, this time, it was intentional. Your lips are torn apart, your knees meeting the stone as he sets you down, with enough care that your teeth don’t clatter and your knees aren’t cut, a flash of your love in there despite the monster taking over his body.

“Gods, I knew you’d look good on your knees for me. Always so pretty, baby. So fuckin’ pretty.” He swept your hair over your shoulders, a finger under your chin to tip your head up, shadows so high around you that if he willed it they’d go over your head entirely, smothering you within them and taking you prisoner. “Bet you’d look good if your mouth was stuffed with my cock too, huh? Shall we find out?”

Your legs clenched at his words, a dizzy wave of arousal slamming into you at full force. You’d thought about Az bossing you around before, the voice he used at training or on missions, hoping he’d one day turn it on you between the sheets too. This was so much colder and crueller than that, it was almost mocking, like he truly was taking you for the toy you’d offered yourself up to be, his to use for the night until he felt better, and he wore that role like a second skin.

His leathers sit low on his hips, sharp hipbones exposed to you along with the deep dip of his muscled stomach, trailing down with a patch of hair from his navel to disappear between the laces. Leaning in, you left a light kiss over the soft hairs just above the hemline, a hiss on his lips as he watched you, and you watched him through your lashes.

Another kiss, this one to his hipbone, and then to the other, his hand clenching and unclenching by his side as you left scattered kisses along the base of his stomach, tongue occasionally flicking out to tease. When he’d seemingly had enough, his hand settled on your head, fingers weaving into your hair, gathering the strands up threateningly in his fist but not tugging yet, just making his presence known, taking back every shred of that power.

Sliding your hands up his legs and over the front of his trousers, he let out a low moan at the pressure of your palms, his hips rolling into your touch as his erection strained against the fabric underneath. Your fingers toyed with the ends of each lace holding them shut, barely managing to contain him now.

“Go ahead, pretty girl.” His words were powerful but his voice was straining, watching through hooded eyes as you undid the laces slowly, unable to hide the smirk on your face as you teased him. Inching them down a little at a time, more and more of him was revealed to you, until the leathers were tight around the middle of his thighs, his cock red and angry, standing tall before you, shining with the smears of precum that already escaped him.

When you leaned in, hands still clasped at his thighs, only to leave a tantalising lick from his base to his tip, he growled. You did it again, enjoying the way the danger of riling him up anymore seemed to make you tremble with want. You cleaned the taste of him from his skin, salty and rich, merely a hint of what he’d truly taste like and yet your mouth was already watering, begging for more, needing it more than you needed air to breathe.

Another lick, and his restraint finally snapped. A shocked sound left your lips as he yanked your head back hard by the first in your hair, taking his cock within his other hand, and slapping it against your cheek. “Open up, before I fucking make you.”

Your jaw fell open of its own command, lips parting and tongue sitting flat, and there was far too much pride in his gaze as he grinned down at you, letting the head of his cock hover millimetres from your lips.

“Say please.”

“Please.” You were breathless, the word rushing from you, and the grin on his face was wild enough that your stomach felt like you’d fallen through the sky. The same flipping and turning that Azriel would do when he carried you through the air, just to get a rise out of you. Somehow, he managed to do the same thing when you were on the ground, too. “Please, Az, let me make you feel better.”

“Alright, baby, I’ll let you help.” With that, he was pressing himself between your lips, hot skin sliding across your tongue, the taste of him the only thing you could focus on as he slipped into your mouth. He didn’t stop, not until he was tapping against the back of your throat, a deep moan falling from his lips as he struggled to keep his eyes open, to keep his focus on you as your lips sealed tightly around him. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’ve always dreamed about what your mouth would feel like, but this is so much better than all of it.”

Your moan was muffled around him, tongue tracing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock, and the hand in your hair tightened until tears were lining your eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hips rocked a little, pulling back only to push back in, setting a slow pace, fucking your mouth a little more each time. He built back up again, his smirk growing with every gag you gave him. He was teasing himself and you, never daring to push any further but showing exactly what he wanted, exactly where he wanted to be, and with another sharp pull of your hair to angle your head up for himself, he took it.

Pushing himself in, he kept going, until your nose was brushing against the base of his cock, and breathing became impossible. Choking around the thick length filling your throat as he held you there, his other hand came to cup your face, squeezing roughly until he was pulling out entirely, giving you a few seconds to gasp for breath, lungs burning and head spinning.

“Is this what you wanted, huh? When you offered to help me? Wanted to cry, choke on my cock in your pretty mouth?” He was trying to scare you, to see if it was all too much, to see if you would go back on your words and leave him. His face was like stone but he couldn't hide the flash of insecurity in his eyes, and you shook your head. This time, you moved before he could control you again.

Surging forward, you pushed past everything you knew, nails digging into his thighs and his knees shaking as you caught him by surprise, burying his length down your throat once again, and the stream of shaky curses left his lips. With a weak growl, he scrabbled to regain control, to think around the smooth of your tongue at his base, the lips sealed tightly, the tight swallows at his tip as salty precum filled your mouth.

Tugging on your hair, the muscles of his legs tightened, all the way over his ass and up to his wings as he pulled them taut to his body. Stroking his thumb over your cheek, he pressed against himself through the skin, holding you in place even as you tried to pull back. “Shit, sweetheart, look at you. You even look pretty when you cry.”

Catching one tear with his thumb, he raised it up, licking it from his finger and allowing you to pull back, to free one hand and stroke his spit-soaked length as you caught your breath. “Just for you, Az.”

Your voice was rough, croaky as you tries to speak around the dull ache so worth it, when he looked down with heat in his eyes and parted lips in shock. “Better be. You’re my girl.”

You lapped at him, using your fingers for everything you weren’t mouthing at, alternating between teasing his head until his legs shook before working your way back down, until your tongue was smoothing across the tops of his balls and he was letting out breathy sighs of your name, only to repeat it all over. Again and again you went, until a steady line was flowing from his tip, every drop being caught as he leaked, your scalp stinging from the grounding grip he had on you.

He was growing more and more impatient, no longer the patient man you fell for as he tried to guide you to where he wanted you, adoring gaze turning wicked once again. “I’m gonna’ cum, and if you keep teasing me, you won’t be getting the same pleasure again.”

You stilled, the promise in his gaze of more was enough to make you give in, the tone of his voice a dark threat underneath. Remaining still, your lips parted, tongue hanging a little before him and the widening of his eyes was enough to show his arousal at your obedience. With a single move, he was back in your mouth, fucking at a sloppy pace as he chased his high, your nails clawing at his thighs to keep him in place, your name an endless moan on his lips, curses and praises thrown in as his head fell back.

Once taut wings were now hanging loose, his entire body shaking, before he came; “Don’t swallow yet.”

Hot bursts of cum coated your tongue, and he held you in place, his body jerking through the intensity of his orgasm, until it was all too much, and he was pulling back. The last of his release spattered across your lips, sitting heavy in your mouth as he panted. The hand in your hair finally slipped out, your eyes almost crossing at the relief of it, and his hand slipped down to rub at the pearly beads coating your lips, pressing them into your skin before tipping your chin up.

“Let me see it.”

Parting your lips, he let out a broken moan at the sight, the coat of his release over your tongue, and nodding his head. His cock twitched, never softening but only bouncing more, an angry red beginning to take over as his need still recessed evidently, watching you swallow before helping you to your feet.

As you stared up at him, he smiled, dipping down to kiss your sticky lips, licking the taste of himself from them as you panted against his mouth. He said he wanted to ruin you, and yet you’d never expected this. You were taken apart, piece by piece until you were nothing but a shattered mess in his hands, and he was all that was holding you together.

Your thighs were slick with your arousal, rubbing together unashamedly as he kissed the taste of himself from your tongue, a soft contrast to the bruising grip he’d had on your hips, your neck, your hair, only moments ago. His mouth trailed up, a sweet, wet kiss left on each cheek, before his nose was coming back to bump with yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect.” The words came with a sharp smack across your ass, the skin stinging, threatening to leave a mark there too, and your body jolted into his. “Since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you choose how you take my cock first. You’ve got one minute, and I expect you naked on my bed, in whatever position you want it.”

Another smack, and you were being dismissed, stumbling over shaky legs as excitement coursed through your body. Stripping your shirt off and over your head, you left a trail of clothing as you went, bra next, then your leggings, shoes and socks gone and panties last, until you found yourself at the baseboard, staring at the large bed designed for maximum Illyrian comfort, threatening to swallow you whole when you crawled onto it.

Shadows swirled around you, traces up your legs until you shivered, a cool swipe over your heated core, through your messy hair, tweaking at taut nipples until you whimper, mind a frenzy as you tried to work out what to do.

Azriel moved like water in the night, silent and invisible, until he was pressed up behind you, one hand splaying over your waist and the other shifting your hair over one shoulder. A disapproving noise left his mouth as he lowered it, pressed a kiss to your skin, and your head fell to the side to give him more space, eyes fluttering shut.

“What did I say?”

Your lips fell open to respond, to explain yourself, but all that came out with a surprised cry of his name as his teeth clamped down against your skin, pain and pleasure blurring into one. He licked across the mark, before doing it again, never enough to break the skin, but enough to leave his imprints on you. Marked, bitten like two wild creatures in the heat of it all, and that was exactly how you felt. Trembling in his arms, he shushed you quietly.

“I told you where I wanted you, you didn’t listen.”

“I couldn't decide!” His lips were skimming your skin again, the other side now, teeth grazing, but pausing at your words. “I’ve thought about you so much, about this, I didn’t know what I wanted most.”

He pulled back, kissing his way back up your shoulder until he was nuzzling a hot kiss into the skin of your neck, your panting the only sound to fill the room as he turned your face towards him with one finger. A soft kiss was placed on your lips, no tongue or teeth but full of emotion, and he barely even pulled back to speak, “I love you.”

Your eyes snapped open, meeting his as a cold shock broke through hot, hazy lust, but he wasn’t ready to linger. The darkness still had a tight grip on him, those few words breaking through didn’t stop the tidal wave of need, because your mind had yet to catch up before your cheek was pressing into the bedsheets, hips being pulled up as Azriel manhandled you to the centre of the bed.

Your fingers grasped at cotton sheets, knees digging in for purchase on the soft fabric, as he layered himself over you, kissing at the top of your spine and surrounding you entirely. His wings were like a blanket, covering you on either side, his arms on your hips, gripping tightly. Now, you could feel all of him. He must’ve shed his clothes when you did, because that thick length was pulsing against your core, pressed up and rocking in slow motions as he created the most delicious friction, your eyes rolling.

When the head of his cock bumped against your swollen clit, a pornographic sound left your lips, something sinful and dark, and he chuckled as he left little nips along your skin as he shifted back.

His slap across your ass was electricity sparking over your skin, continuing to abuse your clit while giving you nothing at all, clenching emptily as he left a matching spank to the other side. “You look so good decorated with my handprints.”

“Azriel, please, stop teasing, I need you.” Your cries only made him laugh, holding you firm as you rocked back to meet him, desperately seeking something more, and embarrassed heat flushed over your cheeks, blending into tear-soaked skin and pretty love-bites.

“You don’t need me, you need this,” He taunted, lining himself up and fucking into you with one quick thrust. A scream left you as he did, stretching you so perfectly that your eyes crossed at the intrusion, a burning as he let you settle, to adjust to his length, that left you squirming, hips rubbing against his as he sat at full depth. “I bet you feel better now, sweetheart, full of my cock. Does that make you happier?”

“So, so happy…” Your babble was senseless, tailing off into more pleas of his name as he set a steady rhythm.

The last of that feral anger came through, unhinged and needy as he fucked out every bit of pent-up anger. His thrusts were brutal, hips snapping into yours hard enough that you were pushed up the bed, gripping at the bedsheets to hold steady. Everything else in the room, in your mind, slipped away, until you could only focus on the sloppy rhythm of his pounding into you, every connection, every thrust as he hit spots inside of you that made you see stars. “So godsdamned wet for me, so warm and soft. If my heart gave out from fucking you, and I’d die happy.”

“Oh, gods…”

“No gods are watching over you now, my love, just me. If you’re gonna’ moan anyone’s name, I want it to be mine.” Your toes were curling with the pleasure, the knuckles in your fingers aching as you clung onto the sheets for strength, body shaking. He left kisses up and down your spine, bites and spanks until every part of your body felt like it had been touched, been played with, another part taken away only to be put back better.

He was breathing just as hard as you were, moans of your name coming out in broken sighs, his hand closing over your own as he fell atop you with the sheer intensity of it all. Your bodies were moulded together like you were made for it, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, skin covered in a light sheen of sweat that made everything so much more erotic.

The scent of him overwhelmed you, stronger and deeper with his arousal, the smell of sex in the room thick and heavy, and you cried out his name as it all blended into something indescribable.

Reaching his other hand around you, scarred fingertips skimmed over the apex of your thighs, a few messy circles was all it took to send you spiralling over the edge. “Oh, fuck, Az!”

When you came, it was like a storm crashing onto the beaches, your body spasming until not even your knees could hold you up, collapsing down into the bedding and freeing yourself of his movements for only a second, before his body was following you down. His hand, still trapped under your body kept going, until moans turned into cries and sobs, pleasure you couldn’t take anymore, it was so good.

Your body was lax, pliant in his arms as he flipped you over, his for the taking as he pried your shaking thighs apart to bare your sopping cunt to himself again.

“Need y’to give me one more, my love. Can’t get enough of your pussy, can you give me another?” His lips closed over your own, and his tongue playing with yours could barely count as a kiss, your mind hardly worked, just a filthy collision of his lips with your own. “One more, yeah?”

“Yeah, Az, I can do it. I want it…” Lifting up your legs to latch at his hips, your heels dug into his firm ass, pressing him forward again, and he took the hint. In one easy movement, his hips were cradled between your legs, his hands on either side of your head and he was sheathing himself inside of you once again.

Your back arched, a scream in his ear as his head fell forwards, damp foreheads pressing together as he dove back into a messy pace. What had already been uncontrollable before was now a chaotic mess, jerks of his hips as he frantically followed his own high, curses spilling from him and muscles tense.

When he couldn't hold himself up anymore, he dropped to his forearms, putting everything he had into those final movements, the grinding of his body lighting you up. Your nipples scarped his chest, the base of his cock thumping your clit with every sporadic movement, and your screams became silent as white-hot bliss flooded your body.

He gave your front the same treatment, teeth and lips leaving no spot untouched, committing you to memory with his mouth as he left stains and splotches across your skin with his rough touch.

“Azriel, Azriel, Azriel!” Like a chant, you were incapable of saying anything else, even your own name escaped you as you focus on him, the vision of him before you, jaw clenched and eyes sparkling, never looking away from you for even a second. Your body was utterly boneless, your finger shaking as you reached up over his shoulder, clamping your teeth down against his shoulder the same way he had done to you, and brushing your lips down over his wing.

That was it, a soft stroke and a cruel bite, and he was shattering above you, a burst of power unlike any of the others, the door rattling and the winds trembling as he came. An explosion, the feeling of his heat filling you up sent another orgasm cresting through your body, shuddering up your spine until your head was pressing into the bed, his head in your neck. He never stopped moving, riding both of you through your peaks until it was too much, finally coming to a stop, still tucked deep inside of you, and his body collapsed down on top of yours.

His head remained where it was, breathing evening out as he took steady breaths. His heart was pressed to your stomach, the beat of it synching to your own as both of you began to even back out. The chill from the open patio doors finally started to take effect, swiping the heat from the room and taking the intoxicating smell of sex and your combined scents with it, leaving only the palpable tension between you both.

Your body was still trembling, still spasming with the occasional twitch, a feeling flooding your body that you knew would take hours to go away as you pulled yourself back together from the way Azriel had torn you apart.

Your fingers were tracing up and down his spine when you felt him stiffen, when the shallow breathing that had almost convinced you he’d fallen asleep was a ragged gasp. He lifted his fingers, pulling back a fraction only to push your jaw to the side, tracing across your skin slowly, from one patch to another, the more he distanced himself.

Rocking back onto his knees, his length finally pulled from your sensitive core, a sound of true pain now leaving you as the soreness began to kick in, and he winced as he settled into with one hand holding him up above you. He didn’t look down, not for a second to the seed of his own dripping from you and ruining the bedsheets, but instead, an anguished look took over his face as he traced softly over your skin.

Propping yourself up weakly on your arms, you watched him, brows furrowed in confusion as he became more and more hurt.

“Oh, fuck, baby. I-I’m so sorry…”

Now you understood, watching him trace the tip of his index finger over a bite on your shoulder, down to a bruise on the side of your breast, made by his lips in the throes of passion. “Azriel-”

“What did I do to you?” His voice cracked, the spiralling already starting, and you freed your arms, collapsing back into the bed only to pull you with him, ignoring his resistance and tugging his body back against your own.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do!”

“I hurt you!” He sniffed, the outburst watery and broken, and your head shook urgently, leaving kisses dotted along his cheeks when he pulled back enough to look at you.

“Stop it, stop it right now, Azriel.” You rarely took such a tone with him, the pain on his face only worsening with confusion as he stared. “You didn’t hurt me. You gave me every chance to leave and I chose to stay. What we just did was fucking fantastic, and even if you were locked up in your head, you were here with me the entire time. These marks mean nothing, because every touch was so full of love, Azriel. I could feel it. These marks don’t mean you hurt me, they show me just how much you love me.”

His lips were pursed tight, still attempting to pull away, and you had no choice. Using all that training he’d put you through, in the midst of his distraction, you flipped him over, cautious to avoid catching his wings, and leaving him sprawled out on his back. Settling into his lap, your hands found his shoulders, pinning him to the bed and pressing your forehead to his.

“I love you, Azriel.” His eyes widened, swollen and kiss-bruised lips parting, and a smile finally tugged at your own. “I love you. I love you so much, and I wanted to be here for you. If you don’t stop, you’re gonna’ break my fucking heart, because it’ll mean you don’t trust yourself for me, to know what we need.”

“Of course, I trust you.” His whisper came immediately, setting hesitant hands over his marks on your waist, holding you reverently instead of demandingly now, tugging you a little closer to his chest. “I just… fuck, seeing you like this at my doing-”

“I think I left my fair share of marks on you too.” You dragged one finger over a scratch on his bicep, a hiss through his teeth as he looked down at it. Looked down at all of them. His marks would be gone by morning, that Illyrian healing already kicking in, but the look of awe growing on his face would never fade. “This one,” Tracing your finger beside the scratch instead of over it, you drew his attention back to you, “I gave you this one because I love the way you smile at me.”

You moved to another, tracing a bite on his shoulder where your teeth had sunk in to hold back a scream.

“I gave you this one because you never let me feel sad or alone.”

“I gave you this one,” He cut off, voice a little shaky as he tried to rewrite hatred to love, running his thumb over a kiss by your nipple, but never dropping your gaze. “I gave you this one because I love how brave you are.”

You smiled, his own smile coming back, as you looped your arms around his neck. “See? These are not marks of hurt, they’re marks of love. They’re called love-bites for a reason, you know?”

He only chuckled, tracing his fingers over the reddened skin of your ass, still raw from his palm. “I gave you these spanks for making cheesy jokes.”

“You love them.”

“No, but I love you.” He spoke, catching your lips a second later in the gentlest kiss yet. He leaned back, taking you with him, his mouth never leaving your own as he settled back into the pillows, shadows closing the balcony doors and settling like a blanket around you both. “Thank you for being here for me.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Az.” You shifted, settling your cheek on his shoulder, and pulling the real blankets across your bodies for warmth, his arms curling protectively around you to hold you there. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t want anything like what happened to ever touch you.” His lips brushed your forehead, and you pressed a little further into his embrace. “I feel better, though. So much better, just for having you here in my arms. I don’t want you to ever leave them.”

“I guess I could stay for a while.”

“I want you to stay forever.” His mumble came through a lazy breath and the cloud of sleep hanging over you both, exhaustion weighing in at last, but you smiled despite it all.

“Forever it is, then.”

#azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year ago

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Icarus Has Fallen

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: fluff | words: 5,4k | warnings: none playlist: can't help falling in love | la vie en rose | moving along | my heart will go on | I think I’m in love | you and I enchanted; this story is dedicated to two of the most amazing people on this app @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel thank you for all your help and support and love (now you know why I asked for the songs)💛

Icarus has fallen.

It was the sun that made Icarus fall, and it is a female as bright and beautiful as daylight that made Azriel fall. In love.

Deeply. Head over heels. No ground in sight.

He has never expected this sort of feeling. Not after Mor. Not after Elain.

But the first moment he lays eyes on you, the second he spots you, splashing around in the large marble mountain in front of the castle Azriel is gone. His gaze remains fixed on you all the way to the castle, not once averting his eyes. His is so focused on the sort of beauty he has never ever seen before, he doesn’t even realise that Cassian is talking to him. He doesn’t register what Rhysand answers, or what his High Lady adds. Everything around him fades into insignificance, becoming absolutely unimportant. There is only one thing on his mind - only one thing he can focus on and that is you and figuring out a way to get to know you. To learn your name. To find out who exactly you are.

He is only ripped out of his gazing by a deep male voice greeting the High Lord of Night and his entourage, including Azriel. He has to shake his head, his shadows calming a little around his shoulders.

"Welcome to the Day Court,“ Helion greets, his toga flowing around his strong thighs, his arms spread wide to welcome the visitors from Night to his court. Bowing their heads, they return the greeting and fall in line with the High Lord of Day who lets a casual eye run over each of them. "Where is Morrison?" he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity, but also a hint of amusement. In the past, this question would have enraged Azriel. Not anymore. Not for a long time. He knows that Mor and him…there would never be anything between them. He knows this now.

Rhys answers him that she has business to deal with, and couldn't manage to come here. Helion accepts this answer with a smile and says, "Please, follow me. Allow me to show you my throne room where the discussions will be held."

Azriel’s gaze, one last time, moves over his shoulder, craning his neck quite a bit to catch one last look at you. You are engage in happy chatter with who he guesses are your friends, hair and the thin white gown that is damp from the water, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. His breath catches and—

"If you keep staring any longer, you might break your neck, Azzy.“ Cassian fetches his best friend back to reality, nudging him playfully in the ribs and colour blooms high on the shadowsinger’s cheeks when he meets the general’s gaze. "Wh-at?" he stammers, trying to pretend he wasn’t doing anything, but obviously Cassian isn’t stupid and sees right through his bluffing.

"I wasn’t staring," Azriel growls, his forehead lying in furrows.

"I am only teasing you, Az,! Cassian adds when he watches Azriel’s expression, the cold and indifference creeping back into his features. The general chuckles and returns his gaze to his own mate, his large hand holding Nesta’s tightly. "But you totally were."

Azriel tries to ignore his friend, shaking his head slightly, shoulders squared, posture straight as he follows the others into the big throne room of the Day Court castle. He wasn't staring. He was…observing.

Everyone gathers around a large class table, the meeting starting a moment after, but Azriel is unfocused. Helion says something about Koschei, Azriel thinks. His High Lord adds something, and so does his High Lady. But his brain doesn't allow him to participate. Or is it is heart?

Yes, he found females attractive in the past. Many females. But it has always been different. He has never been so enthralled, so enchanted by someone he hasn’t even properly met. He has only seen you for a few minutes and—

"Tell Lady Y/N to come here. She should bring the Book of Death Gods and Dark Forces.“ Helion waves of his sentry and then focuses back on the conversation with Rhys.

Azriel swallows thickly, the name, it has struck a cord in his heart. It sounds oddly familiar and he has no idea why. Like his heart has heard it before, remembers it, almost like it evokes memories deep within him… Within his soul.

The discussions continue, Azriel contributes with the occasional dip of his chin. He can’t focus, his mind is too…he doesn’t actually know. But somehow, seeing you, has pulled a lever in his head. In his heart. In his soul and focusing on anything else then the sudden pull he feels in his chest becomes a sheer impossibility. He has never felt this tug before…it is a wholly new feeling that renders him dumb.

But he has to focus. This is important. Not only for the Night Court but for all of Pythian.

Azriel brings up a hand and folds it over his chin, trying to listen in, his shadows perched on his shoulders, gathering information.

"So what we know about Koschei is very little, but I truly hope that the ancient book in my possession can give us more answers.! Helion releases a loud sigh, his expression concentrated, posture rather stiff. He shakes his head, swirling pits of worry in his eyes.

He leans back in his chair and turns his head, acknowledging movement at the threshold. He lifts his gaze, "Ah!" he says, and waves you in with two of his fingers. "Come in, my lady."

Azriel, simultaneously to the High Lord of Day, focuses his gaze on the female figure appearing in the door - hair still damp, but the dress a new one. A dry one.

His breath catches, heart skipping one or the other beat and if he hadn’t been sitting down he knows his knees would have given in right in this moment.

As you enter the throne room, your curious eyes scan the room, taking the people gathered there. You curtsey to not only greet your High Lord but also his guests. His guests from the Night Court. Your gaze eventually settles on Helion, the High Lord of Day Court, engaged in conversation with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night, the opposite solar court to your own.

Next to him is his High Lady, Feyre Archeron, the first High Lady Pythian has ever seen. She smiles at you, polite and kind, and you dip your chin at her. And next to her…you find a male, his beauty not comparable to any you have ever seen before. He is the most beautiful male that exists in all of Pythian, you know this, and you are captured by him. His expression is cold and indifferent, but his eyes of hazel, sparkle when they meet yours. His composed demeanour seems to falter as his eyes lock with yours.

For a fleeting moment, time seems to stand still. Azriel is struck by your presence—your grace, your elegance, your beauty, your brightness. Could you be the light to his darkness, the sun in his endless gloomy days.

He's at a loss for words, captivated by you. It's as if the world around him dims, leaving only you illuminated in his vision. You are sunshine, and life.

You want to look away, focus on the task at hands - delivering the book, but you can’t. Your heart starts to sing inside of you, begging you to draw nearer to the shadowy male, to ask for his name, to get to know him, to—

"Lady Y/N, thank you so much for coming,“ Helion reaches out his hand. "I see you brought the book I requested.“

Your footsteps echo on the marble floor in the throne room as you approach your High Lord, finally averting your gaze form the beautiful male, holding the Book of Death Gods and Dark Forces in your shaky hands. He holds out his hand for the book, his attention momentarily drawn away from the discussion at hand. "Meet my guests, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court and his High Lady, Feyre Archeron. Joining them, Azriel, and Cassian, the two best Illyrian warriors that there are.“

You smile politely, trying to greet each person again with the bow of your head. "It's my pleasure," you says, and then claim the seat on Helion's left, helping him open the large book and find the right page and then you start to read together, helping Helion and Rhysand filter out the important information (you are after all one of the head scholars of the Day Court, your wisdom and knowledge big).

Azriel’s gaze lingers on you. Gods, you are so stunning, he barely knows how to keep his breathing steady, how to avoid the constant subtle glances into your direction - those stolen glances every now and then that make his heart beat faster.

He wants to meet your gaze, accidentally, not make it too obvious he is staring. But you never deign him another glance, not once you look at him again, fully focused on the task at hand - going through the large book and some extra piles of parchment. Some other scholars, both young and old, have joined in as well, searching for any kind of important information.

Over time sentries deliver more books and papers, all splayed out over the table until nothing of the glass was visible anymore. Your delicate fingers traces over the written words and every now and then you bring a hand up to brush back a loose strand of hair that has fallen over your shoulder.

Azriel is fully enthralled by you - never ever has he seen such a beauty before, you are breathtaking and stunning. He doesn’t know why he is feeling so strongly, why the sight of you made his heart skip one or the other beat and why there is a sudden pull, a tug on his chest and then it hits him like slap.

Might this…could this be the bond? Could you be his mate. It would explain why one look at you was enough to pull out the rug from under his feet.

You work for hours, discussion everything that is noted about the old Death Gods. Azriel is unfocused and he knows it. He wants to fight against it but he can't — like some force is restricting him from it. Like it only wants to make him focus on you.

He doesn't even fully notice when the discussion comes to an end, not even registering what the outcome exactly is.

"Don’t you trust my strength that I can carry all those books and papers back alone, High Lord?" you ask with a hint of teasing in your voice. Your eyes sparkle while they hold Helion's gaze.

Helion chuckles lowly in answer, smirking. "I absolutely believe in your strength, but I am also a gentleman and wish that someone helps you with the books, so—"

"I can help." At least six pairs of surprised and wide-open eyes dart to Azriel. He slowly gets up, right now not minding the attention he normally hate so much. "I will help you with the , if I may."

Lips that have formerly parted due to your astonishment, form a smile - bright and happy. "You absolutely may, I appreciate it a lot."

You are strong enough to carry the books alone, you most definitely are. But, you have this absolutely breathtaking male offering his help, you would be a fool to say no. Maybe you can get to know him a little better, maybe you will talk on your way to the Grand Library - whatever it will be, you will spend time with him and that makes you feel happy, and excited.

So, Azriel gets up and walks to you, picking up some books (the heavier ones, leaving the lighter ones for you). Everyone is watching you, surprised about the scene unfolding itself in front of them, but before it gets to uncomfortable, Cassian manages to pull everyone into a conversation, wanting to help his best friend out.

Azriel is thankful, yet does not let it show, his sole focus on you. He nods his head at you when he has a tight grip on all the large books, signalling you he is ready to leave, and you should lead the way.

Once you are out of the door, out of earshot, Azriel exhales loudly and finally opens his mouth. "I‘m Azriel," the shadowsinger introduces himself, voice quivering the slightest bit, his palms so clammy all of a sudden, he would love to wipe them down his trousers weren't he holding the many books.

You turn your head and grin at him. A soft chuckle escapes you, "I know, Helion introduced you earlier."

Colour starts to bloom high on his defined cheeks, embarrassment passing over his features, so you quickly add, "But I am very pleased to meet you personally. It’s my pleasure, Azriel. I am Y/N."

"Such a beautiful name," he whispers. Perfect for such a beautiful female, he wants to add, but doesn't do. Not yet. That would not be appropriate. He barely knows you after all.

"So you are head scholar?" Azriel asks when you set out down a long pathway, at the end a large towering building and Azriel guesses it is the Grand Library.

"Exactly. But I am not the only one. The High Lord has a Head Scholar in every library of his court." You explain a little more while you walk over to the big library, adding some random details that you love to share and he loves to hear. Azriel is interested in the information you share with him and that warms your heart - no one has ever truly cared about those things.

From time to time, you find him marvelling at our surroundings, the large sunflower fields or the Pegasi that trot by, neighing and bowing their heads.

You set out for the last part of the path, pebbles crunching beneath your feet, creating a soft melody in the same rhythm as the beating of your hearts. You tell him that High Lord Helion himself helped build this Library, and it took them over a century to finish it.

Azriel gasps when he takes in the whole expanse of the gigantic Library, crafted from marble and glass, reflecting the sunlight and towering over him - not in an intimidating way, more in an impressive way.

"Welcome to the Grand Library, you tell Azriel upon entering, smiling him and his astonished face.

"Stunning," he breathes, his gaze brushing you. He is only partly talking about the Library.

"Where to?" Azriel asks and you look around, unsure. You wish he could help you put all the books away, but you don’t want to keep him here for too long.

"Just on my desk, if you please." You smile and tilt you chin into the direction of said desk. Azriel bows his head and follows without a word, shadows swirling around him, almost like they are dancing to a melody.

"The shadows. What are—?"

"I’m shadowsinger." He turns his head to you, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Ah," you answer. "And what exactly does a shadowsinger do?"

He somehow looks happy over this question, happy to explain it to you. You listen in awe, his shadows skittering down his arms and reaching out to you, almost like they want to brush over your skin. Or pull you closer. To their owner. To—

"I think I should leave now." Azriel clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. He doesn’t want to leave. Not yet. But he has too. First of all, they need to return to the Night Court and secondly, his heart is beating so rapidly and he has been looking at you for so long he doesn’t know how long he can survive without his knees giving him.

You have changed something inside of him and he needs space and time to makes sense of it. He needs some solitude to order his thoughts.

"That’s alright," you say, a pang of sadness sparking in your chest. You want to spend more time with him, get to know him better, but your knees feel wobbly only when his gaze brushes you. You don't know what it is, but your are not dumb and suspect a larger force behind the emotions boiling inside of you. Could this be the Mother's doing. Could you and Azriel be connected through more than just attraction?

The shadowsinger starts to back away, slowly, hesitatingly walking toward the large entrance door, wings tucked in behind his broad back.

"Thank you for offering your help with the books," you call after him. You meet his gaze.

Azriel bows his head. "Any time you need me, I am here for you."

Cheeks turning rosy, and your heart skipping a beat, you place the parchments on the desk in front of you. You draw in a deep inhale, warmth spreading from your chest throughout your whole body.

Azriel is almost out the door, his footsteps hollowing through the large, empty library.

"Azriel."

You bite down on your lower lip. He halts on the threshold, one scarred hand braced on the door frame. It seems like his posture straightens and the shadows on his shoulders halt in their swirling, waiting for what you are about to ask.

"Yes." He turns to you, a smile on his lips, hope etched upon his features.

"Will I see you again?" Tension leaves your body the moment you voice your question and see his expression.

Azriel seems surprised about this question, even his shadows have stilled, no longer swirling around him. "Do you want to see me again?"

You grin and brace your hands on your hips. "I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to."

He smiles, yet doesn’t answer immediately.

"I would love to see you again," he eventually says, voice tinged with a rarely-there happiness. "Maybe we can work together again any time soon? There is still a lot to find out." He tilts his chin at said book, the one he carried back here.

Your heart flutters and so does Azriel‘s, heartbeat increasing, chest swelling with an emotion he has never felt before.

"I think that is a great idea."

He meets your gaze, eyes locking, the promise of seeing each other strong and steadfast between your hearts. "See you soon, Y/N."

You smile politely. "See you soon, Azriel."

His name on your lips - nothing has ever sounded more beautiful in Azriel’s ears and he can’t avoid the grin, reaching from one ear to the other. An expression hardly anyone has ever seen on his face. With a fluttering heart, he lets door fall close behind him, exhaling loudly.

He can’t quite say what has happened and why it hit him so hard when he barely knows you, but he is falling - heavily, deeply. Madly.

Will I see you again?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"I would like to show you something, my favourite place. Then we can continue with the book. But right now, we deserve a break."

You are hopeful, really wanting to spend time with him alone. You and Azriel, joined by other scholars, have been dealing with several books surrounding the topic of Death Gods for hours, your necks and backs aching already.

"Are we allowed a break?" Azriel asks, raising his brow. He wants to say yes so desperately, but times is pressing and you need answers soon.

"Yes, because working too hard for too long without a moment of rest is not beneficial for making progress."

You have a point, Azriel decides. He closes his book and with a contented sigh leans back in his chair. "What do you want to show me?"

"A special place here in the Day Court. It’s not far from here, we can return shortly."

You step from one foot to the other, impatiently, because you really want to show him your favourite place. You know he will like it.

Azriel’s heart is beating a little faster when he gets up, surrounding the desk he was sitzing behind, spending hours being bent over paperwork. You want to show him something?

He is only a political guest so you showing him part of your court feels like a huge honour.

Heading towards the large marble doors, Azriel follows, his breath catching when his eyes follow the sway of your hips, how gracefully you glide over the ground. He has to shake his head, the tug on his chest so strong he worries his heart might rip right through his rib cage.

And he isn’t the only one feeling it. You need a moment, closing your eyes, his closeness doing something to your body. To your heart. And you very soul.

You close the door, waiting for Azriel to step away, to move, but he stays, his eyes running over you. They drop to your hand and then meet your own. He seems to hold his breath for a small moment, then inhales deeply, eyes still locked with yours, and parts his lips. "Can I hold your hand?"

You know that primarily he poses his question because of his scars. Maybe he has been rejected in the past, or he is genuinely worried you may feel disgusted?

But there is no reason for it, you like his hands - they are big and unique. And you don’t care about the scars, not in the way he thinks. If someone caused him the scars, if someone hurt him, you care because you want to make them pay - severely. With their death.

"You never have to ask for something like that," you say, voice tinged with empathy.

You extend your hand, grasping his gently, fingers easily sliding between his, intertwining them. "Your hands are so big," you tell him with a grin and it even draws a small smile to the shadowsinger‘s face. A beautiful smile, eyes glowing like you have never seen them before. "And our hands fit perfectly."

Azriel assesses your intertwined hands and with a sigh and the deep rise and fall of his chest, he eventually says, "They do. Like they were made for each other."

Your cheeks turn rosy, and you search his gaze. "Maybe they were," you whisper, voice tinged with a sheepish tone. Slowly you set out, one step after the other and Azriel follows, both silent. Both of you are too stunned by sensation sparking between your palms to speak - it feels like heat and tingles erupt, almost like lightning zips between your bodies.

You walk up a small pathway behind the Grand Library, through a canopy of large, towering trees, light dancing on every single leaf, and filtering through the branches. Your gaze moves over your surroundings, sometimes touching Azriel. He seems amazed, and to be liking what is presented to him which makes you happy.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze, just a small gesture but it makes his heart flutter, and a smile appear on his lips. Birds song in the distance, accompanying the rustling of leaves and the crunch of pebbles beneath your shoes. You inhale deeply when you come to a halt.

You are atop a small hill, overlooking most of the city below, and Helion‘s palace in the midst of it. Large fields of sunflowers stretch in front of you, Pegasi trotting on the paths in between.

"I think it is my favourite place. Here in the Day Court I mean." You turn your head to the side, already finding Azriel looking at you. His eyes shimmer with an emotion you can’t quite place - is it love? Admiration? Anticipation?

You smile at him, and he mirrors your expression. "I can see why." His deep voice is barely above a whisper, caressing your skin like feather. "It is beautiful." He pauses, but his lips part again, like he wants to continue. Azriel’s eyes run over your face, scanning every small detail, memorising it.

"Just like you," he finally whispers, and now you can see love sparkling vividly in his eyes. He lifts his hand, fingers halting mere inches from your face, "May I?"

You dip your chin and in a featherlight caress, the shadowsinger brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face and tucks them behind your pointed ear. "I’ve never seen beauty like yours before, Y/N,“ Azriel says, his tone sincere. "And before you try to object, it is the truth." The corners of his lip quirk upwards and he smiles down at you. "You are a bright ray of sunshine, and with your smile alone you could light up the darkest night. Your beauty rivals that of the sun herself."

That has strung a cord in your heart and you feel how tears brim your eyes, the back of your mouth starting to ache. You don’t want to cry. Not right now, but the compliment was just too beautiful - no one has ever said something like that to you.

"How fortunate that I thought the same about you when I first saw you - that you are the most beautiful male I‘ve ever seen," you whisper, voice a little hoarse. You lift your hand, resting it atop his, your soft palm touching his scars.

"One day you will tell me the story of how you got those?"

"I will," Azriel whispers, a tang of gloominess filling his voice.

"But for now, I want you to know that they do nothing to diminish your beauty, or your worth. You are beautiful and perfect the way you are. Scars or no scars, you are the most beautiful male I have ever laid eyes upon."

Bouncing up on your toes, you bring your lips closer to his, almost kissing him. "You asked me if you could hold my hand, now I am asking you if I can kiss you." Your soft breath tingles his lips and a low, amused chuckle leaves Azriel. "Please," he breathes, eyes fluttering shut. You connect your lips with his.

It is a delicate kiss, lips moving in a graceful dance of tenderness and longing.

The sun's warmth brushes your skin, intensifying the sensation, as if the Mother herself looks down on you, happy about this union. Time seems to slow around you, everything but Azriel and the feel of his lips against yours, fading into insignificance.

Azriel’s thumb gentle caresses your cheek, his tongue hesitantly gliding over your lip, asking for entrance which you grant him. The first stroke of his tongue against yours, elicits a gasp from you and you have to smile, pulling back from the kiss.

"That was—"

"I think we are mates!" The words just pour out of his mouth and he can’t stop them before they are already there, hanging in the air between you. He has lost control, his soul won the upper hand, and he couldn't stop his mouth from revealing the bond.

Everything stops, even your heart and breathing. Your mouth is agape with surprise, and slight shock about this sudden and unexpected revelation. Yes, you have felt this tug on your chest as well, but…

It still surprises you to learn about him feeling the same. So, it is truly the bond. Air gets caught in your throat and your heart hammers against your rib cage.

"I…I—"

"I am sorry," Azriel admits and shakes his head, "I shouldn’t have said anything."

He wants to step away, but you don’t let him.

"Don‘t be." You smile up at him. "I was just…the bond is a huge thing, and I…you just surprised me, maybe even overwhelmed me with your revelation. It was so out of the blue." You step into him, arms slinging around his torso. He has gone stiff and you want some of the former light to return to his eyes. "I probably need a moment to order my thoughts and realise what it all means, but I am happy it is you. I’ve been feeling a pull towards you as well, Azriel, and it all makes sense now." You press a soft kiss to his pectoral.

His arms curl tighter around you, holding you against him, marvelling at the feeling of your bodies melding. Not only your hands are made for one another, but also your bodies. You are equals, one half of the same coin.

"You don't mind it is me?" he asks of a moment and you can feel the sad thrumming of his heart through his chest. You tip your head back, trying to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on an undefined point in the distance. "No," you say, voice soft, "I could never be disappointed about that."

He finally lowers his gaze, eyes brushing yours. You smile and continue, "It might take us some time to figure everything out, to really get to know one another. To learn everything about the other person."

He bows his head. His shadows caress your upper arms, your face.

"I don't want to rush anything. I want to give us time to get to know the other. I don't want to give the bond the upper hand and make us forget about the simple things of falling in love."

"I don't want that either. I want to learn everything about you, Y/N, before we accept the bond." His lips brush your forehead. "But I already call myself the luckiest male in all of Prythian."

A grin appears on his lips, so bright, that now he is the one whose beauty rivals the sun.

The shadowsinger's chest heaves with a deep inhale, his chest brushing against yours, hearts beating in the same rhythm.

"I guess, Day and Night have at last found each other." You quip, nuzzling your face into his solid chest, his warmth so soothing to your soul, his scent bewitching your senses.

A bemused chuckle leaves Azriel as he tips your head back and gazes into your eyes, but soon the happiness fades from his face, a hint of worry and coldness reaching you through the bond.

"There is a chance for our love? Our bond?" Azriel‘s forehead lies in furrows, his chest aching fiercely all of a sudden. He hasn't considered this before, but you are from two different places of Prythian.

His throat works on a swallow before he continues. "We are from two different courts. Day and Night. We are—"

"Mates! Our souls belong together. So do our hearts. And when two souls belong together, there is always a chance for love."

You nip at his lower lip. "We will figure out a way to make it work, but we will stay together. We will be a couple. Our mating bond is stronger than the border of our courts!"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A loud chuckle parts your lips, your head tipped backwards, Azriel’s broad hand splayed out on your lower belly, fingers relentlessly tickling and teasing you.

"I love you, have I told you that already today?"

"Not yet, I think" you quip, giggling into his biceps.

Azriel leans in quickly, lips on your neck. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you." Azriel’s hot breath fans your skin and leaves goosebumps in its wake. "More than my own life, more than anything in this world." He nips at your skin. "My mate."

"I love the sound of it," you whispers, fingers stroking through his silken strands. "I love that I can call myself yours. And that I call you mine." You grin, even though he can’t see it, face still buried in the crook of your neck.

"I love being called yours, my sunshine."

Azriel‘s hand slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing gently and then he lets himself fall back onto the mattress, pulling you with him, your head resting atop his chest. He has arrived and his heart sings happily within his chest.

The sun burned Icarus. Made him fall.

But Azriel is not afraid to get burned again. He is safe with you. Always. You won't burn him. And he won’t fall. Not in the literal sense of the word.

In love, though? He has fallen massively, deeply. He loves you with every part of his body, truly and fully.

You are his mate. His equal. His home.

~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

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readychilledwine · 11 months ago

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hi, i’ve recently found your blog + wow, you’re writing is amazing! i have an idea for i would like to request, i hope that’s okay.

reader has just came home from book club w nesta, gwen and emerie at the house of wind. reader is mated to az - they’re been mated for about a few years. still reader has met nesta, reader almost always has her nose in a book - smutty book to be exact. reader is kinda embarrassed by this bc she wasn’t one to read smutty books before meeting nesta. az is starting to question why reader is always so invested in a book or why he has hardly seen reader for the last couple of weeks. az picks up the book reader is currently reading behind reader’s back & starts to get a little jealous maybe? az may confront reader about the book? i’m not to sure about the ending, but i do know az would do something like asking reader what their favorite scene & they could reenact it or something of that nature. i could totally see az teasing reader just a little bit as well.

i love for you to put your own spin on this. thank you 🩷🩷🩷

Book Boyfriend

Summary - Azriel has gotten a little tired of your reading habits.

Warnings - Az is a kind of a dick

A/n - I went the spicy mad Az route, and don't worry. Per Liz tradition, it's open for another part.

Azriel could have burned the damn book in your hands. You hadn't set it down in 3 days.

3 fucking days of you and Nesta curled into each other, drinking Rhysand's expensive wine, reading that stupid thick book.

He knew you loved to read. Books and book related gifts had been his go-to gifts for you since the mating bond snapped 100 years ago. But the obsession since Ness was made was unbearable.

He never had to fight for your attention until now. He felt a shoulder brush his. "Ah, they're in the "We don't want Cassian to know we're reading smut," pose."

Azriel froze, feeling down the bond and trying to get to your end. You had it locked down, but there was a soft blush on your and Nesta's cheeks. "How do you know its smut?"

Cassian sighed. "It's all they read, Azzy. Have you not noticed?"

His shadows darkened. You had hardly kissed or touched him in 3 days in favor of a smut novel? He could show you things, do things, most authors would only think of in their sick dreams.

He felt himself paling under Cassian's gaze. Was he not pleasing you anymore? Was he not performing to your expectations? You always seemed content, spent, and overjoyed when you two had sex.

"I need a fucking drink." Azriel stormed away. Slamming the door to your shared chambers shut. He took on look at the crystal whiskey decanter and decided to drink until you came to the room.

Azriel woke up to soft footsteps and the feeling of a blanket getting laid across him. He heard you sigh, falling into bed, then that faint creak of an unbroken in book spine opening.

Meaning you had a new book. A new smut novel to ignore him with. A new fake boyfriend to imagine between your thighs.

Azriel stood on shaking legs, and he went to bed. Watching as you snapped to book shut and set it on your nightstand title down. "Did I wake you?"

"Yup." He curled into the bed facing away from you. It was childish, but if you weren't happy, you could have just told him instead of replacing him.

When he woke up, raging headache and all, you were gone. But the book wasn't. He reached over and grabbed it, cracking the spine out of spite. 55 chapters in, and Azriel was bored. If he tried to fuck you on a table covered in paint, you'd glare at him about the mess. About getting paint 1000 places you shouldn't.

So why the hell were you reading a book about it?

It was late into the evening when you returned. Azriel had finished the book, marking specific things he wanted to confront you about. He didn't stand as the door opened, didn't greet you as you came in with a few bags. You were all smiles, dolled up in a pretty dress. Your hair was loosely curled, and makeup was done.

"Where the fuck have you been?" It came out as harsh as he expected it to. "I take a week off and you have hardly spent time with me."

He watched you jump, eyes going wide as you took a few steps back. "Nesta wanted to go into town. We lost track of time. I-"

"Lost track of time? Aren't you the female who taught Rhysand how to properly track the stars and sun?" He stalked toward you, book in hand. "Did you two go to find more vitriol like this?" He held it up, watching as your cheeks flushed and you went to reach for it.

"Azriel-"

He lifted it above his head. "You haven't touched me in weeks. You've kissed me maybe once. Hell, yesterday you were content to leave me on the damn couch. I can see why though, you're sitting here getting your needs met by some fictional fae lord instead of me. If you aren't happy anymore just tell me."

Shock hit your face slowly, mind whirling and emotions pouring into him from the bond. "Azriel, it's a book. Not another male."

That wasn't enough for him. "And how many times have you pleasured yourself to this book? Thinking about the main character between your thighs?"

You sighed. "To that one? Not a single time. I haven't gotten to read it and you already damaged the spine." The sadness in your voice made him pause, lowering the book until you could grab it.

You were always so gentle with your books, caring for them and placing them somewhere safe. Bookmarks never sat in them for too long out of fear of damage. He watched you stroke the spine, going to the bookshelf and placing it in the spot it would belong in to match your color based organization.

"Is this really about a book, or is something else going on?" You wouldn't look at him, wouldn't say his name. He could hear the soft tremble. "I'm sorry I made a friend. I'm sorry I've been spending time with Nesta instead of you. But she gets it. She gets how feeling like you don't belong in this family feels," a stab to his chest. "She gets how feeling out of place among you all feels," the stab turning into a gapping wound that had him leaning against the couch. "She gets what it's like to have a mate that is busy and expects you to be here waiting."

You had ripped his heart out. In 100 years, this had never come up. There had never been signs. "Y/n-"

He watched in silence as you held a hand up, moving to grab some clothes and a hair brush. "I'm going to sleep in a guest room tonight. This could have been turned into something beautiful, Az. We could have used these books to inspire fun in our bedroom," your hand ran along that damaged book. "Instead, you disrespected my belongings, accused me of an unthinkable act, and made this about your fragile ego."

You left the room, silence falling in the wake. Azriel stared at the book he had damaged. It was a first edition. A soft shade of blue with swirls of darkness. He walked to it, head hung in shame.

It was an escape. A way for you to cope with your feelings. No different than him training, and he had ruined it.

And now, he checked his calendar, he had 4 days to make it up to you before he, Cassian, and Nesta were gone for a month.

Leaving you alone all over again with nothing but an empty house and a book boyfriend.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

💕 As always, comment or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist💕

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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Sixth Sense

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Azriel is my favorite bat boy. Like gosh I just love him and he deserves love. I can’t wait for his book fr I need his thoughts and for him to say more than 5 words. I also love exploring the soft side of Az it’s just so cute. My requests are open so feel free to drop anything in there acotar, tog, or cc ❤️

Warnings: none just fluff

“Oh he so does not!” You say not totally convincing yourself.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Nesta rolls her eyes, next to her Feyre tries to hide her laugh behind her hand. “Come on, don’t lie to yourself. Azriel has a weird sixth sense for you.”

You and Azriel have only been dating for a year. It took a lot for him to introduce you to his family. He was afraid to share you, especially since he’d been on a little bit of a protective streak lately.

Feyre and Nesta have picked up on his over protectiveness and now Nesta is teasing you about his new found sense for you. “Ok let’s test it then. The bats are up in Rhysands office, we’ll hide and you call out for Azriel but only once. If he comes running within 5 seconds then I’m right.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you put your hands on your hips glaring at Nesta. “Ok, you’re on.”

“Yes! Ok Feyre, let’s go.” The sisters rush over to hide in the walk-in pantry waiting to be proven right.

You knew they were right. Azriel always had a weird way of knowing if you needed help, were upset, or just craved being near him. It was nice, being looked out for by the person you loved most in the whole world. And you don’t mind his over protective nature, you know why he’s like that. Azriel is just scared to lose you, you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

As much as you don’t want Nesta to be right you do want to test her theory. Besides, it’s been hours since you’ve last seen Azriel’s pretty face and you miss him.

Opening the mug cabinet by the stove you climb up to kneel on the counter, making it look like you were trying to reach his favorite one. Taking a deep breath you yell, “Azriel!”

Silence. You strain your ears, sure Nesta and Feyre were doing the same from their hiding spot in the pantry. Milliseconds later you hear a door from upstairs fly open, heavy footsteps, and then there he is.

His beautiful, short black hair looks so soft you want to run your fingers through it. His tall figure takes up almost the whole doorway. The flecks of red and gold on his wings catch in the fae lights making them look ethereal. His gorgeous hazel eyes are focused on you like you’re the only person in the whole world. Wait, is that panic in his eyes? And face?

You finally notice you’re smiling at him like a love sick idiot as he clears the room in a few strides. He wraps his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong my love? Are you hurt?” Placing your hands on his chest you give him a soft, loving smile dipping your head. You almost feel bad for interrupting his meeting.

“Can you get that mug for me?” Azriel sighs, smiling while lifting you off the counter. He reaches up to the top shelf still keeping one arm around your waist. Azriel hands you the mug, kissing your forehead.

“Is that all you needed me for my love?” Azriel cradles your face stroking your cheek with his thumb. Still smiling up at him like a love sick idiot you nod. “Sorry, I know you were in a meeting with Cass and Rhys. But I also just wanted to see you.”

“No need to apologize my love, I’ll always come when you call for me.” You swoon feeling yourself fall in love with the male in front of you all over again. “I love you Az.” Standing on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips meet his in a soft kiss. You feel him smile against your lips and he reluctantly pulls away.

Azriels hands hold your waist, “I have to go back upstairs, but we should be done soon and then I’m all yours.”

“And we can read together?” He nods, “Yes my love.”

“And you’ll let me lay on your chest? And play with my hair?”

Azriel lets out one of those rare soft laughs, “Yes my love, we’ll do all your favorite things.” He lets go of you and gives your forehead one last kiss before turning and walking out of the kitchen back to Rhys’ office.

Still smiling like the lovesick fool you are, Nesta and Feyre come out of the pantry startling you. “Gods! I forgot you two were still here.” You clutch at your chest trying to calm your heart rate.

Feyre is looking at you with the biggest smile and Nesta is smirking. “Soooo…my theory?” Nesta says with an air of cockiness.

“Fine you’re right. But I love it.” You sigh looking back at the entrance to the kitchen counting down the minutes until his meeting is over.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #Azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #Azriel imagine #azriel fic

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jmoonjones · 5 months ago

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Like documentarians, the shadowbabies aren't allowed to meddle or intervene in events. As you can imagine, they find this rule incredibly frustrating at certain times! Here are some of their most-tempting-to-meddle moments:

Giving Cassian the opportunity to think before he speaks

C0ckblocking Feysand from their cringe-inducing campsite coitus

Hiding the necklace from Azriel. Don't think they didn't try nudging him past that store in the first place.

Ensuring hangry Nesta always has a snack

Giving Feyre her own medical file to avert the upset, the lies, and the HIPAA violation lawsuit

Stopping Ianthe and her minions from getting near the Suriel.

Actually, don't worry, they totally intervened for that one and the Suriel is fine. FINE I TELL YOU!

Nyx and Princess the Glow Worm (PGdubs) are best friends, and love when Suri comes over for tea

#shadowbabies fix everything #acotar

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hellowitchlingg · 3 months ago

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Chapter 21 of ACOFAS - Cassian's refusal to leave Nesta alone.

"I'll walk you home." She looked him over. "I'm fine."

Nesta held her ground, proud as an Illyrian. More vicious, too. "Go back into the house."

Nesta lasted all of a block, the green-roofed houses merry and still full of song and laughter, before she halted. Whirled on him. "Go back to the house."

Another grin as he lifted the small, wrapped parcel. "Your Solstice present." "I don't want one."

Nesta fell into step beside him, huffing as she kept up with his long strides. "I don't want anything from you."

Even as she said, "I've made my thoughts clear enough on what I want from you."

Cassian followed, hating himself for it. "You could at least come live at the House," he began, and she whirled on him. "Stop," she snarled.

"Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it."

A void seemed to enter those eyes. An endless depthless void. She only said, "Go home, Cassian."

It was instinct to lunge for her free hand. Her gloved fingers scraped against his calluses, but he held firm. "Talk to me. Nesta. Tell me-" She ripped her hand out of his grip.

Then Cassian launches the gift into the Sidra and we're supposed to believe he was a victim in this situation? My guy, Nesta told you to leave/said she wanted nothing A TOTAL OF TWELVE TIMES in one conversation.

And I get it - "it's rude to decline gifts". Except it's NOT rude when you've set a boundary with somebody multiple times and they keep trying to push it. Y'all scare me.

Now compare this to Queen of Shadows, where Rowan quietly tells Aelin to talk to him. He grips her elbow, and when she yanks it away, he immediately backs off and follows "a respectful distance behind". (Thank you to @journalofjewels for bringing this up!)

And the best part: Aelin didn’t have to ask him to leave her alone.

I have no idea what overcame SJM when she wrote that N*ssian moment, because it wasn't cute, it was fucking creepy and annoying.

#anti cassian #anti nessian #free nesta archeron #anti sjm

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littlestarlightseverywhere · 9 days ago

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A Little Help

Pairing: Lucien x Reader

Summary: When Lucien’s lover is overcome with pain from her cycle, only one thing can help

Warnings: None (period pains, maybe??)

Notes: So random and not developed at all, just a small little blurb to help get me out of my writer’s block <3 Taking a brief break from my usual Azriel brainrot to give Lucien some love

The pain was neither kind nor forgiving in the way it permeated her dreamworld before she even had the chance to wake.

It slowly pulled her from her slumber until she found herself no longer under the duvet beside her furnace of a mate, but clutching the cold bathroom tile for an ounce of relief instead. The torment was relentless, spasm after spasm seized her lower belly until she couldn’t help but moan into the toilet.

Her elbows rested on either side of the porcelain bowl, a weak hand propping her head up as she rode out the last wave of torture. In an effort to take her mind to some place far away from the misery, she tried to recall what she had been dreaming about.

She was somewhere pleasantly warm with endless golden light bathing every surface. Lucien was there. Near a lake, perhaps, as the sound of gentle water lapping over itself felt right. Feyre was around too, with Nesta and Azriel– a holiday? She tried harder to recall more details, paint a picture vivid enough to distract her, but the effort was fruitless. There was nothing she could do and the knowledge of it left her so helpless, so irritated. Suddenly, the fact she was crouched at the toilet bowl repulsed her, the light in the washroom was far too bright on her eyes this late in the night, and all she fucking wanted was a damn second to breathe.

“Love?” His deep, sleep-leadened voice pulled her from her thoughts. She slowly opened her eyes to find Lucien standing at the threshold of the washroom, eyebrows furrowed disquietingly.

“Sorry if I woke you,” she meant to sound calm– totally cool, totally collected, like she totally had it all under control. But it was hard to put up a front with Lucien when her body so naturally relaxed in his presence, so it really was unavoidable that her voice instead came out depleted and small.

“Oh baby, do you need the toilet?” He didn’t waste a second in crouching beside her, placing a large hand on her back. When she took a moment to reply, he slowly ran his hand up and down the length of her spine, trying to soothe her in any way he could. He knew he was utterly useless in this situation. Lucien hated seeing his mate in this pain. When she was otherwise injured, at least he could see what was wrong and fix it. Physically mend a cut, salve a burn. He could hardly reach into her and soothe her from the inside, though she knew he would if he could.

He did not even want to think about what he would do if he had to go through this every six months. To be honest, Lucien didn’t think he, nor any male for that matter, could handle it, at least with as much grace as she does. He made sure to tell her this each time she was on her cycle because it always earned a small smile from her when nothing else could.

“Can you please get me a cloth?” Without hesitation, he went into the cabinets for find one for her.

“Do you need help?” Lucien asked, handing her a thick pad.

She quickly shook her head. “I can do it, can you just put my hair up? I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

Lucien quickly took the hair tie around his wrist and gently twisted the hair curtained around her face into a loose bun at the back of her head.

“Better?” He asked, kissing the back of her shoulder. She let her head drop slightly when the cool air kissed the back of her neck, whispering a breathless, barely-there thanks.

“Can you get up?”

She nodded, but she lifted her arms anyway. Lucien took the cue, sliding his arms underneath her to slowly help her up from the ground, heart breaking at her groan. She felt the flood as soon as her legs straightened, along with a fresh cramp tearing through her muscles, and grabbed onto Lucien as hard as she could. He didn’t even flinch, only waited with her until she was ready to move.

“I can carry you if you need me to,” He offered.

“No, I can walk,” he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, that even at her most vulnerable she could be so stubborn. He’d be lying to himself if he said her bullishness wasn’t what drew him to her in the first place. “Just, don’t let go of me.”

“I’m not letting go, love.”

Slowly, he helped guide her to the bed, where she collapsed into the covers. He climbed in next to her, pulling her body gently into his. Lucien knew when another wave of pain would come over her with the way her body tensed under him, and he gently squeezed her hip where his hand rested to remind her he was right there.

“How bad is it right now?” He murmured into the top of her head into her hair.

“Lucien I can’t even think of anything else right now,” Her voice was so small, so unlike her. “Every time feels worse than the last.”

He felt an anger that almost wasn’t his ripen in his chest at her anguish, but he quickly subdued it, reminding himself it was not about him at this moment– he would let himself feel it, alone, after she finds some peace.

“I’m sorry,” He cradled her head in his chest, feeling her erratic breathing against his torso as she fought to maintain her composure against the relentless cramping. “You’re doing so good.”

Her hand softly held his wrist as the pain subsided slightly. “Luc, can you do the thing?

She was so exhausted, so out of it, she couldn’t even describe what she needed, but with Lucien, she never needed too. He always knew.

“Of course, love. Get on your back for me.”

She did as he said and guided his hand to her lower belly, right where the cramps would come and go as they pleased.

“Here,” she lightly instructed him, the weight of his heavy hand a welcome pressure. “I’m sorry, you must be so tired too.”

He shifted on his side and propped himself up on one below so he could look at her face as he said to her, “You don’t need to worry about me love.”

She smiled at him, finding comfort in how safe he always made her feel. She did worry about him. All the time. She worried when he went over the wall where the humans were. She worried when he returned to the Spring Court to check on Tamlin. She worried when he went into town, when he worked on their house, and even when he laid asleep beside her. But however much she worried for him, Lucien worried for her an unfathomable amount more. Becoming Lucien’s lover was like becoming a celestial body of the universe, for she’d never known what it felt like to be someone’s world until she became his. Lucien never let her forget it, not in the words he spoke to her or the things he did for her.

Like now, as he gently pulled up her night shirt and laid his large hand over her lower belly, she felt his palm heat up over her, bringing almost immediate relief to the pain. Her hand rested on top of his, absentmindedly running her fingertips over his calloused knuckles. It wasn’t lost on her, the way her cycles were much easier on her, with him. There was only so much that could be done to ease an inescapable pain, but Lucien had still found a way for her.

“Too hot?” He checked in after a few minutes of her silence.

“No,” she mumbled. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

He watched her melt into the covers, the features of pain recede from her face. He’d never been called perfect before he met her. Not with his long red hair, his whirring eye, his scar. The girls wanted a Rhysand or a Cassian, even a Tamlin at some point. Never had he felt perfect, it was never even a word in his vernacular, but things were different now. He’d started to believe he could achieve something close to perfect, if only for his mate who deserved nothing less.

He’d helped so many people, done so much good, with his fire magic. Still, nothing felt as meaningful and important as when he was able to use it to help his mate. Even the times where he’d used his powers to hurt and destroy, she always gave him a way to remember he is not these things at his core. This– using his fire magic to warm the pain he could not physically reach– is who he was. She knew that, and so really, who gives a fuck if no one else did?

“I love you,” he spoke softly, knowing she probably didn’t hear it. From the open window, a breeze sighed into the room, carrying his words into the sky for the stars to hear instead, but they already knew.

Lucien did not sleep until she did. He didn’t mind the lack of sleep at all, though. On nights like these, he took the opportunity to reflect. In the very beginning he struggled to sit with his thoughts, plagued by so many created against his will. Now, it came easier to him with much more to be thankful for, to live for, than before.

Nothing is so difficult anymore, he thought to himself as he watched her finally find peace in her sleep beneath his touch.

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acourtofmusings · 4 months ago

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Penumbra - Series Introduction

pə-ˈnəm-brē : a space of partial illumination between the perfect shadow on all sides and the full light; a grey area

Pairing: Azriel x Reader Total Word Count: tbd

Summary: The inner circle has been sorely lacking a well-versed scholar, and luckily for them Y/N happens to bump into Nesta at a local romance book lovers convention. Her arrival comes just in time to flank reports that an ally of the Night Court is plotting something world-shattering. Despite every warning bell going off in her mind, she offers her assistance and finds herself enveloped in a dangerous game. Everything is at stake, and Y/N finds herself with a whole lot to lose when a certain Spymaster steps out of the shadows and into her light.

A/N: My falling-asleep fantasy scenarios have been extra intriguing recently, so naturally I'm turning to the world of fanfiction. For now, enjoy this teaser.

Chapter One (coming soon)

If there had ever been one thing that proved itself a constant in your life it was your need for the concrete. Black or white, those were the options. But ever since you had found yourself intertwined with the rambunctious group sitting with you in the large VIP booth at Ritas, things had steadily been muddling up into a daunting shade of grey. You smile at the sound of Cassian's boisterous laughter and take another sip from the drink you have been nursing for the better part of an hour. Nesta's calculated gaze lands on you from her place next to her mate.

"Y/N," she purrs, "You feeling okay?"

You nod and set your drink back down on the tabletop, tracing the rim with your finger. Your gaze begins a slow sweep across the other members of the inner circle, all sucked into their own individual conversations.

"I'm fine, Nesta. Just...taking it all in."

She lets a corner of her mouth quirk up, her subtle version of a well-meaning smile. "You'll get used to the noise eventually. They can get a bit caught up in themselves, but they mean well. Give it time."

Your gaze eventually settles onto the brooding spymaster who is currently nursing a double scotch on the rocks with the same level of disinterest as you. Shadows curl lazily over his shoulders, framed by powerful wings that are tucked tight against his back. He's leaning back into the cushion of the booth seat, listening to Mor's umpteenth dramatic tale of the evening. The movement of his shadows camouflages the swirls of black ink peeking from underneath his button down, and you take a moment to try and decipher what parts of the mesmerizing display are alive and which are tattooed. You fail miserably, reminding you again just how much you can't stand the nuance that surrounds this group of powerful fae. You force your eyes back over to your new friend, who now holds a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"Perhaps you should put down all of those ancient texts and become a spy instead."

You furrow your brow at her suggestion.

"Why would I do something like that?"

She chuckles to herself and pulls her own glass to her lips, finishing the remainder of the brightly colored drink. "You certainly enjoy starring just as much as he does."

You feel heat creep across your neck as you realize you were caught, and hope the swig of your drink that you take is enough for her to think it's a flush from the alcohol. You twist your face at the taste and shiver slightly as the burn runs down your throat.

"Thats what you get for ordering the well liquor," Nesta teases, "Rhys would happily add you to his tab if you stopped being so fucking stubborn. And don't think that amusing display gets you off the hook with me."

Cassian's wings perk up, and the nosy general turns to the two of you. "What display? What did I miss?" He leans down and speaks not-so-lowly into his mate's ear. "Is she finally relaxing? The both of you are way too boring for my taste right now." You feel heat burning up the sides of your neck and flooding onto your cheeks. Maybe your nervousness was coming off a bit standoffish, but you hated to think it was affecting anyone else's evening.

Cassian flags down a waitress and points between you and Nesta. "Excuse me miss, these two need to catch up. Get me two of something good and strong, please." He looks to you and wiggles his eyebrows "Add it to the High Lord's tab."

You begin to protest, looking apologetically to the waitress. "Oh, no thats okay, you really don't have to--"

"--add it..." Cassian insists, "to the High Lord's tab." The waitress smiles and nods, walking away to input the order. Cassian winks at you, smiling warmly. "You're sitting with the big boys now, sweets, no need to shy away from it. Rhys has money coming out of his ass, might as well put it to good use."

Rhys hears his name coming from his intoxicated brother and also turns his attention to you, violet eyes dancing with the same wicked amusement that often adorns Nesta's gaze.

"Ease off Cas," he chides, "I'm not that rich." The High Lord of the Night Court smirks. "Relax, Y/N, I'm not worried about what you spend on my account tonight. Or any night, for that matter. You're doing us all a massive favor, it's the least I can do."

You breath a sigh of relief and smile gently at him, and he returns it before looking back over to Feyre and Amren. Perhaps things were grey now, but maybe with enough time they could sort themselves out. Maybe you could actually find yourself settling into the rhythm of this group. As you feel yourself ease up, the waitress comes back with two bubbling cocktails.

A pair of hazel eyes train intently on you from the opposite end of the booth, marking your conversation and body language with acute awareness. Your timing was too coincidental. He had an odd feeling about you, one that his shadows seemed to enjoy egging on with their consistent pleas.

Need to know more. Let us learn more.

Azriel took a sip of his scotch, gaze still locked onto your form and only half listening to the tipsy giggling of his friends around him.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel #acotar fic #acotar series #azriel fic #azriel series

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violetasteracademic · 8 months ago

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The bonus chapter that ended Nessian

This is honestly really surprising to me. Apparently there are people out there that think Nesta and Cassian are going to end up together. Have they not read their bonus chapter? SJM effectively ended them.

First of all, the way they think about each other is not romantic at all:

Cassian has no idea where he stands with her, and as you can see, he is so unhealthily obsessed with Nesta that he can't stop thinking about her and literally rushed to interact with her even though she doesn't even like him and is mean to him! If Sarah wanted this be be romantic, she could have made totally different choices. We could have learned they shared secret touches or looks, have their fingers trembling or breath catching around each other. But no, just confusion and unhealthy obsession on Cassian's part. Honestly, he kinda seems like an incel here.

Worse than that, it's clear he obviously only lusts after her:

He literally has not said one thing about her personality! He's just weirdly obsessed with her boobs and her scent and is just thinking about her stroking him. If we were supposed to have gleaned he has real feelings for her, and not just lust, couldn't Sarah have added something more sweet and personal here? I don't know. Maybe he could have brought her a thoughtful present that shows how much he sees and understands her when no one else does. But no. He just wants to get laid and touch her boobs. Honestly, ugh.

And let's not even get started about the Mor thing!

Cassian slept with Mor because he was jealous of Azriel! And if you recall, in ACOMAF Morrigan said Cassian just wants what he can't have and it has driven Cassian crazy for centuries that Mor never wanted him again after they slept together once. Rhys confirms this too.

Nesta clearly is not interested in Cassian. In fact, she knees him in the balls right after this. Honestly? This actually seems like a really toxic perpetuation of the Mor situation. Cassian yet again wants what he can't have, and it is actually in the canon text that he has this problem. Also, notice that he's ashamed of this situation and embarrassed to tell Mor about it? That's not a very good setup for a romance. He should have the full support of his friends and family in order for Nessian to work.

He calls himself stupid, he knows it's wrong, he just doesn't care for a moment because of the lust. Again, Nesta knees him in the balls. Not interested. Take a hint you creepy incel! And even though he was fully planning on devouring her lips, he is clearly not anymore!

But here's the real nail in the coffin:

Nesta forbids him from coming back. She threatens that she'll scream if he does and she is only willing to work with and talk to anyone but him. How is he supposed to get around that? How is their relationship supposed to develop if he is forbidden from talking to her and seeing her? I just don't understand how this is supposed to resolve in the books. At least hundreds, if not a few thousand of the tens or hundreds of thousands of SJM readers have read this bonus chapter. There's no way to come back from this.

Also- did you notice in ACOFAS Nessian's same drama is still playing out, but SJM interestingly enough introduces a character named Emerie and they have a scene together? Seems like SJM is clearly telling us Nessian isn't happening and setting up a new love interest for Cassian. Based on their limited interactions, it's actually really obvious to me that they are a much better fit and there is already a ton of foreshadowing that they are endgame. In fact, I think they are mates!

I swear this has nothing to do with the fact that I dislike Nesta. I mean, do I dislike her, and do I think Cassian deserves better? Yeah. But that's not relevant here. What's relevant is text and foreshadowing and the fact that I don't like Nesta and think Cassian deserves better because I've self inserted myself into Sarah's writing and want her to do what I want and I don't want Archeron sisters I don't like winding up with a bat boy I love.

Wait no... Ignore that second part I didn't mean to type that out.

#elriel #pro elriel #just being silly #i actually love all the sisters and bat boys this is just satire!#elriel endgame #elriel month 2024

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itsybitsybluesy · 8 days ago

Text

THE PERFECT ROMANTIC GETAWAY: ONE WEEK FOR TWO AT SCENIC, LAKESIDE MOUNTAIN LODGE

CHAPTER 1 / ELUCIEN / EXPLICIT / 1 OF 3

There was simply so much they’d had to extricate themselves from in the middle of Solstice season, Elain thought several times that they should really just call the whole thing off. “It’s never a good time for a vacation,” Lucien told her. “Which is why you have to take them.”

🎁 🎁 🎁

LMAO HAPPY ACOTAR GIFT EXCHANGE @huntquinlan!!! surprise surprise, i accidentally revealed myself as your secret santa AND THEN TURNED AROUND AND DOUBLE-CROSSED YA BY PRETENDING I WAS YOUR NEW, DIFFERENT SECRET SANTA... did you guess? i am selfishly super happy i didn't have to switch, because i loved writing this and i also loved getting to discover your wonderful art! my only regret is that i couldn't write you asks in gossip girl speak the entire time.

thank you @temperedink for the generous beta read and thank you @acotargiftexchange for dealing with my mistake... i'm told at least once a year someone spoils the surprise and i am not that shocked that i did it my first time. just too excitable i guess!

have a wonderful holiday season, and i really hope you like this! i tried to take your Outlander hot springs suggestion and go somewhere new on the Continent (that is, ahem, quite obviously a lakeside town in japan i once visited in my early 20s). there will be three chapters total, sprinkled somewhat evenly over the next few days of the event!

LOVE U BESTIE!

xoxo,

itsy <3

(read it on AO3!)

preview under the cut:

ELAIN

She was slightly anxious the whole carriage ride as town streets turned to farms and fields and then to hills and valleys. There was simply so much they’d had to extricate themselves from in the middle of Solstice season, Elain had thought several times that they should really call the whole thing off. Nesta was just a few months pregnant and horribly sick in the mornings, sometimes only able to keep down the soothing bone broths Elain made her from scratch; Nyx was going through his first few challenges with his schooling and consequently driving court tutors to madness; Feyre and Rhys had their hands full and heads spinning with a squabbling pack of High Lords and uneasy, bickering detente with the human queens.

Elain had been soothing and tending and chipping in and charming her ass off anyone that needed it. “I just don’t know if it’s such a good idea for us to leave now ,” she’d said to her mate, though it pained her to rain on his parade.

Lucien was still splitting his time between Day and the apartment they were renting in Velaris, though Elain knew the constant winnowing didn’t always help with the question of what, exactly, to do about his inheritance: the title of Day Court Prince, Helion’s pride and joy, the golden boy he would have been, had he been allowed to grow up by his father’s side. The High Lord of Day seemed to have an endless fount of ideas on what Lucien should learn about in Day’s libraries, or why it was very important for him to accompany Helion to a trade meeting, or any number of other reasons to invite the current emissary of Night to stay another day, week, month.

Elain knew there was no reason Lucien needed to keep going on Rhys’s nosy little reconnaissance missions or put up with the polite friendlessness that faced him in Velaris - just as she knew her mate still could not take the final step into the place Helion offered to him, the path that seemed to be open after so many decades thinking he deserved so little. It was Lucien who perhaps needed to spend more time communicating with his relatives and trusted friends this Solstice, and of course it was Lucien most convinced they should leave, Cauldron boil them all, because they wanted to and because they could.

“It’s never a good time for a vacation,” Lucien told her before they left. “Which is why you have to take them.”

“That’s not an answer,” Elain said loftily. “I think it’s you trying to avoid a Solstice visit with Helion.”

“Forget Helion,” her mate said. “It’s me trying to whisk my gorgeous mate away for some actual peace and quiet.”

And in the end, she’d agreed with him, in her heart of hearts so craving a day or two to just themselves. Lucien spared no expense or comfort, ever gallant and also very dramatic about his holiday plans; he worked with court engineers to spell their carriage against the winter cold so that he and Elain could enjoy a cozy, comfortable ride to their destination, laden with trunks of likely unnecessary furs and blankets and books and tea. He knew Elain still preferred real-time travel to winnowing, and he also knew it was a simple pleasure for her to not have to pack light. Across from her in the carriage, he sat with one hand stroking her own, eyes bright as he peered out the window.

“Tell me again,” Elain said softly, “what this place is like.”

“I don’t want to build your hopes too high,” Lucien said gaily, clearly proud of what he’d planned anyway. “After all, it was a suggestion from Eris, of all people.” It was his brooding, severe half-brother who’d told Lucien about the town and the inn, the mountain and the springs before it, about a day’s ride Northeast into the Continent. Only the Mother knew how, exactly, Eris had acquired this information, but Eris had heard about Elain’s dreamy musings on travel, exploring beautiful places and getting to know new people. Lucien expected it was ultimately fondness for Elain and not himself that had so inspired this exclusive recommendation.

“That’s why I know it’ll be just perfect,” Elain countered. “Any place on the Continent notable enough for Eris Vanserra must be pretty breathtaking.”

“It’s only a town,” Lucien said, grinning. “A town he happened to know, by a mountain, populated by quiet mountain people he probably terrified.”

Elain curled closer to him and sighed. “Quiet people, how lovely,” she said. “What if I never want to return?”

Lucien dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sure I could handle your correspondence, be your emissary.”

“No, I’ll make sure you’re enchanted into following my every step,” his mate replied. “So you can never leave my side.”

He turned and let himself take a deep whiff of her hair and pearled, soft skin. “No enchantment needed, mate.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elain x lucien #elucien #elucien fanfiction #acotargiftexchange

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cressidagrey · 5 months ago

Text

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 9

Summary:

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings:

I am retconning Merrill into not being a total bully...and Mor is kinda an idiot.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Cilla couldn’t help but stare. Of course, she had seen the House of Wind before. It was difficult not to. But she had never thought that she would get to see the inside.

Azriel carefully let her down at the top of the house…not wanting to strain her wings with the flight upwards. So instead, he had picked her up, like she weighed nothing, cradled her to his chest and flown her up to the House of Wind.

Cilla gazed around in wonder, taking in the sight of the massive building rising before her.

“This is the training area,” he explained, following her gaze as she looked around what…she couldn’t even describe it. Chalk Circles were drawn on the floor and she stared at them for a moment longer.

“Nesta resurrected the Valkyries…a group of female warriors. They train up here every morning. Some of the priestesses take part. Some others just do it for the self-defence but are not interested in becoming warriors,” Azriel explained as he led her into the house.

Cilla's eyes widened further as Azriel led her into the house, marvelling at the opulence. High ceilings, large windows, and artwork galore. "Whoever built this place must have been really rich," she breathed out, awed by the sheer size and luxury.

Azriel barked out a laugh. "You are correct," he told her. “Rich, and very vain. It was built by a High Lord of The Night Court centuries ago."

Cilla blinked, "A High Lord?" she asked, trying to imagine the kind of person who would build such a lavish house for themselves. “Why would he build a house like this?”

"Why do any of them build anything the way they do?" Azriel replied dryly. “High Fae aren’t known for their humility, I’m afraid.”

Cilla shrugged. True.

Azriel chuckled at her noncommittal response. "Come, let me show you the library. I think you will like it."

They walked down lower, into the bowels of this massive house, carved out of red stone. She needed to tuck her wings tight against herself so that she didn’t knock them into anything. Cilla followed close at Azriel's heels, her wings brushing against the stone walls. Despite having to walk so close, she didn't feel nervous or constricted.

They came to a stop at an archway, the space beyond too dark for her to see much. "After you," Azriel said, motioning to the library. "Clotho is waiting for us," he explained. "...All the priestesses that work here...they all have their own trauma," he told her softly.

She nodded. She could hear something in his voice…not quite a warning but something that told her to listen.

She understood why moments later, when she met Clotho.

A hooded and cloaked figure, the hood crowned with a blue stone…

“Clotho meet Cilla,” Azriel introduced her. “Clotho is the…the one in charge,” he explained to Cilla.

Clotho said nothing but inclined her head.

Could she speak?

She writes, Azriel’s shadows answered quietly. She’s unable to speak.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Clotho," Cilla said quietly, keeping her voice soft and polite.

“Cilla loves books, so we thought that maybe work in the library would suit her,” Azriel said quietly. “You mentioned that you could always use more help.”

Clotho's cloaked head turned towards her for a moment, studying her. Cilla felt a shiver run down her spine, feeling as if the cloaked figure was somehow looking into her soul.

Clotho held her gaze for another moment before giving a small nod. It was an agreement.

"Clotho will show you around the library and show you how to sort the books. If you do a good job, she might even let you read some of them,” Azriel said, giving the priestess a knowing grin.

Cilla couldn't help but smile at his words, excitement swirling in her belly. The prospect of spending her days surrounded by stacks of books was like a dream come true for her.

Cilla's eyes flicked to the papers in front of her, and she realized that they were a list of instructions on how to sort the books into their respective sections.

She read the list carefully, sounding out the letters in her head, and absorbing the information. It all seemed fairly straightforward. She lifted her gaze back to Clotho, a smile on her face. "I think I can do that," she said quietly.

Clotho gave another slow nod.

"Excellent," Azriel said, a smile playing on his lips. "I'll leave you to it then..."

He reached out and squeezed Cilla’s hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring. "You'll do great," he said quietly, before quietly slipping out of the library.

Cilla watched him go, already missing his presence, before turning back to Clotho. The cloaked priestess was watching her intently, a silent guardian over the library.

Cilla sucked in a shaky breath and squared her shoulders. She could do this.

"Where do I start?" she asked, looking back at the mountain of books that seemed to fill every shelf in the library. Clotho, still silent, lifted her hand and pointed to the far wall.

Cilla looked where she was pointing, and saw a large stack of unorganized books. "Those?" she asked, not wanting to presume.

Clotho nodded, her hood bobbing slightly. Cilla nodded back, steeling herself. "Okay."

She moved forward, grabbing the topmost book from the pile, and began to sort through them, organizing them by author and subject, just like Clotho's instructions showed her how.

It was quiet in the library...peaceful.

Cilla found that she enjoyed the silence. It allowed her to focus on the task at hand, losing herself in the familiar comfort of the books.

She fell into a rhythm, sorting the books one by one, and finding a strange sense of contentment in it.

It was helped by the fact that her shadows got to help, handing her book after book from the neat stacks she made as she shelved them.

It was a dusty job...but it was...easy in a sense.

The monotony of the task only served to lull Cilla further into the peaceful rhythm of it all. Her shadows proved to be a helpful partner, bringing her the books she needed without even needing to ask. It was almost like they knew what she needed even before she did.

And it was a far cry from the backbreaking work in the tannery, she had carried out before

Cilla couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of relief. She had never realized just how much she dreaded the prospect of working in the hot, stinking tannery, surrounded by the fumes and blood and sinew. In comparison, the library was a heaven-sent gift.

And the books. Cilla's heart was in them. As she carefully slid each volume into its designated slot on the shelf, she couldn't help but skim the words and titles, feeling a small shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she would take them down from the shelf and devour them.

"Who are you?" came a demanding voice behind her.

Cilla jumped, startled by the unexpected voice. Her shadows swirled around her, alarmed. She whirled around, her heart racing, to find a young priestess standing there, arms crossed and staring at her almost suspiciously.

She was beautiful. There was no way around it. Nearly white hair, light brown skin...the bluest eyes Cilla had ever seen.

Cilla couldn't help but gawk for a moment, taken in by the priestess’ beauty. But the priestess’ expression was anything but open or friendly. She raised an eyebrow, clearly awaiting an answer.

Cilla cleared her throat, feeling small under her gaze. "I...I'm Cilla," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. Cilla couldn't help but gawk for a moment, taken in by the priestess’ beauty. But the priestess’ expression was anything but open or friendly. She raised an eyebrow, clearly awaiting an answer.

The priestess looked her over with those too-blue eyes, like a predator sizing up potential prey. Cilla resisted the urge to shiver.

Finally, the priestess spoke. "And what are you doing in the library?" she asked, her voice as cool as her expression.

"Clotho hired me to help with the books," Cilla explained, trying not to shrink back from the intimidating woman. "Organizing them and whatnot."

The priestess's eyes flicked to the neat stacks of books that Cilla had been working on. For a moment, Cilla thought she saw a flicker of interest in her eyes, but it was quickly smothered by a cool aloofness again.

Her shadows twisted and swirled around her nervously, not liking the sudden scrutiny they were under.

Cilla lifted her chin, trying to match the Priestess's cool gaze with one of her own. "Yes," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am."

The priestess nodded, but her eyes didn't leave Cilla's shadows, tracking them as they swirled about her wings.

Then, finally, her gaze slid back to Cilla's face. "Interesting," she said, something like interest in her voice.

Cilla tried to control her reaction. She wasn’t used to people taking any interest in her Shadowsinger abilities. Most of the time they just regarded her with suspicion or even fear. But this woman seemed...intrigued. Curious. It was a strange sensation.

The priestess took a step closer to her, her eyes still fixed on Cilla's shadows. She lifted a hand, as if to touch them, but pulled back at the last moment. Cilla suppressed a shiver, the intensity in those blue eyes almost unnerving."Did you ever wonder where they came from?"

The question took Cilla off guard. She looked at her shadows, fluttering around her, and frowned. She had never really thought about it. To her, they had always just...been there. A part of her.

She looked back at the priestess. "What do you mean?"

"They didn't always exist, you know," the priestess said matter-of-factly, her gaze still on the shadows. "It's said that they only came into being when the first Shadowsinger came into the world."

"How do you know that?" Cilla asked, intrigued.

The priestess turned her attention back to Cilla, a small smirk playing on her lips. "How do you think I know?" she shot back.

Cilla's shadows swirled anxiously around her, not liking the priestess's challenging tone.

"I read about it," she told Cilla.

Cilla felt a bit silly for not having guessed that herself. Of course, the priestess would know. This was a library, after all.

She gave herself a mental shake. "Right," she said, still feeling a bit off-kilter from the conversation. "So...you know a lot about Shadowsingers, then?"

"I am Merrill," she finally introduced herself.

Cilla nodded in acknowledgement. "Merrill," she repeated. "Nice to meet you."

Her shadows seemed to calm down somewhat upon hearing the priestess' name, but they still fluttered about her anxiously.

"And to answer your question," Merrill said. "There isn't much...because there aren't many shadowsingers."

Cilla's eyebrows rose up at that. "Not many?" she repeated. She hadn't really thought much about how common or rare Shadowsingers' abilities actually were. The realization that she was part of a very exclusive and rare group made her feel strangely exposed.

What about other...abilities?" Cilla asked, her head tilting to the side. "There are so many different types of powers among the fae…are some powers more common than others?"

"Ah, an interesting question," Merrill said, her lips curving into a slow smile. "You should come find me in my office sometimes... You may make a proper research assistant."

Cilla's heart skipped a beat at the words...then her wings shifted, as a flutter of excitement ran through her. "You...You mean that?" she asked, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice.

Merrill's eyes glittered, as if she was amused by her excitement. "I do," she said, her voice dry. "It's been a while since I had a decent research assistant. And with your little..." she lifted her hand to gesture at the shadows. "...abilities, you could be useful."

Cilla's heart picked up speed at the idea of being able to work with Merrill, of getting access to the library's knowledge...of being able to learn and understand her shadows and her powers more

"I'll keep that in mind," she said softly.

"See that you do," Merrill said, a hint of a command in her tone. "Now... I believe you have a job to do."

She gave her a brief nod, before turning on her heel and striding out of the library.

Cilla watched her go, still feeling a bit rattled by the exchange. She let out a soft sigh, her shadows swirling around her in agitation.

Interesting was one word for it, she thought.

"By the cauldron, you do look just like him," another female voice breathed and for one moment Cilla wondered how many other people were going to just drop by unannounced.

Blonde hair, brown eyes...a bright red dress. And somehow, she put her right on edge. Cilla wasn't sure what it was, but she reached out inside her for that golden thread that connected her to Azriel, and yanked.

"I am Mor!"

"H...hi," Cilla replied, trying to sound calm and nonchalant, despite the strange feeling in her gut. The shadows kept swirling around her anxiously.

She’s…a friend of Cassian, Azriel’s shadows told her, but something…something was off.

Cilla could sense their warning, their caution. It made her own body feel uneasy. She'd always trusted her own shadows' instincts when it came to people.

Her own shadows were poised to act as a shield…hissing to her, words that were too quiet to make much sense.

Cilla felt her own instincts starting to kick in, a strange sense of danger raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

Mor took a step closer, her eyes roving over Cilla's form with a critical eye. The shadows around Cilla hissed, almost angrily, and she unconsciously took a cautious step back.

"You look...so much like him," Mor murmured, her voice a mixture of wonder and something like sorrow. She took another step closer, as if unable to help herself, her gaze roaming over Cilla's face.

Cilla's heart pounded in her chest at the intensity of Mor's gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable under it. Her wings flattened against her back, and she could feel her shadows bristling with alarm.

"Morrigan," Azriel said sharply, suddenly appearing behind her.

Mor gasped, turning around quickly, her expression caught between embarrassment and surprise. She looked at Azriel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Azriel's gaze flickered to Cilla, taking in her tense stance and the swirling shadows around her. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Mor.

"I thought Cassian told you to wait," he said sharply.

Mor's eyes widened, guilt flashing across her face. "I know," she said softly, her voice almost sheepish. "But I couldn't help myself. I had to see..."

She trailed off, her eyes roaming back to Cilla again.

Cilla felt a mixture of relief and discomfort at Azriel's arrival, her shadows settling slightly at his presence. But she couldn't help the shiver that went down her spine as Mor's gaze came back to her, as if the faerie woman was trying to drink her in.

Azriel moved to place himself between Mor and Cilla, his stance protective and challenging. Mor's gaze flicked to him, and something like annoyance flared up in her eyes.

"You're spoiling my fun," she said, her voice laced with petulance.

"SHe's not some kind of pet for you to gawk at," Azriel cut her off sharply.

Mor let out an exasperated huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not 'gawking' at her," she retorted, her jaw clenching. "I'm just...observing."

"You're scaring her," Azriel said, his voice low. His eyes flicked back to Cilla, making sure she was alright. She gave him a small nod, feeling slightly reassured by his presence.

Mor's expression softened slightly at Azriel's words, but then her eyes flicked back to Cilla again. Cilla could practically feel her gaze tracing her features, like an artist trying to commit them to memory.

Azriel must have noticed it too, as he subtly stepped in front of Cilla again, blocking Mor's view.

"Enough, Mor," he said, his voice firm. "You've seen enough."

Mor let out an annoyed sigh, her eyes narrowing. "But I didn't get the chance to ask her questions," she protested.

"You won't be asking her any questions," Azriel said firmly. His stance was like a solid wall between Cilla and Mor, protective and unyielding. His shadows swirled around him, like sentinels standing guard.

"She's my niece," Mor gave back.

Cilla's heart skipped a beat. Niece...?

"You didn't mention me?!" Mor complained. "Az!"

"It...didn't seem necessary," Azriel said gruffly, his expression almost sheepish.

Cilla tried to process this newly revealed familial relationship. She had...an aunt? Her mind was spinning at this sudden revelation.

"Mor is Rhysand's cousin...and like a sister to Cassian," Azriel explained with a sigh.

Cilla felt her mind trying to comprehend the tangled web of family connections. So Mor was the High Lord's cousin and was close to her own mate?

The shadows around her were strangely silent, almost as if they too were trying to make sense of it all.

But Mor wasn't like a sister to Azriel?

Cilla could sense an undercurrent of complicated history there, as if there were things left unspoken.

The Morrigan…was…a long time ago, Master, harboured some…unreturned feelings for her? Azriel’s shadows answered, sounding nearly sheepish. Nothing ever happened!

The admission from the shadows made something click in Cilla's mind. All the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Mor...and Azriel...

She glanced at her mate, taking in his uncomfortable expression. Something had definitely happened...or hadn't happened but perhaps should have...Between them.

"It's not what you think, I swear, Cilla," Azriel said quietly, grimacing.

Cilla felt a pang of sympathy for him. She could see the regret in his eyes, and the lingering discomfort he felt whenever Mor was around. But she also felt an unwanted surge of jealousy at the idea of past feelings between him and Mor.

"Oh. OH. No, you don't...You don't need to worry about that!" Mor hurried to add. "I...I always preferred females," she admitted.

Cilla blushed bright red at Mor's admission. She had assumed...well, assumed the obvious. But perhaps her assumption had been too hasty.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh of relief, his shoulders drooping slightly. Cilla glanced at him, feeling a pang of sympathy for her mate. It must still be...unpleasant...to be around the person who you'd had unrequited feelings for.

"Oh, you're adorable," Mor said, a genuine smile brightening her face as she looked at Cilla, taking in her blushing cheeks. Then her attention swiveled to Azriel. "You're a lucky male, Az. She’s very pretty, you know," she teased, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Azriel flushed at Mor's words, a rare show of colour on his usually cool features. He averted his gaze, looking both embarrassed and somewhat pleased. "Thank you," he mumbled, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture.

Cilla couldn't help but be endeared by the sight of her mate blushing.

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