We are excited to celebrate everyone's favorite shadowsinger, Azriel! Azriel Appreciation Week will be November 9-15, 2025.
A few things first:
🔹We will be using the tag #azrielappreciationweek2025. We will not be doing a masterlist, so this will be your guide on what's been posted this year.
🔹Be sure to also tag us (@azrielappreciationweek) in your posts so we can share them on this page!
🔹Positivity only: all ships are welcome, but be respectful. Ships should be appropriately tagged in posts.
🔹Find us on Instagram.
🎨: Aggiedraws_ (IG) & lilitherie (IG)
Find prompt descriptions under the cut.
Alter-Ego: Azriel’s character can sometimes be a mystery. Use this prompt to explore all the possible sides to his personality or alternate persona—his “alter-ego’s.” Maybe it’s punk-rock Azriel, club-rat Azriel, secret-poet Azriel, or even romance-reader Azriel. The possibilities are endless.
🎨: charliebowater (IG)
Zzz’s: No one can deny Azriel is a stressed out male. For this prompt, how do you think he finds relaxation? Can you see him meditating? Having a hobby? Maybe taking it out in the training ring? Or perhaps he simply recharges somewhere peaceful and quiet.
🎨: @ruisfree | Comm: @jasmineandshadows
Rebel: Azriel may be a loyal soldier, but we’ve seen that’s not always the case. “Chain-me-to-a-tree” Azriel showed us a peek at his rebellious nature. Kind of hard not to be when you possess the power of flight, beauty, and other-worldly abilities. Utilize this prompt to showcase Azriel’s rebellious side.
🎨: isa.sketches (IG)
Imperfections: A good character is never flawless. Imperfections give a character depth. Azriel is no-doubt a fan-favorite, but that doesn’t mean he is free of such flaws. This prompt is meant to explore those not-so-perfect sides of him and how his character has developed over the course of the series.
🎨: muffy.draws (IG) | Comm: agfireheart (IG)
Espionage: It is no secret our favorite spymaster possesses lethal skills. This prompt highlights all his powers, abilities, and mastery of stealth. Dive into all your ideas for secret missions, theories, or maybe even the darker aspects of his role as the Night Court’s spy.
🎨: @mysleepyblue
Longing: Azriel longs for what his brothers have found: true love, a partner, a lover. This prompt is meant to delve into all things romance. Whether you imagine Azriel as a yearner or a single bachelor, use this prompt to showcase Azriel’s love life.
🎨: _katart07_ (IG) | Comm: elain_kingslayer (IG)
Free: Free day! Feel free to use this day to post any content that didn’t fit a previous prompt. We can’t wait to see what you all create and share!
Thank you to everyone who helped us celebrate our favorite shadowsinger! All of this year’s posts have been tagged with #azrielappreciationweek2025 to make it easy to find on our page.
We’ll be back next year (hopefully with a book announcement) from November 8-14, 2026!
Azriel and Gwyn have just returned from their frenzy, and their first duty back is to attend a pre-Solstice celebration in the Hewn City. But they haven't quite shaken off those frenzied feelings yet...
Read on AO3.
All my Azriels are always no thoughts, just vibes, and that was my own mindset while writing this—no deep thoughts, just smutty vibes.
Also, this is the first time I've EVER allowed Azriel come in a fic—he's been an unwitting voyeur, edged within an inch of his life and left hanging, and only gotten a kiss in a G-rated fic (and I barely gave him that)—so he should be grateful that it's @azrielappreciationweek and I let him.
Shadows, Siphons and Fog; has something happened in Velaris?
Are the Illyrians demons from Hel, and can Koschei steal their power - siphon it - for his own plans? Was this hinted at in the last chapter of HOSAB?
Please don't screenshot or share this post without credit.
Disclaimer: the following post discusses a theory that, like all the rest, is simply my thoughts based on the text, and makes no claims of accuracy. TOG, CC (HOEAB and HOSAB) spoilers and content below so beware. Thanks to everyone who helped me think this through: @silverlinedeyes, @psychee92, @merymoonbeam, @wingedblooms, @icedflames and more.
Thanks to a massive lack of motivation to actually write up any theory whatsoever, this post has been in draft form since the spoilers were released; it essentially combines a crack theory about the origin of the Illyrians that I had last year with new (and very pertinent) information from CC HOSAB. Because of the crack theory, it'll require a little back story to explain my thoughts, but to summarise: I have been wondering whether chapter 78 of HOSAB hints at some sort of disaster having hit Velaris by the time Bryce had arrived... and who is the chiefest and greatest of calamities in Prythian's world?
Koschei.
But, back to the beginning. The crack theory:
Who created the Illyrians, and can their killing power be siphoned away?
This is something that I had wondered for a while, but I suspected that, like the Asteri created the Malakim in Midgard (Crescent City), Koschei, or another death god - and are they the same as, or similar to, the Asteri of Midgard, or perhaps the Under Kings? The Daglan? - may have had a hand in creating the Illyrians* in Prythian's world.
*I wasn't thinking that the Illyrians would be inherently "bad," just drawing parallels between two winged races in connected worlds, both of whom have, historically, been treated as canon fodder.
ACOSF
ACOMAF
ACOMAF
ACOMAF
Events in HOSAB appear to have debunked this crack theory, and it seems more likely - though still unconfirmed - that Apollion, and/or another Prince of Hel, may have been involved in the creation of the Illyrians, instead. This would mean that they are probably considered demons, or daemonaki.*
* While I'm not sure whether the Illyrians are demons or daemonaki, the story of the lower-level demon bringing an entire city to a standstill (yellow quote below) reminds me of Cassian being banned - some might say "banished" - from the Summer Court for all eternity for destroying "one building." Whereas Rhys on the other hand (and very likely Azriel, too), isn't fully Illyrian, so if this theory holds, he would be considered a daemonaki. It might be nothing, of course, but it could also be something.
CC HOEAB
CC HOEAB
CC HOSAB
All of that being said, given the consistently similar imagery between Koschei and the Princes of Hel - darkness, death, mist, wind etc, which a few of us associate with beings possibly from the Void - I think there could still be potential for some sort of link between Koschei and the Illyrians of Prythian's Night Court. It depends how the Daglan fit in.
The following formed the basis for my theory about Koschei creating the Illyrians, which seems less likely now, but could still be relevant going forward:
Koschei: is a death god who has wind, mist and shadow powers, amongst other magics.
Illyrians: are neither high nor lesser fae; rather, they are "just Illyrian," and are born "hearing the song of the wind." Are they fae at all, given they have demon wings? Could they be demons, or daemonaki? It's certainly plausible.
Illyrian magic: killing power.
Significant places: Windhaven, the House of Wind.
Siphon: means to draw matter from a source, especially illegally or unfairly.
* @silverlinedeyes has written a theory about the Illyrians, too; please check it out, her posts are always worth a read.
In the not too distant future (ie. the upcoming war), I think we could possibly see Koschei use the Illyrians with killing power - with siphons - to charge himself, or perhaps an object of power, as Bryce did using the Heart Gate... and I don't think that he will ask for their permission to do so. It's no coincidence that Azriel and Cassian both exist at the same time as Rhys - the most powerful High Lord - and the newly Made Archeron sisters (and likely Mor, Lucien and Vassa), and that trouble is concurrently brewing.
Speaking of Azriel and Cassian, has anyone else noticed something suspicious about the placement of their seven siphons?
It seems to mimic both the gates of Lunathion, from which Bryce siphoned power during the climax of HOEAB, as well as the six-pointed star of candles that Hypaxia used to attempt a summoning for Ithan, in HOSAB. I've highlighted the Gates on the map of Lunathion below, and added text to demonstrate how they might match their siphons.
CC HOEAB Map
CC HOSAB
Bryce took power from the Heart Gate, the centre of Lunathion's six-pointed star, and Hypaxia said she would focus her power at the candle in the same position, in order to summon the spirit - the secondlight, or rather, the power that remained - of Ithan's brother, Connor Holstrom; Hypaxia also mentioned that the six-pointed star represented balance (although, interestingly, she accidentally summoned the Under King - who I think could be related to Koschei - instead of Connor).
Is this how Koschei might siphon power, primarily using Azriel and Cassian, if not all Illyrians, as batteries? If Illyrians are "born hearing the song of the wind," could they even resist a Death god's magical assault and theft?
Alternatively, will this play into something similar to Hunt charging Bryce/the Horn/the Starsword with his lightning, which seems to be another sort of raw power? Might Elain and Nesta, who were dipped into the Cauldron, and appear to have a more elemental magic than other High Fae, be charged by - or recharge - Azriel and Cassian's killing power, respectively?
Could the priestesses and their invoking stones - which have been likened to siphons before - be involved, too? Either channelling the killing power of "siphoned" Illyrians in general through their invoking stones, turning it into a protective magic, or charging them en masse in return? As @silverlinedeyes suggested - and I agree - they appear to be a standing army left to defend against the Asteri's return; could this be what was intended?
But moving on to the second part of the post...
There were hints that something great and terrible may have happened to Velaris, in chapter 78 of HOSAB
Bryce described Azriel and Cassian, the most likely candidates for the two unnamed, winged males, without their siphons.
Did Bryce, who noted their scaled armour, just neglect to mention the pretty, coloured stones that should also have been there? Or, for whatever reason, were they not wearing their siphons at all?
Azriel's shadows weren't mentioned.
For Bryce, who has a half-brother with remarkably similar powers, who noticed Rhys' resemblance to Ruhn almost immediately, and who described the difference in sound between Hunt's feathered wings and Azriel's leathery "demon" wings during flight... this seems like an odd piece of information to overlook. To clarify, I am NOT saying that he has lost them for good, but I am suggesting that there may be a sinister reason for their notable absence.
Perhaps, as I've mentioned before, he discovered that one or more of his shadows were actually placed by Koschei, to monitor his activities and spy on the Night Court, so he has had to suppress them?
Alternatively, could Koschei - who has magic that sounds eerily similar to that of a shadowsinger, and canonically more powerful shadows, to boot - have (temporarily) lured them away?
"Sighing mist" and dense fog.
This appears to be setting the scene, and giving calm before the storm vibes; Koschei is associated with storms.
HOSAB is full of shadow, fog and mist imagery that doesn't appear to be benevolent, especially when the Under King, the Reapers are present.
Or, on the other hand, if Elain Archeron was at least partly behind Bryce's arrival - like Hypaxia, could she have attempted a summoning and got more than she bargained for? - might the mist be a result of her own powers? She has said before that she must See through "mist and shadow," so it's possible that such a large-scale use of her Sight could have some unintended side effects.
Is Velaris empty, or in hiding?
One of the first things that Lucien noted on his arrival to Velaris was that he could hear children playing in the street. So, what has changed?
Why is Velaris no longer full of the sounds of happy residents and playing children; the signs of life?
The last time this happened, it was because Amren was "on the hunt" for any rogue agents of the King of Hybern - who I suspect was working for Koschei all along - in ACOWAR, after the twin Ravens attacked Feyre and Nesta in the library under the House of Wind.
What could all of this mean?
Is the pervasive presence of the mist and fog in Velaris because of something Koschei the Sorcerer has done?
Does the mist and fog report back to him, or act to dampen the magic of those who may act to save Velaris, Prythian, and their world?
It could be because of Elain attempting a powerful scrying - she once peered across the world with no training, could she See across worlds, plural, with some experience? - but I can't imagine why that would result in the otherwise silent city.
Are Azriel and Cassian not wearing siphons because they are no longer safe to use?
Have the rest of the Illyrians followed suit?
Is this evidence that Koschei, a death god (who is perhaps equivalent to an Under King, or even the Asteri of Midgard), could use the siphons to, well, "siphon" Illyrian killing power for his own use?
Are they managing the killing power some other way, or is it gone, at least temporarily, having been stolen to fuel Koschei's machinations?
Similarly, why were Azriel's shadows not visible?
Was it not because he is happily with Elain, such that they have "brightened" from her presence (crack theory: his shadows can brighten around the Starborn, especially, and Elain is one of them), but because he knows Koschei can use them for his own purposes, so he has to keep them under strict control?
The chapter is giving me vibes from a book by Tamora Pierce, called Wild Magic, where a magical fog that was full of dampening spells that restricted the use of magical "Gifts," was flown over a castle and keep, and the protagonist's wild magic was the only power that could continue unimpeded. Does (any part of) Elain's magic function such that this may be the case? Will she need saltwater, just like Daine? And Azriel, who is, potentially, associated in some way with Koschei the Sorcerer... could he ever learn to use mist and magic spells as Koschei does? Rhys can cast spells, too, and has been studying with Helion Spell-Cleaver. Could Elain and Azriel, maybe with Rhys - hypothetically of course - work together to rid Velaris of the mist and fog that appears to plague it, assuming that this is what's happening at this point in time?
When I first drafted this post, I thought that Bryce's arrival would occurr at the end of ACOTAR 5 - the point by which Koschei would most likely have escaped his lake - so this could be, as I said earlier, the calm before the escalation of the war, when the IC is waiting to see, or perhaps, rather, to See, what move Koschei and his allies would make next. There is a good chance that Bryce was "yanked" into Prythian's world before Koschei has been defeated, purely because the Inner Circle will likely need Gwydion, aka the Starsword, to defeat him. At least, I can see them thinking that, especially given what was suggested about its magical partnership with Truth-Teller.
Now, though? If CC 3 is coming next - and we have no solid reason to assume otherwise - it's harder to say what it could all mean with any certainty; I'm not sure of the impact that bringing CC 3 forward will have on the timing of events in ACOTAR 5 when compared to Bryce's visit to Velaris. Regardless, I think that details from chapter 78 of HOSAB will be pertinent to the plot of future ACOTAR books, as well as CC 3.
Does the following passage further suggest that Azriel himself could be a conduit or condenser of magic?
I'm reblogging this old post with a quick addition for this year's @azrielappreciationweek day 5 (or day 7).
Disclaimer: this is not a proper theory sorry, it's more of a brief, cracked ramble written late at night with no editing.
Spoilers: Maasverse spoilers below the break...
"No one's got any rope?" Bryce asked pathetically. She was met with incredulous silence. Bryce nodded to Azriel. "Those shadows of yours could take form-they caused that cave-in. Can't you, like, make a bridge or something? Or your blue light... you seemed to think it could have restrained the Wyrm. Make a rope with that." His brows rose. "Neither of those things is remotely possible. The shadows are made of magic, just very condensed. These"-he motioned to the blue stones in his armor-"concentrate my power and allow me to craft it into things that resemble weapons. But they're still only magic -power." Bryce's mouth twisted to the side. "So it's like a laser?" - HOFAS, chapter 16
I've previously discussed my thoughts about Illyrian "siphons" containing a clue as to their ultimate function in the name, as well as theorised that Azriel - like Elain - may be some sort of conduit for a deity after his painful experiences in his father's dungeons potentially linking him to the divine.
Well, tonight I wondered if maybe SJM was giving a similar hint when she described Azriel's shadows as simply "very condensed" magic in HOFAS. Could a deity want to use Azriel to condense/siphon a bigger sort of magic - like the Void? - and is the shadows' existence a hint that he would be compatible in this regard?
Furthering this nonsense, in the theory I mentioned above I suggested that the Illyrians may have been designed as some sort of living battery from which Someone could siphon off power in large amounts. I also noted that it was strange that Cassian and Azriel each had seven siphons. It's been years since I took chemistry or physics, so please feel free to correct me, but batteries have both positive and negative terminals. Could Cassian be the hypothetical cathode, and Azriel the anode? Or could Elain be Azriel's cathode, and Feyre and Nesta be the same to Rhys and Cassian (if those of us who think they're all carranam/conduits are correct)? I dunno, like I said this is probably complete bullshit. Or maybe not. I feel like it has to be something. 😅
More theories about Azriel/my thoughts in general if you're interested:
Summary:
Day 7 of @azrielappreciationweekAzriel - Free Day.
In this piece, I just wanted to explore the things Azriel does when no one is looking. The things he enjoys and never has a chance to share with someone because he has to put on this cold front to garner the respect required of his position. Azriel is in Vallahan on a mission and completes it earlier than expected. Still, rather than going back to Velaris right away, he takes a day or two to enjoy things he likes to do but can't do in Velaris because everybody knows him, and this particular passion he wants to keep for himself.
He was finally done with his latest mission in Vallahan. However, he wasn’t going to report to Rhys just yet. He wanted a couple of days off before Rhys sent him on another wild goose chase. He was doing a lot of that these days—an apparent attempt to keep him busy and away from Velaris and temptation. Azriel was actually glad he was kept busy, because staying still meant wandering thoughts and heartache. So rather than return to Velaris right away, he decided to remain in Vallahan to indulge in something he liked, which he could not do in Velaris.
Azriel could not do it in Prythian. He was well known everywhere. Everybody feared him or hated him, and he could not go anywhere without being noticed and talked about. That was the only reason he enjoyed coming to Vallahan, because here in this bustling city, he was just another lesser fairy. A huge one at that, but he could blend in with the myriad of other hulking figures passing by. Everyone was an “other” in this melting pot. His shadows blended in the night, so no one paid him any mind as he strolled along the busy streets. He was wearing a fine black suit, which made him look distinguished and elegant; it was the suit he always wore at Court here. But tonight, the suit was perfect for his outing. He finally arrived at the place and instead of going through the front doors like everyone else, he slipped in through the alleyway door when an unsuspecting person left it open long enough for him to shadowalk inside unseen.
He quickly went up the stairs, encountering several people dressed in costumes who paid him absolutely no mind. He blended with all the other performers. He continued up the stairs, and no one stopped him. As he reached the very top floor, he opened the door that would lead to the top-level private box he had reserved for himself. He bought all the seats, so he would not have to share with apprehensive strangers. He sat and closed the curtains, deciding to sit on the chair closest to the stage, blending with the shadows there. Perfect, he could now relax and enjoy the performance.
Soon after he got comfortable, the lights dimmed, and the audience hushed. This was his favorite part, the quiet that befell the space in anticipation of what was coming. Azriel’s eyes were focused on the conductor, fixated on his upraised baton, waiting to signal the orchestra to play the first notes. Then, the conductor’s hands moved imperceptibly to most of the audience, but not to Azriel. The orchestra began the instrumental overture as the conductor's hands moved swiftly, creating a dramatic atmosphere. Azriel’s skin erupted in goosebumps, and his shadows were weaving the air as if trying to trace the patterns of the music. They moved and jumped whenever the bows touched the instruments' strings.
Azriel, like his shadows, loved the bright, delicate sound of the violins and how it blended so well with the deep, melancholic one of the cellos. The music was initially exhilarating, then it turned somber, with restrained sorrow and gravity. As the spotlight on the stage lit up, a performer dressed in a white tunic and pants began singing a sorrowful melody of grief and loss. Azriel had never seen this particular performance before; he knew it was based on a human tale of tragedy called “Orfeo ed Euridice”, but he didn’t know the story, except that it was one of Elain’s favorites. He had overheard her talking about her favorite human stories with Mor on Solstice. However, since he had remained at the door most of the night, he could not hear the rest as they moved further into the room.
The performer's tenor voice was rich and radiant, like sun rays parting the clouds. He was joined on stage by a group of performers dressed in grey and black tunics, singing a mourning piece, carrying the pain of Orfeo further. Azriel could understand that Orfeo was singing about losing his beloved. His grief was palpable through the tenor's impassioned voice and emotional fervor. Azriel was leaning on the balcony, mouth open, his shadows dancing around him, entranced by the tenor’s heartbreaking plea to his Gods.
A performer with white peregrine wings appeared on stage, and a full-bodied, velvet-like, and sympathetic soprano voice flowed through the Opera house. Azriel had to consult the program notes to understand the performer’s role. According to the synopsis in the program, this was Cupid, a God, offering Orfeo the chance to try and retrieve his beloved Euridice from the Underworld. His shadows are trying to reach down to the stage, seemingly advancing toward the soprano. Azriel sternly calls them back, and they reluctantly return. He quickly glances at the other boxes to make sure no one noticed them. The shadows are not happy, but they stay.
The first act is done; now, in the second act, Orfeo is in the Underworld. Multiple performers, dressed in black tunics and wearing white makeup, appear on stage. They are supposed to represent terrifying spirits and spectres that live in the Underworld. Orpheus sings so beautifully and movingly that he convinces the Gods to let Euridice return to the upper world with him. However, there is a catch: he must not look back at her until they are in the Upper world. Azriel is at the edge of his seat, his shadows writhing and dancing around him as the music reaches a frenzied crescendo of emotion conveyed by the tenor and soprano’s song. Euridice is heartbroken because Orfeo does not look at her, but Orfeo cannot explain to her why, as part of the bargain he made with the Gods. The orchestra, the heavenly voices, and the powerful performances of the Opera singers moved Azriel so much that tears welled in his eyes.
As the final act comes, Orfeo could not bear to hear Euridice’s cries and turned to look at her, losing her to the Underworld forever. Azriel could not contain the tears that fell from his eyes. He was so dejected that his shadows enveloped him soothingly. As the tenor is singing his tragedy and grief, Azriel could not take it anymore. He was so emotionally overwhelmed that he got up to leave. Still, as he opened the curtains to step out, the soprano voice of Cupid was heard again. He turned around, and he looked at the synopsis again. It was Cupid taking Orfeo to reunite with his beloved in heaven. Azriel was so happy to see Orfeo and Euridice reunited at last that this time his tears were of joy.
Azriel read in the synopsis that the original human tale ended in tragedy. However, the composer of this Opera hated the ending so much that he created his own. Azriel was pleased he got to see this version. The first time he saw an Opera here, it was the tale of Arben and Zana, a folk tale turned lullaby over the centuries. He had always loved that tale as a child, and his mother would sing it before he went to sleep when he was still with her. During the years he was in the cell of his father’s keep, his mother would sing it occasionally to him when he was allowed to see her. He loved his mother’s voice. However, hearing the song in the voices of both a tenor and a soprano was such a dramatically impactful experience for him that he decided Opera was his favorite thing in the world.
They say that Opera causes people to react in two ways. One either hates it with a passion and never wants to hear it again, or one loves it so much that it becomes part of one's soul. Azriel was in the latter category, and he took every opportunity he had to attend a performance in the Vallahan Opera house. Today, as he exited the venue through the back alley, his heart was both full of music and hollowed out. An impossibility for anyone, except for Azriel. He knew only the Gods could help him with his plight, but they were not listening. The piece that was missing inside his heart, which left a big gaping hole, could only be replenished with an impossibility. Azriel thought, if there is a God that is listening, and a song is all it takes to make it happen, he would gladly break his rule of not singing for anyone except his shadows. He would endure not talking to his beloved, as long as, in the end, she was by his side.
The Opera always made him emotional; it was just this particular piece that struck him hardest. Perhaps he was already emotional before coming here, but that is why he loved it. It allowed him to expel everything he had been holding inside. To him, the Opera was cathartic, and it gave him clarity. He knew now what he needed to do. It will just require time and patience… something he had plenty of. Azriel smiled to himself… he certainly had a lot more patience and restraint than Orfeo.
Inspiration for this Fic:
A tale as old as time... Orfeo ed Euridice, the Opera, is a retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.
Az’s hand clamps over your mouth, calluses rough against your cheeks, smothering the moan he knew would spill out. His usual command, “let me hear you,” is choked by the threat of detection. Its absence electrifies the air, tightening the coil in your gut.
Furs and velvet cloaks shield you from the open door, yet barely dull your whimpers. Strains of orchestral music and the clink of glasses drift in from the banquet beyond, a fragile veil between you and discovery.
A burst of laughter from the hall snatches your focus, then the thrill curls your toes.
Straddling his lap, your skirt swallows his forearm as his fingers curve inside you, kneading your throbbing walls. You seize his bicep, a shudder of raw need rippling from your core. His cock—hard and desperate—strains through fabric, yearning for skin.
Minutes have bled into a hazy stretch—your thighs slick and breath ragged from the agonizing build. Your blood surges, molten and wild, with every drag of his palm over your clit. Your spine curves, head tipping back onto his shoulder, throat exposed to his breath.
You balance on a dagger’s point.
Cauldron, the pressure from both inside and out—
“I’ve got you. Let go.” A whisper. A caress. A command.
You tumble.
Frenzied climbing shatters—warm surrender floods in.
Your teeth carve new meaning into old scars, the map of his suffering redrawn by your mouth. His groan vibrates through your ribs, a rumble felt in your marrow.
Azriel’s gravity anchors you, weightless in cocooning satin darkness. Your veins fizz like champagne bubbling to the surface.
Shadows quiver against your hair. His cock twitches beneath you.
“Please,” you breathe. “Need all of you.”
He shifts and shadows curl under you, lifting gently. In your periphery, glistening fingers slip between his lips, sucking off your essence. A spark ignites low in your belly, flames flickering back to life from coals.
You twist toward him, tongue chasing mingled salt from scarred knuckle to tip.
The hunger in his stare licks up your spine.
Metal clinks—his belt unbuckling. His length smacks your thigh—a promise, heavy and thick. You swallow a moan before it can escape.
Fingers sweep soaked fabric aside. Cool air kisses swollen folds, a shiver racing upwards. Hot velvet nudges, skating along your slit, bathing in slick warmth. His breath roughens against your nape. Your clit pulses, demanding.
A slow stretch. Deliberate sliding. Mirrored gasps.
His control is measured in millimeters, not inches—each tick endless. Girth glides, splitting you open, walls yielding until you’re panting at the spread.
He’s shaking—a rubber band on the verge of snapping. Teeth prick your shoulder, cock and bite both piercing deep. Your lips part, back bending.
At last, he stills, exhaling. His jaw eases. You shift, just a fraction, and meet unyielding, hot thickness.
“Fuck, Azriel,” you breathe, “You never fill me better than when you know we can get caught.”
His chuckle slinks down your spine. “Why do you think I brought you somewhere with an open door?”
Heat floods your cheeks and cunt at once.
Your weight hangs in bands of shadow, freeing his hands to grip your hips. He rocks inside you, slow and deep. Every nerve awakens.
Drag, stretch, retreat.
Cauldron boil you, how the fuck does he use his own shadows as leverage?
His pace quickens and slick, wet sounds disturb the hush. Thrill percolates through your chest.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
“Anyone could hear,” you whisper, eyeing the light spilling through the gaping entrance. You listen—footsteps, voices?—heart thundering.
“Exactly,” Azriel says, voice a sharp, husky cut. He drives in harder, urging the noises louder.
A large hand collars your throat—holding, not restricting. He draws you back until his mouth skims your ear. “Half tempted to make you scream just so fae come running.” Scraping—tugging—on your earlobe as his hips keep pumping, relentless.
Fireworks burst through you, lighting up every place you connect. You squeeze around his girth; his breath stutters. He changes rhythm, each thrust granting every inch.
Your muscles lock. You chew a moan down; the tail end breaks into a whimper.
He swells impossibly thicker inside you. Your lips curve. It’s always quicker in public. Much quicker.
He murmurs in your ear—soft voice, hard strokes. “Such a good girl, taking all of me.”
Your vision blurs; desire fogs everything. His words. His voice. His cock. Fuck, he’s so big he rubs your clit from the inside.
The shadows stir. He slams to the hilt and freezes. Barely audible, “Someone’s coming. Be good and keep it warm until they leave. Don’t. Move.”
Breath tight, pulse feral, you twist enough to view his face. Shadows skim your thigh, adjusting your skewed skirt without a sound. Goosebumps streak down your legs.
Split open on his cock, strangers steps away. His full length buried deep. How long will you stay stretched around him? What if they find you?
Azriel’s still as stone, yet throbbing inside you. Something electric flickers in his eyes—interest sharpened to a point.
A female voice—too close. “Right away, my lord.”
His pulse thrashes like it’s trying to break free. Pupils eclipse the hazel.
Not fear. Arousal.
Footsteps enter. Halt.
He likes this. Too much.
A wicked impulse ignites. You move before caution screams.
You clench on his cock.
His wings flare a fraction, instinctive, then lock into place. His eyes whip to yours, huge, helpless.
Fabric rustles nearby.
You trap his gaze, a bold, deliberate challenge, and tighten again. His reaction feeds you: strained and starving.
He bites his lip, breath held hostage. A single drop of sweat escapes his temple, traitorous.
Someone sighs, “No, not this one—mine’s the blue.”
You smirk. Craft a secret rhythm for him alone: grip, release, grip.
His features split in agony—ecstasy, jaw slack in silent plea. Scarred fingers dimple your hips. He trembles beneath you.
Torment shouldn’t taste this good.
Swishing across the room. Don’t breathe too loud. Don’t move. …Except inside.
You jump—back bowing. Light brushing over your sensitive bud. How—? You inhale, tense but noiseless. The fucking shadows.
Silent circles sync with your clenching.
Oh no.
“Is this the right one?” The female. The stranger.
They’re right fucking there! Your calves spasm without permission.
“Yes, yes.” A curt baritone.
A vein kicks at Az’s temple.
Your lashes flutter.
A familiar throbbing between your legs.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
Not yet.
You should stop.
Blood roars—loud inside your skull.
You can’t stop.
Not now.
Footsteps recede. Not far enough.
Shadows press deeper. You squeeze harder, not on purpose.
Az doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t move. Shatters into violent shaking.
You can’t wait—
You have to—
FUCK—
Azriel’s arms clamp around you.
Taut stillness for two heartbeats.
His cock jerks.
Convulsions seize him—brutal, silent.
His cum—hot and urgent.
You submit.
Warmth punches through the dam you broke.
Pleasure drenches your bones. You surrender to the river’s pull, carried out to sea. Strangers be damned.
You writhe. Your twitches dance with Azriel’s in an asymmetrical rhythm.
He breathes, ragged. Then a raw, shaken laugh slips free. You melt against him, eyelids heavy.
He kisses your temple. “Best worst idea we’ve ever had.”
You hum, sated.
Then his fingers find your chin, firm. His eyes? Shadow-dark. Certain. Lethal in intent.
t’s the last day of @azrielappreciationweek y’all 😭😭😭
What an amazing week for Azriel fans though, huh? Thank you so much to the hosts for putting this all together! And thank you to everyone who sent a little bit of love my way during the week 🥰
Screw it, it's probably day 7 of @azrielappreciationweek somewhere by now and I cannot wait any more
(My tumblr hates it if I put multiple pictures on the same line, so have this Incredible Formatting which I was Absolutely Not Forced To Have, No No)
AZRIS PAPER DOLLS ajdhjsj I saw people making paper dolls a while back and wanted to make some but never really knew who to draw... and anyways many months later the idea of azris paper dolls spawned in and it was perfect ^^
For azrielappreciationweek day 7: free day
(Refs + ramblings + taglists below the belt)
Those are the inspo photos for Azriel's outfit. can't find the ones for Eris's 😭 oh well
Live laugh love azris
Azriel's was so much BIGGER than eris's and so much more heavy with the weight of his wings 😭🥲 I spent 30 minutes adjusting his final look because the wINGS KEPT TILTING HIM (I knew this would happen... I just chose not to think about it <3)
Anyways I have amazing video editing skills, ja? I didn't realise I could only have one video so I just mashed two that I had together in video editor
And for the last day of @azrielappreciationweek - another chapter of Spyglass (and a little bit of play on words with the Free spot). If you prefer AO3- you can find it here.
Azriel stood at the crest of the hill, overlooking the Amalfi Coast. Overlooking his home. Five weeks. It had been five weeks since he spirited Elain away in the middle of the night. Five weeks since he had sent messages to Rhys, thinking he was in the clear. Five weeks since he had disappeared and three days since he had broken out of the Byrne family safehouse and headed straight here. Straight to her- because they were coming for her and he only hoped that he had made it in time.
He made his way over to the Valerian villa- placed his hand on the palm reader and was met by some of the ancillary guards. He gave them a terse nod and continued on his way, continued for her cottage. Cassian jogged out to meet him, a few additional guards trailing behind him. If Eoghan had beat him here, they would not be enough to keep him from killing Rhys. Elain should have never been part of the family business.
“Az- Azriel- where’s the fire? You went dark for over a month and…and…what did they do to you?”
“Run of the mill torture- but they know. They know who she is, they know where she is. Someone told them- Eoghan had no idea until last week. I couldn’t mask my features well enough to protect her when he said her name and he’s coming here. I am going to her- I cannot…”
“Understood. She…she’s been quiet…did you?”
“Not now, Cass. Go- tell Rhys I’m home. And we’re figuring out who the leak is- today.”
He felt Cassian studying him as he continued on his way. He had had his suspicions for ages on who in the circle might be untrustworthy- but his latest detention confirmed it. And Nesta was going to hate this confrontation, but him saving Elain might just lessen the blow.
He quickly walked around the cottage. Nothing disturbed. Nothing amiss. He rapped on the door gently, but urgently and waited. The door opened a sliver and in the next moment Elain had wrapped herself around him, clinging to him as the sobs came. He tensed as her arms squeezed his ribs, but he managed to back her into the cottage and secure the door behind them. He wanted to stay like this, to soothe her, to make it better- but he could not risk that. Yet.
“Elle- I need you to listen to me. Get a bag and pack it for at least a week. Do not rush. Do not panic. I’m here, they didn’t beat me.”
“Az…”
Her lips found his and he surrendered to her kiss, he could feel her fear, but also her relief. She must have thought him dead and that gripped a part of his once dead heart tightly, painfully. He would not do that to her again, but they must survive this first. A pounding at the door behind them had him jumping away, pulling out his gun and aiming it at the door, before looking through the peephole and letting Rhys in.
“Jesus Christ, Az. Cass wasn’t joking. What did they do to you?”
“Everything. Elle- how’s that bag coming?”
“Almost done, just need to grab…ah- this.” He looked over his shoulder and saw her holding the dagger he had once leant her and she placed it in the discreet holster he had gotten made for her once he realized how much she preferred it. “Where are we going?”
“No where. Az- this is a fortress- if Eoghan wants to come here and take us on- we’re better to stay here.”
“We’re not, Rhys. I know you and Amren knew who we were going after. Who else knew? Who did you tell?”
“Ianthe- since she is stationed in Ireland I thought it made sense that she…”
“We need to clear the villa, get everyone to safe houses- quietly. He has taken, he has a keen interest in Elle. Every moment I wait-”
“Go. We’ll handle it here.” describe describe “And Az- don’t let anything happen to her.”
He rolled his eyes as he took Elle’s hand and they walked out of the side entrance to her cottage. He quickly scanned her mint Fiat 500 for any obvious explosives on the outside, before checking the seats and everything within. Nothing. Either Eoghan wanted them to get away from the family or he had not made it here yet.
“Az…where- where are we going?”
“I’ll tell you when we arrive. Trust me?”
“I’ve always trusted you.”
***********
They boarded the first ferry leaving Amalfi after abandoning her car a few blocks away. If Eoghan was monitoring him, hoping he would lead him to her- that would not be enough to throw him off. However, the message he had received from Rhys confirmed that oddities had begun around the villa- he was moving the others at his soonest convenience. They would try to reconvene at their secondary residence in two weeks. Enough time for Eoghan to show his hand and for Rhys to – handle – Ianthe. For now- his sole job was to keep Elain safe. It was the only job he had welcomed in years.
She leaned heavily against him, her eyes closed as the boat swayed, panting to try to not be ill. Normally, he would wait for calmer seas, but the priority was to get away from any known family property. Her seasickness had always been mitigated by seabands and sparkling water, but not today. He scanned the other passengers, but he was more focused on the woman in his arms. He planned to ride the ferry to the furthest point south, but he could not stand making her sick.
“Elle- can you make it?”
A stiff nod and then her head settled against his shoulder, her arms wrapped around him- something she had done thousands of times. This time as he settled his arms around her, he brought his lips to her forehead and the contented sigh that left her lifted the corners of his mouth into a wry smile. He hated that she was in danger because of the family, but he loved the idea of uninterrupted time with her. He desperately wanted to explain everything and he hoped they survived so that he could.
The ship docked and he waited for most of the passengers to disembark. He lifted her, cradling her in his arms as she buried her face in his neck. His smell. Nesta had mentioned how much it helped her and he vividly remembered the shade of red her face and neck turned as she scampered away from him that night. Now, he pressed her face more securely against him for a moment as they disembarked. He placed her on the ground next to a trashcan and she leaned over and vomited multiple times, he was shocked that she had made it through the ride.
“I…I’m causing a scene- leave me-”
“Never again. Piggyback ride so we can keep moving?”
A nod. He squatted down in front of her and she managed to jump onto his back, where he quickly settled her, her face returning to nestle against him. Her breath softly huffed against his face, tickling his cheek. He kept his eyes out for surveillance- covert or overt. With each step towards the train station, he felt calm settling over him. He had done extractions dozens of times and each had a moment where he found calm. It had never been this early, but the precious woman now clinging to him had placed her life in his hands. He could not fail her.
They boarded the first train departing Salerno, Azriel weighing his options. He had grabbed spare passports, but he knew that Eoghan would expect them to flee Italy. Most of their safe houses were in other countries, but it felt foolish to go to any safehouse immediately. He assumed that Ianthe had told him about all of those as well. Elain’s hand found his and he let out a sigh. Home. Maybe he should just take her home.
************
Craco, Basilicata. They walked through the abandoned streets- tourists and merchants had disappeared as soon as the sun went down. After several days of staying in questionable hostels, he felt is safe to bring her here. To bring her to his home. His family was one of the few that had stayed in Craco after the earthquake- he was only rescued from this place by Rhys’s father when they wanted to hide some of their goods here. His fighting spirit had gotten him on good terms with the old man and due to desperation and starvation- he had taken what he offered. A home and stability for the first time in his life to train to be their fixer.
“It’s going to be cool, but we should be able to start a fire and the supplies we got over the last few days will help us stay warm. It’s still a bit of a hike to the non-tourist area- can you handle it?”
A nod. Her hand tightened around his and he stopped, he took her in. She was exhausted and he desperately wanted to get her to a safe place, but could he risk them camping here tonight instead of further in the ruins?
“Az- I want a full life. With you. I’ll be okay for a few more hours.”
When they finally arrived at his destination, they settled next to each other for a moment before he began pitching the tent and she searched for small pieces of firewood. They were in dense enough forest that a fire should not be spotted and he was on his fourth burner phone since he had left with her. Their trail was growing colder by the day- with him sending Rhys a last set of encrypted coordinates and a simple message. Retrieve them when the threat to Elain was eliminated- they would not be falling back to the secondary residence without confirmation that she would be safe.
She set down a pile of sticks and then joined him in the small tent. It was a snug fit for the two of them and as he zipped together their sleeping bags he caught her first shiver. The nights were dipping into the 40s and while their sleeping bags were rated for much colder, stress did odd things to the body.
“I never thought this would be my life. Running for my life and camping in the woods with the sweet consultant that works with my sister’s husband. Az- can we…is there…what if we disappear, disappear?”
“It’s an option. But that means no Nesta, no Feyre. A new life. We never look back. We never contact them and they never contact us. Elle- I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I know, but I’m asking. If we don’t hear from them in a few weeks- would that keep all of them safer too?”
He caught her hand between his scarred ones, bringing it to his lips as he considered her words. Kind, caring Elle- she would become a shadow in the world to save her sister’s. And they could disappear together, he had no doubt she was capable. But she would lose so much and the ache in his chest let him know it was too soon to truly consider this option. Rhys had solved worse issues in the past- he would protect his family and make things safe for Elain to come home.
“It’s not time to consider the nuclear option. I’ll make dinner. It’ll give you some privacy to change.”
“And if I don’t want privacy? If I want you to level with, to see me, to explain to me-”
Based on this quote from my fic “Though I Burn, How Could I Fall”
“Every time I take someone to my bed, I have to think thrice.” Azriel mused, counting on his fingers as he continued, “are they looking for information because they know who I am, are they going to be discreet, are they even going to want to continue - once they know. I imagine as High Lord, you have some concerns of your own.”
Set pre-canon.
Snippet below the cut;
“It’s getting pretty late,” he said to her, “is anyone waiting for you?”
“Not at all, the crew are at various bars and restaurants, maybe the other pleasure hall. I’ll see them when they all stagger back to the boat after sunrise.”
“You planning on staying here until sunrise?”
“Not if you make me a better offer.” She smiled up at him, her eyes crinkling at the corner in an infectious way. Az couldn’t stop himself from smiling back.
“I live in the side of a mountain. Want to stretch your wings?”
“That sounds incredible. Is it nearby?” Az nodded and they separated enough to head toward the door. When they were on the street, he gestured that they would walk out from amongst the buildings. When they were clear he leapt into the sky and hovered there as Deacyn did the same. He nearly gasped when she opened her wings fully. They were massive. She wasn’t as tall or broad as he was, but her wingspan easily exceeded his by a meter. Her snow white feathers shone in the starlight, reflecting it so they seemed to glow.
“What?” she asked self consciously, and Azriel realized he was staring.
“Your wings are incredible,” he admitted.
“They’re fast too, point me in the right direction and let's see if you can keep up.” She was grinning, preening at his praise. He gestured toward the large mountain near the coast. The secondary house that was available for Rhysand’s guests here in Velaris. It wasn’t used often, and it had a lovely view of the harbor.
“There’s a balcony that faces the sea on the far side. Lights will be on.” Azriel called out, and then gave a powerful beat of his wings, shooting out ahead. His lead didn’t last long. Deacyn was telling the truth when she said she was fast. He had to work to keep up with her, flying harder than he had in a long while. Flying with Deacyn felt like fighting an enemy; he got to use all of his power without being afraid someone would get hurt. Even Cassian and Rhys struggled to keep up with Az when he flew. His wingspan wasn’t markedly different from theirs, but he had worked hard to learn to fly, and trained to develop the muscles that had been atrophied from his childhood in the dark. He’d made a habit of flying so much that even Illyrian battle training didn’t reshape his body in the ways that let bulk get in the way of flight, which many who trained with heavy weapons experienced. He was fast, and agile in the air. Deacyn flew joyfully, laughing as she barrel rolled and swooped; she was showing off: despite all of the variations, she stayed ahead of him. Azriel smiled, she was beautiful and he was feeling more comfortable that she truly was simply a trader from the continent.
When Az landed on the balcony, Deacyn was leaning on the railing, staring across the harbor.
“That one’s mine,” he followed her pointing finger to a ship whose mast flew the flag of Montesserre. Under that was a banner bearing remarkable resemblance to her wings.
“It’s my dad’s wing pattern.” She said when she saw him glance at the flag, and her wings. He nodded, not prying further. Deacyn turned her body toward him again, an echo of their first words at the bar. “Did you invite me up here to stargaze, Azriel?” She said softly, a teasing note in her voice.
“If that’s what you want to do,” Azriel said truthfully. She was beautiful, and his hands were near shaking with desire, but this night could still go a lot of ways.
“And if it’s not?” She gently tugged on his shirt with a hand on the buttons. He stepped closer and dropped his head to speak in her ear.
“Then we can do whatever you’d like.” It didn’t feel like taking a chance to press a kiss below her ear, and she easily tilted her head and pulled her dark hair out of the way. He trailed more kisses softly down to her exposed shoulder, his hands returning to her hips. She started working his shirt open then, fingers brushing his bare chest as it fell away.
“How does this come off?” She pulled back, puzzled. Azriel reached behind himself and opened the small buttons under his wings. “Why is it made like that?” He just shrugged.
“Too cold for exposed backs, I suppose.”
“You could have a panel that buttoned on the front though, instead of having two sets of buttons.”
“If you’d like to start a tailoring business, I know a shop owner who would gladly work with you.” He smiled.
“Not tonight,” she said, reaching out to take the waistband of his pants and pull him closer. He caught her hands as they slid toward the buttons there.
“Before we go on,” Azriel sighed, “there is something you need to know.”
“You don’t have a mate do you?” She arched an eyebrow at him.
“No, gods no. No mate, not married. None of that.”
“Okay, then why do you look guilty?”
“It’s just, I don’t want you to be upset if this… changes things.” He admitted, meeting her curious gaze. She didn’t speak, just watched him. “I am, well I was born… female, so” he gestured downward, he never knew what the least jarring way to say it was.
“Oh, is that all?” Deacyn’s smile returned and she leaned in close. “Lucky for you, I know my way around all kinds of bodies. The Loriiki have cloacas.”
“I don’t know if I know what that is,” Azriel admitted.
“Worry about it later.” Deacyn instructed. Azriel laughed, using his grip on her hips to walk her backwards toward the doors. When they reached them, he moved to push the door open, not wanting to press her wings against the cold glass.
As Azriel led Deacyn inside, the shadows took advantage of the darkness inside the apartment to slide down his wings and drop to the floor. They would hover unobtrusively, doing their best not to frighten their guest. Az paused in the small kitchen to offer her a drink, quickly getting glasses of water for each of them when she declined anything more. As he led her down the hall he pointed to a bathing room, should she need it, and then opened the door to the elegantly appointed bedchamber. This room also had a lovely view of the harbor from a window that was glamoured from the outside of the mountain for privacy. The bed was large, meant to accommodate Illyrian wings despite the fact that they hosted few Illyrian guests overnight. Az gave silent thanks for Rhys’s penchant for excess.
Once inside the room, Az turned to gauge Deacyn’s reaction as she took in the fine bedding, hand carved furnishings, and plush chairs.
“This is beautiful Azriel, but it doesn’t look like anyone lives here.” She observed, noting the lack of personal effects.
“Guest house,” he shrugged. “More privacy than the family home.”
“Big family?” She inquired with a smile.
“You could say that,” Az acknowledged.
“Privacy is good,” Deacyn said, pulling Azriel back to her by the waistband of his trousers, and wrapping her arms around him. He leaned down to kiss her and dropped his hands to her hips, pulling her along as he backed toward the bed. She went along easily, working the buttons of his trousers open. When she had accomplished her task, she slid her hands down his back until she could grab his ass, kneading firmly and startling a yelp from him. She chuckled against his lips. “Any likes and dislikes I should know about?” she asked, as she raked her nails lightly back up to just under the base of his wings.
“Nothing,” his breath caught when she pulled away from his mouth and turned to bite at his neck as he tried to answer. “Nothing set in stone, I’ll let you know if something isn’t working.” He shifted his hands from her hips to circle her back, spinning them so that she was nearer the bed, then slid them down - crouching until he could grip the backs of her knees. He lifted and tilted her so she fell softly to the bed, giving her time to adjust her wings. She flared them out from under her and laughed softly as she hit the mattress. Azriel planted a knee between her thighs as he leaned over to recapture her mouth while his hands found the buttons of her own pants.
“Eager boy,” she smiled against him.
“Anything in particular I should know?” He returned her earlier question. She shook her head as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tighter against her.
“Do you worst,” she threw a leg across his lower back and dug her heel into his ass. He gasped when she buried a hand in his hair and tugged his head back so she could meet his eyes. She leveraged her new position to grind herself against his thigh, letting him see as she gasped at the friction. “I like it a little wild.”
This image brought to you in honour of three things:
@azrielappreciationweek, obvs, because Azriel is the prettiest yearner in the business
Eyes On You, two chapters of indulgent lore and shameless smutty yearning by @mistandmemories and me (although I'm a late ringer and basically just got to do the fun bits. Score, Tess!)
Lastly but definitely not least, as a wee gift to the impossibly talented and delightful @mistandmemories herself. Because her Azriel is longing personified, and because she's a lovely writer and a spectacular human being. I'm so glad I met you, Mist, over there on your diametrically opposed part of the planet. Thanks for being your clever, hilarious, thoughtful, generous self! XXXX
Tag list btc, lmk, etc, is that enough acronyms? Yeah probs
(Also edited to add process video below tag because I just got lucky with a reference and didn't do the clever creative part of this image so, yanno, I'm not as accomplished as the final image might suggest if you didn't know how I got there :| )
Longing. Is there anything that says longing like following the sound of her laugh, just to get a glimpse of what her face looks like lit up by joy? Just to see what caused it, so you might be the cause of that beautiful sound in the future? Just to share that space with her, for the briefest of moments?
✨Art by /beatriz_isdrawing (IG)
✨Commissioned by @lunaatthezoo @lovelyfawnxx @theseersgarden and /aoitavacorte (IG)
