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surielstea · 2 months ago

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Undercover Affection

Based on a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

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

Warnings: none (that I know of)

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

7.9k word count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhys's lips twitched. "Newlyweds."

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

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

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

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

"Rhys," Azriel growled, low and lethal.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Focus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, barely perceptibly.

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

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

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

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

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

Your mate.

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

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

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

Mate.

And he knew.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, the words caught in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But—"

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

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

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

"How do we approach her without raising suspicion?"

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

"And if something goes wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The game has begun.

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Az."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you took the choice away and kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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assriels · 10 months ago

Text

lessons in touch

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel’s curiosity and penchant for spying reveals exactly why you’ve been more…enthusiastic in bed lately

word count: 5.8k :0

warnings: smut (not super detailed)!! 18+ mdni pls, az being nosy

a/n: this is one of my faves so far :’) i have this persistent silly headcanon that az is the biggest busybody of them all and that’s why he’s so good at his job

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Sex between you and Azriel was far from boring. It was a well known secret that Azriel had a predilection towards kink and experimentation, so your adventures with him between the sheets never left either of you dissatisfied. Far from it, actually.

Being with him was always pleasurable, wonderful, and unrivaled by any you’d had before him. During girls night, you had always attested to his prowess, said that his skills of observation extended past the battlefield and very much into the bedroom. And his wingspan…you would neither confirm nor deny whether the theory around Illyrian males and their wingspan was true, much to their chagrin, but the mischievous smirk that curled your lips was all they needed to confirm their suspicions.

Azriel was a skilled lover; he knew your ins and outs, understood almost innately how to coax pleasure from you with a simple, well placed brush of his fingers. More often than not, Azriel had you in a puddle on the floor before he could even take his pants off. Which, ordinarily, was a more than welcome skill — you loved how well he knew you, adored how he loved you so much that his brain was like a file cabinet of information about things you liked.

But you’d grown frustrated lately, more and more desiring to reduce Azriel to the same pleasure filled putty that he so often did with you. His composure was infuriatingly ironclad; you knew he felt the same primal, overwhelming desire that you did — such was the nature of the mating bond — but he was much better at masking it.

In short, you wanted to know what made him tick, what made him beg and whimper and plead with you to touch him. You’d been mated for a year now, and while his desire for you never waned, you had yet to find the one thing that made him sink to his knees and beg the way he so easily coaxed you to do for him.

It was no secret that your mate had a bold competitive streak. But your own stubbornness rivaled his own, leading to long, long card game nights and sparring matches — much to everyone else’s entertainment.

Though you knew you had no reason to feel such competitiveness when matters of the bedroom were concerned, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance that Azriel had so easily figured out how to make you squirm in a multitude of ways — with all your cards on the table — while you were still somewhat in the dark about his most favored bedroom inclinations. Azriel kept the secrets of his hand close to his chest.

So you vowed to yourself that you’d figure it out, test his composure to see how exactly to make that beautiful, calm countenance crack. It was like a game, but one you were more than willing to play and even more determined to win.

Ever the observer however, Azriel caught on to the changes in your excitement beneath the sheets, amusement and adoration coursing through his veins as he reveled in your sudden vigor, never shying away from a challenge.

You had been more experimental in your bedroom endeavors as of late, asking him to bend you this way and that, introducing things that he never thought you’d be interested in — not that he was complaining in the slightest. Though your differences were strikingly obvious, Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about where your sudden interest in various sexual niches had sprung from.

Initially, it was all fun and games; if you wanted to explore then so be it — he’d match you stroke for stroke every time. But eventually, his nosiness had wedged its way deep into each crevice of his mind until he was all-consumed, curiosity devolving into a burgeoning anxiety.

Was something wrong?

Azriel was positive that if you were bored you would tell him. Had you heard something from one of the others that spurred you to want to explore more? Had you felt as though you had to introduce novelty every time to please him?

You had to have known that was far from the truth; no matter your state, Azriel had always made it clear to you that you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the privilege of knowing, let alone laying with. He didn’t think there was anything wrong…at least not for him. Maybe you felt like something was missing.

“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”

Rhys’s voice snapped him out of his anxious musings. Azriel hadn’t realized that he was pacing so furiously he could have worn a hole through the floor. Both Rhysand and Cassian had been watching with amusement glinting in their eyes. After all, it was a rare sight to see their ordinarily calm and stoic shadowsinger so worked up.

The same poker face Azriel had worn to win countless games of cards against his brothers masked his features now, but the twitch in his brow and the near missable ruffling of his wings were tells that Cassian and Rhysand were well acquainted with.

The shadowsinger had never perfected his stone faced indifference when he was thinking of you.

Cassian ventured a guess, “Have you upset Y/N?”

Cassian had meant to tease, but the way Azriel stayed silent had his eyebrow arching in question. Azriel ignored the curious glance from his brother as his mind ran in circles once more.

Had he upset you? Was your sudden experimentation in bed some roundabout way of telling him that he had done something to hurt you? No, no…that didn’t make sense, he was being illogical.

Or…Had he somehow missed picking up on something that you liked?

Your sudden interest in sexual exploration was far from a problem, but he got the niggling sense that you were up to something, playing a game that he wasn’t privy to. And he wanted in.

Azriel was private by nature, never revealing more of his relationship with you than absolutely necessary to his brothers, not wanting to overshare in fear that he’d fall victim to their incessant teasing. But this…maybe it would be useful to get their opinions about your sudden change in interests? Cassian and Rhys were both mated males afterall, and maybe there was something Azriel was missing. He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he fell victim to his crippling neuroticism more times than he’d like to. Curiosity and anxiety were two sides of the same coin.

So he indulged and told his brothers of your sudden vigor in bed, enthusiasm to try something new every single time. You’d been insatiable as of late and he didn’t know why; nothing had changed that he knew of and it was concerning him, he couldn’t stand not knowing.

“So,” Rhys started tentatively, narrowing his eyes in confusion, not quite grasping the issue that Azriel was so hesitant to endorse. “Y/N is trying new things in bed.”

And elsewhere, Azriel thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’d leave that part out, though; Rhys probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing the details about the going-ons in the dining room of the townhouse. And the gardens. And the hallways.

“And you’re complaining?” Cassian asked, incredulous, similarly at a loss for his brother’s concern.

“I’m not complaining, Cass,” Azriel groaned and slumped unceremoniously into a chair (much like an irritated school child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to), immediately regretting his poorly thought out decision to confide in his brothers. “I’m just confused. I don’t know what she wants.”

“Have you considered asking her?” Rhys inquired, infuriatingly teasing smile curving his lips.

Azriel deadpanned and clicked his tongue, not believing that Rhys would assume he was so inept at communicating with his lover, “Of course I’ve asked. She just says nothing’s changed. I believe her, but it’s still bothering me and I don’t know why.”

Both Cassian and Rhys resisted the urge to laugh, mentally conversing about how Azriel’s affections for you often reduced him to an adolescent-like lovesickness, begging and willing to please. Az had been this way since they were children; fiercely competitive and subsequently pouty if he didn’t have the upper hand, always wanting to know and learn everything he could.

This side of the shadowsinger was one that did not make an appearance often, reserving itself until he was around the few he trusted wholeheartedly.

The past couple of centuries saw even less of this endearingly childish and competitive Azriel – even around his closest friends – as Night Court duties and his identity as Spymaster overshadowed most opportunities to be vulnerable in his relationships.

But when you came around, light began to spark beneath the shadowy depths of Azriel’s countenance as you slowly coaxed him to trust and love as fiercely as everyone knew he was capable of, with the reckless abandon that his childhood self so easily embodied.

“Maybe check her nightstand,” Cassian teased with a wink, only half joking, as a quiet happiness bubbled within him at the small glimpses of Azriel’s vulnerability. “Some of Nesta’s best kept secrets are hidden there.”

Before Azriel could furrow his brow and chastise his brother for snooping through his mate’s belongings, a realization hit him.

Nesta.

You had been spending an awfully large amount of time with the eldest Archeron sister in the library lately, choosing to hole up there in lieu of your other hobbies when you weren’t training or engaging in your various other Night Court duties.

But Nesta would be a dead end. There was no way he could approach her without tipping you off to his secret sleuthing. Though he and Nesta were friends, her loyalties laid with you; there was an unexplainable female camaraderie between you – a chosen sisterhood, if you will – and if he asked if she knew anything about what was going on, she’d go running to you, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

The conversation with his brothers was about as helpful as he initially thought it would be, and he let himself succumb to their jokes about how wrapped around your finger he was. Azriel had endured it graciously, knowing better than anyone that they were right, that he was indeed wrapped so tightly around your little finger that he was unsure of where he ended and you began. That he would gratefully stay in the palm of your hand for as long as you would allow.

But that night, after you had told him not to wait up for you because you’d be having drinks with Feyre and Mor, Cassian’s voice reverberated insistently in his mind.

Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…

Azriel resisted the urge to snoop for all of ten minutes before his inherent nosiness clouded his judgment and got the better of him; afterall, his love for secrets is what made him such an effective spymaster. Before he knew it, he was rolling onto your side of the bed, inquisitive hands pulling open your bedside drawer.

Hidden among the small stack of books he had given you was a thick novel with a cover he recognized, but gave no second thought.

It was a book you said Nesta had lent you. When he asked if you liked it you said it was “only okay” and that you’d let him know if he should read it when you were finished. Despite your lukewarm review, however, it had never left your side, and he had found you on more than one occasion cozied up with it in your hands, cheeks dusted with a heat he knew all too well.

Azriel was well aware of the content of the books Nesta favored, often lending a reluctant ear to a whiny Cassian whenever she paid more attention to her books than him.

But there was no way your sudden excitement for novelty in the bedroom could be inspired by Nesta’s smutty recommendations…right? He leafed through, assessing hazel eyes quickly skimming the paragraphs, catching glimpses of the prose that had you so enraptured.

Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.

It was smut, as he assumed. But this was truly…filth. Pure, unadulterated, filthy smut.

Azriel was a lover of all books, never having been one to categorize or judge them by popular opinion. And, to be completely fair, he had read a decent amount of books filled with sex and romance.

But…he was sure that the acts detailed in this one would make even the Court of Nightmares’s debauchery look saintly. Even Azriel, who had been correctly assumed to be the kinkiest of the Inner Circle, felt tame in comparison to the words flickering across the pages of your book. How did you read this with such impassivity on your face?

Azriel snapped the book shut with such force the pages blew a cool, gentle breeze onto his heating face. He tried – and failed – to not picture you in the position the main character in your book was described in, unintentionally sending a soft hum of his burgeoning arousal down your bond. He was beginning to understand your desire to replicate the more salacious scenes detailed in your novels.

Having fun without me, Az? Came your teasing inquiry in his mind, as he meticulously replaced all of your belongings into your nightstand.

Don’t be nosy, he quipped back, extremely aware of the irony of his statement. And then after a beat he added, answering your question with a sincerity that never failed to grip your heart, Never without you, love.

You left him waiting for a response a little bit longer than you normally would as you attempted to control the thundering beat of your heart in your chest. You were convinced that no amount of time could ever diminish the effects that Azriel’s blatant display of love had on your composure. As much as he was wrapped around your little finger, you were just as tightly wrapped around his.

I take back what I said earlier, wait up for me.

Azriel smirked to himself, feeling a flare of triumph, It’s a date, then. Maybe I’ll find something interesting to read in the meantime.

If you caught on to his sly insinuation, you did not let on, just continued bantering with him for a few moments before returning your full attention to your friends, who were no doubt attempting to extract morsels of information from your obviously lascivious exchange with your lover.

But that night – even after Azriel had promptly fucked you into a blissful oblivion – had yielded no more information about your recent proclivity for finding a new kink, so Azriel did what he did best and spied.

He kept a watchful eye on the books you read, and tracked the times you asked him to try something new. He spent more time in the library than necessary under the guise that Rhys had put him up to some research.

Which was only half of a lie. He was in there to do reconnaissance, yes, just not for Rhys.

Azriel scanned the bookshelves for anything that seemed like it had been recently replaced, pages still clinging to the sweet scent of your skin. A title he recognized caught his eye and he slotted it out of place, flipping through the pages to confirm his suspicions.

This book was shorter than the others he’d seen you carry around, but certainly no less obscene. A smirk pulled at Azriel’s lips as he read a dog eared chapter that you had clearly marked for inspiration, recollections of your most recent tryst in his office flooding his awareness.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You had sauntered into his small, private study at the House of Wind, short dress skimming the curves of your thighs as you bent to greet him with a kiss to his cheek. He’d been distracted at the time — surveying maps and cross referencing with ancient textbooks — and barely tore his attention away from his work long enough to squeeze your hand in greeting.

But you didn’t seem to mind, opting to make yourself comfortable and purveying the books neatly organized on his shelves. When you’d found a book you thought would be interesting enough — though probably not quite as interesting as the one you’d just finished, per Nesta’s recommendation — you settled into the armchair across Azriel’s desk, shoulders against one armrest as your legs draped over the other.

Azriel looked up at you then, soft smile curving his lips. He loved when you kept him company while he worked; somehow, whenever you were around, work never seemed nearly as daunting or overwhelming.

You met his gaze with your own grin, silently communicating your support of him in the way that only mates could, tugging gently on the bond before winking at him and resettling your attention back to the book in your lap.

The both of you worked in that wonderfully comfortable silence for a while before Azriel caught you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. The sun had begun its routine descent below the horizon, cool breeze stirring the sheer curtains framing his windows. Though summer had plagued the days with heat and humidity, the nights were still cool as the last dregs of spring eked away.

He looked up, intending on asking if you needed anything — a blanket, maybe — but the words died swiftly in his throat when he eyed a flash of bare skin as you swung your legs to stand, showcasing just enough for him to clue in to the fact that you were indeed not wearing underwear. Or anything else under your dress, if the peak of your nipples beneath the silk was anything to go by.

Selfishly, for a brief moment, Azriel decided that maybe keeping the windows open wouldn’t be so bad.

He pried his eyes away from your form making its way back to his bookcase, and instead attempted to tamp down the raging lust stirring in his belly so he could focus. But the mental picture of what he knew lay beneath the barely there fabric of your dress coupled with your scent made the lines on the map he was studying blur into nonsense.

Though intelligent and compassionate at heart, Azriel often found himself a slave to his baser male instincts when it came to you. There was little – if anything – you could do to quell the raging need to touch you, kiss you, be near you at all hours of the day; his desire for you was a constant hum belying his daily routine. He had not one iota of self control when you were involved, much to his simultaneous thrill and chagrin.

Inwardly, he cursed himself as he stole another glance at you as you stretched onto your toes to reach a book on the top shelf.

Beauty incarnate, truly, he thought. Azriel’s eyes tracked each slope and valley of the lines of your body, taking his time to commit each curve to memory, the way he should have been doing with the maps sitting now uselessly on his desk.

You looked at him over your shoulder, small pout on your lips, “Az, can you help me? I can’t reach.”

Azriel’s heart leapt. It’s like you were doing it on purpose, and in hindsight you definitely were. But despite the gnawing adoration encouraging him to fall to his knees and worship at your feet, he stood with the cool grace of someone unperturbed by their mate’s subtle seduction.

Azriel obliged you, coming up behind you, one hand curling around your hip to steady himself as the other reached easily to the top shelf to grab the book your fingertips skimmed. As he leaned forward, you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back and you wanted to abandon all your plans to slowly seduce Azriel into a puddle on the floor, but you remained steadfast in your decision. Nesta had pushed a book into your hands and said she tried this once with Cassian and that the resulting hours were pure heaven, and you wanted to test the theory, curiosity rivaling that of your mate’s.

You barely registered Azriel putting the book in your hands, too lost in the warmth of his familiar touch. But you composed yourself quickly, leaning back into him to kiss him in thanks, not so subtly pushing your ass back into his hips. A feeling of revelry settled in your chest when you felt him already half hard beneath his pants, his fingers curling tighter around your hip.

Oh so reluctantly, you pulled away, perfect picture of obliviousness as you plopped back down on the armchair you were occupying previously.

Azriel thought he would collapse in on himself when you went to sit back down. You had him so tightly ensnared it was like he was still in the midst of the initial mating frenzy. He briefly wondered if the mind-boggling need for you would ever go away, though part of him knew hoped it never would.

He took a moment to compose himself — if that was even possible when one’s mate was clearly playing a dangerous game of seduction — bracing himself with one arm steady against the bookshelf.

Despite how much Azriel so greatly wanted to shirk his responsibilities to bend you over his desk, he wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. The work day wasn’t quite over, and the plans he was making for you would surely last too long to finish his research afterwards. So he steeled himself and took a deep, steadying breath, willing his blood to fill his head again so he could think with some semblance of clarity.

Though at baseline, he always found it difficult to think rationally when you were around.

While Azriel was trying — and failing — to regain his composure, you were feigning extreme interest in the book you had selected at random: The History and Systems of Fae War Treaties.

If Azriel had been paying any attention to what you were reaching for, he’d have caught on to your ploy, but luckily for you the mere sight of you was enough to render him at least somewhat incapacitated.

You took a peek at him over the back of the chair, triumphant satisfaction crooking your lips into a mischievous smile. Maybe this would be the day he finally cracks, you think to yourself.

But as the sun dipped lower beneath the skyline of Velaris below, and as Azriel stubbornly worked away at his desk, you felt the tiredness of the day settle into your bones, pull you deeper into the plush leather of Azriel’s loveseat. Cassian had run you ragged with training this morning, and Rhys and Amren had your mind working tirelessly as the three of you attempted to draft a peace treaty in a meager four hours.

But you wouldn’t sleep, not yet, not until you had reduced Azriel to a beautiful, orgasmic mess in his chair. Not until the hazel of his eyes were blown dark with desire and pleading as you straddled his hips.

The next hour was a fight to stay awake as the words on the pages in your lap began to blur into obscurity, mind muddling with theories and questions — though the book was an off handed choice, you couldn’t deny that the information was coincidentally incredibly pertinent to the discussion you were having with Rhys and Amren earlier in the day.

The telltale sigh of a day’s work completed pulled your attention away from your book, gaze settling on your mate. His hair was mused in a way that told you he had spent the last however long skating his fingers through it, but as always it fell perfectly across his forehead in defiance of the tiredness creeping up his neck.

Azriel’s eyes met yours and apparently your coy seduction earlier still held his body in a vice, evident in the way he stood and stalked to you. There was a cool, domineering edge to his movements and you knew your plan had worked to a degree, but the determination you had to break him down had leeched out of you the same way the night had stolen the day’s heat.

You hummed in satisfaction as he leaned down to kiss you, the pressure gentle and so, so sweet. A stark contrast to the dark and tempting storm of desire Azriel flooded your senses with down the bond.

Never once breaking the contact of your kiss, he’d wedged a knee between your legs as one hand braced against the arm of the loveseat while the other danced at the hem of your dress, endearingly asking for permission.

Your mouth curved against his and you guided his hand up to your hip, gasping delightedly when his hand tracked further up your waist, bringing the hem of your dress up with it as he slotted your hips more comfortably against his leg.

His lips traced a scalding trail of open mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest that had your hips rolling against him.

“So bold for me,” he said, his hand skating across your unclothed skin while he urged your hips to grind a little harder against his thigh. You gasped, the pressure so wonderfully perfect against your cunt.

Though your initial intention was to get Azriel all hot and bothered, you couldn’t deny that the game you had set yourself up in had the same effect on you; the lingering, almost lazy path his eyes swept over your body every time you shifted across from him left heat singing between your legs, untamed longing for you dancing down the golden thread between you.

“Az…” you rasped, arching your hips up to meet his still clothed body, the top of your dress pushed languidly down to your waist as Azriel played slow music on the skin of your breasts. The loveseat was a cramped fit at best, but Azriel’s surprising flexibility and dexterity made it work despite the general largeness of his wings and frame. He’d made even the smallest corners of the House work for your sexual escapades.

The memories of all the scandalous little happenings you two have been partaking in the past few months flitted across your mind’s eye like an erotic slideshow, and you groaned. Legs tightening around his in desperate search for more friction, more contact, more of him. His name on your lips again was a wanton plea, a sound so wonderfully obscene Azriel almost came in his pants.

“Hmm?” He hummed, closing his lips around your nipple, teeth gently tugging before his tongue was quick to soothe the ache. The way your hips were grinding so shamelessly against him had his head spinning with a swirling mix of lust and love, and he clung to the last shreds of self discipline he had. It was all he could do to not tear both of your clothes off and sink himself deep into your brilliant warmth.

Azriel had always been patient, mastery over his desire was a skill he’d honed meticulously over the past few centuries — though you had a way of quickly unraveling his self control with one flutter of your eyelashes. But he wanted to make this last for you, wanted to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. So he pressed his thigh more firmly between your legs, his own hips slotting against the side of your body.

You gasped at the feel of him, of how hard he was against your hip, and you tried to reach him, tried to get him to release some of the tension you knew coiled in his belly. He groaned deep and breathless when you pressed insistently against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he continued his ministrations on your body.

Azriel’s hands were everywhere, trailing paths around your breasts, up your neck, into your hair, and between your legs the way he no doubt was doing with the maps on his desk earlier.

It was infuriating how close you were already, how swiftly the tables had turned (though you half blamed the sudden onset of your fatigue the day had cursed you with), how with one well placed touch you were on the brink of collapse at Azriel’s mercy yet again.

He was urging your hips faster now, his fingers and lips making quick work of all the places he knew would have you keening. And before you could even register that he was still fully clothed, hard cock still straining against the confines of his pants, you were falling, breathless and dizzy with release.

The night had been far from over. You came twice more in that godsdamned loveseat – once with his fingers buried inside you and another time with his head between your legs – before he whisked you away to your bedroom where you finally, finally felt the delicious stretch of him inside you.

By the time the sun was making its appearance over the horizon once more, you had lost count of how many times Azriel had you begging.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Though your spicy little rendezvous in his office – and encore in the bedroom – wasn’t quite an exact replica of what played out in the book you had apparently just read, Azriel had thought your coy seduction had its intended effect. He’d been so fucking desperate for you that he couldn’t wait until you were out of his study to have you coming for him.

But, as he skimmed the pages of the chapter you marked, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wouldn’t mind being fully at the mercy of your whims, wouldn’t mind submitting to the pleasure that you so easily coaxed from him. He was already always so eager to please you, so willing to crawl to the ends of the earth for you if you had so much as suggested you wanted him to.

“Azriel?” Nesta’s voice dripped with wicked amusement, effectively pulling him from his erotic reverie. “I never thought I’d see you in this section of the library.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t anticipated that he’d run into Nesta, a severely idiotic oversight on his part considering the House’s library was something akin to her own personal sanctuary. Azriel turned slowly on his heels to face her, mind working in overdrive to come up with a viable excuse for him being there.

“Nesta,” was all he came up with. Pathetic.

Her smirk turned deadly when she realized he was floundering. Arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted ever so slightly upwards, she looked the very portrait of smug amusement; he would expect nothing less of his friend who moonlighted as Lady Death.

Nesta’s eyes dropped to the book he forgot he was holding, and her eyebrows shot up in understanding, “Ah, I just recommended that one to Y/N. She gave it a hefty five stars. Said it was…intriguing.”

Nesta’s sly comments were enough to confirm Azriel’s suspicions that you were taking bedroom inspiration from the arsenal of smutty books the House stocked. And, with the way Nesta was biting her tongue, he could tell that she knew exactly why he was there.

Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.

Before Azriel could open his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t what it looked like – even though they both knew it was exactly what it looked like – Nesta stalked past him, pulling books off the shelf with striking precision. With a stack of five books balanced on one hand, she took the one Azriel was holding and reshelved it.

“These are Y/N’s favorite,” she said, this time with a little bit more softness and understanding as she placed them gingerly in his arms. “I’m sure she’d love if you read them.”

Azriel scanned each cover, a fond smile working to tilt the corners of his lips. You did love these; he had been familiar with these covers long before you were even mated, always keeping a lovingly watchful eye on the things you enjoyed, filing the knowledge away in his mind for later.

“Thanks, Nesta,” he said sincerely, adoration for you filling his chest with warmth as he remembered the excitement lighting your eyes while you read these books, cute flush radiating off your cheeks.

Nesta only nodded, giving his shoulder an encouraging few pats as she stalked off to another aisle, no doubt scouring the shelves for a new read.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Azriel told himself that he’d only read a few chapters — for research — but he hadn’t realized that he’d spent the better half of his day off lounging on the loveseat in his study.

Despite his previous reservations around the smutty books you’d so lovingly treasured, he found he was enjoying them — and not just for the well written, detailed sex scenes that you were pulling ideas from. He was two-thirds of the way through the second book, in the midst of the big climax, when you snuck up on him.

“It seems you’ve discovered my dirty little secret,” you said coyly, arms coming up behind him to snake around his shoulders.

Azriel jumped at your sudden appearance, inwardly cursing himself for teaching you how to sneak up on someone so effectively. He closed the book swiftly, feeling a flustered blush creep up his neck.

You pouted and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Aw, you were just getting to the best part! Don’t stop reading on my account.”

Azriel groaned but gave in, leaning back into your touch, “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never tease you, my love,” you said mockingly before kissing his cheek. “It is really the best part, though. The paint scene—“

Before you could regale the details of the main characters’ sexual escapades, Azriel took your chin in his fingers and slotted his lips over yours in a silent plea to stop your innocent tormenting. He reveled in the way you kissed him back without pause; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you loved him as eagerly as he did you.

“Dirty little secret, huh?” He quipped, lips brushing yours as a bemused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you made your way around the back of the chair, gesturing for him to uncross his legs so you could settle yourself on his lap.

Your weight was a welcome comfort as he continued prodding you, “Is this why you’ve been so…eager lately?”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, winding your arms around his neck as he scoffed in mock disbelief.

“Give me some credit love, I notice everything when it comes to you.” Came his quick response.

You pursed your lips, half in childish dissatisfaction that your little game was over, “I just wanted to know how to get you to beg for me. I needed ideas.”

Your nonchalance belied the wicked sensuality of your words and he chuckled, wrapping his wings around you both before mapping a scathing trail of kisses up your neck. The pillowy feel of his lips brushing your ear made you shudder, his teeth nibbling playfully at your earlobe as he hummed deep in his chest, “We have a lifetime together, there’s no rush. But since you want it so badly, shall I show you how well I can beg for you?”

Azriel’s offer sent an exhilarating shiver down your spine, and you so desperately wanted to give in, wanted to watch him come undone beneath you as he pleaded with you to touch him. But you shook your head despite yourself, competitive stubbornness the only barrier between you and what you wanted.

“I want to earn it, make you want me so bad you can’t help yourself.”

Your words were a breathy murmur that nearly had Azriel flipping you over right there on the too small lounge chair, but he resisted, prioritizing his assurances that you were the only thing he wanted every second of every day.

“That’s the thing, beloved,” he whispered in your ear, deep voice doused in honey reverberating in your bones as your desire flared so wildly it made you lightheaded. His hand, calloused palms rough against your skin, skated beneath the hem of your dress to grab hold of your hip and move you so you were straddling him.

This was the image you played over and over in your mind. The unbridled, unrestrained look of pleading in his eyes that blew his pupils wide, that had his hips shifting against yours in a display of just how much he wanted you.

“I always want you,” he continued. “I’d beg for you like I am dying of dehydration and you are my oasis. Just ask, and I’ll do exactly as you say.”

You were mesmerized, finger tracing the sharp contours of his jawline before ending at his chin, tilting his gaze up with the same practiced dominance you’d seen him slip into countless times before. You savored the way he shuddered at your touch, pretty lips parting as his chest heaved.

The corner of your mouth quirked, your breath a ghost over his lips, “Show me, then.”

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acomaflove · 10 months ago

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Azriel: *sneezes and shadows come out of his nose*

Rhysand:

Amren:

Morrigan:

Cassian:

Feyre:

Nesta: ………So we are all just going to ignore that?

Cassian: Oh my bad; bless you, Azriel.

Nesta: THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT

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ceoofyearning · 8 months ago

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WIP of the lucien art i’ve been cooking because I adore him so, so much

I’ve been seeing sm of those aesthetic bathtub photoshoots, and I was like you know who would look pretty posing in a bathtub????

#my art #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien fanart #acotar #acotar fanart #lucien x reader #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #digital illustration #art wip #queue queue queue

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redheadspark · 1 year ago

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Miss

Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!

You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night. But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out. All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.

This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.

All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates. Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor. There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling. It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time. Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.

It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.

Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching. But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on. His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all. If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.

Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.

"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling. Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache. Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking. His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back. He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"

"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.

"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"

As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree. You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.

You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability. Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed. Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx. Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young. If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.

You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady. But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him. There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that. The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.

But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.

"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time. Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal. This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city. Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds. Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone. Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.

Another four minutes, you came from his fingers. Azriel was only warming up.

"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words," He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever. Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"

You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were. He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs. Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly. His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you. He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.

This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower. Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly. But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body.

Azriel was a pro at this.

"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned. You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing. You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm. But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.

"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own. Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully. His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again. It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again. You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.

"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum. Now, Az. Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again. Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life. He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him. How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could. Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.

And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge. He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing. The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.

He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.

Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon. Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers. Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder. No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.

Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows. Through the tragedies and the joy. Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.

"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead. Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.

"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection. He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you. Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.

"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.

"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.

The End

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mellowmusings · 21 days ago

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Blessed mistakes | part 1 Azriel x reader

prologue part2

A/N—I wasn't even going to continue this series, but thank you all for the love I get on my fics. I literally love you all so much. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

Part One: Silent Distance

The days had become quieter, colder. Azriel had hardly noticed the shift at first. There had been no sharp, clear break, no moment of realization that something between him and Y/N had changed. It was more like the subtle dimming of light, a slow fading that he couldn't quite place, and by the time he realized the distance, it felt too late to fix.

He was busy. Always busy. Missions, meetings, responsibilities—his life had become a blur of endless duties, all of which he threw himself into with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every waking moment was occupied with something—someone. His brothers, his work, and, in the rare quiet moments, the heavy weight of his own thoughts.

But through all of that, there had been Y/N. Always there. Always steady. Always understanding. She had been his anchor, his confidante. She always knew when to stay silent, when to speak, when to pull him out of his head and into the present. He had always relied on her in ways he hadn’t even fully understood.

It wasn’t that Azriel didn’t care. He did. More than he could admit, especially to himself. But there were things he couldn’t change—things like his duties and his... impossible feelings. Feelings for someone who would never see him the way he saw her. And that someone was always there, too, always lingering just outside of his reach. It was easier, in some ways, to focus on the work, to throw himself into the mission, to avoid the vulnerability of his own emotions.

And so, he did.

Y/N had stopped coming around as often. She was still there, in the background, but it was clear she wasn’t the same. She didn’t linger after meetings anymore. She didn’t tease him, didn’t joke like she used to. Her presence, once a constant comfort, had become a quiet thing—distant, even when she was standing right next to him. She seemed to slip away, a little more each day, but Azriel didn’t notice, not at first.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the war room late one evening, alone with his thoughts, that he felt it. The absence. The silence in the air that was too thick, too suffocating. He looked up from the maps strewn across the table, expecting to see Y/N by the door or leaning against the wall, ready to offer some lighthearted comment about how the plan was absurd. But she wasn’t there.

He frowned, a small pang of unease flaring in his chest. He hadn’t seen her much lately, had barely spoken to her in the last few days. Busy, he reminded himself. He was busy, after all. But it didn’t sit right.

Azriel left the war room in search of her, making his way down the familiar corridors of the House of Wind. He passed Mor’s room first, saw the flicker of light under the door, and for a moment, the idea of knocking—of spending time with her—felt... comforting. But he didn’t. He couldn’t focus on that right now.

Finally, he found her. Y/N was sitting alone in the garden, her back to him, staring out at the moonlit horizon. She looked so small, like a silhouette against the night. It struck him, in that moment, how much he missed her presence. How long had it been since they’d shared a quiet evening like this, just the two of them? How long had it been since she’d smiled like she meant it?

"Y/N?" His voice was tentative, unsure, as though he wasn’t sure if he should disturb the quiet of the night.

She turned slightly, just enough for him to see her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she blinked quickly, brushing it off. "I didn’t hear you come in," she said, her voice flat.

He frowned, taking a few steps toward her. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," she said quickly, her smile tight and forced. It didn’t reach her eyes. "Just needed some space."

Azriel hesitated, his instincts telling him that something was wrong. He knelt down beside her, his eyes searching her face. "Y/N..." He trailed off, unsure of how to push through the wall she’d built between them. "What’s going on?"

She met his gaze, her lips pressed together in a thin line. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, before she finally spoke, her voice low. "I’m not sure I belong here anymore, Az."

His chest tightened at her words, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the words. She wasn’t the one to pull away, not like this. Not so... cold.

"You’re still my friend, Y/N," he finally said, his voice low, almost too soft.

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "I know. But that’s the thing, Az. I’m just... a friend." The words hung in the air between them like a curse.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The weight of the unspoken truth crashed over him. Y/N had always been more than a friend to him, but he had never been able to show her that. She had never been anything more than a shadow behind the love he couldn’t admit, a shadow he had taken for granted.

"I’ve been thinking," she continued, her voice trembling just slightly, but her gaze remained steady. "I need to leave for a while. I volunteered for diplomatic work—there’s a mission to the Autumn Court. I’ll be gone for some time."

Azriel blinked, surprised, and instinctively reached out for her arm. "What? No, Y/N. You don’t have to go. You don’t need to leave."

But her eyes were already averted, a distance between them that he couldn’t cross. "I think I do, Az. I think I need to get away from here. From you."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. She didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t wait for him to make things right, because she knew that things couldn’t be fixed. Not anymore.

"I’ll be gone in a few days," she said quietly, standing up, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "I hope you’ll be... alright."

Azriel watched her walk away, his heart sinking lower with each step she took. She didn’t look back, didn’t wait for him to say anything else. And as she disappeared into the darkness of the hall, Azriel finally felt it. The sting of something lost. The realization that he had been too blind to see it, too focused on his own distractions to notice what had been right in front of him all along. taglist- @anarchiii @er1023 @clementine111002 @sunnyspycat

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bluetimeombre · 11 days ago

Text

☽｡⋆ Learning to fly, starting to crawl

Over one hundred years ago, you lost your wings but the wound still hurts like it was only yesterday. When your brothers mate wants to learn to fly, he doesn’t hesitate in teaching her, right in front of you. And nobody can see the scars except the one you love…

[OMG I'M ALIVE!!!! I've had this sitting in my drafts for months but have only just got around to posting. Basically, I have too many hobbies but i'm in a writing mood again., very fitting to start with my boy AZRIEL, whom i love very much. I hope you enjoy. This is linked to my other Azriel fic but of course can be read alone. Not proof-read and yes, she lost her wings. It's becoming almost a thing but it makes for some good ass angst. ENJOY!!!!]

☽｡⋆

The inner circle all sat around the table, eating and chatting merrily. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, while his mate- Feyre- sat next to him, their hands entwined. They smiled at each other, as so in love they were. Cassian and Mor were joking around along with Amren and Elian listened politely. Every now and then, she glanced the shadow singers way to invite him into the conversation but there was no such luck.

Azriel only stared ahead of him, glaring at the empty space where you usually sat. He wasn’t at all surprised you hadn’t turned up, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry about it.

For a few weeks now he’d noticed the shift in you. You snapped easily and often rolled your eyes at anything your brother- the high lord- had to say. He’d heard you pace your rooms at night and his shadows (that favoured you above all) had reported that many nights you went to Rita’s.

But your empty seat irked him. And it irked him that Rhys seemed to not care in the slightest.

Az was the first to be aware of your presence, the echo of the door opening alerting them all and your scent hit him in the face. He inhaled it- your lavender, your sweetness, tinted by the alcohol lingering.

Rhysand huffed and everyone seemed to notice the shift. ‘I apologize about this, Feyre darling.’

Just then, you and Nesta stumbled into the room, arms linked and laughing your heads off about something or other.

Azriel drank you in. Your cheeks were flushed, your dress creased as you struggled to stay up right. Gods, what had you done?

You pouted dramatically, throwing a hand on your hip. ‘Uh oh, Rhysands got his grumpy face on.’

‘Isn’t that his usual?’ Said Nesta, causing the two of you to laugh again.

Everyone watched the two of you.

‘Where have you been?’ Az asked, wanting to rush to you and support you, but Rhys seemed one breath away from snapping.

‘We’re trying to have a pleasant meal, don’t ruin it,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes sir!’ You saluted.

Rhys growled and Feyre took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

‘Something tells me we’re not wanted, y/n,’ Nesta said to her.

‘Alas, we do not want to be here,’ you said, stumbling your way past the table. Before you went, you gave Feyre a squeeze on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her. ‘Feyre darling.’

‘Enough!’ Rhys shot up, hands on the table.

You barley spared him a glance as you and Nesta went about your way. You tripped on a plant pot, stumbling and apologizing to the object.

Azriel got out his seat, ready to follow you to wherever. No matter if you wanted him or not.

‘Sit down, Azriel,’ said Rhysand, taking his seat again. He picked up his fork and smiled at his mate like nothing had happened. All the while, your scent got further away from him.

He looked between where you’d disappeared and his high lord. He settled down and promised he’d find out what had made you act so.

☽｡⋆

You woke with unbearable pain in your head the next day. And your back. Your head was granted with the amount you and Nesta had drank, seeking to out-do one another so much so you drank out most of Rita’s.

But your back, the pain was new. Almost as if it knew why you were so angry, so bitter and it sort to make it worse.

Your curtains were drawn but the wind blew them back, letting you glimpse the outside world you dreaded to be a part of.

Shadows curled up your bed, brushing your hair back affectionately. They seemed to always be around you, as if they knew the bond that heaved in your chest even if their master didn’t.

You offered them a poor smile. ‘I’m fine.’ But they caressed you and smelt your lie.

From beyond the curtains, you caught a glimpse of figures in the sky. You’d always loved your room for the view it granted, of the sun, the moon, the stars. But after losing your wings, the view turned cold and the sky never seemed as bright.

It only got worse.

Though you knew the pain it would bring you to see, you wrapped a blanket around you and treaded over to the window.

Feyre was trying out her new wings, the black gifts she’d been given. Once mortal, she now had everything you wanted. The power, the wings. Your freedom was now hers.

And you hated it.

Azriel was looking close to her, encouraging her as she went. Though they were small figures to you, you could see his smile, how he held his hands out to her should she lose confidence.

How many times had you flown side by side, acting like the clouds abided you. The times you’d raced or dropped just to have Azriel catch you.

Never again.

The bitterness invaded your mouth again, blocking out all other logical senses.

Your door burst open- the shadows rushing to your side and curling around your shoulders. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the anger radiating from him was enough.

‘How dare you turn up in the state you did last night,’ snapped Rhys. You didn’t turn to face him, shielding yourself from his fury. ‘You had no right to ruin a lovely evening. We are trying to make Feyre and her sisters feel welcomed, its a shame my own sister can’t seem to do that for me.’

The words twisted in your gut. For him… had you not done everything for him? Lost your wings because you wouldn’t give in? Lost fifty years of your life to be with him?

‘Get over whatever it is going on and only return to us when you want to act like a decent human being.’ Rhysand snapped before leaving again, slamming the door- causing her to flinch.

The shadows ran down your hair, your cheeks, your sides. Giving you any ghostly comfort they could. ‘I’m fine,’ you told them again, retreating further into your room.

The shadows followed you, but only half of them. The other half had returned to their master, clouding him and whispering in his ear.

Her wings. She misses her wings.

She hadn’t had to say it out loud, they knew her pain.

Azriel paused in the sky, alerting Feyre. She’d seen the shadows surround him in flourishes. She couldn’t understand they were reporting in on you, that Az needed you to have something there when he could not be.

‘What is it?’ She asked, beating her wings.

He stared at her then at the wings. He was filled with the longing to be with you, in the sky, playing. Your wings were beautiful, just because they were you. A beautiful part of you.

‘I need to speak with the high lord.’

☽｡⋆

‘Ask someone else to train Feyre to fly,’ said Azriel.

He’d insisted he needed to see the high lord on urgent matters that could not wait. He’d expected it to be of the war, but Azriel opened with the line.

Rhysand was sat behind his desk, looking up to Azriel with some amusement. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ask Cassian,’ he said, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

‘Feyre wanted you.’

‘I can’t do it anymore,’ he said, stating it all simply.

Rhysand waited, wondering if he’d be graced with an explanation, but it never came. ‘Might I ask why.’

‘Your sister.’

Rhys’s amusement turned to a deep scowl. ‘My sister has asked you to stop flying with Feyre?’

‘No. She hasn’t asked, she never would. But I can’t teach Feyre to fly anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m confused- what does any of this have to do with y/n?’ He asked.

Azriels shadows wound tight around him, coating him like a second skin. He wanted to yell, and he never let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he curled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. ‘Do you really not think that this is hurting her?’

‘After her behaviour the past couple days I think it’s her who’s doing the hurting,’ he said, picking a bit of invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘She lost her wings,’ said Azriel with barely contained annoyance. ‘She lost them. They were cut from her back and she was left to bleed out.’

‘I do remember that Azriel,’ said Rhys, closing his eyes at the words. ‘I was there when we found her.’

‘So do you not think that teaching your mate to fly doesn’t effect her?’

Rhysand looked at him. His eyes changed, the hue turning darker. No, he hadn’t thought that. You’d never let on to feeling anything for your wings or lack of them. But then again, even if you had, would you ever have gone to your brother.

Azriel took a measured step forward. ‘Do you not think it hurts her that you teach your mate to fly, the same mate that gasped in horror when she saw the scars on your sisters back? That you have us fly in front of the house where she can see? Did you even know that when she bathes y/n covers all the mirrors so she doesn’t have to get a glance at the scars.’

The high lord held up a hand. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t. You could never know what it’s like, neither could I, or Cassian. She had a part of her ripped off and she has to live without it every day. But you’ve gifted Feyre them as if it’s nothing.’

‘Because my mate has the powers,’ argued Rhys. ‘If I could give y/n wings I would- in a heartbeat, I would.’

Azriel nodded. He knew that, he knew the relationship between you and Rhys was fractured at best, but he also knew that if anything or anyone hurt you, Az would kill them. ‘I don’t want to reach Feyre to fly because it hurts y/n.’

Rhys leaned back in his chair, studying him. ‘And you care about her?’

‘More than I can express.’ He would give her the wings from his back if he could. ‘And if something hurts her… it hurts me.’

Rhysand nodded. ‘I’ll take her flying from now on. We’ll do it in the mountains, to spare y/n from seeing it.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

Rhys nodded but averted his gaze. ‘Look after her, Azriel.’

‘I always have.’

☽｡⋆

Nesta had gone to Rita's, expecting you later but you'd already snuck down to the Wine cellar and picked out the finest to drown your sorrows alone in. You'd past Cassian on the way, the male worried about your shifting gaze and the way you held yourself but you brushed him off and carried on your way.

You hesitated outside your door, where shadows lurked. Yes, they liked you and yes they were often with you, but never guarding your door.

Then, you smelt it. Not wine but sweet cedar and moss. Az.

You didn't want this. Didn't want him to see you like this, in pain in your mind and back, in longing for the wind through your hair. You knew he'd noticed your behaviour, he was the spy master, you'd only hoped... only hoped he didn't care as much as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and braced yourself for shouting.

Azriel stood there, looking regal and beautiful. His back was too the balcony, the door open and wind rusting his wings and sheets. His hands were behind his back and his gaze was... soft? It wasn't dark with anger or clouded in annoyance.

It was just Az.

'Azriel,' you do your best to smile, clearing your throat. 'What are you doing? I thought you had flying with Feyre?' you were trying but you were also just you and you missed your wings.

'I'm teaching her anymore,' he said.

You chuckle. 'Is she that bad a student?'

'I'm sorry.'

You look up to him, taking out the cork of the wine. Rose filled your senses. 'For what?'

'That she flys when you don't,' he mentioned it simply, as if you'd already told him what was hurting you and he'd accepted it.

You hadn't said it. You wouldn't. You hated yourself enough for being weak, you didn't need him, perfect Azriel, caring Azriel, to see how horrid your jealousy had made you. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'y/n,' he steps close to you, taking the bottle from you. He drops it at his side but no smash is delivered. The shadows swallow it up. 'Why won't you talk, instead of drowning yourself in pain?'

'I'm not drowning myself in anything,' you deny, moving away from him to close the balcony door. The air drifting in and moving everything but you only mocked.

'You can't fly,' he said.

Your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 'Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me.'

His boots sounded close behind her and he took her shoulders. He didn't force her to turn around, he only held her gently and soothed his thumbs over the knots in her back. 'You can't fly and words don't exist to tell you how sorry I am. If I could i'd give you the own wings off me back-'

'Don't say that.' The only thing worse than your pain, was Azriel going through it all.

'I would and I mean it just to see you smile again, if only for a second. I'd be glad to give them up,' he whispered. Your shoulders slumped under his grasp and he sighed in relief, it was better than tensing up again. 'I miss you smiling. I miss you laughing. I miss you smiling at me. I'm sorry if teaching Feyre to fly has hurt you.'

'It wasn't you, Az,' you turn in his hold, never letting him feel like it was his fault. In doing that, you admitted to being bothered. 'I can't be who I was, because I don't know how. And I don't want to try to only fail.'

He listened, hands trailing down your arms to rub.

You gulp. 'And it's not just losing the wings, it's everything I lost with it. Freedom. I can't join you or Cas, or anyone when you take to the skies. How am I going to cope in battle? I can't run as fast as I can fly, I can't fight as well. I can't hit Cassian over the head when he's being an idiot, I can't-I can't wrap them around you when we hold each other, and it's painful to think of everything I've lost when I've gained nothing.'

He listened, tears watering his gaze. You had not lost any of that, not to him.

'And Feyre,' you pulled away, crossing your arms around each other and looking out the window. 'I don't hate her, I wish I could but I can't. But she's been Fae for five seconds and she has everything I've ever wanted. Wings. My brother loves her. She's happy. I hate it and I hate myself.'

Your confession weighed your gut but your chest rose in a deep breath. You couldn't see Azriel behind you in the reflection of the windows and you couldn't hear him.

He'd gone. Of course he'd left, you'd whined about what you'd lost when you were at least alive. You'd complained about the High Lady- treason in Rhysand's book.

No, you were all alone.

But you weren't.

Az crept behind you and slowly- so you could pull away- wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest and matched his breaths with yours. 'I won't insult you by saying I get it, because I could never. But that time, when I found you after you'd lost your wings, I thought i'd lost you and that-that is how I imagine your feelings. Because I stopped breathing and I didn't think happiness would ever be in the world again. And your blood, you bleeding out has been in my nightmares since. If my hands were to be stained with it, let them, because it was the last thing i'd ever have of you.'

You had no idea. He'd felt terrible yes and been there the weeks and months it took to heal but you'd been so full of pain and guilt you hadn't thought of how he fared. Your greatest friend... your lustful secret.

Your hands came up to hold his arms.

'You do not have to be who you were before,' he whispered, head resting on your shoulder. 'Become better. Become something more. As for training, you're the strongest woman I know and still the only person I'd trust with my life.'

A tear escaped you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. 'And you can still hit Cass as much as you like.'

You laugh through tears, holding onto Az like he was the last thing anchoring you to yourself.

His wings slowly inched over you. 'And I will hold you all day, every day till I die, and i'll keep you safe.' His wings closed around the two of you as yours used to do.

Neither of you realised how much you'd missed it, needed it, craved it until it happened.

You'd lost your wings, but you had never and would never lose him.

#a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #acotar #rhys acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #a court of frost and starlight #booktok #books and reading #azriel acotar #azriel acosf

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acourtofmishapandmistakes · 10 months ago

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Cassian: So... I've seen you've been spending a lot of time with Rhys recently.

Feyre: No, Cassian, it's not what it looks like. I swear.

Cassian: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?

Feyre: No! You're the only one for me.

Cassian: Is that so?

Feyre: I promise. Rhysand and I are just bonded, okay? He's my mate.

Cassian: So there are no best-friend-feelings involved?

Feyre: You are still my one and only best friend! He's just the love of my life, nothing more!

Cassian: But I'm still the platonic love of your life, right?

Feyre: Of course!

Rhys:

Rhys: What the-

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profound-imagination · 15 days ago

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In The Shadow Of You - Azriel Shadowsinger

A/N: Girlypops I fear I’ve cooked with this one, apparently I can write now?? Longest fic to date!

T/W: Angst with a happy ending.

W/C: 11.7k

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“What…what are you doing here?” Eight-year-old Azriel stuttered at his two older brothers. His voice trembled, caught between fear and confusion. Their smiles were cruel, sharp like knives meant to cut.

The younger of the two moved faster than Azriel could react, and in a flash, he found himself pinned to the dirty ground of his cell, his small hands forced outstretched.

The eldest loomed over him, grinning with twisted satisfaction. “We’re conducting an experiment, little brother,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet. “And you’re going to help us.”

Azriel barely had time to process his words before it happened. Fire. Blinding, searing pain erupted across his palms, crawling up his arms like molten rivers. He screamed, hoarse and broken, the sound reverberating off the stone walls of his cage. He screamed until his voice gave out, until the smoke settled, and the flames were doused.

“It’s too late for your hands,” the healers told him afterward, almost casually, as if they hadn’t just destroyed something vital and irreparable. The gauze wrapped around his hands felt suffocating, an unbearable weight, and the agony robbed him of any reprieve. They left him there—crying, trembling, and utterly alone.

The pain kept him awake, tossing and turning on the filthy floor. Every shift in position was a new jolt of agony, every heartbeat a reminder of what he’d lost. He was trying not to sob when a voice broke through the dark.

“If you keep focusing on the pain, it’ll never go away.”

Azriel froze, stiffening like a cornered animal. The voice was soft, melodic even, but it didn’t belong. He shoved himself back against the cold wall of his cell, making himself as small as possible.

“Relax,” the voice said gently. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It was then that he saw her—a girl, no older than him, standing just beyond the dim glow of the torchlight. Shadows clung to her like a second skin, weaving in and out of her form as if they were alive. They shaped her dress, her hair, her very presence.

“How did you get in here?” he asked, his voice a broken rasp. Why that had been his first question, he didn’t know.

She grinned, a mischievous tilt of her lips that didn’t match the bleakness of his surroundings. “I can get into anywhere I want,” she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest. The shadows rippled with the movement, and Azriel couldn’t look away.

“Do you like them?” she asked, beaming as she spun in place. Her shadows flared around her like an elaborate display.

He nodded dumbly. “Are they…shadows?”

“Yes, they are!” she said brightly. Then, her expression softened as she looked him over. “How’d you end up in here?”

Azriel recoiled at the question, his fragile defenses snapping into place. “None of your business,” he bit out. “Look, I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but you need to leave before you get in trouble.”

She laughed—a clear, chiming sound that felt wrong in the darkness. “I guess you don’t want the gift I brought you, then.”

He blinked, taken aback. No one had ever given him a gift before.

“…What is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her grin widened. The cell darkened further, the air growing heavy with the press of shadow. A wind swept through the hall, howling like a warning. When the darkness cleared, Azriel could see her more clearly, her form sharper as some of her shadows seemed to have dispersed.

“Learn to use them well,” she said, her voice low and solemn now. “Become a Shadowsinger. I’ve given you the tools—you need to do the rest.”

Azriel’s heart pounded as the shadows around him seemed to come alive, whispering to him in a language he couldn’t yet understand.

“Wait!” he called out, scrambling to his knees. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, her grin softening into something more sincere. “Y/N,” she said at last.

He nodded, clutching the name like a lifeline. “Mine’s Azriel.”

“I know,” she said softly. And then, as quickly as she’d appeared, the shadows consumed her, and she was gone.

When Azriel was eleven, he was dumped unceremoniously at Windhaven, an Illyrian war camp. He was already far behind the other boys, who could fly and wield weapons with ease. Meanwhile, Azriel could barely lift a blade.

His humiliation was swift and brutal. A boy much larger than him—Cassian, he later learned—knocked him to the ground with a single punch. Another boy, Rhysand, watched from a distance, laughing. Azriel hated them both instantly.

He lay sprawled in the snow, blood dripping from his lip, when he heard her voice again.

“Well, I think that went well,” Y/N said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Shut up,” he hissed, lifting his head to glare at her.

She circled him slowly, her shadows twisting around her. “You know,” she drawled, “if you worked harder with your shadows, they’d have warned you those jerks were coming.”

Azriel scowled, brushing the snow off his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you’re getting on.” She crouched in front of him, tilting her head as she studied him. “Apparently not well.”

He sat up, glaring at her. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Figure it out,” she said with a shrug. “You’re a Shadowsinger.”

“What does that even mean? What even is a Shadowsinger?” he demanded, his frustration boiling over.

Her gaze softened slightly. “You are,” she said simply. “You’ll figure it out.”

Branches snapped behind him, and Y/N’s expression shifted. “You need to befriend them,” she said, nodding toward the approaching boys. “And I need to go.”

Before he could stop her, she was gone.

Azriel’s bond with Y/N grew in fragments, scattered moments where she appeared unannounced, always leaving just as abruptly. She was a ghost in his life, a shadow that flitted in and out, giving him cryptic advice and disappearing before he could ask the questions that burned in his chest.

By the time Azriel turned fifteen, her absence felt heavier. She hadn’t visited in over a year, and he began to wonder if she’d ever been real at all. Perhaps she’d been a figment of his imagination, conjured by a desperate, broken child who needed someone—anyone—to pull him from the darkness.

But the shadows she’d gifted him were real. They whispered to him, wrapped around him protectively when he faltered. They showed him things he couldn’t see on his own. And yet, every time he reached for them fully, they pulled back, as if waiting for him to prove himself worthy.

Azriel sat alone on the outskirts of Windhaven, his wings aching from a day of relentless training. Cassian had beaten him—again—and Rhysand had laughed, though there was no malice in it anymore. They weren’t enemies anymore, not really, but Azriel couldn’t bring himself to call them friends, either.

He stared at his hands, the scars crisscrossing his palms a constant reminder of what he’d lost. The moonlight caught on the edges of his bandaged knuckles, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself cry.

“That’s a new look for you.”

The voice cut through the night like a blade, and Azriel’s head snapped up.

There she was, leaning against a nearby tree, her arms crossed and her head tilted in mock amusement. The shadows danced around her, as lively as ever, and he swore they seemed happy to see him.

He scrubbed at his face quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. “You’re back,” he said, his voice rough.

“I never left,” she said, shrugging as if it were obvious. “You just stopped looking for me.”

He bristled, the sting of her words sharper than he expected. “I didn’t stop looking,” he muttered, standing to face her fully.

“Didn’t you?” she teased, though her eyes softened. “You’ve been busy. Learning to fly, getting your ass handed to you in sparring. Very entertaining, by the way.”

Azriel clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “Why do you do that?” he snapped.

Her brows lifted, her grin faltering. “Do what?”

“Disappear. Act like none of this matters to you. Like I don’t matter.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

Y/N blinked, her expression unreadable. “Azriel,” she said carefully, stepping closer, “I—”

“No,” he cut her off, his shadows flaring around him, mirroring his frustration. “I’ve waited for you. For years. And you show up whenever it suits you, like I’m just some…some project to you!”

Her gaze flickered, and for a moment, he thought he saw guilt in her eyes. But it was gone just as quickly.

“I’m not your project,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I’m not…I’m not some broken thing you can fix and forget about.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. Instead, her shadows curled around her, dimming the space between them.

“I gave you the tools to survive,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “I never promised anything else.”

Azriel felt the air leave his lungs, his chest tightening painfully. “Why?” he asked, barely more than a whisper. “Why did you save me? Why do you keep coming back?”

She hesitated, her shadows stilling around her. Then, with a sad smile, she said, “Because you remind me of someone I couldn’t save.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Azriel stared at her, his throat dry, his heart hammering in his chest.

“So that’s all I am?” he choked out. “A replacement?”

She didn’t answer. She only stepped back, the shadows consuming her once more. “You’re stronger than you think, Azriel,” she said, her voice echoing as she vanished. “You don’t need me.”

But he did. He needed her more than anything, and as the silence settled around him, Azriel sank to his knees, his shadows curling around him like a shroud.

The years passed, and Azriel grew into his role as the Illyrian spymaster. The shadows became an extension of him, whispering secrets, cloaking him in anonymity, making him deadly. But with every mission, every battle, he found himself waiting for her. Searching.

Sometimes, she came.

She appeared the night before his first battle in the war. Azriel sat alone by the fire, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug, his shadows restless in the dark. He could feel the weight of the coming fight pressing on his chest, the fear he couldn’t voice clawing at his throat.

“Pensive as always,” came that familiar, teasing voice.

He nearly dropped his mug, whipping around to see her leaning against a tree. She hadn’t changed—she never did. The same sharp grin, the same restless shadows, but as she stepped closer, Azriel noticed something: she was now the same age as him. The years had caught up to her, and she looked as real and tangible as anyone else.

She met his gaze, and for the first time, Azriel found himself at a loss for words. She wasn’t just the mysterious, untouchable figure who had first appeared in his cell; she was a woman now, with fire in her eyes and a strength that matched his own.

“You’re late,” he muttered, though the relief in his voice betrayed him.

“Am I?” She crossed her arms, her smile faltering as she stepped closer. “You’ve grown,” she said, her tone softer now. Her gaze lingered on the hard lines of his face, the broadness of his shoulders.

Azriel couldn’t help but stare at her, his heart racing for reasons he couldn’t understand. He had always seen her as this untouchable being—someone apart from the world. But now, looking at her, something shifted in him. She was beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered before he could stop himself.

Her eyes widened for a split second, and for the briefest moment, Azriel saw her guard drop. Then she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile curving her lips.

“Finally noticing, huh?” she teased, her voice light but there was something deeper in her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his admission. “Why are you here?”

“To remind you,” she said, crouching in front of him. Her shadows curled around her like a shield, as if they could protect her from the truth in her own words. “That you can’t protect everyone. That sometimes, no matter how hard you try, people die.”

The words hit him like a blow, and he flinched. “What kind of encouragement is that?”

“It’s the truth,” she said simply, standing again. “And it’s something you’ll need to learn if you’re going to survive this war.”

He stared at her, anger and hurt warring in his chest. “Is that why you gave me these shadows? To prepare me for failure?”

Her gaze softened, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped closer, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “Live through tomorrow, Azriel. That’s all you have to do.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Y/N didn’t visit when he met Morrigan, but Azriel thought of her often. As he fell for Mor, captivated by her fire and fearlessness, a part of him wondered what Y/N would think of her. Would she approve? Would she mock him for falling for someone so unattainable?

The next time Y/N appeared, it was years later, after Mor had made it clear that her heart would never belong to him.

“She doesn’t deserve your devotion, you know,” Y/N said, materializing beside him one night as he sharpened Truth-Teller.

Azriel didn’t flinch this time, didn’t even look at her. “You don’t know her.”

“I know you,” she replied, tilting her head. “And I know she doesn’t see you the way you want her to. She never will.”

He slammed the blade down, his shadows flaring. “Why do you care? You disappear for years and show up just to remind me of everything I can’t have?”

Her smile faltered, her shadows stilling around her. “I care because I’ve seen this before,” she said quietly. “I’ve watched someone pour their heart into a dream that was never theirs to hold. It doesn’t end well.”

Azriel swallowed hard, her words cutting too close. “And what about you?” he asked. “What’s your excuse for running every time I need you?”

Her shadows tightened around her like armor, and she took a step back. “You’ve never needed me, Azriel,” she said, her voice cool. “You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

And then she was gone again, leaving him with nothing but his shadows and the ache in his chest.

By the time the second war began, Azriel’s heart was no longer tangled in Mor. Instead, it was pulled toward Elain—gentle, golden Elain, who looked at him with something close to understanding. She had never spoken of love, never promised him anything, but her presence calmed something in him. He found solace in her gentleness.

But Y/N’s presence still lingered, a phantom in his mind. She visited less frequently now, each appearance more fleeting than the last. Still, he thought of her as he prepared for war, wondering if she’d show herself one last time.

She did.

It was after the final battle, when Azriel had been struck down and left bleeding in the mud. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his thoughts consumed by Elain’s face. He imagined her by his side, her soft hands tending to his wounds.

When he finally opened his eyes, it wasn’t Elain sitting beside him.

It was Y/N.

Her hands trembled as they pressed against his wound, her shadows swirling erratically around her. Her face was pale, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“You’re awake,” she breathed, her voice cracking.

Azriel blinked, disoriented. “Y/N…?”

Her lip trembled, and she looked away, focusing on his bandages. “You almost died,” she said, her tone raw. “You stupid, reckless fool.”

He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down, her hands firm against his chest. “Stay still,” she snapped, though her voice shook.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She froze, her gaze locking onto his. For the first time, he saw the cracks in her armor—the grief and pain she’d always hidden.

“Because I’ve been here before,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “With someone I couldn’t save. I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch it happen again.”

Azriel’s heart stopped. “Who?” he asked softly.

Her shadows curled around her protectively, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did matter. Because in that moment, Azriel realized that Y/N’s walls weren’t built to keep him out—they were built to keep her pain in.

“Y/N…” he started, his chest tightening. “What happened?”

She swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. Her hand shook as it pressed against his wound. “It’s not you, Azriel. It’s me. I can’t lose anyone else.” Her voice cracked with the weight of unsaid words.

Azriel’s breath faltered as he reached up, gripping her wrist weakly. ��You’re not losing me,” he whispered, trying to ease her trembling hand. His eyes searched hers, desperate to understand.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she murmured, her voice raw, but there was a flicker of something between them—something unspoken, something more than just the shadows between them.

He winced as pain lanced through him, but his focus never left her. “You’re afraid. I can see it, Y/N. What happened to you? What are you hiding from me?”

Her eyes flashed, and she jerked her hand away from him, stepping back as if she couldn’t bear to be near him. “I’m not hiding anything,” she snapped, but there was a tremor in her voice. “I’m trying to save you, Azriel. Just let me do this.”

He watched her, struggling to sit up once more, despite the pain gnawing at him. “I’ve never seen you like this,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve never seen you unsure. Never seen you afraid.”

She flinched at his words, but she didn’t look away. For the first time in all the years he’d known her, Y/N seemed human—fragile, vulnerable, as if she was teetering on the edge of something too painful to face.

“I’ve always been sure of one thing,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “That I couldn’t let you die like this. But maybe… maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s just a matter of time.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his chest. “Don’t say that.”

But her eyes were distant, haunted, as if she had already seen the future he feared most. She took a shaky breath, forcing a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Rest now, Azriel. I’ll be here when you wake.”

And despite the warmth of her touch, despite the care she showed him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was already slipping away from him. That, no matter what, she would always be just beyond his reach.

The night was quiet—too quiet for Azriel’s liking. He had been staring at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep, despite the comfort of the warm bed and the endless fussing from his family. Elain had been by his side all day, her delicate hands tending to him with concern, constantly checking his wounds and offering comfort, but it didn’t ease the ache in his chest.

The ache wasn’t from the physical pain, but from the lingering thoughts of Y/N—the girl who had been with him through so much, only to retreat into the shadows yet again. He hadn’t seen her since that night at the war camp, when she had pulled him back from the edge. His shadows were restless, whispering to him, and he felt an odd sense of longing for her presence.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard the faintest rustle in the air—the whisper of shadows—and then, the unmistakable warmth of her presence. He stiffened, his breath catching, his heart skipping a beat as the room seemed to shift around him.

And then, there she was—Y/N.

She stepped into the room so quietly that Azriel wasn’t sure if he was imagining it at first. But no, he could feel her—sense her—just as he always had, only there was something different. She didn’t look the same as she had before.

Her once abundant shadows, swirling around her with their usual energy, now seemed… muted. Faint. Almost like they were retreating into her skin, leaving her exposed in a way Azriel had never seen. Her usual wraith-like appearance, so fluid and untouchable, had softened. The shadows didn’t cling to her the same way. Instead, they hovered at a distance, as though afraid to touch her.

He noticed it immediately. It was subtle—almost too subtle for anyone else to catch—but to Azriel, who had always seen the world through the lens of shadows, it was glaring.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat as he studied her, trying to make sense of the change. His shadows hummed softly, picking up on the strange shift in the air around them. “What happened to your shadows?”

Y/N paused, the faintest hint of a wince passing over her features. She didn’t answer him right away, her gaze flickering down to the floor as if she was gathering her thoughts.

“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m fine.”

Azriel frowned, unwilling to let it go. He was too perceptive, too attuned to the ebb and flow of shadows to ignore it. “You’re not fine,” he said, his voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing on him. “There’s less of them.”

Her eyes flickered with something that was either guilt or sorrow—it was hard to tell, but whatever it was, it made Azriel’s stomach twist.

She took a slow breath and approached the bed, her presence now as heavy as the shadows she had once carried so effortlessly. There was a shift in her energy, and the deeper he looked, the more he noticed. The scars on her skin were faint, almost imperceptible in the dim light, but they were there. They marred her otherwise flawless complexion, a delicate tracery of lines that seemed to be almost a part of her now—woven into the fabric of who she was.

Azriel’s breath caught. “What are those?” he whispered, his hand instinctively reaching out toward her arm.

Y/N flinched, though she didn’t pull away. She held his gaze for a long moment before she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “They’re nothing, Azriel. Just… remnants.”

“Remnants?” he echoed, his brow furrowing. “What happened to you?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she placed her hand gently on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat with a tenderness that sent a pang of something deep into his soul. She was always so careful, so careful of him, yet never letting him in. Not fully.

“I needed to hear it, Azriel,” she said, her voice soft, almost apologetic. “To know it’s still there.”

Her head rested gently against his chest again, her ear pressed to the steady beat of his heart. Azriel’s hand hesitated in the air between them, but then he settled it on her head, his fingers brushing her hair with a quiet tenderness.

“You don’t need to worry,” he murmured, though his voice wavered with the weight of his own concern. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N didn’t respond, though she squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to hold back something. A tear, maybe, or something much heavier. She stayed there for a moment, listening to his heartbeat, as though it was the only thing in the world that could ground her.

Azriel’s eyes flickered toward the shadows around her once more. Now that he was closer, he could see it more clearly. They were less vibrant, more faded than before. He could feel the absence of something that had always been there. But it wasn’t just her shadows—it was her.

“Y/N…” His voice trembled with realization, and his hand reached out, his fingers brushing the faint scars on her arm. “You gave them to me, didn’t you?”

Her eyes shot open, wide and panicked for a fraction of a second before she regained control of herself. She pulled away from him quickly, as if to hide the truth that was written all over her.

But it was too late. Azriel had already seen the way the scars tracked down her skin, the way her shadows had diminished as though they were tethered to him. Her heart was in her shadows. She had given him pieces of herself.

She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the floor as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

“How long?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath. “How long have you been giving them to me?”

Y/N hesitated, and then, her voice low and filled with an unspeakable sadness, she answered. “Since the beginning. From the moment I gave you the gift of shadows. I knew you needed it to survive.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his chest. “But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?”

Her lips trembled, and she took a step back, crossing her arms around herself as if the distance would protect her from his words. “Because I knew you wouldn’t let me do it. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me, Azriel. I couldn’t risk you thinking you owed me something. I gave you the shadows because it was the only way to save you.”

Azriel’s heart shattered. “You’ve been giving me everything,” he whispered, his voice raw. “And I never even knew.”

Y/N didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared down at her hands, clenching them into fists as if trying to hold herself together. “It wasn’t for you to know. You just needed to live.”

Azriel reached for her then, his hands trembling as he pulled her closer. “I’m alive because of you, Y/N. I’m here because of you.”

She didn’t pull away. She let him hold her, and this time, Azriel couldn’t ignore the hollow feeling that gnawed at him—the knowledge that she had been silently, desperately giving parts of herself to keep him alive, even at the cost of her own well-being.

“You’ve given me more than enough,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll spend my life making sure you don’t regret it.”

Azriel’s heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t from pain anymore. It was from the realization of everything Y/N had given him, everything she had silently sacrificed in the shadows to keep him alive. The weight of her unspoken devotion hung heavy between them, filling the quiet room with an intensity that neither of them could ignore.

They lay there for a long time, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, while Y/N remained curled beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. The shadows that had once surrounded her so densely were now distant, fading into the edges of the room. It was like the air itself had changed, as though everything in their shared silence was leading to something unspoken, something fragile that neither of them dared to break.

Azriel didn’t know how long they stayed there, but it didn’t matter. In this moment, the world outside the House of Wind didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat—nothing else mattered.

His hand found hers again, their fingers barely touching, but the contact sent a shiver through him. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the soft pulse of her blood beneath the surface. He could feel how much she had given, and how much he still didn’t understand.

He lifted his head slightly to look at her, and for the first time, he saw Y/N fully. He saw her not as the mysterious girl who had given him shadows, nor as the constant presence that always seemed to be there when he needed her. But as a woman—one who had loved him from the beginning, in the quietest, most selfless way imaginable.

His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She didn’t pull away, and instead, she looked at him with eyes full of emotions she hadn’t yet shared.

“You’ve always been there,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Even when I didn’t see you.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and something stirred within him. The air felt charged—heavy with everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d buried deep inside themselves.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She seemed to hesitate, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. Azriel couldn’t tear his gaze away from her lips, couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—the one where everything was laid bare between them—was finally leading somewhere. Somewhere they both knew they needed to go.

Slowly, cautiously, Azriel leaned in. His breath mingled with hers, their proximity so close, he could feel the heat of her skin and the pulse of her heartbeat beneath his palm. He hovered there, just a breath away, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The shadows in the room held their breath, waiting for whatever might come next.

But then—

Bang!

The door to the room swung open with such force that Azriel and Y/N jerked apart, the moment shattered like glass.

Azriel’s heart dropped. Y/N, sensing the intrusion, didn’t hesitate. Before Azriel could even process what had happened, the shadows around her began to ripple and twist, pulling her into the darkness. She disappeared completely, leaving no trace of her presence behind, not even a whisper of shadow.

Azriel blinked, his heart still pounding in the aftermath, but he couldn’t understand what had just happened. She was gone, like smoke on the wind, and he was left alone, with the deafening silence echoing in his ears.

Elain stood in the doorway, her face flushed with concern. “Azriel! I heard you moving—what’s—” Her eyes flicked from Azriel to the now-closed door behind her, confusion clouding her expression as she searched the room. She had clearly heard someone, or sensed something—had she noticed the faint shift in the air? Azriel wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“I’m fine,” Azriel managed, his voice tight as he rubbed his face with a weary hand. His heart was still racing, but he forced himself to focus on Elain. “You can stop worrying.”

Elain stepped further into the room, her eyes softening, though a flicker of doubt still lingered in her gaze. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Azriel,” she said gently, crossing the room to sit beside him on the bed. Her hand settled on his arm, her touch warm and comforting, but there was a shift between them. Azriel could feel it—like a crack in the facade that neither of them was addressing.

Azriel didn’t want to acknowledge the absence of Y/N, the quiet ache that was left behind in her wake. It felt like a betrayal to even think of her now, when Elain was here, caring for him, doing everything right. But the gnawing emptiness in his chest wouldn’t go away. He had come so close to something—something he hadn’t known he wanted—and now it was gone.

“I’m fine,” Azriel repeated, this time with more force, trying to push aside the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He didn’t look at Elain, couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “Really.”

She smiled, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her expression. “You don’t have to be fine, Azriel. Not with me.”

Azriel nodded, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending that everything was as it should be—especially when his heart still ached with the memory of a woman who had vanished into the shadows, leaving only the echoes of her love behind.

As the door closed softly behind Elain, Azriel sat there in silence, his heart heavy with regret, with questions that he knew would never be answered. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare speak, as he tried to reconcile the absence of Y/N with the present reality.

The days that followed felt like a blur, with Elain at his side, her concern and kindness a balm for his wounds, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on her, his mind kept drifting back to the shadows—back to the woman who had given him life, but who would never be his.

The days blurred into one another, each one feeling the same as the last. Y/N stood in the shadows, as she had so many times before, watching Azriel from the distance. But this time, it was different. She watched him, not just as the silent observer she had always been, but as someone who felt the sting of every quiet touch, every soft smile he exchanged with Elain.

It was impossible to ignore, impossible to escape. There they were—Azriel and Elain—two souls who were drawn together by something so much more than Y/N could ever be. It hurt in ways that she didn’t understand, but every time they passed by her, lost in each other, it felt like a dagger piercing her heart.

Over the next few months, Y/N saw it all. She saw them taking their walks down the Sidra, Azriel’s arm casually draped around Elain’s shoulders as they strolled beneath the stars. She could hear their laughter, soft and shared, mingling with the sounds of the city. Their voices were always so low, so intimate, like they had a language of their own that Y/N could never hope to understand.

She watched them walk around the Rainbow, too. Azriel would lean in close to Elain, the two of them sharing whispered words as they gazed out over the city. Y/N could see the way Elain’s face softened in Azriel’s presence, the way his eyes seemed to linger on her, like she was the only one who mattered in that moment.

And then there were the small moments—those private, quiet exchanges that felt like they were meant for no one else. They would go to the bakery together, Elain picking out pastries while Azriel stood close beside her, his hand brushing against hers as they laughed over which cakes to buy. It was all so simple, so perfect, and Y/N stood on the edges of it, never invited, never included. She could only watch, her heart twisting with each passing moment.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to retreat into the shadows and never come out. But something held her there—something that made it impossible to look away. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she had given Azriel something so profound, something so intimate, yet he was looking for something else entirely. Something that she couldn’t provide.

As the Solstice approached, Y/N felt the weight of everything that had passed between them. The tension in her chest grew with every passing day. She had seen how Azriel and Elain had grown closer. She had felt it, too—felt the quiet ache that came with the realization that no matter what she had done, no matter how much of herself she had given, it would never be enough.

Solstice night arrived, bringing with it the cold chill of winter and the warmth of the city. The streets of Velaris sparkled with light, the stars above bright as they twinkled down on the festivities. Music drifted through the air, and Y/N found herself standing at the balcony once more, watching Azriel and Elain from the shadows.

They were together, of course, as they always were now. Azriel was laughing softly at something Elain had said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her, and Y/N felt that familiar ache in her chest again. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to be the one to stand on the sidelines, watching their happiness from afar. But she couldn’t help herself.

They were walking toward the balcony now, the noise of the celebration fading as they grew closer. Y/N hesitated, almost wanting to step away, but something kept her rooted to the spot. The air around them was thick with something unspoken, and she could feel it—the connection, the pull that had always been there between Azriel and herself, but now tangled up with Elain.

Azriel paused just beside her, his presence so close she could feel the heat of his body. He was still laughing softly, his gaze lingering on Elain with a warmth that Y/N couldn’t deny. And then, for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

Azriel and Elain were standing so close to one another, their bodies just inches apart. Y/N could see the way their eyes met, the soft, intimate look they shared. For a heartbeat, it was like time had stopped—just the three of them, frozen in that moment. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, watching the slow, inevitable progression of what she had known all along.

Azriel’s gaze flickered to Elain’s lips, and Y/N’s stomach churned as she realized what was about to happen. She wanted to turn away. She wanted to leave and never look back, but she was rooted to the spot, unable to escape.

Azriel leaned in slowly, his breath catching in his throat as he moved closer to Elain. Y/N could feel the pull, the tension in the air that seemed to crackle with anticipation. It was happening—he was going to kiss her. The kiss that Y/N had known was coming, but it still tore through her, nonetheless.

Just before their lips could touch, a voice broke through the stillness. “Azriel.”

Y/N’s heart started beating again as Azriel pulled back, turning toward the interruption. Rhys stood in the doorway, his voice firm, his expression urgent. “We need you. Now.”

The moment was shattered. Azriel stepped back from Elain, his gaze flickering to Y/N for a brief second, as if he could see her —just enough for her to see the flash of uncertainty in his eyes. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. He smiled at Elain, and Y/N watched as he walked away without a word, his attention turning back to Rhys.

Elain’s smile was still there, softer now, but there was a question in her eyes as she watched Azriel leave. Y/N could see it—the small crack in the perfect picture they had built. But it didn’t matter. Because when Azriel looked back at her, it was as if he had never seen her at all.

And with that, Y/N slipped back into the shadows, her heart heavier than it had ever been. She had hoped, for just a moment, that things could be different—that maybe, just maybe, Azriel would have kissed her that night. But the world was never that kind.

The moment Azriel left with Rhys, a heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the House of Wind. Y/N had learned, over the years, to trust her instincts, especially where Azriel was concerned. When Rhys had summoned him, his voice sharp and urgent, her stomach twisted in response. They had been discussing something—something dangerous. Koschei had made a move, and Y/N’s heart had dropped when she heard that name. The Death God.

The city of Velaris was far behind them when Azriel ventured out of the court’s protected borders, heading toward the desolate lake where Koschei was rumored to be hiding. Y/N knew this place—Kochei’s lake was an eerie, forgotten expanse of black waters, known only for its unnerving stillness. The entire area gave off an aura of decay, both from the land and the whispers of ancient power that lingered there. It was as if the very earth around the lake had been poisoned, steeped in magic of the darkest kind.

The air was thick with the oppressive weight of Koschei’s magic as Azriel stood before the lake, his eyes scanning the dark waters, his wings poised in readiness. Y/N crouched low, her shadows swirling around her, blending into the darkness as she watched him, ready to intervene if she had to.

Koschei’s presence lingered just beyond the periphery, an unseen but unmistakable force. The Death God had been waiting for the right moment, and now, Azriel had walked right into his trap.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, sensing something amiss, but before he could make a move, the shadows around him thickened, clamping down on his limbs, immobilizing him with an invisible grip. His body stiffened, his wings twitching in resistance, but the hold was too strong.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she watched, knowing that she couldn’t allow him to fall under Koschei’s control. She couldn’t let him be taken—history would not repeat itself.

But Koschei wasn’t after Azriel.

Not yet.

With a malevolent grin, Koschei stepped from the shadows, his cold eyes gleaming as he saw Y/N standing, powerless to act as Azriel struggled against the restraints. The Death God’s form materialized fully before her, his presence like a weight on her chest.

“Ah, Y/N,” Koschei’s voice was low, teasing. “I see you’ve brought your shadows with you. They’ve always been loyal to you, haven’t they?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She stood her ground, though her heart raced in her chest. “I won’t let you have him,” she said, her voice hoarse but firm. “You won’t touch him.”

Koschei tilted his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. “You think you can stop me? I’ve waited for so long to take what’s mine.”

Before she could react, Koschei’s magic reached out, grabbing her by the throat and dragging her forward. She struggled, but his grip was unyielding, his fingers like ice against her skin.

Azriel’s voice, strained and desperate, reached her ears as he tried to free himself, but the shadows around him only tightened.

“Y/N!” Azriel’s voice was thick with fear, his shadows flickering in agitation as he fought against the restraints. “Get out of here! Please!”

But Y/N didn’t move. She couldn’t leave him—not when he needed her. Not when she was his only hope.

Koschei chuckled darkly, his hands tightening around Y/N’s throat. “You’re quite the puzzle, aren’t you? Always playing the hero, always throwing yourself into danger for others.”

Y/N gasped for air, but her eyes never left Azriel. “You can’t have him,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice full of defiance. “I won’t allow it.”

Koschei’s smile was cruel, his grip on her throat tightening further as he moved closer. “Finally, someone you’ll fight for,” he purred, his voice dripping with malice. “How touching.”

But Y/N didn’t falter. She could feel her shadows, the last of her magic, slipping away. She had to make her move now.

With every ounce of strength she had left, she reached out, sending the last of her shadows toward Azriel, her magic flooding into him. She could feel his strength return as the shadows wrapped around him, empowering him, protecting him.

“No,” Koschei hissed, his face twisted in anger. “You can’t do this!”

But Y/N didn’t care. She had made her choice. Azriel’s safety was her only priority now.

As the last of her power left her, she whispered, almost to herself, “You can’t have him. I won’t allow it.”

The words hung in the air, thick with finality, as her vision blurred. The shadows around her began to fade, dissipating into nothingness. Her body felt weak, her breath shallow. She had given everything.

Koschei let out a furious roar as he tried to push against her will, but it was too late. Azriel’s shadows surged around him, breaking his restraints, and with a powerful snap, the Death God was forced back.

Azriel had broken free.

Her body crumpled to the ground, the shadows that had once sustained her now gone, leaving her fragile and empty. She could feel her strength slipping away, her body fading into the cold grasp of death. But she had done it. She had protected him.

Azriel’s voice reached her again, frantic and full of desperation. “Y/N! No!”

Azriel’s blood boiled. His shadows had surged, fought back, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough. Y/N was crumpled at Koschei’s feet, her body barely breathing, her shadows gone, dissipated into the nothingness that Koschei had left in his wake.

His fists clenched, fury burning through him in a white-hot blaze. No.

Not her. He couldn’t lose her.

Koschei’s laughter echoed in his ears, and he could feel the Death God’s presence press against him, his dark power threatening to swallow him whole. “You think you can stop me?” Koschei taunted, his voice filled with venom. “You’ve already lost.”

Azriel’s wings snapped forward, his talons cutting through the air. The shadows around him gathered in a vortex of rage as he fought back with everything he had. Koschei tried to push against him, his power a suffocating weight, but Azriel’s determination surged higher. He wasn’t going to lose her. Not after everything. Not when he’d come this far.

With a brutal, final strike, Azriel’s shadows wrapped around Koschei, pulling the Death God away, slamming him into the earth. The battle was violent, brutal, the world around them bending and breaking under the weight of their fury. Azriel’s injuries didn’t matter. His exhaustion didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her.

Azriel drove his shadow blades into the ground, pinning Koschei in place, and for a moment, everything was still.

But that stillness shattered when his eyes fell on Y/N.

Her form was so fragile now, the light of her presence dimming with every breath she took. The once-vibrant shadows that had defined her, that had been a part of her essence, were now nothing more than an echo.

No.

With a final, guttural roar, Azriel turned his focus to Koschei, slamming his power down upon the Death God. Koschei screamed, vanishing in a wisp of smoke, but the damage had been done. Azriel had won, but it felt hollow. It didn’t matter. He could feel her slipping away.

As he staggered toward her, blood dripping from his wounds, his heart clenched at the sight of Y/N’s frantic, desperate eyes meeting his.

“Y/N,” he breathed, crawling to her, reaching out to touch her, to anchor himself to her, even as his body screamed in protest.

Her breath was shallow, her eyes wide with fear, but there was no power left in her. The shadows had abandoned her. She had given everything.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. She was fading. The life that had once burned so brightly in her was now flickering out, and Azriel’s heart shattered with every passing second.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” Azriel whispered, his voice cracking. The panic rose in his chest like a choking wave, suffocating him.

He reached for her, cradling her in his arms, pressing his face to her forehead. “Please, don’t die. I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

Her eyes met his, but there was no recognition, no spark of the strength she had once had. Just… emptiness.

He leaned down, his voice breaking as he whispered to the shadows in desperation.

“Go back to her. Please… I need you. Keep her alive.”

He felt them—his shadows, the ones he controlled, the ones that were so much a part of him. But they didn’t move. They lingered, cold and unyielding.

But then, as if the very act of begging for her, for the one person who had been there for him in the darkest of moments, had unlocked something within the shadows, one tiny speck of darkness flickered into existence. It crawled toward her wrist, wrapping around it like a thread of hope.

Azriel watched in a stunned silence as the small shadow pulsed, then expanded, feeding life back into her, bringing her warmth, her pulse, her breath back.

Her eyes fluttered, and then—there—a faint spark, a flicker of recognition. Her hand moved ever so slightly.

Azriel’s breath caught in his chest as he pulled her closer, his face hovering inches from hers, his lips trembling. She was alive.

Her eyes opened fully, still filled with that same raw vulnerability, the same trust that had always been there. But now, the fear had gone. She wasn’t fading anymore.

“Y/N,” Azriel whispered, his voice rough with emotion. He pulled her into his chest, pressing his forehead against hers. “Never do that again,” he muttered, his voice a mix of relief and raw anger. “Do you hear me? Never.”

Y/N’s breathing was steady now, and though she was still weak, the shadows had returned to her—if only just enough to give her life again. And Azriel could feel the change in her, in him, as the bond they shared snapped into place.

A rush of warmth flooded through him, a sharp, undeniable connection that had always been there but now was more real than ever. His heart slammed against his ribs as he realized the truth.

She was his. And now, in the aftermath of everything, the mating bond had been forged between them.

Azriel held her tighter, his grip desperate, as if he were afraid she might slip away again. But she wouldn’t.

Not now. Not ever.

Azriel’s wings beat steadily as he flew through the cool night sky, cradling Y/N in his arms. Her breath was steady now, her body still fragile but alive. Alive because of him. Alive because of the bond they had finally accepted, because of the shadows she had given him, because of the sacrifices she had made for him time and time again.

He landed softly in front of the River House, the place that had always been home. Elain was there, as if she had been waiting, her concern etched on her face when she saw Y/N in his arms.

“Azriel—what happened? Is she—” Elain started, her voice filled with worry.

Azriel shook his head, a soft growl of frustration building in his chest. “She’ll be fine. But there’s something I need to tell you.” He stepped past her, carrying Y/N toward the bedroom where he had left her resting, the weight of the conversation he needed to have with Elain sitting heavily on his shoulders.

He laid Y/N gently on the bed and tucked the blankets around her, making sure she was comfortable. She stirred slightly at the touch, but her eyes stayed closed, her body still recovering from the ordeal.

Elain stood in the doorway, watching him with a mixture of concern and confusion. Azriel turned to her, his heart aching, knowing this was the moment he needed to speak the truth.

“Azriel… what happened?” Elain’s voice was soft but insistent.

He sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment before raising his eyes to meet hers. “Elain, there’s something I need to say.” He took a breath. “You’re kind, and you’ve been wonderful to me. But…” He hesitated, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “But I don’t feel the way I thought I did for you. You’ve been a friend to me, Elain. But there’s someone else.”

Her face softened, understanding dawning. But still, there was a sadness in her eyes, a quiet resignation that Azriel couldn’t ignore.

“I… I see,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She took a step back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I always knew it wasn’t the same. But I’m glad you were honest with me, Azriel.”

Azriel stepped forward, his hand brushing hers in a gentle, reassuring gesture. “You’ll always be my friend, Elain. And I’ll always care about you. But… I’ve found something, someone else.” His voice hardened with emotion, a touch of bitterness slipping through. “And I owe her everything.”

Elain nodded, her lips trembling. “I understand. I just… want you to be happy, Azriel. I hope she makes you happy.”

Azriel gave her a final, grateful nod before he turned, his heart still heavy with the weight of what he’d just confessed. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. But Y/N had always been his destiny—his heart, his shadows, his everything.

Azriel walked into the living room where Rhys, Cassian, and Feyre were gathered. He had just returned with Y/N, and his heart was still pounding from the emotions of everything that had just transpired. The weight of his words felt heavy, but it was time. Time to share everything with his family.

“There’s someone you need to meet,” Azriel said quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and reverence.

Rhys looked up from the chair he was seated in, his brows furrowing in curiosity. “What’s going on, Az?” He stood, sensing the shift in his brother. The tension in Azriel’s posture was palpable.

Azriel nodded toward the bedroom door. “Come with me. I’ll explain everything.”

Without waiting for another word, Azriel led them down the hallway, his mind racing as he walked toward the room where Y/N had been resting. He paused before the door, taking a breath. This was it. The moment he had been dreading and longing for—revealing the truth about the woman who had always been by his side.

He opened the door gently and stepped inside, motioning for the others to follow. Y/N was lying on the bed, her body still fragile from the toll of the battle, but her breathing steady. She looked peaceful now, her form bathed in the soft light of the room.

Azriel turned to face Rhys, Cassian, and Feyre. “This is Y/N,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “She’s… she’s the one who has been with me all along. The one who gave me everything—her shadows, her life—without question.”

Feyre stepped forward first, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at the woman resting on the bed. “What do you mean? What’s happened?”

Azriel’s chest tightened as he continued. “Y/N saved me. She saved me when I didn’t know how to save myself.” He swallowed hard. “I was a broken, lost soul when I first met her. I was drowning in the darkness, consumed by it. And she… she gave me her shadows. At first, I didn’t understand what it meant. But now, I see it. All of it. The sacrifices she’s made for me. The love she’s given, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Cassian stepped forward, looking down at Y/N with a mixture of awe and respect. “What do you mean, she gave you her shadows? How? Why?”

Azriel’s eyes never left Y/N as he spoke. “She didn’t just give me her shadows. She became them. When she was dying, when she lost her first love, Koschei offered her a way out. A way to survive. She made a deal with him, traded her life for the power of shadows. And in return, she gave me those shadows, kept me alive when I was losing myself to the darkness.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I had no idea how much she was sacrificing for me.”

Feyre looked at Azriel, her expression filled with both admiration and sadness. “She gave you her life. She gave you the very thing that kept her alive.”

Azriel nodded. “She did. But it didn’t end there. After the first war, when I was still struggling with the weight of it all, she was there. She was always there. And when I needed her most—when I was losing myself to Koschei, to the darkness that had been trying to consume me for so long—she gave everything again. She gave me the last of her shadows.”

Cassian’s eyes widened as the weight of Azriel’s words sank in. “And now… now she’s like this?” He asked, gesturing to Y/N, still unconscious and fragile on the bed.

Azriel’s voice softened, a thread of emotion weaving through it. “Yes. She gave it all. The last of her shadows. She’s barely hanging on.”

Rhys stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Azriel’s face. “But she’s alive, Azriel. She’s here. And we’ll make sure she stays that way. She’s part of this family now, just like you.”

Azriel nodded, the emotions too much to contain. He approached the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s face. “I won’t let her fade. Not after everything she’s done for me.”

Cassian stepped forward then, his voice thick with gratitude and something deeper—something unspoken. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything you’ve done—for Azriel, for all of us.”

Azriel’s heart clenched as he saw Cassian gently place a hand on Y/N’s wrist, the gesture full of reverence. It was clear that Y/N had already touched all of their hearts, even though she had never asked for anything in return.

Feyre, too, stepped forward, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked down at the woman who had given so much for her family. “I can’t even imagine the pain you must have gone through,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for saving him.”

Azriel turned to face his family. “She did what none of us could. She saved me. And I owe her everything.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of Azriel’s words hanging in the air. Y/N was still asleep, but the shadows around her—slowly beginning to return—told the story of her sacrifice. And Azriel knew that he would never take that for granted again.

Finally, as the silence stretched on, Azriel leaned down to kiss Y/N’s forehead, his hand resting on her chest as if to keep her tethered to this world. He could feel the bond between them now, stronger than it had ever been, and he knew it wasn’t just the shadows that connected them. It was something deeper.

“Never again will you fight alone,” Azriel whispered softly, his voice barely audible. “You’ve given me everything. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it.”

The warmth of sunlight filtered through the curtains, the soft scent of roses mingling with the earthy scent of the river outside. Y/N stirred, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly emerged from the fog of sleep. The weight on her chest, her heart, was lighter than before, though still heavy with everything that had happened.

She glanced down to find Azriel sitting next to her, his large form leaning back in the chair beside her bed, his gaze focused intently on her. His shadows whispered quietly, as if sensing her waking. His focus, however, was entirely on her.

“I needed to hear it,” Azriel murmured softly, his voice a quiet rasp, barely above a whisper. His hand rested lightly over her chest, just above her heart. His eyes searched her face, searching for any sign of distress. “Your heartbeat. It was the same as mine.”

Y/N blinked, her senses returning as her mind processed the words. She nodded slowly, trying to sit up but feeling the weight of exhaustion still hanging over her.

“Good to see you’re awake,” Azriel added with a small smile. “You’ve been out for three days.”

Before Y/N could respond, a loud knock at the door interrupted them, followed by the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s booming voice from the hallway. “Az, don’t think I haven’t been here for the last few days. We’re all concerned, and if you don’t let me in, I’ll come in myself.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound faint but genuine. “He’s quite persistent, isn’t he?”

Azriel grinned, his shadows flickering with amusement. “He’s worse when he’s worried.”

With a flick of his hand, the door creaked open, revealing Cassian standing in the doorway, a huge grin plastered on his face as usual. “You look better, at least,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Not that you could get any worse.” His tone was playful, but there was an underlying concern in his eyes as he entered the room.

Azriel laughed quietly. “You’ve been camped outside my door this entire time, haven’t you?”

Cassian shrugged, unbothered. “Someone had to keep an eye on you both.” He glanced at Y/N, then turned and left the room, only to return minutes later with a tray laden with food—and a large slice of cake. “I figured you might need a treat. You’ve been through enough, so cake it is,” he said, setting it on the bedside table.

Y/N chuckled softly, the smell of cake tempting her despite how tired she still felt. “You really do come bearing gifts, don’t you?”

Cassian winked at her. “I’m a man of many talents. And cake is my specialty.”

Before Y/N could respond, Rhys and Feyre appeared in the doorway, both looking at her with warm smiles, though Feyre’s eyes were filled with quiet curiosity and concern. Rhys took a few steps forward, his presence calm and steady.

“You’re awake,” he said gently, his tone full of warmth. “Good. We’ve all been worried.”

Y/N smiled weakly. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Feyre, who had been standing slightly behind Rhys, moved to the bedside, her eyes softening as she studied Y/N. “Azriel told us about everything. You’ve done so much for him.”

Y/N met her gaze, the weight of the unspoken history between them lingering in the air. “He’s my responsibility. Always has been.”

Cassian leaned against the doorframe with a grin. “You’ll learn quickly, like Feyre did. Once you’re part of Az’s world, you’re part of all of ours.”

Y/N nodded, her voice steady. “I’ve been with Rhys and Cassian for a long time. I’ve followed Cassian into battle more times than I can count. It’s where my scars came from—fighting beside him, making sure he made it out alive.”

There was a long pause as Rhys took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed her words. “You’ve been with us… longer than we realized, then?” he asked quietly.

Y/N’s gaze softened, a faint sadness in her eyes. “I went after you, Rhys. When you were captured during the first war… I helped you. I helped free you. I did what I could.”

Rhys stared at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softened. “I never knew. I never realized…”

Y/N’s gaze dropped, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry for what you went through under the mountain, Rhys. I tried to help you… as much as I could. I know it wasn’t enough, but I tried.”

Feyre’s eyes widened, and she glanced between Y/N and Rhys. “You helped him?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How? I never knew.”

Y/N glanced back at Rhys. “You were important to Azriel. I couldn’t let you break.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Feyre, still standing near Rhys, gasped softly. “The music you sent me… it was you, wasn’t it? The same music that you sent Rhys?”

Y/N nodded quietly. “I couldn’t let Rhys break. He needed to stay strong. He couldn’t fall. Azriel needed him.”

Rhys, his gaze unreadable, looked at Y/N with newfound understanding. “You sent that music? All this time?”

Y/N simply nodded again. “I couldn’t let you lose yourself.”

There was a long, heavy silence, and Azriel could feel the weight of it as he watched Y/N open up in ways he hadn’t expected. He could sense the depth of her sacrifice, of everything she had done for him and for his family without ever expecting recognition or thanks.

Cassian’s deep voice broke the silence. “You’ve been doing all this for him… and for us?” His tone was thick with emotion now, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re a hell of a lot stronger than any of us gave you credit for.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “I did what I had to do.”

Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with the quiet pride he felt for her. She had given so much of herself, had fought so hard to protect them all, and yet, she never asked for anything in return. It had always been about him—about Azriel.

Feyre stepped forward, her hands shaking slightly, and before anyone could stop her, she wrapped Y/N in a tight hug. “Thank you,” Feyre whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve done more than we’ll ever know. Thank you for being there—for him. For all of us.”

Y/N stiffened at first, clearly not used to such displays of affection, but after a moment, she relaxed into the embrace. “I never expected thanks,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion as well. “But… you’re welcome.”

Azriel stood by, silent, watching the family he had once only dreamed of accepting her as one of their own. She had always been by his side, fighting, protecting. Now, she was truly part of his world, part of their world.

As Cassian, Rhys, and Feyre stood together in the room, Y/N smiled faintly, her heart full. She was finally seen. Finally home.

Cassian, Rhys, and Feyre, having shared their heartfelt thanks and goodbyes, stood in the doorway for a moment longer, watching the connection between Y/N and Azriel before they left.

“Get some rest, you two,” Rhys said gently, his eyes full of understanding. “We’ll see you both later. And if you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to ask.”

Cassian gave a wide grin, his voice light as usual, though the affection in his tone was unmistakable. “Take care of each other,” he said, with a wink at Y/N. “We’ll save the cake for when you’re feeling better.”

Feyre’s gaze softened. “We’re here for you, Y/N,” she added quietly. “You’ve been through so much. Take the time you need to heal.”

With that, the three of them departed, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet of the room. Y/N’s gaze followed them for a moment before her tired eyes turned back to Azriel, who was still sitting beside her. He hadn’t said much since they’d all left, his presence quietly constant as always, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before—something she hadn’t allowed herself to see in the years they had known each other.

As the door clicked shut behind them, she gave him a small, but honest smile. “I’m glad they came by,” she said softly. “It’s strange, having people around again.”

Azriel’s smile was small but warm, his voice full of affection when he spoke. “They care about you. They’re grateful for everything you’ve done for us all.”

Y/N nodded, but there was a quiet sadness in her eyes. “I’ve never asked for anything from them… but they’ve all given me so much already. I don’t know if I deserve it.”

Azriel’s hand reached out to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as he spoke softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You do deserve it. More than you know.”

There was a long, quiet pause as they shared a gaze, the weight of everything that had happened, all the shared moments, the sacrifices, and the unspoken love, pressing in on them. It was as though they had finally, after all these years, found a breath to share between them—a breath that was both long overdue and infinitely worth the wait.

Y/N swallowed, her heart racing in her chest as she looked at him, truly looked at him. “Azriel,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”

His gaze softened, his expression tender as he nodded. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised quietly.

Without another word, Azriel slipped into the bed beside her, carefully maneuvering his body so that they were close but still mindful of her fragility. She shifted slightly, her hand reaching for his, intertwining their fingers. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at him.

Azriel gazed back down at her, his lips parting as he leaned closer, their faces inches apart. He searched her eyes, as if asking for permission, as if he needed her to know how much she meant to him before he closed the space between them.

Y/N’s breath caught as she looked up at him, her chest tightening with emotion. She could feel the bond between them, the connection they had shared for so long, but now it was something more. Something she had longed for but never allowed herself to fully feel.

With a soft exhale, Azriel finally closed the distance, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was soft, gentle, but full of everything they had never said. It was a kiss of unspoken words, of everything they had endured, of everything they had fought for. It was a kiss that told the story of their connection, of love and loyalty, of battles fought both internal and external. And most of all, it was a kiss that told the story of their future—a future that they would face together.

When they pulled away, both of them breathless, Y/N’s eyes were wide, her heart racing as she looked at him. “I love you, Azriel,” she whispered, the words finally escaping her lips as her heart overflowed.

Azriel’s voice was low and gravelly, full of emotion as he answered, his hand brushing the hair from her face. “I love you too, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of everything that had come before seemed to fall away, leaving only the quiet comfort of the present. In that moment, there was no past, no war, no shadows. There was only the two of them, together, finally allowing themselves the peace they both so desperately needed.

And as they fell asleep, tangled in one another, the world outside could wait. For once, everything was as it should be.

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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