#the gift of truth (mor)

[twistedtangledfate]

"for the sake of the Mother, Morrigan! you’ve been in here for 30 minutes. what are you doing?"

@unbeleveable

Mor swung her head round to the door, greeting her visitor with a small 'whoop' accompanied by a laugh and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Ammmmmreennnn!" She called out, clearly inebriated and all the happier for it. She gestured to the room in a grand, sweeping gesture from her position on the couch, an almost empty bottle of wine in her hand, the liquid sloshing around inside in response.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[mahalachives]

This Is Why We Can’t Have Diplomatic Visits

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader (mated-pairing), minor reader x Eris

Genre: Crack Humor, Unserious, Canon-Compliant (ish)

Summary: When a diplomatic dinner in the Autumn Court takes a turn, a few too many glasses of wine—and Eris Vanserra’s smug face—lead you to publicly threaten him on Azriel’s behalf. What follows is an escalating war of petty letters, unsolicited gifts, and one extremely scandalous painting. Azriel is jealous. You are chaotic. Eris is entertained. And the Inner Circle is placing bets.

It started with wine.

Not just any wine. Autumn Court wine—potent, honey-sweet, and designed to hit like a chariot on fire. You’d only had two glasses. Three if you counted the one you “borrowed” from Mor when she wasn’t looking.

But it wasn’t the wine that did it. It was Eris.

He’d leaned back in his golden chair, flicking imaginary lint off his jacket, and said, in that voice that oozed smarm and superiority.

“Spymaster. Still hiding behind shadows and secrets? Tell me—do your little spies send love letters, too?”

Azriel didn’t flinch. He never did. Just stared, quiet and lethal, like he was already planning where to bury the body.

But you flinched. And then you stood.

Fast.

“Alright, you flaming ginger string bean,” you said, slamming your goblet down. “That’s it.”

Everyone at the table froze.

Even Rhysand blinked.

Feyre whispered, “Oh no.”

Cassian mouthed, do it, while Nesta smacked him.

Azriel’s voice was quiet, deadly. “Y/N. Sit.”

You didn’t.

“You’ve got some nerve, Eris Flame-Me-Up Vanserra,” you slurred, pointing at him like an accusatory ghost. “You don’t get to talk to Az like that. Not while I’m here. Not while I have working limbs.”

“I am merely speaking—”

“I will feed you to your own court’s sentient trees,” you cut in. “How dare you insult the love of my life when he’s literally ten seconds away from shadow-smothering you into next week.”

Eris blinked. “Love of your—?”

“That’s right,” you snapped, wobbling slightly as you turned to the room. “I’m his mate. His mate. Which means I’m contractually obligated to throw hands when someone comes for him. I will fistfight a High Lord’s son, I swear it.”

“I am a High Lord’s son,” Eris said mildly.

“Perfect. That means I get extra points.”

Rhysand choked on his wine. Mor was wheezing.

Azriel, still seated, rubbed his temples. “I need to get her out of here.”

“I’m fine,” you said, trying to lunge across the table. Azriel caught you mid-launch, shadows wrapping around your waist like a seatbelt.

“No murder tonight,” he murmured into your ear as you flailed. “You promised. Remember the chart?”

You paused. “…I forgot about the chart.”

He shadow-walked you right out of the room, bridal-style, as you shouted behind him, “Tell Eris his hair looks like expired cider!”

(Later in your shared rooms...)

You lay face-down on the bed.

Azriel sat beside you, silent, until you peeked up at him and muttered, “You mad?”

He sighed. “No. But next time, maybe let me handle the diplomatic incidents.”

You grinned, cheek smushed into the pillow. “Yeah. But you can’t deny it was hot.”

His shadows twitched.

“…Maybe a little.”

The next morning...

You were halfway through your hangover tea (Azriel’s special brew—spitefully effective and probably brewed over the bones of your enemies), when a knock echoed through your suite.

You blinked at the door. “Did you order breakfast?”

Azriel looked up from his perch at the window, sharpening Truth-Teller like he was fantasizing about Eris-shaped practice targets. “No.”

The door creaked open before either of you could reach it.

And in walked a servant. Carrying flowers.

Not just any flowers. Fiery red, golden-tipped Autumn Court blooms. A bouquet the size of a small wyvern. Tucked inside was a silver card with your name on it.

Azriel was on his feet in a blink. “Is that—”

You snatched the card, flipped it open, and promptly choked on your tea.

To the Spirited Mate of the Shadowsinger, Your defense was both reckless and deeply entertaining. Consider me intrigued. — Eris Vanserra (P.S. His brooding is a bit much, isn’t it?)

You slapped a hand over your mouth. “Oh my gods.”

Azriel snatched the card out of your hand like it offended the air.

He read it.

He blinked once.

Twice.

“…He flirted with you.”

“He did.”

“He flirted. With my mate. After you threatened him.”

You beamed. “I think I impressed him.”

Azriel looked like he was experiencing all five stages of grief at once.

Azriel, deadpan: “I will end him.”

You: “Please don’t. I want to see if he sends chocolates next.”

(Later that afternoon.)

Cassian nearly fell off the roof when he saw the flowers.

“Wait—wait—he sent you a bouquet? Like a come-hither bouquet??” he hollered.

You nodded solemnly. “Apparently, threatening political figures while intoxicated is a turn-on.”

Mor snorted wine through her nose. “You have to frame that card.”

Azriel, pacing behind you, muttering, “I’m going to set his hair on fire.”

You leaned back and grinned. “You jealous, Az?”

His shadows twitched. “I am offended on a spiritual level.”

“Don’t worry,” you said sweetly, grabbing his belt and tugging him close. “You’re still my favorite broody bastard.”

He glared, then kissed you hard enough to shut you up.

Cassian: “Gross. Az, do that in private. Or at least wait until I’m done throwing the bouquet off the balcony—!”

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

You found Azriel hunched over the desk in your shared study, shadows swirling like angry cats, quill scratching furiously on parchment. He didn’t look up when you entered.

You peered over his shoulder.

Dear Lord Eris,

Thank you for your recent gift.

It is always a joy to be reminded that the Autumn Court has mastered both combustion and desperation.

Combustion and desperation? You clapped a hand over your mouth.

I assure you, the letter continued, that my mate is not accepting applications, suggestions, or flame-adjacent flirtations. She is, as you might have noticed, spoken for.

By me.

P.S. Your hairline is retreating faster than your moral compass.

“Az.”

He kept writing.

P.P.S. If you send one more gift, I will return it—on fire.

“Azriel.”

He didn’t stop.

P.P.P.S. My mate says hello. She also says your flowers were basic.

“AZRIEL.”

He blinked up at you, shadows pausing mid-scribble.

You snatched the letter from his hands. “You’re writing to him? Like some kind of spiteful pen pal?”

“I am responding diplomatically,” he said flatly.

“You called him desperate with a receding hairline.”

“I lied about neither.”

You stared at him. “You signed it P.P.P.S. Az.”

He crossed his arms. “If he wants to play games, he should at least know I play better.”

Three days later...

It arrived in a crate.

A massive, magically-sealed crate, right in the middle of your shared living room. Wrapped in velvet. Stamped with the Autumn Court crest.

Azriel stood in front of it with arms crossed and a look on his face like someone had personally insulted his siphons.

You blinked at the shipping label.

“…Why is it addressed to 'The Mate of the Shadowsinger'?”

Azriel growled. “Because Eris is a walking provocation with a god complex.”

Rhysand strolled in, already grinning. “Is this the painting?”

You whipped around. “Wait—you knew about this?”

“Oh yes,” Rhys said, summoning wine. “Eris sent me a copy of the concept sketch. Asked if it was too much. I told him to go bigger.”

You: “Rhysand!”

Azriel: “He dies. Today.”

Cassian burst through the door with popcorn and a chair.

“Wait for me to sit down,” he said. “I need to see Azzy’s face.”

Mor followed behind him with her phone. “I’m recording this for posterity. Also, Feyre’s demanding updates.”

Nesta: “You people are sick.”

You: “Nesta, you’re holding a betting slip.”

Nesta: “Your point?”

Azriel hissed under his breath and yanked the crate open with a sharp crack of shadow.

The velvet fell away.

Everyone stared.

It was a painting. A life-sized, oil-painted portrait of Eris Vanserra, lounging on a chaise, completely shirtless. Smirking like sin.

Wearing a robe.

Not just any robe.

A robe made of Azriel’s shadows.

You choked. “Oh my gods.”

Mor dropped her drink.

Cassian fell out of the chair.

Nesta whispered, “He committed to the bit.”

Rhysand, between wheezes: “Look at the brushwork. He used actual shadow magic to give it texture. It’s…magnificent.”

Azriel was frozen. Face blank. Siphons pulsing.

“…He stole my shadows,” Azriel said, voice flat. “He stole my sentient, living shadows and turned them into a bathrobe.”

You: “Technically it’s a cape-robe hybrid, but yes.”

Azriel turned to you slowly. “You are not helping.”

You swallowed a snort. “I’m sorry. I’m panicking. My coping mechanism is commentary.”

Rhysand wiped a tear away. “Can we hang it in the River House?”

Azriel: “I will burn it.”

Cassian: “NO. This is history.”

Azriel, quietly: “He signed it.”

You all leaned in.

At the bottom corner, in crimson ink:

To Azriel, with admiration. Your shadows look better on me. — E

You: “…You have to kill him now.”

Azriel: “I’m writing a second letter.”

Cassian: “Make it a sonnet.”

Rhys: “Make it a duel.”

Azriel vanished into his shadows, already plotting vengeance.

You stood there, blinking at the painting. "...I kind of want to keep it."

Two days later...

You were eating breakfast when a letter appeared in a swirl of shadows and glitter.

Glitter.

That was the first sign something was deeply wrong.

Mor peered at the envelope. “Is… is that a glitter bomb curse?”

You blinked. “Azriel knows how to do that?”

Rhysand, sipping tea: “He’s been studying with Amren. She’s very proud.”

The envelope was addressed to:

To Eris Vanserra, Lord of Autumn, King of Flamboyant Delusions.

You opened it carefully.

Inside was a single glamoured photo.

You gasped.

So did everyone else.

It was Azriel.

Shirtless. Covered in shadows and golden siphon light. Standing in the training ring like a bat-winged revenge model.

Arms crossed. Wings flared. Muscles rude.

And across the bottom, in elegant Night Court script:

“Thanks for the inspiration. I decided to try robes too. Mine actually fit.”

Cassian dropped his toast. “He made a revenge thirst trap.”

Rhys was howling. “This is the most aggressive form of flirting I’ve ever seen—and they’re not even flirting with each other!”

Mor fanned herself. “I’m not even into Azriel and I need a moment.”

Nesta blinked. “Send it to Eris twice.”

You were speechless. “Did he… pose for this??”

You were so close to getting away with it.

The Eris painting? Hidden behind your old training gear.

Azriel’s shirtless calendar? Laminated. Hung on the inside of your closet door. Discreet. Artistic. Totally justified.

The flower crown? Just a seasonal craft project gone awry. (You may have hot glued it to his head in the July page.)

But then Azriel found it.

You came home to find him sitting on the bed.

Silent. Staring at the open closet.

The calendar dangled from his fingers.

His flower-crowned portrait smiling back at you like an idiot with a six-pack.

You froze.

He didn’t look at you.

Just said, flatly:

“…You laminated me.”

You opened your mouth. “That could’ve been anyone.”

His head turned slowly. “You gave me dimples.”

“They’re accurate!”

“There are sparkles on my abs.”

You folded your arms. “What do you want from me, Az? You looked hot. I have eyes. I commemorated the moment.”

“You hot glued a floral tiara to my head.”

You stepped closer, hands on hips. “It’s not a tiara. It’s a statement.

He stared at you for a long, long moment.

Then:

“…What’s the statement? That I moonlight as a whimsical forest prince?”

You grinned. “Exactly. A deadly, brooding, morally ambiguous flower fae.”

His shadows twitched. His jaw worked.

Then—slowly—he stood.

Crossed the room.

Picked you up without warning and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“AZRIEL!”

“You’re going to explain to my face,” he said, walking toward the bedroom, “why I’m September and March in your calendar.”

“BECAUSE YOU PEAKED TWICE.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“YOU’RE LUCKY I DIDN’T MAKE IT A STICKER BOOK!”

He slammed the door behind him—laughing.

End

This oneshot is unserious, and It had no direction whatsoever. Enjoy the chaos. 🩵

[itsswritten]

gone.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 2K (It's just a little drabble really)

Warnings: Angst, feelings of not being good enough, unrequited love, rejection, read Az's bonus chapter as this is kind of a different ending to it!

Summary: Sometimes it take's heartbreak to move on.

You’re not too sure how you found yourself here. Ensnared in a moment you shouldn’t have been a part of. Pressed against the wall, you couldn't escape the damning truth unfolding before you.

Fate, in its cruel irony, had thrust you into the heart of your deepest fear. It seemed as though destiny itself was spelling out the bitter reality—you would never be his, he would never desire you.

The gift box, wrapped in a serene shade of blue, felt like an anchor against your chest, the weight of it crushing against your heart and yet anchoring you to this spot all the same. With trembling hands, you clutched it tightly, your other hand clasped around your mouth in an attempt to contain the tumult of emotions threatening to spill over. You hadn't intended to intrude, only to find Azriel this Solstice and share your heart with him. After years of wrestling with your feelings, you had finally summoned the courage to confess to your best friend, hoping that maybe he might reciprocate.

But it was a futile dream. How foolish you had been to imagine that you would be the one to replace his infatuation with Mor.

No of course it wouldn’t be you, for hundreds of years you hadn’t been able to steer him from his longing of Mor. It had to be another, the lovely Elain Archeron.

The scent of their arousal hung heavy in the air. You should have moved, but you were frozen in place. Your eyes glued on their figures as you watched them draw one another close. It was as if the Gods were forcing you to accept your reality– you would never be good enough for him. 

You swallowed hard, stopping the nauseating sensation rising up your throat. You were losing all control here, completely succumbing to your emotions. You weren’t sure what you would do if you actually saw them kiss.

At the top of the stairs, Rhys suddenly stood, his fury palpable as he observed the scene below. A silent exchange passed between him and his brother, you had known Rhys and Azriel for so long that you were always aware of their mind conversations. However, you never knew what was said. But by Azriels indifference, you could tell it wasn’t good.

Before Rhys winnowed away, his gaze found you. Your figure hidden in the shadows, his expression faltering as his eyes locked with yours, confusion spread across his features and then pain– pain for you.

You hadn’t realised till then, how your salty tears had slipped down your face. Wetting the floor beneath you. How they had revealed how you truly felt, something you thought you’d always kept so well hidden.

And perhaps here in your weakest moment, your own mental shields hadn’t been the strongest. Your anguish spilling over to whoever was able to feel.

With a fierce swipe, you brushed the tears away.

You watched as Azriel left to find Rhys, leaving a bewildered and confused Elain to collect herself before she ran out of the foyer. It was then the emotions overcame you.

You sank down against the wall, the tears flowing freely now, your quiet sobs echoing through the empty corridor. You had been so foolish.

You had seen the signs, noticed the bond growing between Azriel and the middle Archeron sister. Yet, you had dismissed it as nothing more than Azriel's innate kindness, his dedication to helping Elain adjust to Fae life like the rest of you had also supported. It never occurred to you that his actions held some deeper meaning.

And Rhys's fleeting glance had only added to your humiliation. To how stupid you had been. You didn't need his pity or anyone else's. 

You already hated yourself enough for your naivety and foolishness.

The gift box lay abandoned beside you, a painful reminder of your misplaced affection. With trembling hands, you tore off the ribbon and unwrapped it, revealing the carefully chosen present inside. It was a handmade sheath for Azriel’s dagger, Truth Teller. Beautifully made from leather, with six subtle stones set along the top.

Purple, for Rhys. Red for Cassian. Blue for Azriel. Followed by Violet for Amren, Crimson for Mor and Sapphire for you. The original six. His first found-family.

As you traced the stones with trembling fingers, memories of simpler times flooded your mind. The dynamic of your found family had shifted with the arrival of the Archeron sisters, whom you loved dearly. But their presence had irrevocably altered the delicate balance you had once cherished with Azriel and the others. You hadn’t realised how their entry into your life would change so much. 

Maybe it was your fault for thinking it wouldn’t.

~~~

Azriel snarled softly. 

"Snarl all you want." Rhys leaned back in his chair. "But if I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it."  

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. 

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. "Get out. And while you’re at it you owe y/n an apology for making her privy to your foolish actions tonight."  

Azriel faltered a second. You had seen him? He hadn’t even noticed, his shadows had always vanished when in the company of Elain and they hadn’t notified him of your presence. In fact they rarely ever did. You were the one person who his shadows had always seemed to favour.

Fuck.

You had witnessed his reckless behaviour. It was a jarring revelation. You were one of his longest standing friends. There was no doubt in his mind you would be just as livid as Rhys for his actions.

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house, searching for you.

Finding you in the library, Azriel approached you with a gentle call of your name, his voice filled with remorse. Your back was to him, and he watched you shudder slightly at the vibrations of his voice.

“I’m sorry you were witness to my actions earlier, I’m sure you have-”

“Forget it.”

Azriel was taken aback by your brazenness, the tone in your voice was something he’d never been on the receiving end of before. You moved swiftly in front of him, your back still to him as you placed your book back on the shelf.

“Right.”

Azriel struggled to understand your motives. Were you pretending not to have seen anything to spare his embarrassment, or had Rhys instructed you to keep silent?

“Well I am truly sorry.” He spoke again.

“Why do you keep apologising to me?” your voice wavered for a moment.

“Because you’re my friend, and I’ve implicated you-”

“Friend. Right, of course.” You clung to that word bitterly, you couldn’t help yourself. You had spat it back so venomously. 

Azriel always knew you better than anyone, could tell when something was off and there was clearly something wrong. He stepped forward, touching your wrist to get you to turn at him.

And then he saw.

He saw the pained expression. Tear stained face and red puffy eyes. In all his years of knowing you, he had never seen this look– a look so broken.

Who had hurt you?

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You scoffed, pulling your wrist away from his grasp. Despite the hurt simmering within you, a newfound confidence surged through you. After mustering the courage to confess your feelings to Azriel, only to be met with rejection by his actions, you felt a liberating sense of release– you had nothing left to lose.

And quite frankly you just didn’t care anymore.

"It's you," you spat, your words dripping with bitterness as you locked eyes with Azriel, the pain evident in your glassy gaze. "It is you who has caused this."

Azriel's confusion was palpable, his brows furrowed as he struggled to comprehend how he could have hurt you so deeply. He felt his shadows coil around him protectively, but they remained silent, offering no explanation for his transgressions. Whether they didn’t know or they refused to tell him.

Your lips quivered slightly as you drew in a sharp breath, your fists clenching at your sides.. "It's my fault, really," you admitted, your voice tinged with self-blame. "For being so foolish, for ever thinking I–... That I would be good enough."

Azriel’s expression bore confusion, but seeing your pain was breaking something inside of him. He tried to reach for you again, wanting to soothe you but you stepped away from him.

Something started to gnaw on him then, deep in his chest.

"I know I could never compete with Mor, so I never even tried," you continued, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "I hoped maybe with time you’d realise that was never meant to be. Maybe eventually consider me instead…”

You had said it. Admitted your truth. Azriel’s eyes widened in shock. Your confession hung in the air, the weight of your words hitting Azriel like a punch to the gut. For a Spymaster, he had failed miserably at deciphering your true feelings. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, you pressed on, your voice thick with unshed tears.

"And I noticed how you didn’t look at her the same way anymore," you choked out, struggling to maintain composure. "I thought maybe it was because we’d gotten closer. I was so foolish, I realise that now. It wasn’t because of me."

"Wait, Y/n," Azriel interjected, his voice laced with urgency as he stepped forward, his hands gripping your arms firmly.

Azriel's heart sank as your words pierced through him, revealing a truth he had been too blind to see. He had never known, never even considered, because in his eyes, you were one of the most precious people in his life – too precious for him to ever believe he was worthy of.

Your voice quivered with emotion, and Azriel's chest tightened with guilt as he realised the depth of your pain. "I know I'm not as lovely as Elain," you whispered, your words like a dagger to his heart.

"Don't say things like that," Azriel pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You are so incredible—"

But you cut him off, your words slicing through the air with a finality that left Azriel reeling. You refused to hear anything else from his lips. Those lips that had been so close to kissing Elain. 

He watched helplessly as you moved out of his grasp, your every movement causing that feeling in his chest to grow. You picked something up from the table behind you, turning to face Azriel once more. Somehow forcing a soft sad smile across your lips.

Azriel's throat tightened, his breath catching in his chest as he gazed at you. In that moment, you seemed more fragile than ever, your vulnerability laid bare before him. He had always considered you beautiful, too beautiful for him, too kind, too good. And now, as he stood face to face with the pain he had unknowingly caused you, his heart ached with regret.

"I've held onto these feelings for so long, hoping one day you might feel the same way," you confessed, your voice heavy. "But I think tonight was the Gods' way of telling me it’s time to let go."

Azriel's hands trembled as you pushed the gift box into his palms, "Happy Solstice.” You whispered with a bittersweetness that tore Azriel’s soul. Your words, they felt so final. They felt like a goodbye.

With a shaky breath, Azriel glanced down at the box, opening, his fingers began to trace the intricate design of the sheath adorned with gems that he instantly recognised as symbols of him and his family. But when he looked up again, ready to speak your name in a desperate plea, he found only emptiness.

Finally, his shadows spoke.

Gone.

Next Part >> (by popular demand I have continued this, mwah)

a/n: This little drabble came to me last night, I wanted to inflict a little hurt. You are very welcome <3 - Lottie x

[nikethestatue]

Is symbolism difficult to understand? is that what it is? Is this why I see the same arguments and questions almost DAILY with clear lack of understanding of what SJM was aiming for in a particular scene?

Personally, I find it fairly easy to discern as to what SJM tried to portray in certain scenes, but I suppose it's not as easy for others.

How's the Truth Teller exchange scene 'romantic'?

It's SYMBOLIC. Not romantic.

The symbolism is that Azriel--via a long explanation by Rhys, and everyone's astonishment--shared the dagger with Elain. He gave it to HER. No one else. The symbolism is that he shared power with HER, and no one else. The dagger is the extension of his power, a Made weapon that only he could handle. He saw something in Elain, or maybe the dagger felt something in Elain, that it wanted to be given to her. And only her.

All other times, whether it was Nesta or Bryce, the dagger was taken without permission from the owner. But with Elain, he chose to give it to her. What's more, the dagger is a phallic object--which is another thing that Azriel CHOSE to give to Elain. He never gave it to Mor, for example--even though Mor was his first love and a warrior.

That echoes in the bonus chapter, when Elain accepted a personal gift from him, and said 'put it on me'. She offered it to him, and permitted him to 'collar' her, so to speak. What's more, 'put it on me' is nearly interchangeable with 'put it in me', which is obviously a sexually-charged permission.

For example, Rhys crowning Feyre ever since they were UTM is symbolic. It wasn't 'romantic' at first glance. But it was foreshadowing to her becoming his High Lady.

Elain not using Lucien's gloves is also symbolic. She actively rejects his offer of protection. The gloves are supposed to protect her hands from harm. The gift was thoughtful, no argument here, however, as Feyre then explains, Elain enjoyed the pain that came from gardening. She enjoyed the dirt, the scuffs and the scars that came from it. The symbolism of 'protective gloves' also indicates that even though his intentions are good, Lucien fundamentally doesn't understand Elain and what makes her happy.

By contrast, Azriel armed a defenseless woman who never held a dagger in her life and who isn't known for violence, let alone had any training in fighting. Just a minute ago, Elain had declined Cassian's offer of a dagger, of protection. But Azriel's--she accepted. Why his, but no one else's? Because she trusts him, and because she chose him as her protector. Her acceptance of his help is symbolic just as much as him giving her the dagger. They share an understanding (a silent one) where he acts and she accepts it, and then acts herself. He is the blade, and she is the protector--she protected him, Briar, Nesta, etc.

Symbolism, folks. Read between the lines once in a while.

[artists-ally]

{Confess Your Lust} Reader x Azriel

You all can thank @riddlesb1tch for this. I have no regrets. It's just pure filth, but I know my whores like this 🥰 Rose this is all for you so you're the only one I care about liking it. Hope you all enjoy, title is from this song. highly suggest listening to while reading btw

Word Count: 4,682

Warnings: SMUT. Minor Dom/Sub concepts, bondage, degrading, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, Az is your pretty little good boy and you're gonna let him know ;)

Tagging: @riddlesb1tch @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars @cyrygher @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @xaithings

Summary: Azriel requested a very special birthday present. And who were you to tell him no.

~~~~~~~

“Cassian, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve gotten me a dagger for my birthday.”

“Yup,” he grins. 

“You know it’ll never suffice to Truth Teller, right?”

“An Illyrian can hope,” Cassian sighs, a relaxed smile on his face. “I know they all go in a drawer at the bottom of your dresser.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, but thanks his brother anyway. He appreciates them, but they hold no candle to the pretty piece of steel sat on his thigh.

Mor had gifted him a new pair of boots and a matching belt to go with them. They were of sleek leather, polished so well he could see his distorted reflection in the curve of the toe. He might have to set them aside for a special occasion so he doesn’t ruin them with training and missions. 

Rhys and Feyre gifted him a custom made weapons display case. It had racks and shelves for all his favorites, as well as drawers for the ones Cassian constantly gifted. It was complete with a throwing pad on the side to practice different strikes as well as a sharpening stone. He’d never admit to anyone but himself, but it made the back of his throat string. 

Amren promised him a night out at Rita’s, and coming from her it was quite generous. 

Buy my gift… it was something to be shared between my mate and no one else. They didn’t need to know the secret behind the look in my eye. It was waiting at our newly constructed home, just like I promised. Just like he had asked. 

“That’s it from us, I don’t see another one here,” Cassian looked around the rubble of discarded bags and decorative paper, not finding any other boxes. “Did Yn already give you hers?”

“No,” I said, sipping my glass of wine. “It’s back at the house. But he already knows what it is.”

“He does?”

“He does?” Azriel furrowed his brows, clearly not remembering the conversation the two of us had several months ago. 

Azriel sauntered into the dining hall, hands fisted at his sides, wings tucked in close. “Can I talk to you?”

The sudden spring of worry in his eyes made me put down my book, following him to a nearby couch to sit on. 

“What’s up, my love?” I asked tenderly, locking a piece of hair behind his ear. 

“If I asked you to do something for me- to me… would you?” 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Az,” I cocked my head to the side, getting a better look at his eyes. Those wicked shadows blocked some of his tan skin, so I gently nudged them out of the way.

“I umm- I was thinking that we might change some things up. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about these things and I want them. And I want to see if you could want them too.”

“Okay,” I nodded, waiting for a response.

“I want to try using some toys. On me.”

Well, that is not where I thought this was going to go at all. Utterly shocked, but not opposed to the idea, I asked him to elaborate. And by the Cauldron did he. He went into detail of what he wanted, why he wanted it, how he wanted it… it sounded like a dream come true. 

“I’m so happy you told me about this. Yes, I’d be more than happy to fulfill these fantasies with you,” I smiled eagerly. “I promise I’ll make it special for you. Just like you did for me.”

Azriel still didn’t seem to get it, so I flashed a mental image down the bond, watching his brows unfurrow and raise up his face. It was almost ridiculous how far they went up. Nobody else said anything as they watched the interaction. 

“Oh.”

“Oh… what? What did she get you?” Rhys prodded his brother, Azriel not breaking our eye contact. I just smirked, winking in his direction before turning back to the wine. Mor spared me a curious glance, but I gave away no details. The others didn’t need to know what happened behind those closed doors. 

“Just something to play with later,” Azriel swallowed, throat working down and then back up. Only I would be able to note the change in his scent. “Time for pastries?”

I giggled as he deflected the question and moved onto another topic. It was another hour or so before anyone made a move to leave, but as soon as Cassian rolled out, his hands were all over me. 

“Are you being serious?” His hands were cupping my cheeks, a desperate plea to his voice. 

“Of course, my shadow. Go on up, get yourself ready. I’ll be up in a little bit, okay? Send word when you’re ready,” I instruct, moving out of his reach to begin cleaning up some of the mess left behind from the small party. 

“Won’t you come do it for me?” His strong arms wrapped around me, the soft scent of his wings wafting in the air. “I could really use your help.”

“I thought you wanted me to take control?”

“I do, that’s why I-”

“Didn’t I give you an order?” 

“Y-Yes, I just wanted-”

“Then go. Don’t make me ask again, Azriel.” 

“Yes my lady,” he obediently replied. I watched him go up the stairs, shadows lingering behind before darting after him. Once I heard the door click softly shut, I continued my work around the living area and the kitchen. I didn’t have any desire to be cleaning, I just needed to build up some tension. For this to work as he wanted to, I needed to do the unpredictable. Which would be really fucking difficult since he is basically progammed to know every turn and corner. 

I threw out trash, packed dishes in the sink, scrubbed them clean and put them away. About five minutes ago he sent a shadow curling my way, enticing me up towards the play room. I ignored the urgency of the call, deciding I’ll go when I want to. And he’s just going to have to wait. 

Azriel isn’t the most patient creature in this world, that’s for damn sure. 

Making him wait this long would be torture. 

Precisely how I wanted it to be. 

Finally, after another ten-ish minutes of stalling, I make my way upstairs. Purposefully being as loud as I can without stomping up the stairs. My heels click gently across the hard stone. As I near the door, I am hit with a wave of arousal coming from the room. It’s thick and tastes devine on the back of my tongue.

The sight of him sitting in the chair, wings facing me, arms ready and waiting behind his back is a marvelous sight. I can’t help but smile. He looks so pretty. 

“I thought you forgot about me,” Azriel said, a smirk in his tone. “Is it time for my present yet?”

“So impatient, all of you Illyrians,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I made my way to the wall in front of him. Hung up, there were various toys and playthings. All could be used for pleasure or pain, depending on the mood. “You’ll get it when I say you do. Give me your wrists.”

I held the bundle of rope between my palms, stalking back over to Azriel in his chair. As I pass around to where his hands are locked behind his back, I make sure to tell him he’s allowed to safeword if and whenever he needs to. 

“I know, my love, thank you. I know you’ll take care of me,” he smiles gently, offering his lips.

“You asked to be overwhelmed, so I’m not going to stop unless you give me the word. I want you begging me to stop, remember? You’ll sound so pathetic and pretty when you whimper,” I smiled sickly sweet, pecking his lips with my own. “Ready?”

He gave a firm nod, hazel eyes locking on my body as I pulled away.

Back at the wall, I open the drawer in the chest, finding those two boxes I hid away weeks ago. How he never found them, I’ll never know, but I’m so glad. One was a vibrating cuff. The other was a dildo. 

After taking them out of the box and sanitizing them, I left them there for Az to see, but not to use yet. No, I wanted the anticipation to do the work for me. Rather than giving him what he wanted, I made my way over to him and trailed my fingers around his frame. 

Every flick of my finger sent goosebumps slithering across his skin. Up his neck… down his arms. That sensitive place between his wings twitched as I trailed through it, delicately applying pressure on the muscle. 

“Fuck, baby you… you can’t tease me like that.”

“I think I can do whatever I want,” I replied. “You are tied up at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good boy,” I smiled, threading my fingers through his thick hair, latching onto his scalp. I pulled to the side, watching his body move with the force. His chest rose and fell, I could feel his heartbeat down the bond. Wicked. Powerful. Anticipating my next move. 

I slid into his lap, feeling just how much he needed me through his pants. I leaned just far enough away that he couldn't capture my mouth with his. He tried twice to kiss me, but each time I leaned away, a sick smile on my lips. 

Azriel scoffed, “I just wanted a kiss.”

“I know you do, but I didn’t give you permission, did I?” I mocked, leaning in closer and closer. “Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. I decide when you get what you’ve earned. And all you’ve done so far is complain that I haven’t given you anything. That’s not how good boys behave is it?”

I can see the fire in his eyes, those two sides of his personality fighting each other head on. This desire inside him to be taken care of, to be set free by my control versus that blistering need to be in control of everything. 

I’ll break him free with my bare hands if I have to. 

“Don’t be shy, my shadow. You can say it, it’s okay. No one can hear you besides me. Unless you want everyone to know just how much you need me.”

“I’ll behave,” he recites quickly. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging for it already,” I smirked, standing up from my place in his lap. He groans, cock clearly straining against the fabric covering his legs. 

I circle him. Like a predator to its prey. “You look so pretty tied up, my shadow.”

“When I asked you to play with me, I didn’t expect to be tortured.”

“Tortured?” I spun around to see his hazy eyes. “Oh, my sweet love, I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already begging? Don’t be so pathetic, Azriel. You can take more, can’t you?” I nodded his head for him, fingers fisted in his hair. “Yes you can, good boy.”

I quickly walked around to see his pink cheeks, heated with humiliation. I had no intention of going easy on him the first time. 

In a swift motion, I sheathed the blade at his thigh, cutting away his pants, leaving him just in his undershorts. He gasped, eyes going wide as roughly pulled them down his hips. “Y-Yn what are you-”

“Quiet,” I demanded. 

Azriel shut his mouth, panting heavily as I fisted his cock in my hand. His head tipped back in pleasure, and I almost let myself enjoy it for a second before I ripped my hand away. Those fierce hazel eyes were back on mine in an instant, silently begging for more. He made a wounded sound when I walked away, grabbing the vibrating cuff from the dresser. 

“Let’s play a game, okay? I put this on, and you aren’t going to cum. If you take it like the good boy I know you are, then I’ll give you something else to play with. If you cum… well, you’re just not going to stop.”

Azriel looks genuinely afraid. Like I might break him if I go through with this. I’ve never wanted to break something so badly just to put it back together again. 

I kneel in front of him, spreading his knees apart. I can see the generous amount of gel he’s used to work himself open for later. His body is glowing, vibrating with tension. I spit on his dick, enjoying the sight of him flinching as it hits his hot skin. 

Being extra agonizing, I blow some cool air on his tip to really watch him jump. I giggle, sliding the cuff over his length. The pale blue color is a stark contrast to his bright red skin. There is a button near the bass to turn it on and to switch the intensity. The gentle purr of the toy comes to life with a quick tap, and Azriel damn near falls out of the chair.

“Relax,” I say, forcing his knees down. I looked up at him, chest unmoving as he held his breath. “Breath Azriel.”

“I- I can-can’t,” he chokes. “Fuck Yn, it’s too much.”

“It’s only on the first setting, you’ll get used to it. In thirty seconds I’m going to put it on the next setting,” I warn, watching the way his body quivers slightly. 

My mates eyes are slammed shut, teeth clenched together. His cock gently pulses with the vibe, slick trickling down his shaft in a steady stream. To be a little extra mean, I run my tongue up the length.

“Oh gods Yn…” he pleads, head tossed back. His chest is on display, perfectly cut muscles constricting with every breath. 

“You’re being so good, Azriel,” I praise, relishing in the way his body relaxes into the words. “Just a little longer.”

I stand, walking to the corner of the room to the closet. I quietly wheel out the next part of his surprise, setting them aside for when I need them. When I come back, I notice the sheen of sweat lining his chest and torso. It glimmers in the low light, catching at all the right angles. 

I stroke my hands up and down his shoulders, working the tense muscles. He relaxes into my body and I travel further. Over his chest, over his abs, down his thighs. When I reach his cock, I press the next button and turn up the intensity. 

Az growls. In a way I’ve never heard him before. He curls in on himself, kicking his feet against the floor. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, Azriel. I know you want to be my good boy and take your birthday present so well. You’re gonna take it until I tell you you’ve had enough.”

“It feels so good,” he moans. His thighs are shaking, his cock flushed almost purple. “M-More.”

“And now you’re begging for it? Gods, Az you are so easy for me. I’m sure if you'd found this before tonight, I would’ve caught you with it, huh? So fucking desperate.” I can’t help but tease him, he makes it so easy. And he is being so good for me, why not give him what he wants? “You asked for more, Azriel.”

I click it up another notch, watching the way it sends shock waves through the muscles in his thighs and abs. He’s open-mouth panting now, unable to take a breath without whining. He starts shaking his head back and forth, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“You’re not allowed to cum, Azriel. I didn’t give you permission.”

My reminder makes him sob. “Please, please Yn. Fucking please let me cum. Fuck I-I can’t- Yn I can’t-”

“You’re going to,” I demand, pushing the hair out of his face. “Because I told you to. You wanna make me happy, right? I won’t be happy if you cum. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

He shakes his head no rapidly, sweat dripping down his face. 

“Then don’t cum. It’s not that hard.”

Azriel cries out, the noise coming deep within his chest. He tries to cross his legs to relieve the pressure, but I force them to stay open. He shakes and writhes, wings slanted behind his back in a mess of shadows. He cannot sit still, but I don’t reprimand him for it. 

The room is filled with the sound of his harsh breathing and the hum of the vibrator. It’s filled with the scent of his sweat and breath. 

“Yn- Yn turn it off.”

“No.”

He curses, a colorful menagerie falling from his wet lips. “Please please please please please please.”

The sound of him begging, truly begging, makes me grin in a sinister way. This is exactly how I wanted him. A whimpering, desperate mess for me to play with. 

I turn it off. 

Azriel blows out a breath, body still writhing. His cock stands tall, a deep shade of maroon. I know one flick of my tongue would send him over the edge. And having that kind of power over him feels incredible. 

After letting him rest for a second, I decide it’s time for some real fun. I pluck the dildo off the dresser and stand in front of Azriel, waiting for him to look up at me. When those hazel eyes meet mine, they’re glassy and full of pleasure. Almost too much. He looks drunk with his cheeks so rosy and ears flaming red. He looks so adorable all fucked out like this. 

“Stand,” I commanded, watching the words register on his face. 

His knees tremble, but he manages, stretching his taught legs. The sight of him shaking so vividly would normally scare me. But right now it's… it's beautiful. I made him this way, and this ache between my legs couldn't be stronger. 

The cup on the end suctions to the metal chair when I place the dildo down. “Sit.”

“Yn-”

“Sit,” I snapped, eyes hardening. Azriel swallowed, looking from me to the chair and back. “Don’t make me ask again. I told you to sit. So sit down. Now.”

He turned back around, standing above the chair. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he lowered himself to the chair. His arms were bulging against the ropes, veins running along his biceps throbbing with his pulse. But he sits. All the way down. 

With a proud smile, I drink in the way he sits. It's so rigid. His chest barely moves with his quick breaths. His eyes are screwed shut. 

“Azriel,” I taunt, my voice sickly sweet. “What's got you breathing so hard, hmm? Are you in too much pleasure? Does it feel too good?”

His mouth gapes open, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re at a loss for words with how good you feel. So fucking pathetic, completely fucked out the first time you’re taking a toy?” I click on the vibrator again, starting at level two. He thrashes, then grunts, tossing his head back. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good boy. You’ve been pleasing me so much, Azriel, did you know that? You’re making me so happy. Keep being a good boy and I’ll let you cum.”

“Yn…” he breathed, head falling back to meet my eyes.

“What do you need, my shadow? More? You want more?” He shakes his head no, but remains silent. “You can do better than a pitiful shake of your head. Tell me what you want, Azriel.”

“Yn… Yn…” he chants, my name a plea of desperation. It's airy and full of need. 

“That’s it, baby. Tell me what you need, I promise I’ll give it to you.”

With bleary eyes, he looks at me. “Please let me cum.” 

The words are broken and a little slurred, but he told me what he needed. So I’ll give it to him. 

“Such a good boy, Azriel. Telling me how much you need to cum. I’ll make sure you do, baby. Just keep taking it for me. You’re doing soooo good.”

I kept talking to him, praising him for how good he’s taking everything I’ve given him. Azriel is babbling and pleading like a total whore. While he drones on and on, I wheel out the surprise I set in the corner. Three long, vertical mirrors are set around him so he can see every angle of his perfect body. 

So he can watch himself come undone without me even touching him. 

“Azriel, look at me baby,” I commanded. He settles his gaze on me, then the mirrors. “Don’t you think you look so pretty?”

The way his body slumps in the chair sent chills down my spine. He spread his legs, admitting the cuff constricting his cock. Azriel pushes on his toes lightly, bobbing up and down on the dildo. “Fuck I- Yn I look so…so-”

“I want you to keep your eyes locked on the mirror. Don’t look at anything but yourself. This is all for you, take it all in, my shadow. Enjoy watching yourself fall apart for me.”

Azriel nodded. 

I circled him slowly, amused at how… delicate he looked despite the harsh reality of his current fate. He was tied up, more vulnerable than ever. And yet he looked so sweet and simple. And devastatingly ruined. 

At the first touch to the leathery material of his wings, Azriel jumped. He shouted and swore. 

“Relax, Azriel.”

“I can’t handle it when you touch my wings, Yn. I’m not gonna be able to hold on,” Az pleads. I touch him again in the same spot. He shudders and grits his teeth. “Yn please.”

“Eyes on yourself, Azriel.”

With a deep, controlled breath, he pulls his eyes back to the mirrors. As I touch and explore the most sensitive parts of him, he twitches in every direction, effectively screwing himself further on the dildo. I take the curve of my nail and trace a vein running in his wing. Fibers in his muscles seize. 

In the mirror, I can see the cuff working nicely. His chest is coated in sweat and it takes all my strength to not run my tongue from the tip of his cock to the base of his throat. Instead, I continue to tease his wings. 

Azriel has this one specific spot right at the base of his wing that drives him insane. The moment I begin to move my hand, he begins to moan uncontrollably. He begs and whines and begs again for me to make him come. 

“Are you watching yourself, baby?” I ask, locking eyes with him in the mirror. When he nods, eyes cast down at his body, I stroke his wing. Twice. And tears spill down his face. 

“F-Fuck Yn I need to cum. I need to cum, fuck PLEASE let me cum please please please,” Azriel chants like I’m a long forgotten god. As if I would be able to grant all his wishes and desires. And it fills me with a fire I’ve never felt before. 

“You’ve been such a good boy, Azriel. Go ahead. You can cum, let go.” 

The second I gave him permission, he came. His whole body convulsed with the force. His legs and torso shivered, ecstasy pouring out of him with every whine and curse. 

“Fuuuucccckkkkk,” he mewls, watching his cum slide down his cock, spreading over his thighs. The cuff keeps vibrating, drawing out his pleasure. “Turn it off turn it off turn it off-”

“Don’t you wanna see how far you can go? You look so pretty when you cum, I could keep watching you forever, my dear. Why don’t you do it again, okay? You’ve earned it, go ahead and cum for me, just once more.”

His whole body is flush, the same beautiful color as his aching cock. He strains against the ropes and for a minute I think he’s going to break free. But he falls slack, a steady wave of whimpers as the cuff continues to drain him. The flow of it never stops. 

After a few more seconds to enjoy the show for myself, I turn off the vibrator. I gently slide it off, the majority of his seed landing on my fingers. I make a bog show of licking it off for him. 

Azriel is lost in his mind somewhere when I begin to undo the ropes. I massage his shoulders, working blood back into his extremities. 

“You did such an amazing job, my love. I am so proud of you, I hope you had as good of a time as I did.”

Azriel stayed quiet, but he nodded his head, gulping down air. He was shaking, but judging by the way the bond felt, he felt nothing but euphoria. I had done exactly what I was asked, and he loved it. 

While I kneaded his shoulders, kissing up and down his back, he recovered. While I was strong, I wasn’t strong enough to lift a fully grown Illyrian warrior and carry him to the bathroom. Currently, he’s in no condition to move under his own volition, so we’ll take our time until his strength is restored. 

“I love you so much, Az. My beautiful, strong mate. You did such a good job, such a good boy for me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, a lazy smile on his lips. “Love being your good boy.”

“You are, you did so fucking good Azriel. It was so hot watching you cum like that,” I smiled, kissing his forehead, then his lips when he pursed them to me. “Feeling good enough to get to the bathroom? The tub is waiting, ready for you.”

My mate nodded, “Only if you’ll come in with me.”

Giggling, I slung his arm over my shoulder. “Of course I will. Stand up slowly, take your time. I’ve got you.”

With a few hisses as he stood up off the chair, wings splaying out to help him keep his balance, I guided him to the bathroom. He could stand just… not super well. We stumbled, but made it to the tub in one piece. I left him to climb in as I stripped, adding some salts to the bath. 

“I don’t care about that, just get in, my love.”

Illyrians, not known for their extended patience, but they are known for their incredible brutality and bravery.

As well as their wingspans. 

Before he could yank me in with my clothes on, I swept them away with a flick of my hand and climbed in. Azriel guided me to sit in his lap, face to face. His warm, scar-flecked hands caressed my body. It wasn’t in a particularly sexual manner, but I was far too turned on to not let a whimper slip. But he didn’t smirk or crack a teasing joke, he just continued to roam my body. 

It seemed to calm him, the edges of ecstasy fading away from the bond one strand at a time. His heart rate slowed and that glaze over his eyes faded away. 

“Feeling okay?” I asked, stroking my hands up and around the tattoos on his shoulders and chest. 

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Just… wow. My body feels so tingly.”

“Now you know how I feel when you make me cum multiple times.”

Azriel smiled, sending my heart tumbling in my chest. “Guess I should be a bit more gracious with you, shouldn’t I? Considering now you have what you need to retaliate.”

“I think you’d like it if I retaliated,” I grin. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Good time? I’ve never felt so satisfied in my whole life. Thank you for giving me that experience.”

I smiled so wide it hurt. “Of course, my shadow. But the next time you want to have a ‘new experience’, don’t hesitate to wait so long to tell me.”

“I promise,” Azriel whispers, cupping both sides of my face with his hands. Our foreheads lean in together. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

[flowersandshadows112]

My girl Elain Archeron got Azriel to:

-make sounds no one has ever heard before

-nearly beg on his knees for her

-question the Cauldron and the mating bonds

-giving her the Truth Teller, which never happened before

-end his 500-year-old love for Mor

-blush

-up to 3 am listening to her gardening plans

-go to the heart of Hybern’s camp to save her

-putting her well-being over his

-fight with his High Lord because he was ordered to stay away from her

-spouting poetry on their first meeting

-understanding what was wrong with her when no one can

-saying he would do the Blood Duel against her mate to be with her

-his shadows ready to strike whenever someone upsets her

-stay up at night staring at the gift that she got him for a whole year

-not letting anyone eat until she is present at the table

-ready to risk it all knowing that her mate is sleeping upstairs

Am I forgetting something? Maybe😂😂😆😆

[bolinhoelriel]

ELAIN BEING CONNECTED TO ROSES SINCE THE BEGINNING AND AZRIEL'S MOTHER LIVING IN A PLACE CALLED "ROSEHALL"

AZRIEL GOING TO FIND ELAIN IN THE MIDDLE OF A BLOODY WAR WITH THE ICONIC LINE "I'M GETTING HER BACK"

AZRIEL SHOWING MATE BEHAVIOR WHEN RHYS HAS TO GET ELAIN OUT OF HIS ARMS BECAUSE HE WAS TOO WORRIED ABOUT HER WHILE HE WAS THE ONE SERIOUSLY WOUNDED

AZRIEL LOOKING ELAIN UP AND DOWN SILENTLY THEN LEAVING AND MOR STARING FROZEN THE EMPTY PLACE WHERE HE WAS

AZRIEL FINDING OUT WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ELAIN BEFORE HER DAMMN MATE

AZRIEL CARRYING ELAIN BRIDE STYLE TO THE HOUSE WITH SPECIAL ATTENTION TO HER HAIR ON HIS CHEST AND TAKING HER TO THE GARDEN

AZRIEL'S SHADOWS READY TO ATTACK NESTA AFTER SHE HURT ELAIN'S FEELINGS

ELAIN BEING BEST FRIENDS WITH NUALA AND CERRIDWEN

ELAIN SAYING AZRIEL'S SCARRED HANDS ARE BEAUTIFUL AND HE BLUSHING

AZRIEL COMPARING ELAIN TO DAWN, THE RELIEF OF SUNLIGHT RISING AND TAKING OVER ALL THE DARKNESS, AND HE BEING DEPRIVED OF LIGHT IN HIS CHILDHOOD

ELAIN GIFTING AZRIEL AND MAKING HIM LAUGH LOUD WITH JOY

AZRIEL SMELLING ELAIN AND LUCIEN'S BOND AND FEELING SICK

AZRIEL TOUCHING HIMSELF WHILE LOOKING AT ELAIN'S GIFT AND BEING CELIBATE FOR A WHOLE YEAR BECAUSE HE IS FALLING FOR HER

AZRIEL FEELING INSOMNIA BECAUSE OF ELAIN

AZRIEL LOSING THE SNOWBALL FIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME BECAUSE OF ELAIN

AZRIEL SAYING HE WOULD BE ON HIS KNEES FOR A TASTE OF ELAIN'S FLOWER AND HIS EYES ALMOST ROLLING BACK AT HER SWEET SCENT

THE MOTHER BEING OFTEN RELATED TO THEM WHEN THEY ARE TOGETHER

A WHOLE ELRIEL FANART COMING TO FEYRE'S MIND DURING THE TRUTH-TELLER MOMENT WITH A TITLE "DEATH AND HIS LOVELY FAWN"

FEYRE SAYING HOW ELAIN WOULD CLING TO AZRIEL FOR PEACE AND QUIET, HOW THEY WOULD LOOK GOOD TOGETHER AND QUESTIONING THE CAULDRON ALONG WITH AZRIEL

WE FINDING OUT THE CAULDRON WAS ACTUALLY CORRUPTED BY THE ASTERI FOR BREEDING

AZRIEL NOT MENTIONING ELAIN WHEN TALKING ABOUT THE KING OF HYBERN'S DEATH AND THEN LOOKING SILENTLY AT THE TRUTH-TELLER

TO TURN OUT THEY ARE NOT THE NEXT COUPLE???

AAH HELL NAW COME OOONNNN 🤣🤣🤣

[deathxfawn]

i just wanna know wtf this was all about. why is it almost identical to when Rhys realized Feyre was his mate?? why did Mor - with the gift of truth - watch where he vanished long after he was gone??? i feel like it'll just be a forgotten plot point but i sure hope it's explained lol.

[twistedtangledfate]

@solstice-muse-collective sent a confession.

Eilonwy threw her hair over one shoulder. Usually she was a lot more composed, she knew the importance of making sure she didn’t make a fool of herself and often avoided drinking too much. This was one of the rare occasions when the wine went to her head leaving her in a pleasant dizzy state.

She noticed Mor sitting alone and emboldened by her current state she made her way towards her, perching on her lap with a giggle.

“Miss me?” She grinned

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

Mor was sitting alone and that had been by choice. She didn't necessarily regret coming but she wasn't in the best frame of mind to be here and so she had sequestered herself in a corner until the wine could work it's way into her system and loosen her up a bit. She hadn't expected to see Eilonwy but she was a welcome sight. Her lips twitched upwards at the corners when she spotted Eilonwy making her way towards her. That smile faded into momentary shock when Eilonwy slid into her lap. She put her glass down on the small table beside her.

"I always miss you. Your a breath of fresh air." She oh so gently rested a hand on Eilonwy's waist. "Did you miss me?"

[allywritesmanythings]

"Gwynriels are sooo going to be disappointed when E/riel is endgame. There are so many clues and foreshadowing for them."

Oh, so you mean, how E/ain gives back every gift Azriel gives her? Aka truth teller. He gave her something that was so connected to him. A piece of him and she gave it back to him without hesitation. All of the gifts she gave back without hesitation. How he only thinks about her when he wants his dick sucked? How he only views her as the third sister. Or how about when he didn't offer to save her when she was taken and it was only after Cassian offered to go, did he offer his services. Or maybe it was how it's been said that the night Court colors/clothes look awful on her like they are draining her of her color. Oh it must be when he thinks he is super ugly and unworthy of touching her. That has to be it.

Meanwhile;

She keeps all of Lucien's gifts. Lucien is the only one who sees her for her. Lucien is the only one that doesn't treat her like she is a fragile doll. He backed away and gave her the space she wanted. He left his home/court to be closer to her. He is willing to give her up to make her happy. He was the only one to suggest taking her to the garden. Oh and not to mention he went and got their dad.

Another meanwhile;

Azriel unalived all of those Hybern soldiers for hurting her even though he is trained to keep at least one alive. I'll take mate anger for 1,000, Alex! Sarah basically rewrote it to place Azriel there and the one that saved Gwyn. His shadows dance around Gwyn's voice, are brighter when she's around. Also, didn't alert him that Gwyn was coming just like they do with everyone else including people he's known for over 500 years. Nesta called Azriel "the new ribbon" in terms of Gwyn. You know the thing they use in the mating ceremony. He also had a spark in his chest thinking about her teal eyes lighting up. He also feels happy, cared for, worthy of Gwyn. And last but not least; he called Gwyn a "A thing of a secret, lovely beauty"

In conclusion, Sarah knows what she's doing. She is a master of foreshadowing. She also hardly ever gives any of her ACOTAR characters last names. Mor doesnt have one. Emerie doesn't have one. Amren, Azirel, Rhysand, Cassian all don't. But you know who does? Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Gwyn, Lucian. You want to know what they all have in common? A mate or a potential mate.

Feyre/Rhys, Nesta/Cassian, Lucian/Elain, Gwyn/Azriel. This one might be a big reach and I'm admitting that but it's something that I keep thinking about.

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Part Eight

Summary: It’s been nearly four days since Y/n had collapsed, and she still hadn’t woken. Azriel won’t leave her side, he can’t, no matter how worried his family is.

Warnings: none really, kind of a shorter chapter

Series Masterlist

Another day had passed, Azriel refused to leave her room, he sat in the chair by her bedside and would not move no matter how much his family pestered him. Rhys had forced him to at least put some clothes on, but other than that, he’d stayed right at her bedside and spoke to her, feeling the pulse in her wrist flutter each time, feeling that evidence that she was still there. He read to her out of one of the books on her night stand, obvious gifts from Nesta. He struggled through some chapters, face warm, others he skipped entirely.

“Dinner is served,” Mor struts into the room, a tray balanced in her hands, “I can watch over her while you eat and take a damned bath.”

He frowns up at her, “I don’t-“

“Yes you do,” she sniffs pointedly, “You’ve been bed ridden for two days and haven’t bathed once since you woke. She won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

Azriel looks at the female in question, her lips were slightly turned down at the edges, like she could hear them and wasn’t happy to have him leave, “Fine.”

As soon as the word is out of him mouth, he hears running water in the attached bathroom, it seems the house was sick of him stinking up the place. He sighs, carefully standing up from the chair, shaking his head when Mor moved into casual reach incase he fell.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

“I don’t doubt that,” she sighs, rolling her eyes at him, “at least take the time to wash your hair.”

Azriel doesn’t respond as he closes the door behind him, sighing through his nose as he rest against it. There was this strange anxiety in him, even though Y/n was just on the other side of the wall. Watched over by one of his closest friends. The female he’d spent centuries believing he was in love with, and the female he, he didn’t know what it was he felt for. There was this feeling in him, this feeling of desperation when she’d been in danger, before that when she was about to leave him, when he’d seen her cry beneath the stars. Not love, gods he’d known her less than a week, but there was something, something there. A string of shadow connecting them together, one he refused to let go of. Whatever it was, he wonders if the swirling eddies of the cauldron, or the mysterious force of the Wyrd, that brought her here, right to him.

With Quinlann, it had been the blades, Gwydion and Truth Teller, calling to each other from across the stars. When she’d opened the portal between realms, they found each other. But with Y/n, there wasn’t a reason, there was no mysterious object, no intent. Simply a portal that had torn her from her home and thrown her into his path. He’d spent the last day pondering about it, about why exactly she was brought here, brought to him, and he’d come up with nothing but blanks.

Azriel forces himself to focus on the bath before him, to get in and out as quickly as possible so he could get back to her. The water was lukewarm, like the house knew he wasn’t ready to feel the heat. His bandages had been changed early in the day by Madja, the burn on his chest had been the worst of the damage, the imprint of Y/n’s shoulders burned into him from holding her to him. It would heal, there may be the faintest scar, a darker, rougher patch of skin. He found that he didn’t mind it, that he’d be left with that permanent memory of her, even when she finally found her way home.

He scrubs methodically, using the same lavender scented bar of soap on his hair and his body, not bothering with the bottles of soaps lining the edge of the bath. He submerges his entire body, wings included to rinse off, and he’s up and drying off quickly.

The house provides him with a comfortable set of black sleep clothes, loose fitting shirt to not irritate the burns. He dresses without thought, quickly buttoning the shirt around his wings as he moves towards the door.

“Record time,” Mor says as he walks into the room, “I’m surprised you bothered with a towel, instead of shaking out like a dog.”

He rolls his eyes, taking his seat beside Y/n. She hadn’t moved at all, he hadn’t expected her to, her lips would sometimes twitch in her sleep, but that was the only movement he’d seen.

“She’s not going to disappear,” Mor says gently, “You can rest for a while.”

Azriel knew that, knew that if he crossed the hall and collapsed into bed like his body begged him to do, she was would be right here where he left her. But he couldn’t do it, not until she was awake and he could see those eyes, see that insufferable smile, hear her soft accent. He was a desperate fool.

“I’m fine,” he says, “thank you for the food.”

Mor frowns, “I’m worried about you.”

“I know-“

“No I don’t think you do,” she snaps, arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t know what happened between you two, I don’t want to know, but I can’t stand to see you fall apart over a female you hardly even know.”

“Nothing happened between us.” It’s the truth but somehow it feels like a lie on his tongue, “I don’t expect you to understand it, I don’t even understand it.”

“I’ve had lovers in the past, hell I pined after you for centuries.” Azriel doesn’t miss the way she flinches, he’d never actually said the words aloud, “but this is different, she’s just different. She’s not my lover, I don’t love her, I just- I don’t- When I saw her there, trapped in that spell, it felt like someone was carving my heart from my chest with a dull knife, hacking through skin and bones and ripping the thing out.”

He shudders, looking down at Y/n, whatever this was, gods he didn’t know, he didn’t want to know, he just wanted her to wake up.

Azriel feels a slight pressure on his shoulder, Mor’s hand resting there in gentle reassurance, “She’ll wake up.”

“I hope so.”

Azriel wasn’t sure what exactly woke him up, the pain in his back from being slumped over in his chair, his shadows frantically swirling around him, or the hand that gently twines through his hair. His half asleep brain decides the feeling is very very nice and he almost goes right back to sleep.

“Are you alive over there, shadowsinger? It’d be a shame if you weren’t.”

That soft swirling accent washes over him like the warm surf of the summer court. It has him launching up out of his chair, eyes wide and staring at the female who sits up in the spot she’d laid for the past three almost four days. Her face was washed in silvery moonlight from the window, hair a tangled mess on her head, her eyes wide and warm with the fire in her blood, gods she was beautiful.

He’s surging forward before he can even think that it might be a bad idea. Her face is warm, soft between his scarred hands, and her lips feel like heaven as he crashes his mouth to hers.

Her hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer and he could die right then and there. Their lips move in tandem, tongues and teeth clashing in desperation. He can feel her sharp canines, the way they drag on his lower lip, she could tear him to pieces with them and, Mother above, he would let her.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” He pulls back just enough to growl against her, “Don’t you dare, princess.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me, shadowsinger,” she grins against his lips, that insufferable little smile, “it’ll ruin your whole dark brooding warrior image.”

“Shut up.”

She barely has the time to laugh before his lips cover hers again. Azriel’s shadows writhe around them, pulling her closer and closer till she’s practically sitting in his lap. His hands grip her waist, so hard that he’s sure she’ll have bruises in the shape of them. Her hands are tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands in a way that has Azriel purring. Everywhere she touched left him burning, burning with desire for more, more, more.

He’s moving, lips trailing across her jaw and down the side of her throat, he can feel her heart racing, maybe that was his own. Her head falls back, giving his better access to her throat. She lets out a breathless sigh when his teeth graze that sensitive spot, and Azriel wants to hear that noise again and again and again.

“Az,” she gasps, fingers digging into his shoulders like she’s trying to ground herself, “I, gods, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but hold on.”

It takes more effort than it should to pull away, to look into her eyes without begging her to let him keep going, “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, this is amazing,” she sighs, “more than that. I just- I need a minute.”

Azriel sees that look in her eyes, that broken heart behind a wall of ice, “Whatever you need, princess.”

Her head falls, hiding, “I failed, Az. I- I did everything the books said, and I fucked it up.”

His heart squeezes in his chest, and he can’t help but to tug her into his arms. She collapses into him, face buried in the silk of his shirt and she cries. Those silent heavy tears, so Azriel holds her tight as she cries and cries and cries.

Y/n feels warm, safe, there’s a comforting weight across her waist, a hard wall behind her.

Her eyes open, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming through her window. It must be late morning, it had been the middle of the night when she’d woke, finding her hand clasped in Azriel’s, the male himself asleep in the most uncomfortable position possible.

When she’d seen him there, moonlight dancing over his features, she thought he was the most beautiful male she’d ever seen. It felt like her hand moved on its own, raking through those black strands of hair, the slight curl to them tickling her palm.

She’d felt him stirr, felt the way he’d pushed into her hand like a cat seeking attention. It was incredibly cute, which is something she was sure had never been used to describe the spy master.

When he’d realized she was awake, when he’d looked into her eyes, she’d seen the utter desperation behind his whiskey eyes. And when his lips had fallen onto hers, she felt it too. He kissed like a man starved, like she was his last meal and he was going to savor every bite of her. He kissed her like she meant something, like she was worth worshipping. Gods she wanted him to do just that, to take her for all she was worth, to ravish her until she was screaming. But then his teeth had caressed the side of her neck, her pulse racing beneath, and she felt herself slipping, felt the memories slam into her, of the matching scars her parents wore proudly on their necks, of the burning words in her throat, of the spell that had taken control of her and had tried to swallow her whole.

She felt everything crashing into her all at once, and when Azriel had looked at her, nothing but understanding in his eyes, she broke. She must have cried herself to sleep, to be waking up near noon.

Y/n froze as the wall behind her shifted, a body, she realized, that weight across her waist, an arm. Azriel.

She glances over her shoulder, finding the sleeping male. He held her close, face tucked into her shoulder. He made no noise, just soft breathing, lips slightly parted. They were laying beneath the knitted blanket that was usually folded by the foot of the bed, like he hadn’t wanted to wake her to get her beneath the covers.

Y/n shifts, gently trying to lift his arm so that she could escape to the bathroom, but the second she tried, his arm tightens and she’s pulled back against his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Gods spare her, his voice was deep and rasping in her ear. Her eyes look back over her shoulder and she’s met by those hazel eyes, still heavy with sleep. His gaze feels like a brand, like he was taking in all of her, like he was planning to claim her in every way possible.

“The bathroom preferably,” she says, throwing in as much snarky energy as possible to hopefully hide the way her face was heating.

He sighs, “I suppose that’s fine.”

“You suppose?” She scoffs, pushing the heavy arm still wrapped around her waist, “Let go of me you overgrown bat.”

He holds tighter for just a second, “You wound me, princess.”

“You’ll get over it.” She slips out from beneath his hold, “Keep your wandering shadows to yourself, I’m going to bathe, I smell like death.”

Azriel looks at her with predatory focus, resting on his elbows so he can look her up and down, “Hm, I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she rolls her eyes, “Keep them out, I’ll be back.”

Azriel settles back into the pillows, eyes watching each step she takes into the room beyond. She can still feel his gaze when she shuts the door behind her, heavy and burning.

The bath is already filled with steaming water, clothes and towels laid out for her. She thanks the house quietly, slipping out of her tattered clothes and into that hot water.

Her head tilts back, a quiet moan slipping past her lips at the feeling, her body sore from whatever had taken control during the spell, and then even more from laying in bed for the past several days. She takes her time, washing every spot of herself to rid that scent of smoke. Her hair takes longer, tangled and brittle, she uses half the bottle of the sweet smelling soap.

All of her movements are precise, methodical, to keep her brain and hands busy. Because if she stops for to long, her mind is ripped back to that room, to the yawning portal of darkness, that presence on the other side beckoning, whispering, playing with her. What ever it was, ancient and cold, dark and cruel, she felt it reaching for her. And at the same time she’d felt another pull, one from behind, one begging her to stay, to let go of the gods damned book. A string, a lifeline, a way back. She’d cling to that, and let it pull her out.

But still, on the other side of that portal she heard a whisper, a voice young and old, pay the price, gods killer’s kin, pay the price.

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[deathslbx]

i just need to rant for a sec...

the whole idea that azriel only lusts after elain, simply because he hadn't gotten that far in his planning for a future with her, doesn't explain everything else in the text we've been given. it doesn't provide solid ground for anyone else to get their shot with him, either...

this man was in love with mor for 500 years. so much so that it was easily noticed and pointed out by everyone. everyone knew how he felt, the same way they all knew, mor included, that he was never going to act on it. and those closest to him had no idea what really went through his mind all that time. he never opened up to them, he never allowed anyone to read him past the obvious longing.

he never tried. he never fought. he never asked questions. he just accepted it as it was.

why? because he didn't think that he was worthy of mor, he thought she would be happier without him. he admitted to feyre that he'd been alive for centuries and still didn't know where he truly belonged. he tells us that his shadows are truly the only consistent company he has ever had. who he will always have.

rhys tells us that there will come a day when azriel has to decide if he is going to fight for her or let her go, and that it won’t be because some other male insults her or beds her. do you know what that implies? that he has to confront his feelings, that he has to make the decision to fight or let go, and that azriel’s choice will be based on his own emotional growth and understanding of their relationship.

and what has been pointed out to us beyond that in the story? what has feyre noticed, what has nesta and cassian noticed?

a significant change.

a headache powder that could honestly be seen as a silly, fun little gift, is the one thing he's admitted to staring at on his nightstand for over a year. is something that had him tipping his head back to laugh, a sound feyre had never heard before, dark and joyous. that same night, it's him and elain in the sitting room at three in the morning. him listening to elain's gardening plans while everyone else had gone off to sleep.

when he's standing in the doorway and not with the rest of his family by the fire, a pretty lie is told to cover up his truth. 'his secret to tell, never hers,' accompanied by a comforting squeeze because nesta takes a quick look around and understands exactly why he's keeping himself away.

and cassian... bless him, has said he has not had to be a buffer for him and mor as often. he notes that azriel is finally letting go, after centuries, and can't understand why that is. what's changed?

there could be honorable mentions in there as well... mor humming after discussing elain returning truth-teller, the blade azriel had never before let anyone else touch. amren smirking over her glass. rhys stopping their near kiss before they got in way over their heads.

but then we come to find out that azriel, despite how much he might want elain, keeps himself away for a reason. the sight and smell of her mating bond is something he can't stand to be around. so instead, he avoids her, his family, and stays in the HoW and trains late into the night when he can't sleep. he pleasures himself to thoughts of her when his own shadows are too tired to stay up with him. and even still, he looks at that same gift on his nightstand.

'this will be invaluable.'

again, this man who doesn't believe he's worthy, doesn't believe he deserves to have what others have, thinks he's sullied beyond belief because of what he's done, has let go and moved on. and even still, he has never had a reason to question anything further. has never loved someone who has shown any interest in him, who has loved or wanted him back. he has never been a choice.

all he can do is want, and need, and desire. all he can do is stare longingly at a gift that shows him someone has paid attention to him. has spent even the slightest bit of their time trying to understand him. see him when others can't.

and when he finds out that for once, the girl he wants actually wants him back, chooses him instead of walking away, he's supposed to have everything figured out? he's supposed to suddenly believe the idea of a future, with a mate or otherwise, is possible for him? that a pipe dream he's already spent centuries on, might actually be possible for him now?

no. because elain is mated. her mate, in fact, is in the same house. they had never let it get that far before. only glances and brushes of their fingers was ever allowed. he had no idea if she felt the same. even though he knows that she is well aware of why he isn't around as much, why he chooses to stay away.

he understands her, too. more than anyone else has ever tried to do. no one truly sees her, remember?

but in that one moment, when she breathes 'yes,' ... 'offer and permission,' looking into his eyes openly, with so much trust and hope, he thinks it's okay to be selfish just once. to allow himself the chance to taste. just that once and that'll be it. because a reality where he gets to have anything with her isn't possible, she was already given to another.

so, tell me how he is supposed to answer rhys' questions after that? how is he supposed to be this perfect, unflawed character with all the right answers when all his life the things he's wanted never mattered? love, a mate, a future with children? it doesn't matter what he wants. he doesn't think that he deserves it, and he's already admitted that to us. he doesn't allow himself to think, or plan beyond a significant moment in time because he's never been allowed to.

he's never been given a reason to.

but do you know what we did get after that moment? him asking a question, 'what if the cauldron was wrong?' one he had never dared ask out loud before, not in all that time he spent pining after mor. why then, in that specific moment, would he be willing to ask? if he only cares about elain on a physical level, why ask a question that raises the stakes and changes the game for him entirely?

why then would he try to fight for anything at all if he already knows the outcome? if he already knows he doesn't deserve her? if he knows she's mated to another even if it doesn't make sense to him?

these are the right questions. these are the questions people need to be asking themselves, because these are the ones we're going to get the answers to. these questions tie into his entire emotional arc.

he's not the bad boy some people think he is. he's not an asshole in one person’s story and the hero in someone else's. he's been the same guy that was always right in front of us, we have just been given more of him to see.

[solbaby7]

Life of the Party

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: typical jealousy trope, sexual themes, minors DNI, swearing, probably typos, chill boyfriend/party animal girlfriend trope

summary: A spymaster who’s restraint wears thin when his mate is invited to a costume party

—

“Oh wow,” Mor breathes out when you walk in the sitting room; heels clicking against the glossy floors as you made a bee-line for the bar cart. “Azriel’s letting you go?”

“No, which is why I’m rushing.” Your hands shake around the decanter; not with any real fear but your heartbeat does quicken at the reminder of the little white lie you’d told instead of the truth because you knew how it sounded. You, going to a party that you were invited to outside of the Night Court. “Tarquin said he’d meet me at the border.”

“A personal escort from the host himself?” Mor doesn’t bother hiding the implication in her tone and she lets out a low laugh, Amren joining in with a chuckle of her own at the way your eyes roll.

The whiskey Rhysand splurged on was warm going down and after three consecutive shots, the nerves were steadily beginning to subside. “He’s my friend.”

“Did your friend also provide you with that little outfit?”

You glance down at yourself at Armen’s slow drawl, a ruby nail pointing at your frame.

Maybe it was a little much.

The obsidian color of the fighting leather like material fits like second skin on the parts of you that they do cover. There are no sleeves, the neckline fairly tame; a deterrent to offset how much leg was on display. The see through material of the skirt flows tauntingly with each step, the two deep slits on both sides so high your hipbones showed along with the leather straps that curled around your thighs, equipped with two jeweled daggers. Two large swords crossed at your back, the hilts wrapped in blue ribbon; a small reminder of the shadowsinger. It was sexy; meant to make you appear as some warrior goddess—Azriel would never let you step foot out of the house like this. “It was a gift.”

Mor lets out a low whistle, eyes still taking in the details; the gold chains that held together some flimsy underwear that hid your modesty when the breeze cut through too hard. “He’s going to fucking kill you.”

One more shot and you swear you see a shadow lurking about in the corner. Armen smirks at your jumpiness, tucking silky hair behind a pierced ear. “Better hurry along, sounds like he just got home.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat thumping quickly against your chest and you don’t care to let their laughter distract you when you dart from the room. You speed walk on the tips of your toes, trying to make as little noise as possible in the high heels as you prayed to the Mother above to just let you past the front door and then everything would be perfectly fine. Your hair tickles at your shoulders every time your head whips back to ensure you aren’t being followed and you finally feel the cool breeze of the night touch your skin when you bump into a large body.

The gasp that emits is comical, a little yelp, eyes wide and the relief doesn’t settle in even when you notice it’s just Cassian. “Whoa,” He mutters, bright eyes running across your frame and you pray that’s distraction enough for him to not question the way you slowly circle him, adjusting the position and finding a clear path the hell out of there the second he left. “Where are you going dressed like that?”

“Nowhere,” You breathe out, a shaky smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Have you seen Az?”

Cass smirks, taking this as you getting dressed like this for Azriel—some sexy little fantasy made reality and your shoulders immediately relax. “Went inside a couple minutes before I did. He’s probably looking for you.”

“Guess, I better hurry.” He nods, not bothering to hide the way his eyes eat at all the skin you have bared, the sultry curve of ass that peeks out the back of the skirt with each step and he barely notices you’ve gone the wrong way—leaving with a sheepish smile and a wave before you winnowed away.

It sets in when he steps inside the house, spotting Azriel turning the corner and he can’t help the words that form, even when Mor and Armen step out of the sitting room. “Az, you lucky bastard.”

The spymasters brows furrow in confusion, shadows slinking about; drifting beneath the cracks of room after room, reporting your absence back to their master. “What are you talking about?”

“That little outfit your girls got on—I’m surprised you’re even standing here right now.” Mor’s eyes widen, sharing a gaze with Armen and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Azriel’s shoulders subtly square out, spine straightening and the way golden irises darken has the otherworldly woman chuckling to herself. The pieces click without any further information and the scowl that forms on his face is positively hellish. “Did she go to that fucking party?”

Silence.

But it’s plenty answer enough.

Darkness clouds the rooms so thick it was nearly impossible to see even an inch before you and just like that it was gone and so was Azriel.

—

You let out a deep breath, nerves beginning to subside when you stand before Tarquin. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

His hand is warm when he guides your arm into his own, a large palm gentle rested over your own. “Got a bit delayed on the way over. Hope I didn’t miss anything too exciting.”

“No,” He murmurs, a smile growing in the corner of his mouth. “I believe the excitement just arrived.” Stark white hair contrasts against rich skin, Tarquin’s abdomen is exposed, the buttons of his shirt undone and left out of the waistband of his dress pants.

“Who exactly are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a High Lord, I’m not obligated to participate in such things.”

The cool breeze cuts through the thin material, all your exposed skin doing little to stave off the elements but the warmth radiating from the man beside you is enough to hold you over until you breach the main doors. Everyone was dressed in all types of extravagant outfits, some so revealing you wondered if it were a costume at all. “Glad to see that title hasn’t inflated your ego.”

“I’m sure it’ll be much more manageable after a drink or two.”

Two drinks quickly turned to five and then after a few more you’d shuck off to a corner to roll up the mirthroot Mor had generously slid your way a few weeks back. Golden light casts over the room in a sultry glow, music alluring and your hips are moving from side to side without being told. The smoke trickles from your mouth, smile growing as your worries began to fade. You could feel the eyes, the lusty gazes and Tarquin’s genuine joy from just watching.

You’re too caught up in the moment, mirthroot burning between two fingers when the shadowsinger arrives, his intent march abruptly stopped by the High Lord of the Summer Court. Cassian follows close by, Mor and Rhys a few paces behind and their steps abruptly halt when they see you. Perched up on a raised structure, your hips sway in sync with the music, hair flowing behind you and the blue ribbons attached to the swords flutter with each movement. “You,” Azriel all but hisses but Tarquin doesn’t so much as flinch. “—a terrible, horrible influence.”

“Relax," Tarquin drawls out, obviously somewhat affected by the few glasses of wine he'd indulged in. "-- look at her,” Az's hands clench in fists at his sides but the spymaster can’t help the way his eyes shift to you, to the costume and the color you donned; the smoke huffing from your nose like a dragon emerging from her cave for the night and Azriel forgets about what he was mad about in the first place. “She’s just having fun.”

More than having fun.

You were positively the life of the party, others beginning to gather around, watching the warrior of a woman dancing like no one else was there. Your head dips back and Azriel finds his eyes trained on the column of your neck, mouth closing as whatever response he’d originally intended to give the High Lord completely died on his tongue. Something in the way Tarquin remains trained on you has Azriel's shadows go on edge, sizing up the man baring so much skin; lean muscle on display and bright eyes are fixed on the way you move. "Watch this," He mutters, living vicariously through you and Azriel begins to question the true intentions behind the High Lords friendship with you. "It's her favorite part." Water begins to trickle down like fresh rain after weeks of sweltering heat and Azriel's heart actually swells when he hears the laugh you let out; hands raised above your hand to catch the cool drops.

It soaks through your clothes, the flimsy material of your skirt sticking to your thighs and Azriel is acutely aware of exactly how much skin you have on display and the plethora of males and females in the crowd beginning to recognize that same thing. Even Rhysand has a brow raised, head slowly tilting to the side when a particularly obscene about of ass flashes, gold chains holding underwear in place glistening under the flame light.

Azriel doesn't even need to trudge through the sea of sweaty bodies to get to you; eyes catching after turning to send a grateful smile to Tarquin and for a split second your whole body freezes. You recover quickly but you come down from the stand much quicker, body dripping and hair sticking to your neck. The closer you approach your mate, the more aware you become of the smell of the mirthroot stuck to your clothes, lacing your breath and Az doesn't seem swayed in the slightest by the sweet smile you offer him when you reach. "Nice party, right?"

Aureate irises drag down the length of your frame, catching on the parts of you made visible from the impromptu shower and Az can't help but be a little disappointed to see your makeup still in place. He'd always got a little frenzied when he saw you all messy; eyeshadow smeared and mascara dripping down your cheeks while he fucked off the sticky lipgloss that smelled like cherries. The evaluation pauses at the holsters wrapped around your thighs, jewels in shades of blue intricately welded together on the daggers peeking out the sodden skirt. "It would appear so," Shadows curl around your legs, avoiding the gift of a costume as if it were toxic waste. "I hope you enjoyed it because we are going home."

"But, I just got here."

"Yeah, Shadowsinger," Tarquin tacks on and Az's hand twitches to punch him; to wipe that smug grin off his face and to demand Rhys erase decades of memories the two of you had made before ever even meeting Azriel because no other male should be this comfortable with you. "She just got here and she hasn't even begun to make a dent in the bag of mirthroot Mor got her." The blonde in question huffs, eyes going a little wide but she doesn't seem too worried-- confident that whatever Az had planned for you was far worse than anything he could conjure up for her.

"Actually, he's right," You pull away from the High Lord with a warm smile, offering a hug and thanks for everything and Cassian hides the laugh that grows at the sight of Azriel's jaw clenched so tight; shadows just itching to slice off the hand that lingered a little too low in the dip of your back. "We should be getting home."

Az wastes no time tugging you to his side, nose grazing your temple when whispering in your ear. "When we get back take these clothes off but leave those on." Shadows twist at the fat of your thigh, around the holsters and the weapons they held. "Only those."

A smile grows, pupils blown and the way you glance up through thick lashes has his cock hardening in his pants. "Yes, sir."

[feyresdandelion]

Things I want to happen in Elain’s book

This is considering I want the next book after Elain’s to focus on Mor/Emerie.

Azriel eating Elain out.

Elain breaking her bond with Lucien and how that looks like.

Elain being petty towards people because she’s tired of being treated like a porcelain doll.

Elain using truth teller again.

Elain being a spy for the night court.

More Feysand + Nyx.

Nyx scenes with Elain/Azriel.

Secret relationship moments. I want them almost getting caught kissing, touches when no one is looking.

Koschei plot gets resolved, Vassa is free and she and Lucien get together.

Mor coming out to Azriel. Just Azriel, tho, her full coming out scene should be saved for her book.

Tarquin and Gwyn romance. Random but I love their crackship.

Elain and Azriel going to Rosehall.

Elriel wedding. Please sjm give us an on page wedding.

The revival of the Dusk Court.

Elain calling Azriel’s hands beautiful again.

Azriel being down bad for her. Love when mmc are pathetically in love with the fmc.

Elain going to the Spring Court and hating it there.

Rhysand gifting the town house to elriel, the same way he did with nessian and the how.

Rhysand apologizing and Elain tearing him a new one.

Sister moments between Elain, Feyre and Nesta.

More Nuala and Cerridwen.

How Elain’s visions work. More of her powers.

Not as much smut as acosf, I want the book to be fluffy.

Elain going to the mortal lands with Azriel and Graysen seeing how happy and beautiful she is and feeling like shit when he realizes he missed out on a beautiful and amazing woman.

Mor and Emerie’s surfacing romance.

And that’s about it. I can’t remember anything more I would like to read.

[nikethestatue]

See, the argument 'but he did it with Mor first' doesn't hold as much water as the antis think it does.

It's actually a good argument. In favour of...Elriel.

But he saved Mor first

But he laughed with Mor first

But he gave Mor gifts first

He beat up Eris because he was disrespectful to Mor

But he ....whatever he did with Mor.

Thing is: HE DID. He did all those things with Mor.

Because Mor was his first love. And a long term love, we are led to believe. A love so strong, it's become legendary. This love has TENURE. It's the BIG LOVE.

Which has been annihilated by Elain.

That's the thing. The BIG LOVE went poof. Once Elain arrived on the scene, it was HER and only her.

It was Elain that Azriel clung to

It was Elain that Azriel risked his life for

It was Elain that Azriel armed with Truth Teller (not Mor)

It was Elain that Azriel was looking for in the windows

It was Elain that made Azriel laugh

It was Elain that he wanted to sit at the head of the table, forbidding everyone, including Mor, from eating

It was Elain that he rushed over to to wish her a Happy Solstice

It's Elain's gift he's been looking at for a year

It's Elain's necklace

It's because of Elain that he lost the snowball fight

It's because of Elain that he couldn't sleep

It's because of Elain that he didn't bother answering 'what of Mor?'

I might question the strength of his love for Mor, but no one denies that he did love her, and that he did many things for her which were heroic, passionate and reckless.

But once Elain arrived, Mor was forgotten. Because he wants Elain. Because Elain managed to make him forget all about his 500 year old love by doing...nothing.

And that's the deal with Azriel and Elain.