content warnings: language, suggestive content, fluff? that's it really
word count: 9.4k
synopsis: You really like making Azriel blush.
my masterlist
~ ~ ~
You wanted to swim in the honeyed pools of amber that hovered over you, watching you intently with a twinkle of mischief that made your stomach flutter. You could get lost in Azriel’s eyes. You often did get lost in his eyes, which then often led to you fumbling and blushing when someone caught you. It was embarrassing, really, how enamored you were with the quiet shadowsinger. You didn’t know how to not melt under his warm gaze.
And now here he was, leaning over you as his legs bracketed your body, pinning you to the floor of the training ring, his soft lips moving as he quietly provided critiques on your technique. You couldn’t focus on anything he was saying, though. All you could think about was how beautiful his eyes were and the torrent of butterflies that had been unleashed in your stomach.
“Your eyes are pretty.”
Azriel froze, his eyes going wide. Your own eyes widened slightly as you realized what you said, the private thought escaping from your lips. Your cheeks started to warm as his incredulous gaze met yours. “What?” he rasped.
You quickly decided you were too far gone at that point, so you steeled your nerves and repeated your words. “Your eyes,” you said again. “They’re really pretty.”
Azriel’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the color spreading up his neck to the tips of his ears, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Azriel was blushing. This male that always left you a fumbling blushing mess was now knelt over you with wide eyes and red cheeks, his mouth opening and closing slightly. His wings fluttered slightly as he leaned back, clearing his throat as he stood up from his position.
He didn’t meet your eyes as he held a hand out to help you up, and you felt a little guilty for making him uncomfortable, knowing all too well it’s not always fun to feel such nervous embarrassment. You accepted his hand after a moment, his skin warm and rough against your own. You were about to apologize once he pulled you up, but Azriel dropped your hand, glancing at you briefly before moving away, and you lost the nerve to even acknowledge your foolish lapse in judgment.
You bit your lip, looking down at your boots as you wished the mountain would just fissure open and swallow you whole. “Y/N,” Azriel’s soft voice snapped you from your simmering mortification. His cheeks were still red when you met his eyes, but there was a faint, bashful smile on his face that made your stomach flip. “Thank you.”
You had to fight the grin that immediately wanted to bloom on your face, and simply nodded your acknowledgement as Azriel turned away, unwrapping his hands, your training apparently done for today. Your previous embarrassment morphed into pride, as you replayed the interaction over and over in your head. Nesta glanced at you curiously as you sat next to her to stretch, but you ignored her gaze as you glanced back at Azriel, who was now speaking with Cassian as if nothing had happened. His gaze suddenly met yours, his cheeks still tinged pink, and you smiled softly, shaking your head as you looked away again. You had made Azriel blush, and you had every intention of doing it again.
~ ~ ~
“Have you eaten yet?”
Azriel stood in the entryway to the sitting room you had wandered off to with Nyx, a plate of food in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. You smiled softly, shaking your head before looking back at Nyx, who was starting to get fussy. His eyes were tired and heavy, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he either passed out in your lap or started wailing as he fought off sleep. “I told Feyre I would watch him while she ate,” you said softly, fingers tickling at Nyx’s stomach, making him giggle.
Azriel moved closer, sitting the food and wine on the table next to you. “Let me take him,” he offered softly. “Go ahead and eat.” The food smelled amazing, and you were starving, but you hated to just pass Nyx off to him.
Azriel sat next to you on the couch, the cushions jostling beneath you. He held his hands out to Nyx, a soft smile on lips. “Do you want to come sit with me?” he cooed, and your heart nearly exploded as Nyx happily launched himself from your lap and into Azriel’s arms.
Azriel laughed softly, catching Nyx easily, and bouncing him in his lap. He glanced at you, nodding toward the plate. “It’s going to get cold.”
You bit your lip, fighting back the stupid smile that wanted to engulf your face, and instead took a sip of the wine before picking up the plate. You ate quietly while Azriel sat beside you with Nyx, his happy giggles slowly dying down as exhaustion crept up on him. At some point, Azriel had coaxed Nyx to lay on his chest, and the little babe had quickly fallen asleep. When you looked over after setting your empty plate down, Nyx’s cheek was squished against the shoulder of Azriel’s sweater, his wings drooping around him to rest on Azriel’s chest.
It was possibly the most wholesome thing you had ever seen, and a million rogue butterflies were swarming your stomach as you watched them. Azriel was too engrossed with Nyx to notice your attention, his fingers rubbing gentle circles on his back. Azriel’s face was softer than you had ever seen, his usual stoicism long gone while he held his nephew.
“You’re really good with him,” you said softly, your awe seeping into your voice.
He startled a bit, his hand pressing into Nyx’s back as his eyes jumped to yours. A pink hue slowly crept across his cheeks, and your heart fluttered at the sight. He didn’t really respond, though. He just gave you a tiny tight-lipped smile before looking back down at Nyx.
“I mean it, Az,” you whispered, shuffling a little closer. “That boy adores you. Clearly.”
The color on his cheeks only darkened, but his shadows pulsed excitedly before one ventured out to snake around your wrist. Azriel’s eyes went wide when he saw it, and the shadow promptly left you. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“I don’t mind them,” you answered honestly. His shadows were now circling over Nyx, and you couldn’t understand why he would think they would ever scare you when they could be so gentle—when they were a part of him.
The two of you sat in silence for a bit, watching Nyx snooze peacefully on top of Azriel, the air in the room warm and calm. Eventually, you reached for your empty plate and glass, and stood up from the couch. Azriel tracked your movements, and when you turned to face him, he was already looking at you.
His cheeks were still a faint pink, the color making your mind wander back to training last week. His eyes were soft as he beheld you, and you had to fight your own blush from creeping up your cheeks. You lingered longer than you should have, standing there awkwardly with your hands full, but you didn’t want to leave Azriel. He was so stunning, so calm, and you knew it would be a long time before you saw him so unreserved again.
Your friends’ laughter from the living room faintly reached your ears, and you reluctantly took a step back from Azriel. “I should probably go socialize a little bit,” you said with a sigh and a teasing smile. “If you don’t mind?” you then asked, gesturing toward Nyx.
“Not at all,” he said softly.
You nodded, looking down at your hands. You held up the empty plate, then said, “Thank you for bringing me dinner.”
He simply smiled, and it was a small one at that, but it still made your stomach flip. You returned it, and then moved to the hallway, reluctantly leaving the beautiful shadowsinger with a babe sleeping on his shoulder.
~ ~ ~
You loved Velaris.
Truly, you thanked the Mother every day for leading you here, for Rhysand taking you in as a refuge when Cesere was attacked. You weren’t even a priestess, you were simply an Autumn Court female that had taken sanctuary at the temple, but that didn’t matter to Rhysand. You were just as much of a victim, and Clotho had let you reside with the other priestesses in the library once you arrived in Velaris.
You never felt entirely content, though, living in a mountain with only books to occupy your time. You also didn’t have the courage to leave said mountain—not until you befriended Gwyn, who befriended Nesta, and then pulled you along with her to training. Your life changed for the better that first day of training. You felt whole. For the first time in your life, you felt settled.
The shadowsinger across the street from you had more to do with that feeling than anyone. You couldn’t explain why you were so enamored by him, so drawn in by his presence. You didn’t even like to acknowledge it, really. It only left you flustered and anxious about possibly losing the person who had quickly become a pillar in your life. You were positive that if that pillar came crashing down because you weren’t careful, you wouldn’t survive it. You clutched the piece of cloth you kept stuffed in your pockets, the familiar fabric soothing your anxious thoughts.
Your fears didn’t stop you from wanting him, though. It didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar, or even occasionally letting those admirations slip through your lips. He deserved to hear them, anyway.
He was just so kind. You had never witnessed a kindness quite like his, never been privy to such gentle care and respect. You had to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest every time his kindness was directed toward you, because he was kind to everyone.
For fuck’s sake, you were currently watching him help a meek and embarrassed female fix her booth that had toppled over in the market square. His shadows collected stray jewels and baubles that had scattered on the ground, pushing them into a neat pile next to the female. You could tell Azriel was making every effort to appear smaller, less intimidating somehow, despite the leathers and siphons adorning his body. His wings were tucked in tight, and his shoulders were relaxed, his posture slightly slouched as he handed her things.
You saw his lips move softly as he said something that made the female smile slightly, her shoulders relaxing. Your heart clenched at the sight, an irrational jealousy igniting in your core as you watched her cheeks turn red, and Azriel smiled at her. You averted your gaze back to the jewelry in your hand, the owner of the booth you stood at clearly growing impatient with your dallying.
You smiled sheepishly at the older male, setting the necklace back down on the velvet tablecloth. You glanced back at the booth across the street, a confusing mix of relief and disappointment twisting inside you when you saw the female sitting alone, and Azriel long gone.
“Were you really not going to say hello?”
You spun toward the familiar voice, your heart racing as you met Azriel’s eyes, who was now standing only inches away from you. You swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. Were you going to say hello? Likely not, but you were too embarrassed that you had been watching him for the last five minutes without any true reason.
He didn’t wait for you to answer before he handed you a paper box. You frowned at the familiar blue container that came from the very bakery you were planning on visiting today.
Azriel reached forward and opened it after watching you stare at it for far too long. “Had I known you were coming to the market today,” he said as he revealed the chocolate croissant, “I would have suggested we come together.”
Your lips parted as you looked at the fresh and luscious pastry, your mouth instantly watering. You picked it up and took a bite, the chocolate like heaven on your tongue. You hummed in appreciation as you ate the treat, muttering your thanks between bites.
Azriel laughed as he guided you into the busy street, his hand between your shoulder blades as the two of you meandered through the bustling market. When you reached a less populated area, his hand fell away, and he asked, “What are you doing out today?”
You held up the now empty box, swallowing the last bite of your pastry. “I was going to get one of these,” you answered. “So thank you for that. I guess now my mission is moot.”
Azriel laughed, his shoulder briefly brushing yours. “We can always go get another.”
You grinned. “You’re full of good ideas today.” You thought back to earlier, then said, “I saw you help that female.”
“Yeah,” was his simple response, and you could tell he was a bit bashful about it.
“That was kind of you, Az.”
He shrugged, not really accepting your compliment. “She needed help.” A passing faerie bumped into you, sending you stumbling into Azriel. They murmured a rushed apology when you glared at them, and Azriel steadied you by your waist. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you huffed, straightening your shirt. You tossed the empty box in a garbage bin as you kept walking. “What was she selling?” you asked, desperately trying to forget about the juvenile jealousy you felt when you watched him smile at her.
“Handmade jewelry. She said she just opened a storefront a few weeks ago, and was hoping a booth would garner some attention. I told her I would have to bring you by,” he said, completely nonchalant.
Your brain stuttered. “Me?”
He glanced at you, his brow furrowed. “Yeah?” he said slowly. “Why not? I thought you liked handmade things.”
You shook your head. “No—I mean, I do—” You paused, and Azriel’s expectant and confused expression made you falter. “That would be nice,” you said instead. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said lightly, his confusion still clear.
You felt even more ridiculous for your earlier jealousy, and you didn’t feel like having him prod you anymore, so you diverted the conversation to an entirely different topic, albeit not very smoothly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your tattoos.”
Azriel raised his brows. “My tattoos?”
You nodded, eyes roving over the swirls of ink that you did genuinely find fascinating. You lifted a hand to run your finger over one of the lines, his skin warm from the afternoon sun. You swallowed hard as you pulled your hand away, realizing you needed to actually ask him a question about them. “What do they mean?” you asked.
He looked a bit reluctant to tell you, but before you could assure him he didn’t have to share, he said roughly, “They’re Illyrian.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he huffed out. “The only reason I don’t hate them is because I got them with Rhys and Cass. They’re supposed to stand for luck and glory. I only got them because we had just survived the Blood Rite, and they insisted we mark ourselves with their symbols just to spite them.” A small smile had creeped onto his face. “Which was convincing.”
You smiled hesitantly. “Well, I’ve always liked them.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, then traced the ink again. “They’re beautiful. Intricate. And it doesn’t matter if they have Illyrian origins, they’re yours. You got them with your brothers to celebrate your survival. That’s what they mean to you.”
His cheeks were dusted a faint pink, and pride surged in your chest. Your fingers trace the ink all the way down to the scars wrapped around his forearms, and you glance at him before following them down to his wrist, and then his palm. You thread your fingers through his, squeezing tightly. “Every mark on our skin tells a story. Our story. That’s never something to be ashamed of.” You brushed your thumb over the back of his hand, and his cheeks were now red, his eyes wide with awe. “It’s beauty in its rawest form.”
You tugged on his hand, knowing he wouldn’t have a response to that, urging him to keep walking with you. “And by the way,” you hummed, making Azrial turn toward you again, “I happen to quite like the story yours tells.”
His blush crept up to his ears, and you smiled to yourself triumphantly, loving every second that you got to see Azriel flustered. Every second that you saw him faced with compliments that he should always hear, that you wished he would learn to accept. You were worried he might drop your hand when he just stared at you for a moment, the silence charged and heavy around you. Instead, he squeezed your hand, and kept walking side-by-side with you, eventually murmuring the softest, “Thank you.”
~ ~ ~
“Can I ask you something?” you hummed, leaning forward on the counter, your head propped up in your hand.
Azriel smiled softly, amusement dancing in his eyes. He was across the counter from you, his back leaning against the granite that was faintly illuminated by the moonlight spilling into the kitchen. “What’s that?” he asked.
You hesitated, but your earlier conversation with Nesta was playing on a loop in your head, and your curiosity was eating at you. Your whole body was warm just thinking about it again. The wine running through your veins probably didn’t help, though it certainly gave you the courage to finally ask, “Is it true you can orgasm from someone touching your wings?”
Azriel choked on the tea he was sipping on, setting the mug down a bit harshly on the counter, the liquid sloshing over the rim. He coughed for a minute, his shadows fluttering around him in concern, but eventually he met your eyes. His own were wide as he asked you with a rasp, “Who told you that?”
You shrugged sheepishly, admitting, “Nesta might have mentioned it.”
He muttered something that sounded like “Mother help me” as he looked up at the ceiling, running a hand over the back of his neck.
The movement made his leathers stretch over the muscles of his arm, and the heat that bloomed in your gut pushed you to ask, “Have you ever…?”
Azriel’s cheeks were pink as he looked back at you, the moonlight making the color across his skin even more pronounced. He gaped at you for a moment, but he eventually admitted, “Yes.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that. A small part of you withered up at the admission, something acidic swirling inside you. You selfishly wanted him to say no, that he had never shared that part of himself with another. Which was insane, given he was over five centuries old. Of course, he had explored that with a lover.
He stepped closer to the island you sat at, his face softening. “Not often, though,” he added quietly, shocking you by elaborating. “I haven’t in a very long time. I was young, and curious, and—” He paused, shaking his head. His cheeks were still an adorable red, but his voice had regained its steadiness as he said, “It’s very vulnerable, to let another person touch your wings.”
You smiled softly, the wine finally making you a bit sleepy. Azriel had brought you home from Rita’s awhile ago. First you had insisted on tea before bed, and now you were pestering the poor male about his sex life of all things. You blamed Nesta for planting the seeds of curiosity in your mind, and Mor for plying you with far too much wine. At least you got to see him blush again, even if that wasn’t your outright goal tonight.
“I should probably go to bed,” you murmured quietly, pushing your mug away from you. You had barely drank your tea, and Azriel definitely noticed, but he was polite enough not to say anything. You met his eyes, his hazel irises unnervingly alluring as they simmered with something new, something you had never seen in Azriel’s gaze. You swallowed hard, and stood up from your stool. “Goodnight, Az.”
His throat bobbed, his jaw clenching briefly as he looked you over, then bid you a quiet goodnight. You didn’t linger, and you most definitely did not think about his lips, his eyes, or his wings as you laid in bed, waiting for sleep to claim you.
~ ~ ~
“Well you two are a sight for sore eyes,” Nesta drawled from beside you, her gaze sweeping up and down the two Illyrian warriors that had just appeared in the living room.
They were caked in mud, covered from head to toe. Even their wings were covered in it, their normally elegant and translucent membranes now an opaque brown. Cassian undid the tie holding his hair back, shaking out the strands and sending a mixture of wet and crumbling mud flying all over. You ducked your head as Nesta scolded him, but he simply grinned at the two of you.
His eyes glinted as they locked on his scowling mate. “Won’t you come help clean up?” he asked innocently.
She scoffed, but stood up nonetheless, leaving her book on the table. “Only because if I don’t we’ll be finding remnants of your filth for days.” Cassian’s grin widened as he reached for his mate, but she quickly side-stepped him. “Don’t even think about it,” she growled, walking down the hall. Cassian quickly followed after her, disappearing from sight.
You swallowed hard, then looked back at Azriel. He smiled sheepishly at you, turning his palms outward. “I probably reek right now,” he said with a bit of a huff.
You smiled softly, shaking your head. “Not really—” Your words got caught in your throat when you did catch a scent of something far more alarming than dirt. “Are you bleeding?” you asked worriedly, sitting up straight.
Azriel winced. “I might be. Whatever the hell was in the bog scraped my back when we—”
“Your back?” you cut him off in alarm. You stood up, moving toward him. “Are your wings—”
“They’re fine,” he assured, his eyes watching you with a softness you had never seen before. You swallowed hard, feeling a bit embarrassed for your reaction. You stopped a few feet away from him, not sure what to do now.
His lips tipped up slightly before he nodded toward the hall. “I should probably clean myself up.”
“Do you need help?” you rushed out before he could move far.
Azriel froze, his eyes going wide. Mortification crawled up your spine, realizing that was an absurd offer. Azriel had been doing this for five centuries. He surely knew how to clean his back and wings himself. Cassian had asked Nesta for help, sure, but she was his mate—
“Yes,” he said softly, and your mind stalled for a minute. He had mud smeared all over his cheeks, but you were fairly certain you could see a flush creeping up his neck and to his face as he cleared his throat, then said again, “Yes. Please. I—It would be helpful to have someone else clean my back. If I’m still bleeding, it’s probably because the wounds are caked with mud—but I could call Madja if—”
“No,” you cut off his rambling. You had never seen Azriel stumble so much over his words before. It was endearing, but you also didn’t want him to second-guess asking you for help. Your offer was genuine, and you wanted him to know that. “I want to help.”
His throat bobbed as he studied you for a moment. His shadows were peeking out from behind him, as if they were being held back from exploring. “Thank you,” he said softly. Not for the first time, you wished it wasn’t so difficult for him to accept help, but you were honored that he was taking yours.
You followed behind him quietly as he led you to his room, pushing open the door for you before shutting it gently behind him. You tried not to ogle too much at his room, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit giddy that Azriel was letting you see more of his life.
He was so private and reserved. You weren’t oblivious. You knew that him letting you into his room meant something, but you also weren’t delusional, and you weren’t going to let this warp your mind into thinking this was more than it was. This was Azriel, trusting you as his friend, to help him with something personal, vulnerable, and you would be damned if you screwed that up.
“What do you need me to do?” you asked softly, slowly dragging your gaze from Azriel’s oversized bed to meet his eyes.
He stared at you for a moment, and you shifted a bit under his gaze. “Az?” you asked again softly.
He blinked, then shook his head a bit. “Sorry, I—” He paused, closing his mouth, then said instead, “Let me clean up a bit first, okay?”
You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. Azriel’s eyes stayed glued to yours as he gestured toward the bed. “You can sit down,” he said softly. He finally peeled his eyes from yours, and you had to blink a bit to regain your bearings.
You stayed put until he disappeared into the bathing room, noting that he left the door open. Your chest felt a little tight as you sank slowly onto the edge of his bed, which was somehow infinitely more comfortable than yours. You dragged your fingers over the black duvet, the fabric soft to the touch. You had to repress the urge to wrap yourself in the downy cover, to fully immerse yourself in Azriel’s scent. You pulled your hand back to your lap, feeling a bit insane.
Despite his dark bedding, his room was….comfortable. It wasn’t bright by any means, but it was cozy. He had soft faelights scattered throughout the room that cast the room in a calming glow, and he had plush blankets thrown over the back of the chair sat in the corner. The case of books next to the chair called to you, and you nearly gave in to snooping through his collection when his voice startled you from your thoughts.
You walked tentatively to the threshold of the bathing room, but you didn’t look inside. “Do you want me to come in?” you asked nervously. You closed your eyes, clenching a hand around those nerves and pushing them down. You were going to help Azriel without making a fool of yourself. It was fine. You were fine. You wanted to help him.
You could hear the amusement in his voice as he answered, “If you still want to help.”
You swallowed hard, steeling your nerves as you stepped inside, but they quickly melted to goo when you saw him still in the bath. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in his wet and bare skin, the Illyrian tattoos you were always so fascinated by winding around his arms. The bath was filled with bubbles and steam that concealed anything…intimate, but you still felt like you were on the precipice of doing or saying something very stupid as you neared him.
He smiled slightly at you, the mud cleared from his face to reveal his pink tinted cheeks. You would like to think that your presence caused the flush of his skin, but it was likely the heat of the bath. You folded your hands in front of you, awkwardly standing a few feet away from him. “What do you want me to do?”
He pointed to a bottle and cloth on the stool beside you, water falling from the arm he raised. “Just make sure it's clean, please. Then rinse it with that tonic from Madja. It should heal fine on its own.”
You nodded, mind steadying now that you had a clear task. You picked up the cloth and sat the bottle on the ground, dragging the stool so you could sit behind Azriel. “Just the one scrape then,” you asked absentmindedly as you inspected the rest of his back. There were a few scratches and bruises littered across his skin, but there was only one wound still bleeding.
“Yeah,” he said softly, then huffed a low laugh that didn’t sound all that amused. “It’s embarrassing, really.”
You frowned, dipping the cloth in the somehow clean water—likely thanks to the House. You rang it out before pressing the cloth against his skin. “It’s not embarrassing,” you said softly. Your ministrations were gentle over his wound, wiping away at invisible dirt, because really he had cleaned it well on his own. He didn’t say anything back, and when you switched the cloth for the tonic, you asked, “Why would a wound be embarrassing?”
“It’s not just that,” he said, voice low. “I—I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I don’t need your help.”
You stilled, the cap to the bottle clutched tight in one hand while the other was about to pour it over his wound. You tried not to let the words sting, tried to put yourself in Azriel’s place. You lowered the bottle to your lap, then asked softly, “Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” he answered, though it sounded strangled. “I don’t.”
You sat with that for a minute, then moved so you could face him, kneeling at the side of the tub. Azriel’s eyes were conflicted as he met yours, and you noticed that his shadows had been sequestered away somewhere. “It’s okay to want someone to help you,” you started gently.
He looked so vulnerable in front of you, naked and wounded in a tub of water, giving you free access to his back, trusting you enough to let you so close to his wings. It made your heart clench. “Even if you can do something yourself, that doesn’t mean you always have to.”
He stared at you silently, and you started to feel a bit silly, doubting that those were his true worries. He nodded, though, a small acknowledgement of your words that you knew meant a lot from him right now. You smiled softly, and his eyes brightened a bit, even if he didn’t return the gesture. “Can I finish what I started?” you asked, standing up from your position to reclaim your seat on the stool.
Azriel hummed his agreement, and you didn’t waste any more time before you poured the inky liquid over his wound, trusting Madja’s creations even if it looked disgusting. Azriel tensed as the liquid seeped in, and you mumbled an apology as you recapped the bottle. Eventually, he relaxed, and you watched the liquid run down his back and into the water. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“Anytime,” you hummed, setting the bottle on the counter next to you, hoping your nonchalance would keep him from freaking out again.
Your eyes snagged on some brown smudges still scattered across one of his wings, and you bit your lip before saying, “There’s still some mud on the back of your wings.”
Before he could even respond, you asked, “Do you want me to clean them?”
That was apparently the wrong question to ask because Azriel visibly tensed, and you noticed his shadows start to creep out from the corners. Your mind flashed back to your drunken conversation with him last week, and your face immediately went hot. “Or not,” you rushed out, fumbling to rectify your mistake. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about—nevermind. I mean, not nevermind, because I will gladly clean them if you want me to—but if—”
“Y/N,” Azriel’s quiet voice cut you off, and your lips immediately clamped shut. He turned his body so he could meet your eyes, and you realized he had relaxed again. You wished you could say the same about yourself. “I would appreciate that,” he said quietly.
Your lips parted as you processed his words, and you realized this was him asking for the help he wanted, not necessarily needed, just like you told him to do moments ago. You swallowed hard before nodding, then picked up the wet cloth you had dropped. “Will it hurt?” you asked, feeling stupid and out of your depth. And nervous. You were incredibly nervous again.
“No,” he said, flaring his wings out a bit more for you to reach. “Just be gentle.”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, and you clutched the cloth tight in your hand, struggling to lift it toward his delicate membrane. Azriel must have sensed your hesitance, because he turned his head slightly, a small frown on his face. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “You don’t have to.”
You bit your lip, while your heart was trying to fly straight out of your chest. “It’s not that,” you whispered. “It’s just—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. After our conversation last week—”
Azriel blanched and then swore under his breath. He shifted more so he could better face you, some water sloshing over the edge of the tub. “That’s not—touching my wings—” He shook his head. “It’s not always sexual. I wasn’t trying to take advantage—I swear to the Mother—”
It was your turn to blanch, and you cut him off hastily, “I never thought that.” Azriel’s mouth snapped shut as he stared at you with wide and frazzled eyes, and you were sure your expression mirrored his. “That never even crossed my mind, Azriel,” you said more softly. “It’s just…it’s intimate, right? You’re trusting me, and I don’t want to fuck up.”
Azriel’s shoulders relaxed, his face softening. “It is intimate,” he agreed quietly. “And you don’t have to wash my wings for me. I can do it.” You started to protest but he cut you off with a pointed look. “But if you want to, there’s nothing to fuck up—unless you stab me in the back,” he hummed and you rolled your eyes.
He smiled softly, and you couldn’t help but return it. Your nerves had abated, now just a slight undercurrent thrumming in your veins in anticipation of touching Azriel again. It was silly, to be excited to touch him. He was trusting you to help him, as his friend, and you needed to focus.
You motioned for him to turn around, and said, “Okay, Shadowsinger.” He raised his brows and you grinned, but he did turn his back to you, flaring his wings out again.
You dunked the cloth in the water again, and asked softly, “Ready?”
He nodded, and you didn’t waste any more time hesitating or second-guessing if this was okay. He told you it was, and there was no sense in prolonging this. You brought the cloth to the delicate membrane, gently dragging it over the smudge of mud he missed. Azriel’s muscles rippled across his back at the contact, and you paused. “It’s okay,” he assured, though his voice was rough.
You didn’t question him. You kept cleaning his wings, moving slowly from one spot to the next, meticulously cleaning the thin but powerful membrane. Your fingertips sometimes brushed against the soft skin, but you didn’t dare outright touch him, no matter how much you wanted to.
“I’ve always thought your wings were beautiful,” you murmured, moving to the last smudge of dirt near the base of his wing. Azriel’s breath caught in his throat, but you kept speaking, “I mean, Illyrian wings in general are, but when I met you—” You dragged the cloth slowly over him, the dirt long gone, but you weren’t ready to pull away. “I was just in awe. Of a lot of things, really, but your wings are just stunning. They were practically glowing in the sun when we first met. And they shimmer in the moonlight—”
“Y/N,” Azriel rasped, and you pulled your hand away to move in front of him. He didn’t meet your eyes, but his face was flushed crimson, and for a brief moment you relished in putting that blush there. There was no doubt it was because of you, because of your words, and you were glad. Azriel deserved to hear these things, to hear such reverent compliments.
“I think you should leave.”
Just like that, your heart fell, and you scrambled to catch it, but it was no use. It slammed into the pits deep in your soul, and any warmth that was slowly seeping through you immediately iced over. You didn’t hesitate to drop the cloth in the water and stand up, to back away from Azriel and remove yourself from this mortifying situation.
“I’m sorry,” you rasped, and Azriel’s head did snap up to face you then. His lips parted as he looked at you, but you shook your head, taking another step back. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “That was—it was inappropriate.” Who were you to think it was your place to tell him such things? To so blatantly awe over him while he allowed you to help him with something so vulnerable? You felt sick.
You had enjoyed pushing him and prodding him over the last few weeks, delighting in the blush that seemed to arise more and more often in your presence. Now you questioned if it was because you made him uncomfortable, and not because he was flattered or flustered. You didn’t stay a second longer. You bolted out of the bathing room, out his bedroom, ignoring the tendrils of shadows licking at your heels as you moved aimlessly through the halls, until you shut yourself away in your room, begging the ground to swallow you whole.
~ ~ ~
It had been a week since you saw Azriel. Since you royally embarrassed yourself in front of him. It made your skin itch every time you thought about it, wishing you could claw the memory right out of you.
Today was his birthday. You stared at the little pile of gifts you had collected for him sitting on your desk, wishing you hadn’t fucked everything up and could just give them to him. You were fairly certain that you were the last person Azriel would want to see tonight, but you also knew you couldn’t skip out on his birthday dinner without facing an interrogation from the rest of your friends. Cassian would be here any minute to take you to the River House, so you shoved aside your humiliation and aching heart to slip on your shoes, and sighed before opening your bedroom door.
You nearly screamed when you saw a figure leaning against the wall across from your room, your heart rate only calming when you realized it was Azriel. Then it started racing for an entirely different reason.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice sounding gravelly.
He pushed off the wall to move closer to you, and your grip tightened on the door. “Picking you up,” he replied, his voice calm and cool, like nothing had changed.
Your mouth went dry as he stopped only a foot in front of you, his shadows sneaking out to curl around your ankles. He didn’t pull them back. “Why?”
He frowned a bit. “It’s my birthday.”
“I know,” you said hurriedly, not wanting him to think you forgot his damned birthday. “I know that. I meant—Cassian said he—”
“I told him I would pick you up,” Azriel said simply.
You blinked at him. “Why?”
Azriel finally showed some hesitation, his throat bobbing before he answered, “We need to talk.”
Now? He wanted to talk now, before you had to sit through a dinner with his entire family for his birthday. They were your friends, of course, but they were his family, and you were still so unsettled after last week. You were still so mortified by giving into your emotions, letting your impulses take over you when you were with him last time. You had tried telling yourself that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, you might have gushed over his beauty, but it’s not like you kissed him.
Your heart was not convinced by that logic, though.
Azriel placed a gentle on your waist, and your eyes dragged from his touch up to his eyes. There was something hesitant in his gaze, an uncertainty you had never really seen in him. He nodded behind you. “Can I come in for a minute?”
It took you a second to process his request, but eventually you nodded, stepping back to allow him in.
He smiled softly, but you couldn’t return it. You were too anxious, watching the male you had grown embarrassingly infatuated with move around your room with curious eyes. His gaze snagged on the pile of wrapped gifts on your desk, and your face immediately heated when he looked at you.
He seemed to debate saying something, then decided against it, much to your relief.
“What did you want to talk about?” you asked softly.
He took you in quietly, his observant gaze making you even more self-conscious. You rubbed at your arm, shifting on your feet, and his face softened. He took a step closer, and you held your breath, ignoring the surge of emotion that rose in your chest.
“No one has ever made me feel the way you do,” he said quietly. His words rattled through your core, stealing your breath and knocking all sense from your mind. “And last week, what you did for me? I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone, never trusted someone so implicitly, and it terrified me.” He took in a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair. “I was scared, and I pushed you away, and I’m sorry. To just ask you to leave after you helped was–” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable,” you whispered, failing to really comprehend what he was telling you.
Azriel immediately moved closer to you, stopping only inches away. “You have never made me uncomfortable, Y/N,” he said, picking up your hand. “Since the day I met you, I’ve been drawn to you. I would catch myself wondering about you, asking about you, before you ever even came to training. Then when I actually got to know you, when you became my friend, it took everything in me not to cling to you.”
His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his skin rough against yours. His touch was so gentle, so comforting, and you wanted to drown in it. You wanted to fall into him, to beg him to hold you and let you melt against him. “I thought you needed a friend, more than anything, and I wanted to give that to you, but these last few weeks have felt different. I could have been reading things wrong, but—”
“You haven’t,” you cut him off, meeting his surprised eyes shyly.
“I haven’t?”
“No,” you said sheepishly. “I—I’ve always been drawn to you too,” you admitted quietly. “But last month, at training, when I told you your eyes were pretty?”
Azriel nodded, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “I remember.”
“Of course you do,” you muttered, feeling embarrassed now. “Well, you blushed when I told you that, and I loved it. You always made me feel flustered. I felt like I was always the one blushing and floundering for words around you, and it just felt good to know that I had the same effect on you.”
Azriel’s smile widened a bit, but he let you keep rambling, “So I kind of started pushing you a bit more. I wanted to make you blush, but I also thought you deserved to have someone tell you nice things. It became more about that, really. I just, I’ve always thought those things, I just started to let myself say them. Last week I was a bit more overbearing, I guess—”
“You weren’t,” Azriel said softly. His eyes were bright as they looked at you, and you wanted to swim in his irises. His beautiful irises that had fully captivated you, and were the reason you were even in this current situation. His cheeks were tinted pink, and it made your stomach flip.
“You’re blushing now,” you whispered, a bit breathless.
He somehow moved even closer, making your breath hitch. He picked up your other hand, squeezing them both tight. “I know,” he murmured, his eyes glued to yours. You had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “You seem to have that effect on me.” One of his hands moved up to cradle your jaw, and electricity shot up your spine. “Is it too late to ask for a gift for my birthday?” he asked, voice low and warm and intoxicating.
You swallowed hard, staring up at him with wide eyes. Your lips parted as your gaze flicked down to his, then back to his eyes. “Depends what it is,” you breathed out.
He moved his face even closer, his lips so close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “A kiss?”
Vulnerability laced his voice, and it made your heart clench. You easily closed the little remaining distance between the two of you, his lips against yours utterly electrifying. You never wanted it to end. He kissed you like you were a gift, like you were precious, and he wanted to savor every second with you. His lips were just as soft as you thought they would be, and you wanted more.
You tugged at his sweater, loving the feel of the soft fabric in your hands in lieu of his usual leathers. His hand squeezed your hip, tugging you closer. His tongue brushed against your mouth, and when you gasped, opening your lips for him, he pulled away. You whined slightly, the sound escaping your lips as his thumb brushed your cheek. His voice was breathless as he said, “We’re going to be late.”
You pressed your lips to his again, and he indulged you for a moment, before pulling away again with a soft chuckle. “We can continue later,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing yours. Your forehead fell to his chest, his sweater still clutched in your hands.
“Is this real?” you asked, voice muffled by his chest.
Azriel’s arms wrapped around you, pressing you even closer to him. “It’s real,” he hummed quietly, squeezing you as you nuzzled into him. His shadows brushed your cheek, and you smiled softly, certain you were glowing from the inside out.
~ ~ ~
You knew Azriel deserved to spend his birthday with his family, surrounded by love and laughter, but you selfishly wished the two of you could have hid away for the night. You didn’t think it was entirely fair that you spent the entire day thinking you had ruined your friendship, only for him to show up and kiss you, and then drag you to family dinner. It was fine. Truly, it was. It was his birthday, and he deserved to celebrate.
You were just feeling very discombobulated and flustered as you watched him from afar, your sole company the cookies piled on a platter on the kitchen island. You chewed on one absentmindedly as Azriel smiled at Nyx, laughing as the little boy wiggled and giggled in his grasp. He passed the boy to Feyre, and Cassian swooped in to place another drink in his hand.
He was happy, and it was beautiful to see. He seemed more relaxed than you had ever seen him, and it made your heart glow to see him grin and laugh with his brothers. You could deal with this moment of limbo for a bit if it meant he got to have this.
“Az seems chipper,” Nesta hummed as she walked into the kitchen.
You sat your cookie down, spinning on your stool to follow her around the island. “He does,” you said lightly, glancing back at him. When you looked back at Nesta she had a smirk on her face. “What?” you asked.
“I have never seen him so…free. Happy,” she told you.
“It’s his birthday.”
She rolled her eyes. “It is,” she agreed. “But you can’t tell me that Azriel cares that much about his birthday. He’s had over five centuries of them.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. You turned to look over your shoulder again, watching Azriel laugh as Cassian tells some story, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “That,” Nesta said, “is pure joy.”
“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “It is.”
“Why exactly are you hiding in here with the cookies?” she asks.
Nerves quickly turned in your stomach. “I just—” You what? How the hell could you possibly explain what you were feeling right now? “I don’t want to suffocate him.”
Nesta looked you up and down, her lips turning into a small frown. “Everyone knows there is something between you two.” Your eyes widened, your lips parting, but she didn’t let you speak before she said, “And I promise you, that male wants you in there with him more than anyone else. You wouldn’t be intruding or overstepping, or whatever lies you’ve been telling yourself all night.”
You swallowed hard, once again turning to watch him. He was just…captivating. Everything about him just left you awestruck, his presence alone making you feel warm and giddy. “I think I love him, Nesta,” you admitted softly, your words barely more than a breathy whisper.
She came around to place a hand on your shoulder. “I know,” she said, her voice equally quiet. “I’m fairly certain that love is required.”
Before tonight you would have denied it. You would have scoffed and told her to fuck right off with planting cruel and fruitless hope in your heart. Azriel had kissed you, though. He came to you, and opened up a little sliver of himself just for you. It could have just been lust, you supposed, but you didn’t think it was. There was too much between the two of you for it to just be…superficial. Even thinking about it made your stomach sour.
“Go on,” Nesta urged. “Go celebrate with him.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitation and nerves still anchoring you to your seat. You nearly sprung right out of it when something brushed against your neck, though, and relief flooded you when you saw a tendril of shadow. Nesta laughed as she walked away to sit back down with her mate. The shadow fled back to Azriel, circling his ear slowly. Azriel turned to face you, his eyes locking with yours from across the house.
You smiled softly, your nerves immediately melting away when he matched your smile. His gaze lingered for a moment, before he slowly dragged his attention back to his conversation with Cassian. Nesta’s words swam around in your head, and with one last deep breath, you pushed yourself from your stool to join the rest of your friends in the living room.
Your approach was slow, and you debated where to go, but you knew you wanted to be near Azriel. You actually wanted to steal him away for yourself, even if just for a moment. You rounded his side, and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, his skin soft beneath your lips. His head immediately snapped to you when you pulled away, and you grinned when you watched his face go red.
You sat on the arm of his chair, your frame so small compared to his that you could rest your head on his shoulder if you wanted. You leaned in close again, and his hand rested on your thigh as if to balance you on the chair. “Happy birthday, Az,” you whispered in his ear. “Can you come with me for just a second?”
His hand squeezed your thigh as he looked at you with wide eyes, his nod almost immediate.
“You look a little flushed, Az,” Rhys drawled from the chair across the room.
Cassian’s laugh was near booming as he exclaimed, “Look at him blushing!”
Azriel’s gaze instantly hardened, but there was no hiding the red coating his cheeks and ears. He pulled you up with him as he stood, his hand resting on the small of your back, the weight settling and electrifying all at once.
“You should see him at training, Rhys,” Cassian went on. “Y/N is my hero. I’ve never seen Az come undone with just a look until she came along.”
You actually had no idea what he was talking about. Sure, you had started making him blush with your little compliments and touches, but…had there been more than that? “Fuck off, Cassian,” Azriel growled as he steered you away from your friends’ prying eyes and ears. He led you outside to the gardens, the moonlight casting a faint glow on everything.
The light made his eyes shimmer, and you smiled softly at the sight. “I’m sorry about them,” Azriel muttered, but you could tell there was some reluctant amusement behind his words.
You grinned softly, placing a light hand on his chest. “It’s fine,” you said. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from them.”
Azriel’s eyes softened, and he brought a hand up to brush your cheek. “I’ve been plotting my escape with you for the last hour.”
You laughed, leaning into his touch. “You can’t be serious.”
“Very.” He grinned, then slowly leaned down to press his lips to yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body melted into him, his hold the only thing keeping you upright as he kissed you desperately. Lovingly.
You reluctantly broke away, laughing when he tried to follow after you. “I did actually have something to give you,” you told him.
He leaned back in for another peck, and then another, the two of you smiling against each other. “You are more than enough,” he hummed happily.
Your body flushed at his words, your heart doing somersaults in your chest. It all felt so surreal, but after Nesta’s little talk, after you admitted you loved him, you had decided you needed to show him this.
You pushed away slightly to reach into your pocket, then paused. “Your real gifts are at the House, but—”
“So that pile of presents was for me,” he said, his grin teasing.
You rolled your eyes. “Yes,” you admitted with a huff, then continued more softly, “But I wanted to show you this.”
Azriel immediately turned more serious at your tone, watching as you pulled the tiny square of fabric from your pocket. You unfolded it for him to reveal the jagged edges, the true size no bigger than your palm. The fabric was as dark as the night sky, the shade blending seamlessly with the shadow that passed over your open palm.
His eyes were wide as they moved from your hand to your face. “What—”
“It’s from your cloak,” you rasped, unexpected emotion clawing at your throat as you looked at it. “From the night you saved us at Cesere.” You bit your lip, hesitating a moment before telling him, “I watched it get caught on a broken column, and I grabbed the strip left behind before Mor winnowed us to Velaris. I don’t know what compelled me to do so, but I’ve carried it with me since.”
You squeezed the fabric in your palm, your eyes drifting back to Azriel’s, his eyes now shining in the moonlight. “It became my reminder that there is good in this world. That there is always hope, even amid terror and destruction.”
Azriel kissed you, both of his hands coming up to grip your face. It was so brief, but so passionate—so reverent—it left you dazed. His forehead rested against yours, his hands still cradling your face, as he rasped, “I love you.”
Your lip wobbled as his words washed over you. “I love you, too,” you replied, voice watery.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then pulled you into his chest, his arms tucking you in against him. His wings wrapped around you, cocooning the two of you in a bubble of darkness, and you nearly sobbed as a glowing thread unfurled between you.
✦ azriel x reader. canon divergent. slow burn. eventual nsfw.
✦ summary: Hewn City is breathtaking in her beauty, known for her cruelty, and simple in the way she is ruled. she is lead by darkness and her people are rumored to thrive within it. no one came and no one went; a true court of nightmares. but, like all cities, Hewn City holds a secret. there were those who were scared of the darkness, who were wary of the nightmares. they wished for something more, for something different, and you made it your purpose to help them. for centuries, you disappeared those who wished to leave, who wished to survive — until Keir calls for your head and the High Lord himself arrives to collect it.
authors note: this series will be chock full of angst and my take on fae politics. there will be mention of abuse, SA, and torture — but none of it will happen in real time or be described in detail. warnings will be included in the affected chapters. we’ve got one-sided pining, one-sided enemies to lovers, found family, and so much more. enjoy <3
✦ part one ; how it ends.
✦ part two ; the inevitable — PUBLISHED 8.17 !
hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:
When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:
This one goes out to all my angst girlies. My ladies who like the feeling of tears crawling onto your pillow, of hurt balling up in your stomach as you wander through a fic. I see you and I feel you, and I cooked this one up special just for you.
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:
Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are!
The first time it had happened, you had been more confused than anything.
Azriel had just given Elain a gift for Starfall; a pair of earrings that would glow a warm pink when kissed by the sun’s rays. Her cheeks turned the same color as she admired them, as did the tips of the shadowsinger’s ears.
Just one smooth petal rested in your palm as you brought your hand back from covering a cough, pink and delicate and beautiful. You thought that maybe it had landed in your palm before you coughed— even if there were no peonies in the vicinity and you hadn’t even seen one in months. Because there was no way that it had come… out of you.
The second time it happened, confusion became fear and it swiftly took root deep in your stomach. This time, it was a couple of petals, dewey in your hand as you turned away from your friends, shock running through you.
Azriel and Elain were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the love seat in the living room of the House of Wind, spirits being passed around by everyone and laughter filling the air. They had just shared a look you could infer was meant to be a secret between only them, but you had unfortunately witnessed the action. You could hardly breathe as you quickly hid the evidence of your newfound predicament, dumping the petals into a potted plant beside the mantle. You hoped that you were slick; taking a slow sip from your glass in an attempt to rid your throat of that tight, scratchy feeling even though your body was screaming for you to gulp it down.
In that moment, you realized that something was wrong with you. It would only take a few more petal-filled fits and two trips to the grand library of Velaris to discover that you were— to put it simply— completely, wholly, and undeniably doomed. It was there, during the early hours of morn and the empty, candle-lit corridors that you learned three things;
You were in love with your best friend, Azriel.
He was in love with someone else.
And you were going to die.
—
Things between you and the shadowsinger hadn’t always been so difficult.
Your relationship was, for many years, easy and left you feeling light; every conversation and interaction cherished. Initially, the pair of you had become fast friends; the other members of the Inner Circle even remarking on how he was usually a little slower to build relations. Perhaps something of your sense of self, intelligence, and silver-thorned wit had something to do with his initial intrigue. That was the guess Feyre ventured, anyway.
Once your friendship with the elusive male had blossomed, it was easy to maintain. Though you didn’t see him every day, when he did pay you a visit, the two of you made the most of it. The Inner Circle liked to poke at the pair of you, even going so far as to joke about your relationship that was not a relationship. And you and Azriel took it like champs; never wavering, always keeping it light in good fun.
But at night when you would crawl into your sheets and close your eyes, sometimes thoughts of him would find you. It was wrong to be thinking of your best friend like this when he so obviously would never feel that way for you, and yet… you pondered how his fingers would feel tracing across your naked back. You wondered what it would be like to melt into his arms at the end of the day, how his heartbeat would sound if it was just inches away from your ear, if you could lay your head on his chest.
You tried, you really did try to stop the thoughts from coming. But they quickly became more vivid, and more frequent than before. You couldn’t rid him from your mind— couldn’t focus when he came near, couldn’t hold up your end of the witty volley you usually shared because you’d get flustered if you stared at him for too long. Slowly, you had come to realize that the jokes your friends loved to make weren’t just conjecture— they knew all along that something was there.
It made you wonder if Azriel knew, too.
He was undeniably one of the smartest males you had come to know— your appraisal of him was sparkling, stellar. But when it came to things regarding emotion— specifically, his own emotions… he tended not to be quite as adept. So you had now landed in this confusion-fogged purgatory. Either your best friend knew you harbored feelings for him and he did not return them whatsoever— acting ignorant of your emotions. Or he didn’t know you were in love with him, didn’t even see a romantic relationship with you as a possibility, and maybe… if he were enlightened, he would realize that he… loved you too.
It was that very hope that had you holding out for so long. You so desperately wanted to believe that he just wasn’t aware of your feelings— of his— that you smushed your dignity down and continued to uphold your friendship, never revealing that you felt romantically attracted to him.
But the waiting game, of course, came back to bite you in the ass. Because the moment you realized he had started to see someone else… you knew that you had deluded yourself for months. All those nights that you laid awake, fantasizing about him and how he would proclaim his love to you… they were just fantasies. Nothing of the sort would ever happen.
Because now, he had Elain.
Her— the Archeron sister known for her gentle spirit and her striking face. She was quiet, and sweet, and goddamn breathtaking. Of course it had to be her; it couldn’t have been some bitch that would actually be deserving of your hatred. Because he was perfect, why would his choice of life partner be anything but? You couldn’t think of a bad word to say about the woman.
Elain had always treated you with polite kindness, a sense of regality emanating from her and her ethereal beauty. Though she wasn’t by any means your favorite female, there was nothing she had ever done to justify even a grain of dislike. You couldn’t say your few conversations had been riveting, nor her presence been warm and inviting… but they hadn’t been the opposite either. Your opinion on her was removed, but pleasant. Hell, if you could stand a blow to the ego, you might even admit you were jealous of the looks almost every male gave her when she entered the room.
The jealousy certainly ramped up once you realized that your beloved shadowsinger was one of those males… and actually, he was the only one she seemed to return interest toward, which of course… was salt in the wound.
As the weeks dragged on, their supposedly-secret affair began picking up speed. The sight of Azriel’s warm hazel gaze pinned to her made your stomach churn with unease, the petals itching up your throat more and more often. It became easier to just avoid the both of them in general, and with the absence of their presences, it was easier for you to pretend that everything was fine, and that you could handle your worsening condition on your own.
But of course, that was not the case.
Because after a few months, the Inner Circle gathered in private quarters above the Night Court Annual Starfall Ball. Thousands celebrated and swirled below you in the ballroom and yet you could only focus on one. It was then that the man who haunted your thoughts stood before the rest of you, pretty Elain tucked under his arm all giddy and shy, and announced they were engaged to be wed.
—
Warm liquid trickled out from the corner of your mouth, your ears ringing as your vision blurred in two, wide waves cleaving and then melting together again.
The crisp air felt welcome on your flushed cheeks, cool on your inflamed, ragged lungs. Stars danced above you as they pelted across the sky, and in your haggard state, they seemed to smear into a disorienting and beautiful masterpiece.
Someone was kneeling in front of you, large wings casting shadows around broad shoulders as they yelled something you couldn’t quite understand. The warm smell of them was comforting and you relaxed slightly, recognizing it was Cassian and slumping as his calloused hands came to hold your biceps.
The spliced image of him made it too hard to read the words on his lips. You tried to sit up but your body was drained, making it impossible to move. The Illyrian gathered your limp form into his arms and your head lolled to face the ground, finally piecing together what had happened.
A pile of pink, lush petals glistened up at you against the dark stone of the balcony floor, the light from the full moon sparkling off droplets of deep scarlet. It had happened again… and this time, it was even worse than before. You had had another episode— the evidence of it glaring even in your semi-conscious state.
“You’re in love with him…,” Cassian said slowly, barely even audible.
But you heard it— your body trembling with some sick concoction of shame and relief. For so long you had not uttered a whisper of your feelings, never daring to take ownership of them, let alone share them. There were no words that you could muster, nothing sharp or bright for you to make a response. You were just tired. Indescribably tired. Gods, you were so tired, your limbs felt as if they had turned to stone, and you could slumber for a thousand years.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” the male growled, squeezing your limp form closer to his firm chest. “I swear, he… Gods, this is fucked.”
You closed your eyes and allowed his body heat to seep into you, finding a small bit of comfort there. Cassian didn’t choose to say anything else as the waves of sickness gradually dissipated, leaving you weak and numb.
“Cass,” you rasped, barely able to get enough air to speak. “I’m scared.” Your head felt as if it was filled with a thick smog— struggling to get enough oxygen as you slowly recovered.
The General’s brow furrowed in pain at your pitiful confession, gathering you closer to his chest and tucking your head in tight beneath his chin. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, not anymore. I’m here.” Cassian held you so delicately you wanted to cry, guilt pulsing through you as you realized he must have been terrified to have found you in such a sorry state. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, woe taking root deep in your chest. Now that you had seen Azriel with her— like that, so clearly in love with her, parading their affections out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see as he twirled her around the ballroom earlier… It was too much. Every part of you throbbed in agony, and you were consumed in fresh throes of self-pity. It was completely humiliating to be this debilitated. All because you were in love with your best friend, and he was in love with someone else.
Cassian scrunched his brow, the planes of his chiseled face settling into solid lines as you regained your bearings. “There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. You didn’t ask for this— how you feel is not your fault. Your body is already punishing you for simply having feelings— don’t let your mind join in on the beating too.”
You nodded, tucking your hands into your chest as he sighed and stood, taking you with him. He lifted you into his embrace with the utmost ease, as though you weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. Your evening dress fluttered with the movement. If anyone caught sight of you two from far away, perhaps it could be construed as romantic, the way he now held you in his strong arms, strolling away from the party.
“You don’t seem as… freaked out as I thought you would,” you whispered as he walked with lethal quiet. Shadows stood tall above you as you approached the hedged boundary of the estate gardens, cutting into the overwhelming display the falling stars continued to put on.
Cassian was quiet.
You took a minute to study his somber expression, trying to read what he was feeling in this moment of recollection. Clearly, he had some experience with this disease before. Otherwise, he would’ve ran you right inside the ball, or to the nearest healer. But he didn’t— instead, he’d wandered into the dark hedges of the grounds, concealing you from prying eyes and ears. As if he understood what you would want most in this moment of shattering vulnerability.
“I’m not sure why you expect so little of me, little one,” he eventually replied, coming to the center of the area. He perched you beside him on a wrought-iron bench, facing a small fountain whose gentle gurgle drowned out the last hints of the celebration you’d left behind.
You frowned. Your lungs felt looser— distracted by whatever it was that provided Cassian with experience regarding your dreadful illness. It was nearly enough to forget the bomb that had been dropped on you upstairs just twenty minutes ago. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ you began. Cass shot you a playful look and you sighed, a smile daring at your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Okay I just meant that before this, I’d never heard of this kind of thing…” Your voice trailed off, hand reaching to rest on his before you murmured, “I’m sorry you have.”
The Illyrian raised a brow and let out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh no— It wasn’t me, I don’t… Well, never that bad anyway. I’ve just seen… how bad it can get. An old friend of mine once had the unfortunate experience of falling ill to this plague centuries ago.”
You nodded and put your hands in your lap, digging a thumb into your palm. “What… happened to them?”
Cassian closed his lips and sighed, hands bracing his knees. Silence drew out for a long beat before he finally spoke. “He told the one he loved about his ailment. And they told him..,” he trailed off, gaze darting sideways to land on you. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so after a brief pause. “They told him they would never have romantic feelings for him. They asked him to have the procedure. They wanted him to live, and if they couldn’t love him… then that was the only way.”
You shuddered. The very notion of the procedure made your bones ache and your shoulders sag.
“So he did,” Cassian went on, undeterred. “And he survived.”
Quiet invaded the still air, otherwise only interrupted by the low chirps of crickets in the grass and the muffled party. Cassian decided not to speak any further on the subject, instead content to let a calm silence settle between the pair of you. But somehow, you found yourself talking— despite never having voiced aloud any of these feelings, any of these thoughts.
“Cass, do you think… I should have the procedure, too?”
It was a question that was fully weighted— heavy, you already knew, but by the way the Illyrian’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of it all seemed more drastic than before.
Cassian took his time to form a reply, but when he finally did, it was in a soft and hushed voice. “I am not the one that should be making such calls, Y/n. But I will tell you that my friend… he was never quite the same.”
You shared a look of understanding with him— he was your friend, and the male you were in love with was his brother. Freshly engaged brother, at that. The consequences of the procedure would certainly crack a deep fracture in the dynamic of your group. If anything, you would probably fade away from everyone, seeing as every one of your memories that the Shadowsinger dwelled in would be tainted— his absence removed entirely. He would not exist to you anymore, and even if that wouldn’t necessarily affect you, oblivious to his existence, everyone around you would not share that same luxury.
And Azriel would be there, too. He would have to see you and know that you had loved him so intensely, that those feelings were so wholly one-sided, that you had to physically remove him from your mind. All so that your heart could forget him and start anew. Would that bother him? Knowing that you had suffered because you had fallen in love with him, while he would never possibly feel that way for you? Surely that would make him uncomfortable, to be in your presence after that. So ultimately, it would be best to just move away, and start somewhere else— clean slate. Would he even miss you?
“Sometimes I think about it— the procedure. This disease, it’s a wretched way to live, Cass. It hurts,” you said, voice cracking as emotion welled up in your eyes and throat. “It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even be around him anymore. Especially not now. Now that he’s…” You trained off, unable to say the words.
Cassian slid to your side, tucking you underneath a strong arm. The shadow of his wing furled around you from behind, encasing you in a warm, safe space. Tears began to race down your cheeks, gathering at your chin and splattering onto the silken fabric on your lap. You couldn’t stop them— still too drained from the fit from before. All you could do was cry as your friend gathered you closer to him, patting the top of your head with careful strokes, trying his best to comfort you.
Only once your crying seemed to subside did Cassian offer another solution. “Maybe… you could talk to him.”
You laughed— a hollow, broken sound. Cassian lips curved up at the sound nonetheless. “I’m simply nowhere near as brave as you, Cass.” Shaking your head, your gaze focused on the bubbling fountain before you. “Even if I could manage to face him, and confess to him… If he rejected me… I think I’d die on the spot.”
“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low.
You bit your lip. “And why not, Cass? There’s a good chance that I could drop dead any time I have one of these fits. That’s just reality.”
“Well fuck that reality,” Cassian spat, wings ruffling. “I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I sure as hell know Azriel wouldn’t either.”
“Well maybe I don’t wanna live without him!” you yelled. After holding back your emotions for so long, they just kept flooding out after the hole Cassian had punched into the dam that had kept them at bay. “Maybe I’d rather die than lose even one memory with him, maybe I’ll just hold out for as long as I can because I’m too fucking scared to lose him!”
Cassian’s face twisted into agony. “And what of those who love you?” he challenged, voice shaking slightly with emotion. “What about us, what happens when you die, and when the last memories we will have of you were you withering away before our very eyes?! You love him? Do you know what world of pain he will be in when he finds out what happened to you? And then to discover your absolute complacency in the matter?”
A sob escaped you as you felt every word of truth pierce the feeble veil you had called a shield in your attempt at denial. Your friend was right— you couldn’t allow this disease to win, not if that meant hurting everyone you loved in the process. And now that you thought about it— even if you chose to remember him, and let the sickness take its course… what good would those memories do you, when you’d be dead?
Cassian seemed to realize you had accepted defeat, because he tightened his hold on you and stroked your hair as you cried into his chest. The sadness you felt unfortunately was not alleviated by your tears, but at least… you had come to see that there was only one option forward.
Summary: With the impending war, Y/N is captured by Hybern's general. As they struggle to protect those they care about, they reflect on their unrequited feelings for Azriel and their insecurities within the Night Court.
Word Count: 4,585
Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes
A/N: This is my first time ever writing anything like this. I am a true sucker for angst. This is meant to go along with some of the events of ACOWAR, but of course, it’s different. Please don’t come at me for not following it’s exact story line. ALSO, I know that Azriel or Feyre would NEVER, but it’s just for the heartache okay!!
------
Now
All of it, it was all going to shit. I don’t know how my ears weren’t bleeding at the sheer amount of noise coming from the chaos around me. So much screaming, but was it Hybern’s forces, or our own? Everything was ringing, my head throbbing along with it. It was almost as if my breaths were not reaching my lungs. I was on the ground, all fours underneath me as I tried and tried to get myself to my feet. Everything was sore, it was like my muscles were not working. I stretched for the source of the aching on my temple and what I found was the warm, wet consistency of fresh blood.
My family, where is my family? Panic drenched me like a bucket of ice water.
With a groan, I grabbed my sword that lay beside me and turned to face the sky, now sitting at least. The sky, it was so blue. It almost felt like a disgusting joke to see something so beautiful, as dead bodies lay at my feet. Hybern’s forces were surrounding me, there was no escaping this.
I grit my teeth as I stand, my blade in hand. Dizziness rolls off me in waves, so much so that nausea is found coursing through my veins. I don’t get very far up before I’m slammed back down to the earth. My face hits the dirt as all the air leaves my lungs, leaving nothing but the taste of the earth and blood in my mouth. There is someone standing on my back, applying enough pressure I’m sure I’ll have a broken rib or two.
“Don’t go too far, sweetheart. We are just getting started with you.” A cry of pain leaves my lips as one of Hybern’s generals continues to crush my ribcage. The nausea and ringing in my head is too much. Then, with another blow to my head, everything is dark.
---
Before
“Oh, come on now sweet cheeks! You can do better than that. Az and I trained you myself!” Cassian’s voice was oh so annoying as he pinned me to my back. Sweat was gleaming across both of us as we spent the morning training. I was panting as my mind continued to reel.
Life had gotten tense with the Inner Circle recently. Not only was Prythian on the cusp of war with Hybern, but now we had to juggle the two newly made Fae that were the Archeron sisters.
I honestly felt bad for them. They did not ask for this life. I can only image what it would be like to go through life having your humanity ripped from you. Now knowing that you are going to be around for centuries instead of decades. And I felt bad for Feyre, who never wanted to see her sister’s dragged into this.
Usually, Azriel would be here with Cassian and me. Usually. It seemed as though Azriel had been getting far in over his head with the middle Archeron sister as of late. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. But, I would never admit that fact out loud. Elain was half here and half not. Whenever she did speak, she’d just spew some crap that didn’t make any sense. But, that didn’t stop Azriel from spending any time he was not preparing for the war, with her.
Azriel. My heart seized at just the mention of his name. I had known the Shadowsinger for centuries. I stood by his side as he faced his own inner turmoil about Rhys being taken from us right under our feet. I stood by him even before that as I watched Windhaven and Devlon try to take was little he had away from him. Really, I had stood by everyone in this Inner Circle. But Azriel, Az was different. This too I would never admit out loud.
It took me holding him one night, after he had dreamt of his hands being lit aflame again, that it snapped. In all his vulnerability, it just, snapped. Az and I had shared a connection, a friendship, and I had loved him far long before the mating bond clicked in place. It only felt right that it was him. But, it hasn’t snapped for him.
It hurt, every single day, it hurt. And to watch him try so hard to make whatever it was happen with Elain, who was mated to someone else, made me feel worthless. This too, was not his fault. How was he supposed to know when I refused to breathe a word of it. Honestly, it might be a good thing, the distance. It hurts, but Azriel deserves happiness. I don’t know if I’m the one who can give him that.
“Damnit Cass!” I grunted as I fought back from his restraint.
“You are letting yourself get sloppy, Y/N. No room for that on the battlefield.” His face was smug. I felt some embarrassment creep up my neck and find its way on my cheeks.
“I know, I know.” I huffed. “Just let me up already.” I gave up on fighting back. Recently I found myself lacking the energy I used to have. I used to be full, driven, but I have found myself distant lately.
“Look, are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You have not had your head in the game recently.” He stood and held a hand out to me. Cassian only wanted to check on me, it was nice really. I just wasn’t used to it. I had been the one the members of this court had always leaned their heads on. There just seemed to be no room for the others to do the same for me. So, I never asked them to. I wasn’t going to start now.
“I’m fine Cass, just tired.” I retorted.
“Aren’t we all sweet cheeks.” He said as he patted my back.
---
Now
Fire is crackling somewhere near me, but I can’t feel its warmth. I feel myself chained up. My arms were far above my head, hanging me from a support post. My feet had been stripped of their shoes, and now chains wrapped around my ankles. My body hurt, breathing hurt, and my head hurt. I was sure that this hellhole was only going to make it worse.
“Ah, there she is. Glad to see you actual awoke, we were starting to get worried.” Spoke the same general who broke my ribs.
I kept my mouth shut, only glaring at the direction of the voice. My vision was still blurry, and where I hope there was only one of him, I saw three.
The entrance flap of the tent open and closed to reveal another male. This one, I recognized. The King of Hybern himself.
“If it isn’t Y/N of the Night Court. I have to say, my men did a fine job bringing you in here for me. Wouldn’t you say so?” His voice was gruff. “Now that you’re here, we some questions we need answered, and I suggest you do answer them, dear. I’m sure you don’t want to find out what will happen if you don’t cooperate.”
I lazily lifted my head toward the King and sneered. “Try me.” I bit back, my voice laced with venom.
“Oh, I was afraid you’d say something of those sorts.” The king waved in another male, he was in head to toe in black. Something similar to what I’d see our very own Shadowsinger wear. Only this male was no where near the build of Az, but damn, did he look pissed.
The male pulled out a small dagger that was sheathed on their waist and made his way closer to me. I couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape my lips, “Size does matter you know,” I quipped. I know this man was here to interrogate me, but I could not let these people know how truly vulnerable I felt.
“Oh? I beg to differ.” The male stated as he plunged the dagger into the flesh of my calf.
---
Before
Rhys wanted to have a family dinner tonight. It would be the first one in quite a long time. With everything going on, who was to blame anyone? I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it though. I used to love the time I could spend with my family, but now, it wasn’t the same. Not when my family was no longer the same.
Rhys had Feyre, who don’t get me wrong, I love, and I love to see Rhys have the mate he has always deserved. But, with the additions of the Acheron sisters came with something strained. Cass hasn’t said anything, but I see the way he looks at Nesta. Nesta, who wants absolutely nothing to do with him, or any of us for that matter. Mor and Amren hadn’t been around as of late. Both were too busy preparing for this inevitable war. Mor with being an emissary and Amren with working out some logistics of the Cauldron.
And Az. Azriel was no longer seeking me out. No longer spending time in the training ring or the library with me. Instead, he was with Elain.
And then, there was me. Before this family all I was, was alone. Finding this family had saved me in more aspects than one, but I can feel it shifting under my feet, about to give way and take me with the edge of it.
This though, is something I would never speak about. There is enough going on as it is. No one needs to be burdened about me, my unreciprocated feelings for the Shadowsinger, or my silly feelings of insecurity. I’m a friend to the court, a warrior, sometimes an advisor, but, I am nothing compared to the rest of them. I simply do not hold enough importance, and that is something I must live with. Something I am terrified they will realize as well.
I was the last to make it to the table. Cauldron, even Elain is here. And next to Elain was Az. Hazel eyed, messy haired, Az. We caught each other’s eyes. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep up onto my face in greeting, and he smiled back.
I took my seat next to Cass and Amren and looked at the table around me. Even though war was around the corner, it felt good to gather as if nothing was wrong. Conservation started buzzing, everyone started eating, and I drifted off to a place that wouldn’t hurt me.
—-
Now
Sweat is dripping off me in beads. My body is littered with cuts and bruises. But, I didn’t say a word. Not a single word about the size of our armies, not a word about what Rhys and the others had planned, not a word about our allies. Not a word. And I was paying for it.
Gods. They had left me here, giving me a break from the beatings and the torture. Whatever the used must have been laced with faebane because I have never felt this weak. This out of control of myself. I wasn’t healing, and I was still losing blood. At this rate, it wasn’t looking good. I was still hanging from my arms, I’m sure at this point I had a shoulder out of it’s socket. A rustling began again at the entrance of the tent.
“Back for more?” I croaked. My throat was completely dry from the screaming. But, when I got my eyes open enough to see what the cause of the noise was, my heart stopped dead in it’s tracks.
Elain.
---
Before
I retreated from dinner early. As pitiful as it sounds, I couldn’t be around it. I couldn’t stand to see Azriel with her any longer. Not when I knew he was the one who was slowly healing her and ruining me.
Knocking at my bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts and I was looking into a book, not really reading it. “Come in,” I shouted.
The site of Azriel caught me off guard. Once upon a time, it was normal for him to seek me out from my room. Now, it simply wasn’t. I couldn’t help but tense.
“Oh! Az!” I put my book down and stood. “How are you doing?” I smiled up at him.
“You would know if you hadn’t left dinner so early.” He looked down at me, frowning and crossing his arms. It was rare that Az was upset with me.
“Look, I’m sorry, I’m tired after training today.” I gave him a sad smile, not wanting him to push the issue further. “But please, tell me what I missed.”
This somehow made his shadows start to swirl around him and he huffed. “I was telling everyone how much progress Elain had made. She’s having actual conversations now.” He smiled at it, proud.
I tried not to show any hurt on my face. I have no right for this to hurt me. He was helping someone, and I had to be pitiful enough that I was jealous.
“That’s amazing Az, you’ve helped her a lot.” I let another smile grace my face. Before I knew what I was saying it was falling out of my lips, “But, you do realize that she is mated, right?”
Azriel’s demeanor shifted. His shadows became agitated, “Elain is a friend. She is going through a lot, and she needs support.” He sighed, “Plus, I think that cauldron could be wrong.” That sentence alone was enough to rip whatever was left in me to shreds. Why couldn’t he see me?
I had to take a deep breath to keep the silver lining in my eyes in place. “Az, when in your life have you ever seen the cauldron be wrong? Why would it start being wrong now?”
“Look, maybe you’ll understand one day, but it’s wrong about her and Lucien.” He crossed his arms now.
“It sounds like you want to it be wrong. Whether it is, or not.”
Azriel was growing frustrated. His eyebrow ticked and he huffed, “Can you blame me for wanting something more?”
“She is mated Azriel. Off limits.” I tried to stress him. “I don’t want to see you hurt if it doesn’t turn out the way you want.” I sighed. “I wouldn’t want my mate ripped away from me, I’m sure Lucien doesn’t either.” He doesn’t even realize that I’m talking about him. Not a single clue.
“Ripped away? Look Y/N, just because you’re alone, does not mean I have to be. Why are you making this about you?” He nearly snarled at me. Snarled. “I have finally found another purpose other than this war. I have found something, someone, to spend my time with and enjoy.”
His words hit me like an arrow to the chest. Alone. Maybe they all did see me, and they just didn’t care. Why couldn’t I be enough for him? Why hadn’t in all the time and cherished memories we have together be enough. We had held each other in hardship. We had trained together. We had grown together. We had spent countless Starfalls together. We had shared so many laughs and touches. Why wasn’t what we had enough for him?
The weight of Azriel’s words hung in the air, heavy silence settling between us. My heart ached with the sting of his remark, and I fought to keep any of my remaining composure.
I deflated, “Az,” I tried to sigh as he cut me off again.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so insecure, you’d see that I’m just trying to help someone who’s been through a lot. You’re jealous and it’s clouding your judgment.” He stared at me, and I had to look away. I didn’t realize it but I began to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage, or from the way my heart cracked as he spoke.
“I think you should go Az.” My voice began to break, and I could tell that my walls were going to come down. Not once had I ever asked him to leave.
His own eyes softened, and he reached for me, “Wait.”
He tried to continue but I cut him off, “Leave, Azriel.” I turned to face away from him. I gathered my arms together. I couldn’t let him see the tears that were rolling down my face, I wouldn’t.
He pulled his arm back to himself and hesitated, seeing the pain he was causing me. Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind with a heavy finality.
---
Now
Elain. What the fuck was she doing here?
Seeing her tore me from my stupor. She acted as if she was in a trance, half there. I was really panicking now. I could take this torture and pain, Elain, I don’t think she would last. I could hardly pull at my restraints at this point.
“Elain! Elain!” I screamed at her, trying to get her attention. One of the males that was hauling her in, left her side and strolled to mine. Next thing I knew I was tasting my own blood in my mouth as his fist met with my face. As the blood welled up in my mouth, I felt rage hit me. I spat at him. His face now coated with the bloody saliva that he caused me.
He wiped his hand over his face, ridding it of its bloody covering. I snarled at him as he drew a blade. Good. This way the focus would stay on me and not Elain. He brought the blade to my face, slicing a thin mark down my cheek. “If you wanted more, you could’ve just asked.” He trailed the blade down my neck, and now to my collar bone, all the while slicing lightly as he went. He brought his lips to my ear and his hand grabbed my face, “I have so much more than just blades and fists in store for you, girl.”
It was almost too hard to stomach. I didn’t want to know what he was alluding to. Elain, do this for Elain. I told myself. I kept silent and he pushed me away, returning to the other male who was already putting Elain into restraints.
Why is she here? Why is she not fighting back?
As they finished with her restraints, Hybern himself walked back into the tent.
“Cauldron be damned, if it’s not also Feyre’s cauldron made sister.” Hybern chuffed, “We are truly going to have such a fun time together.” He chuckled as he looked between Elain and I.
He nodded at his men and they both reach for their knives. One for me. One for Elain.
“Wait!” I blurted as I saw the man move toward Elaine, “Please, leave her unharmed.”
“Hmm,” hummed Hybern, “Now, tell me pretty thing, why would I do that?”
“She’s a Seer. Please, you must leave her unharmed or she will be no use to anyone. She will not come out of any trance if she is harmed.” I didn’t know if what I was blabbing was true. I only knew that I needed to protect Elain, for she could not protect herself.
Hybern nodded again at the male who was at Elain’s side. The male sheathed his blade and I let out a silent sigh.
“You on the other hand,” Hybern turned his attention back on me, “I have some questions about pretty Elain.” A wicked smile reached the lips of the male in front of me, as he lifted his blade threatening. “You, dear Y/N, best answer them.”
The male reached for my shirt and tore it in half. Now leaving my chest and abdomen exposed to the air, only a warrior’s wrap covering my breasts. I gasped at the bite of the air reaching my skin. My abdomen was littered with black and blue bruising from the beatings. The faebane in my system slowing any kind of healing.
I turned my face to a stone grimace. I could do this. I told myself. If nobody comes for you, then surely someone will come for Elain.
That truth hurt almost as much as the torture that I was being put through.
---
Before
It had been about a week since I’d seen Azriel. The bond that used to hum in my chest felt vacant. Rhysand had sent me and Cassian to one of the Illyrian war bands that were positioned in case of an attack.
It was a single flaming arrow that was sent into a tent that set everything into utter chaos. Cassian was in the middle of a meeting with some of the other commanders, and I was in the training ring.
Hybern’s forces hit us as if we were nothing but an anthill in their way.
I don’t know where Cassian was as I fought and fought, until I was brought down.
---
Now
I was hardly holding on. I had no energy to cry out anymore. No energy to even lift my own head up. My abdomen and back was near ribbons after that male drove his blade into me again and again.
Elain had seemed to snap in and out of it. When she was somewhat coherent, she would only cry. I felt bad for her, but I had done what I could do protect her. There wasn’t a single scratch on her.
At thinking of Elain my mind drifted to Azriel. I wonder if he’s looking for me, if not, her.
The inner circle had to know that something was wrong at this point. I only hope that Cassian was also okay after we were ambushed. I’m sure if he wasn’t, he’d be right next to me also receiving the beatings I was.
Blood dripped down my back, creating a small pool under me. I truly didn’t know how much longer I would last. I had never felt weaker in my life.
I should’ve told him that night. Anguish was suffocating me. I found myself retracing everything I did as of late. The way I stole myself away from my family because I was being nothing but pitiful. The way they started to treat me differently. The way one no one would come to me anymore, and I would not go to them. No wonder they have left you here. You are nothing to them. My mind bit at me.
What truly bothered me was the downfall of mine as Azriel’s friendship. He was the one person I could always truly count on. If I had fallen in training, if I had drank too much, if some stupid male had broke my heart, it was always Azriel that had caught me, and me him. It’s why I fell in love with him long before the bond snapped its place into my heart. And now I was going to die without him ever knowing. I was simply going to fade away as my blood pooled underneath me.
It's better this way. I told myself. Elain is unharmed, and I will fade before anyone knows of this bond. The war will be won and Az will be able to move on with someone he finds joy in.
I couldn’t help but let tears run down my face. I wanted to scream, to find some way out, but with the faebane running through me, I was simply too weak.
---
I woke to the sound of rustling at the entrance of the tent. The rustling led to Elain, and I could hear her restraints being messed with. I nearly couldn’t pry my eyes open at the sound. Maybe they would finally take me from my misery. I silently hoped. That’s when I heard a quiet gasp. I looked up to see.. Feyre? And behind her, the one messing with Elain’s chains, Azriel.
My heart lurched to a stop. They had come to help, we were going to get out.
“Azriel..” Feyre quietly said as he brought Elain into his arms.
“What.” He nearly hissed at her. That’s when he looked up and truly saw me.
“Az.. Feyre..” I choked on my words. Help was here. I was going to get out of here. To make it. Finally something positive bloomed in my chest in place of where that hole had found itself.
Azriel set Elain back down and rushed to my side. He put a hand to my cheek, “Y/N, we couldn’t find you anywhere. Cass, he said you were missing after the battle.” His touch sent shivers down my beaten spine.
My restraints still bore heavily into my wrists where I was strung up. Then, there was rustling and yelling coming from outside of the tent.
“Help me down, please.” My voice was raw and pleading.
The yelling was getting closer and closer.
“Az, we have to leave, now.” Feyre said, trying to scoop Elain into her arms.
Azriel’s hand left my cheek, and panic flared into his eyes as he took in my state.
Hybern’s soldiers were coming, realizing something was wrong. Azriel looked between Elain and I, backing up from where I was strung up. He was backing away from me. Why was he backing away from me?
My own panic started to settle deep inside of me, long squashing any hope that had found it’s place.
“Azriel… please,” I coughed quietly. Dread was setting deeply inside of me. They didn’t plan on saving two. They came here for Elain, not me.
A sob found it’s way onto my lips as he picked Elain from Feyre’s arms. Feyre herself looking torn, her eyes expressing so much anguish.
“We will come back Y/N. I promise.” Azriel’s words were yet another punch to the gut.
I couldn’t help but let the sobs I had been holding onto for so long bubble out of me.
“Please don’t leave me here.” I cried, no longer caring for the quietness. They both stiffened at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I was gasping for air as this point, “If you’re not going to take me, then at least put me down.”
Their eyes widened at my statement, but I couldn’t hold for much longer. I needed this pain to end. This suffering to be over with.
“We will be back. I will come straight back.” Azriel hushly stated. His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes were boring into me. They were trying to convince me he was telling the truth, but I knew better. I knew that they were only getting into the camp once successfully.
They chose Elain. They were going to leave me behind.
“Just kill me, please kill me…” I sobbed, “Please if you are going to leave me behind, then just kill me.”
Feyre was crying now, and Azriel. I knew, that even though he was choosing Elain, Elain to save, and Elain to love, he still wouldn’t harm me.
“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Feyre bubbled out of her crying lips as she quickly left the tent under her cloak.
Azriel and I made eye contact again through my sobbing, through the tears that were leaving my eyes in force. “I will be right back. I will come back for you.” And then, he was gone. With Elain in his arms.
I broke, truly broke. No weapon could hurt me as much as the sight of who I loved most, my mate, leaving me here, strung up and bleeding out.
Summary: Trying a little something different here...not sure how I'm going to explain it yet, but this fic is more of a fantasy aspect than my other fics.
Warnings: Mentions of burns and death.
Word Count: 3,569
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Pain.
The first thing you recognize when you come to is pain. That, and the darkness.
It consumes you from all angles, a darkness so deep and ancient it feels otherworldly. It coils around you like a frightened snake, smothering what little air you’re able to choke down. You blink once, twice, to attempt to clear your vision, but the black coating the space around you doesn’t so much as shift.
It’s how you know you’re in deep shit.
A sharp pounding pierces your skull, preventing you from shoving your shaky arms beneath your aching body and pushing to your feet. The feeling is worse than that of any wound bestowed upon you up until this point. Not even the King of Hel’s rigorous training or your mother’s disappearance had been so painful.
There’s a gnawing so deeply in your bones that you wonder if the feeling has always been with you, if you’ve somehow become accustomed to the feeling of your body screaming in agony.
Growing up in Hel, you should be used to such things.
Sunbursts spot your vision, the bleeding eclipses warring with the darkness. You hold your breath for a beat or two, trying to force your pulsing heart to calm. Exhaling slowly doesn’t help, only forces your breathing to become shakier.
It’s eerily silent, save for your panting breath. The screams of agony still ring in your ears, the King of Hel’s malicious laugh accompanying them as he splays himself across his throne, grinning at the two maidens sat in his lap.
As you scramble to gather your bearings, you wrack your muddled mind for where you might be and how you survived. You take inventory of as much as you’re able—the sharp flares of pain in your ribs, jagged and harsh with each inhale and exhale you take, and there’s a ringing in your ears that gives even the wailing spirits of Hel a run for their coin.
Hel. The last thing you remember was standing before your King, the sovereign of the underworld. He’d smirked down at you from his throne made of obsidian and bones, towering over not only you, but the entirety of Hel itself. The wicked curve of his lips and piercing dark eyes had only forced you down to your knees by looks alone.
You had not wanted to meet the gaze of your ruler, always hated his attention on you, but as one of his favored, you were often in his presence. Forced into doing his dirty work because of what you were born into, powers that were unlike anything in either Hel nor Haven, a one-of-a-kind ability he sought to take advantage of.
Your glittering quiver had been strapped across your back, and the image comes back to you vividly—clutching the grip of your bow as the King sealed your bargain with a red-hot hand to your skin and a wicked grin on his face.
A shuddering inhale makes your nose scrunch. You can still smell the remnants of your burning flesh beneath his palm.
You had nearly passed out from the pain. Maybe you did, because no matter how much you furrow your brows and wrack your brain, you can’t seem to figure out how you ended up where you are now, face down on the cold, hard ground.
Reaching out blindly for the bow that’s fallen from your fingers, you groan, the long sleeve of the silky white shirt you don beneath your armor brushes against the sensitive mark on your forearm. Your fingers creak as you uncurl them, rubble and debris scratching against your hand, burying deep beneath your nails as you search for your weapon.
The lightweight of your quiver is comfortable at your back. You choke down a shuddering groan as you lift your wings, biting your lip at the tenderness you feel at your back. They seem to be in one piece, as you twist them this way and that, only throbbing dully with bruises. Creatures of all sorts could be lining the darkness surrounding you, and you understand that you’re taking too long to rise, the shadows and nightmares of The Void keeping you off balance.
The King must have had one of his goons throw your hardly-conscious body into The Void after your bargain sealed. That’s how you ended up here. A spine cracking shudder makes bumps rise on your skin as your body stills.
Stories of The Void come rushing to you, and if you try hard enough, you can smell the lingering scents of the other worlds’—a smoldering smoke as black as The Void surrounds you, cloying your throat in thick waves as if trying to choke you, brand you with the reminder of where you are to return to. Cutting through the utter wickedness is the sharp perfume of something other, a fresh breeze lined with citrus that must be a figment of your imagination because there is no scent like that in Hel, nor breeze in The Void. It simply is.
It must be Haven, you decide. You only recognize the heavens from stories trickled down through the rift of worlds, from picturesque stories and secrets in shadow.
You haven’t known anything other than Hel. You cannot recall your father, hardly any of your mother, nor how you ended up in the King’s care. All you remember from your earliest memories are the soothing tones of your mother when you were young and scared, calming you in her arms before you ended up with the King, and the gleaming bow you never go without.
Forged by a millennia-old weapons-master, you’d been gifted the very weapon you seek now. No one knows how it had gotten to her—not even the King himself—only that the exquisite piece had come from the best battlement blacksmith Hel had to offer. You were no older than eight, eyes rounded with wonder at the sight of the gleaming gold bow settled on your bed, matching quiver and arrows accompanying it.
You shove the thoughts away. Your heart leaps into your throat the longer you search for your weapon. The pain zipping up your body help to focus you, and the strain threatens to give out as your fingers finally find the familiar metal grip of your bow. You hold on tightly and drag it to you, feeling the weapon for signs of damage.
Your bow soothes you as you trace your fingers across the solid gold riser. You know this weapon better than you know yourself. You could be blind and know the inside outs of your beloved weapon, like you are now, vision clouded with black as your fingers slide down the string, taut and flexible as ever.
Once you’re satisfied with the condition of your bow, you attempt to rise. The thick robes you’re clothed in had broken none of the fall. They’re heavy against your body as you struggle to gain your footing, stretching your wings wide to balance. The fabric brushes against your wound and you bite back a yelp at the pain that burns through you like a wildfire.
You had thought that without parents or a family to lose there would be nothing for the King to hold over your head, to force you into his tricks and deals, for him to rip away for his enjoyment, but the wretched ruler always found a way. You clenched your teeth so hard that you thought they would crack as you were forced to your knees before him, glaring daggers up at the beautiful ruler while he only grinned like a wolf, licking over those sharpened canines like he was out for your blood. Again.
He hadn’t let you agree to the terms of your bargain until you screamed.
Shoving to your feet, you splay your arms wide for balance. The harsh ground offered no grip beneath your boots and the blackness does little to help you stay stable. You try to keep your breathing calm when it sharpens as you look around. There’s nothing but the darkness and yourself, not a pinprick of light to guide you nor a sound to be heard. Not even your own thick-soled shoes make noise as you test a step forward.
The silence doesn’t break and the prowling creatures that reside in The Void don’t stir. Beings of nightmares, you’d been told when you were only a child and before your mother was taken from you. Your imagination couldn’t be sated when you were young, always begging for more and more stories of the world outside of Hel, questioning why you weren’t allowed to go anywhere else.
You hated the fires and heat of Hel, always burning a spot in your mind or your skin. You craved more, to see the open sky instead of storming clouds of thick smoke that perpetually covered Hel in charcoal waves. You yearned to see the stars and the moon and the heavens of Haven, with their buttery sunrises and dreamy dusks.
Your mother’s face is a long-forgotten memory, but the stories she told are not. Tales of animals and creatures so large, fit with razor-sharp teeth and glowing eyes stalking around The Void, monstrosities that not even the King of Hel could conjure.
Okay, you remind yourself, shaking the worry from your head. It’s time to make a move.
You’re sitting prey if you don’t. The feathers are a familiar comfort brushing your fingertips as you reach over your shoulder, sliding a singular arrow from the quiver with ease. The gold tipped point sings as it’s unsheathed from its home at your back and you notch it in the bowstring with controlled practice. It’s a motion that keeps your hands from shaking and soothes your breathing, a warrior at the ready, should any of the nightmare’s attack.
As you move, you realize that making your way through the darkness is no easy feat. Not a sound to guide your way nor a flicker of a torch to assess your surroundings. There is only darkness and silence and it beats at you with each tentative step you take. Slow progress is still progress, you try to remind yourself, but you can’t help but feel as if you’re talking in circles, the maze of shadows spinning your sense of direction, offering no reprieve.
Even the scents of Hel and Haven have faded, though you feel better about the former washing from your senses. If only the perfumed scent of Haven remained—you’d gladly follow the trail right up to the heavens, King of Hel be damned.
It had once been a dream to see Haven in all of its glory…before you realized that there was no escaping Hel, no escaping the King and his sinful grins and wicked games.
A sound forces her to still, limbs locking up before you force yourself to steady your stance and take aim, squinting through the black. Your pointed ears perk as you listen intently, not daring even a shallow breath. A soft noise sounds, like a cloth brushing across glass. It’s fleeting, morphing all too quickly into a screeching, grating noise that reverberates in your bones. Talons. They. Sound so similar to those of the King’s hounds giving chase down the long halls of his palace that there is no doubt in your mind the creature stalking you could shred you limb from limb.
The noise ricochets against the hard ground of The Void, echoing off of the nothingness that surrounds you. It makes your head spin, torso twisting to follow the movement as you search desperately. For the source.
Standing frozen, boy taut as you strain to glimpse any sign of where the lurking creature may be, a barely recognizable purr accompanies the grinding claws. With the darkness of The Void swallowing all movement, it feels as if the noises are consuming you, echoing in all directions and baffling your sense further.
Glowing, white eyes blink open, startling you. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you jump, tightening your grip on your weapon and swinging it in the direction of the lurking beast, the tip of your arrow aimed right between those bright eyes.
You don’t dare more, though the smart thing to do would be to release the sharp-tipped arrow the beast’s way, but the creature doesn’t move. It blinks slowly, sleepily at you with its gleaming eyes, staring at you as if it’s curious instead of the horrifying nightmare the King and others had warned you about.
You curse silently as it stands. You’re pinned by those unnervingly bright. Eyes as it bounds closer. A reflection of what you’ve heard the moon looks like lies within its stare, though you don’t think the creature has seen the luminous beacon in the sky either. In the low light reflecting from its gaze, you catch sight of the sharp teeth as the nightmare licks its maw, and the pointed talons that clack against the stone ground as it closes in on you.
You could run. You can turn around and spring through the darkness for your life, pray to Haven that you don’t trip over a worse dark-dwelling beast, but with the deep ache in your bones you know that you won’t make it far fast enough.
The King of Hel hadn’t been lying when he taunted you with how terrifying these beasts could be.
You wonder for a fleeting moment if the ruler of Hel even expected you to make it out of The Void.
Heart racing in your chest, for the first time since you’ve mastered your bow, your fingers tremble around the taut string. You can let lose an arrow between its glowing hot eyes. There’s no falter in your aim, even with the miniscule shake. If you will it, your arrow will strike true.
The prowling beast halts only meters from you. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest and the beast must be able to hear it beating against your golden breastplate from the way that it cocks its head and blinks up at you. It nearly reaches your chest and you swallow harshly, knowing that one wrong move will have the beast snapping at you. You hardly breathe as lips curl away from blade-sharp teeth that glint in the glow of its blinding eyes.
There are only a handful of seconds to decide your next move—to bare your own teeth and show the creature what you’re made of, firing the gold-tipped arrow, or stand down and hope that the predator does the same.
One breath, two, and you watch the creature lower itself onto its haunches. Your hands fall to your side in relief. The arrow is a surety in your grasp as you slowly sheath it back in place at your back. A surety that if the beast attacks, you’d be even more of a fool than the King ever claimed.
Following your movements with bright eyes, the growling of the beast falters, then quiets. It straightens, sitting taller, more menacing, and nearly meets your gaze straight on. It stares at you until your empty hand is back at your side, bargain mark throbbing as it brushes against your cloak.
You’re just as confused as the creature across from you, staring at each other like two sides of the same coin. It’s like you know the beast, seen it in your dreams or heard tales about it from your mother, but your mind is muggy, and you can’t grasp where the familiar feeling is from. You see yourself in its eyes, lost in the darkness with no light to guide you out.
As if the creature understands this, it dips its chin to study you.
Its breath is balmy against your throat and it sends shivers up your spine. Your lip’s part to gasp at the same time the creatures open to taste your scent, deciding if you’re a threat or not. The heaving breaths against your skin tickle, but there’s nothing funny about the way the creature stills, as if the raging beast wants to slash through your delicate flesh, to feel your hot blood sticky beneath its paws.
“Help me,” you dare whisper. It’s spoken as quietly as your voice allows, but the sound carries into the void as if you screamed it.
A howl answers that makes you flinch and itch to press your palms against her ears. It hadn’t come from the beast before you, who snuffs in response, its full row of teeth reappearing as its eyes narrow, staying tightly locked on you.
“Help me,” you plead, desperation clinging to your words. You need to get out of here, need to breathe the night air and see the real moon and feel its silvery rays upon your skin just once, you need to find somewhere safe so you can begin working towards what you came here for, why the bargain mark burns with every movement. Your freedom. It’s all you want from the King, from Hel, to be able to roam as you please, leaving the underworld to find something greater.
You want to remember something other than the harrowing sights of Hel, than the King’s sharp smile mocking you every time you close your eyes. The things he’s made you do, the things you’ve made yourself do. This cannot be the end.
You won’t let it be.
“I’m trying to find Velaris,” you continue when another yip joins the first. A hunting party, likely moving this way. The sounds are closer this time, but the darkness doesn’t allow you to gauge just how far they roam or how many there are. Your gaze sweeps around as if the soft light emitting from the beast’s eyes will allow you to see the others. The blackness leers in response, no longer the sinister silence but instead filled with a terrifying array of noises that will only enhance the harrowing nightmares that plague you. “I need to find the city.”
Your fingers tighten around the handle of your bow but the action does nothing to ease the worry eating at you.
Maybe it’s the raw despair in your tone or the glistening look in your eyes or the thunderous beating of your heart that makes the beast take pity on you.
Blinking up at you, the creature slinks closer, damp snout pressing into your hand. You hold back the flinch at the coldness of it, and it gives you a gentle nudge as if to say, ‘Why didn’t you say so?’
Releasing a sigh of relief, the beast allows you to press your hand to the top of its furry head as it leads you towards further darkness. The creature’s mane is soft and thick between your uneasy hold, leaving you to wonder if this being isn’t a menacing creature bred to hunt within The Void, but one that had been just as scared as you.
The howls of creatures around them die down as you’re lead through black. You don’t know if you should be breathing easier or harder when the noises die out completely, leaving your breathing and the clacking of the beasts claws against the stony ground as the only sounds as you walk.
Blinking, you are convinced your mind is playing tricks on you at first, as you begin making out different shapes. Black turns to a deep navy, then lighter until you can see silhouettes of trees and mountains beyond. The hard stone turns to soft earth laden with thick grasses reaching nearly to your knees.
The air is sharp, crisp with the oncoming scent of a storm. Your head snaps towards the sky, searching for a star, the moon, anything you can to ensure you’ve ended up in the correct place, but thick, rumbling clouds cover every inch of the star-smattered sky.
Disappointment floods your veins with ice. You’d been wishing to see for yourself since you were a child and your mother had spoken so highly of the bright splotch in the sky, and it has gnawed at you as you grew into the female you are now, proud and strong.
With a disheartened sigh, you turn to face the creature who’d been leading you through the darkness, only to find it gone. You hadn’t felt the beast slip from your grasp, entranced on the opportunity to see the beautiful night sky. It had disappeared on those stealthy paws, dipping from your hold and back into the swallowing darkness of The Void.
It looms behind you, an open, cavernous mouth that seems to creep slowly, consuming the trees and stars and sky. You wonder if it had somehow consumed the moon, if The Void is a living being all its own—a trap waiting patiently to devour what wanders into its well laid snare.
A shudder works its way up your spine as you stare. You know well that you will be back, when it is time to return to Hel with the King’s prize, and then and only then, will you have your freedom.
The word burns your skin just thinking about it. A time where you will be able to roam freely from the nightmares of Hel, doing as you please without the King there to loom and rule over you. The taste of the salty night breeze is only a tease of what you will soon have.
—whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn)
FIC MASTERLIST
A story about one shadowsinger who did his time in the Illyrian Mountains and one warrior waiting out her own— who will do anything to keep her wings… even if it means posing as a Male.
fem!reader, mulan-esque au
1. STRANGERS
Someone in the Illryians Mountains has been making a name for themselves— a bastard like Azriel and his brothers, ruffling the feathers of a war camp's Lord. But they seem to have no loyalty to the fighting legion, or much to anyone for that matter.
2. ALLIES
Azriel trains you and is particularly unforgivable about it. Together, you tackle tonics. Azriel ponders the unmistakable pull he feels and you try your best to keep your secret under wraps.
3. COMPANIONS
Azriel leaves for Velaris. You reflect on old choices and everything that you lead you to where you are now— and realise it's been awhile since you had anyone to miss.
4. FRIENDS
You return to regular training for the first time in a month. Azriel asks a favor from Rhys and finds you in a less than stellar condition when he returns to camp.
5. CONFIDANTS
You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.
6. BETRAYERS
A secret you vowed to never reveal gets uncovered and Azriel struggles as all he's known is turned on its head. An unfriendly adversary from the past comes knocking.
Summary: The aftermath of Bryce Quinlan's arrival has stirred up some trouble for the Night Court. After weeks of trying to resolve the issues on their own, the inner circle of the Night Court are left having to consult a dangerous female to complete the job much to Azriel's dismay.
Themes: Love/hate relationship, enemies to lovers kinda.
Warnings: CC3 SPOILERS, NSFW from the get-go, canon-typical violence, angst.
No use of (y/n). I might have gotten some info wrong about acotar and can't double check bc I gave my friend my books so pls be aware of that. I would also massively appreciate any criticism! I'm trying something new and would definitely appreciate any pointers of any kind!
Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.
Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)
Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...
It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.
She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.
Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.
She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.
She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.
Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.
His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.
"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."
Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."
Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.
So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.
But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.
"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."
Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"
And then silence fell.
Why had she helped them?
She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.
Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.
"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."
My father.
When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?
Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.
He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.
"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”
"Well, don't tell me."
Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?
Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.
But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?
And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"
There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.
"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."
"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.
"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."
"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."
Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.
"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."
Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.
With that mask she had learned to wear.
Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.
They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.
"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"
"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."
And they fell silent again.
The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.
She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.
"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."
"Yes, unfortunately."
"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."
"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."
"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"
“Elain and Nesta.”
"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."
Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.
"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."
And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.
Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.
He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.
"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."
Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.
"I didn't ask for this, princess."
Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.
Summary: To put it in SJM's words: Azriel is a freak *wink wink nudge nudge* and his mate is a lucky lucky girl
A/N: This is honest-to-god faerie p0rn and it gets progressively worse. It's filth. No plot whatsoever. Don't come at me, I'm ovulating and have therefore decided to dump all the smut into one glorious fic. You're welcome.
(public service announcement: the smut does NOT contain degradation and/or the daddy kink because I don't roll that way and therefore our girl Y/N doesn't either)
Word count: 3506
Warnings: SMUT (18+!!!) it's nothing hardcore, just a lot of it, so (respectfully) fuck off if you're under 18
-
"So, enough with the chitchat," Mor proclaimed as she set her empty glass down on the table harder than necessary and proceeded to lean forward as though scheming. "You've been mated to Azriel for over a year now, and so far, I've been patient with you." Y/N blinked slowly, and Mor made a sound that immediately disproved her previous claim of patience. "What's it like?"
Feyre giggled from where she dipped into her third drink of the night, but Nesta sat quietly, a look of mild interest in her eyes as she locked them on Y/N.
An uncertain expression had entered the face of Azriel’s mate. "What's what like?"
Mor huffed. "What's he like. Azriel. The sex." Her eyes seemed aflame with a mixture of wine and the warm glow of Rita's faelights as she stared at her friend as though expecting her to sprout horns any moment now. "Is it good?"
Feyre sighed, though she couldn't quite keep the amusement from bleeding into her words. "Mor, that's an incredibly invasive question."
"And also unnecessary," Nesta added, her voice calm as she stirred the very tip of her finger around the clear contents of her glass. "We didn't see them for almost six months when their bond snapped. Of course it's good."
"But I'm so curious." Y/N smiled into her drink at the deep sigh Mor exhaled. "It's Azriel. The man's been a mystery for more than 500 years and now we finally have an agent on the inside."
"An agent?" Feyre asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Oh, you know what I mean." Mor waved a dismissive hand, her eyes never leaving Y/N. "I desperately need some details."
-
"Arch your back for me."
The soft fabric of the sheets brushed against her skin as Y/N stretched out her arms and let her body glide to the mattress in a slow arch from where she kneeled before him. She could feel the rough skin of scarred hands on her, broad palms pushing down the length of her back to follow the curve of her spine before retreating to hold her hips as though they'd been carved from the most precious of gems.
Her cheek lay pressed to the pillow, her hands twisted into the sheets, and when she felt featherlight kisses on the base of her spine, her back arched further down.
"You're so beautiful like this," Azriel breathed into her skin as his knee appeared between her legs to nudge them further apart. She felt him then, hard and heavy against her centre, and she shivered when he pushed forward to run his length through her folds once, twice, three times.
She sighed his name, closing her eyes at the heavy drag of him against the most sensitive part of her body, and when he finally nudged at her entrance, she did her best not to thrust her hips backwards.
Azriel hooked his hands into the flesh of her ass, grip firm enough to leave red marks, firm enough to sting in just the right way, and when he loosened his right hand, she knew what was to come.
His palm made sharp contact with her skin, and she couldn't help the quiet moan that passed her lips when he repeated it and her body gave a slight jolt.
He gripped her tighter then, pulling her apart. His voice was quiet when he spoke, deep enough to fog her mind with his words.
"Ready for me, my love?"
She was certain he felt her overwhelming need for him pulsing through the bond, because the breathless "yes" had barely just left her lips when he buried himself to the hilt with a single long thrust. She curled her fingers harder into the sheets and the moan that tore through her had Azriel's hands on her tighten even further.
As he ground into her with one harsh snap of his hips after the other, and as she moaned her pleasure into the pillows, she relished in the thought of finding his fingerprints glowing on her skin later.
-
"Don't close your eyes. Look at us."
When she pulled open her eyes, the world lay on its side and the picture that revealed itself to her brought heat to even the last inch of her body.
She'd been wondering why Azriel had relocated the huge, golden mirror that Feyre and Rhys had gifted them for Solstice, but as her gaze caught on the delicate golden edges now, she understood.
She caught her own gaze, and the version of her that was caught inside that magnificent mirror seemed delighted at the fact. She lay on her back, her head turned to the side, her legs wrapped around Azriel while he kept his own face buried in the side of her neck she couldn't see.
She licked her lips at the image. At the sinful roll of Azriel's hips, burying himself again and again in slow thrusts that had her mind swim. At the way majestic wings flared behind him as his hand held her thigh and his chest rubbed against hers with each move.
Her stomach gave a delicious pull when Azriel lifted his head to meet her eyes in the mirror, his own gaze darkened with hunger, his pupils blown wide.
"Look at you," he murmured, his lips close enough for her to feel them move against her cheek. "See how beautiful you look when you take me?"
He punctuated his words with a harder thrust, and her lips fell open at the jolt her mirrored counterpart gave, at the sounds she made, and the way Azriel's hips met hers again and again. The way each muscle in his legs, in his back, in his arms worked beneath tanned skin, it was ... breath-taking.
"Look at this," he now all but whispered as he hooked his hand beneath her knee to lift her leg higher and press it further towards her chest. She dug her nails into the skin of his shoulders at the change in depth, and when Azriel angled his hips slightly to the side, she could see the way his thick length glided in and out of her. He glistened with her arousal, his movements smooth, and she whimpered at the sight of his intrusion.
Azriel lowered his mouth back to her neck and drew her skin between his teeth.
"Keep watching, my love," he murmured into her, and as his hips snapped firmer against her, she didn’t take her eyes off the mirror once.
-
"You're in no position to tease, baby. Remember that."
A shiver ran through her body at the lips that hovered just barely above her breast. His low words washed over her nipple in warm puffs of air, and her thighs pressed together tightly in an attempt to create some friction.
"Azriel," she whispered, a plea evident in the way she spoke his name. She lifted her chest, but Azriel mirrored her movements and lifted his head a bit further, always keeping the distance between his lips and her skin.
She pulled on her restraints, but the shadows that kept her wrists locked to the pillow above her head didn't budge.
Azriel hummed, his wings tucked in closely, his eyes never leaving her face. He was careful not to touch her, his arms digging into the mattress on either side of her shoulders to keep his body hovering over her.
"Yes, my love?"
She couldn't keep the grin from her face as she sent all her desire shooting across the bond, accompanied with echoes of her moans, and flickering sensations of the pleasure she knew Azriel could draw from her.
When he shuddered against her, he finally lowered his mouth to the soft flesh of her breast, though it was only to give a sharp pinch of his teeth that had her jolt.
"Touch me," she pleaded.
A corner of his lips curled into a smile, and she watched closely as he lifted a hand only to weave his fingers through her hair.
She gave a frustrated huff. "Not like that."
Azriel tilted his head, and when he didn't say anything, she knew that he was waiting for her to specify.
"I want your tongue on me," she said, her voice breathless. Tension reached to her very fingertips as Azriel finally lowered his face far enough for his tongue to dart out and kitten-lick her nipple.
Her eyes fluttered at the sight, a full-body-shiver rolling through her at the brief, wet touch.
"Gods, you're such a fucking tease, I swear to—"
A grin flashed, and then finally, finally Azriel lowered his mouth to her breast, licking, and biting, and sucking her until her head swam and her arms shook from his mouth alone.
"Do you want me to fuck you, my love?" he hummed against her, his eyes locked with hers as he once again bit the sensitive skin of her breast, and, Cauldron, the image was sinful. Dark strands of hair fell into his face, his sole attention on her.
"Yes—Gods, yes."
She could only just refrain from whining when Azriel sat back on his feet and took all the warmth with him. He tilted his head as he trailed his eyes along her bare body.
"Open your legs for me, then."
-
"Come with me."
She hadn't heard him approach, the room filled with noise as the crowd of court visitors chatted and drank its way through the evening. She felt fingertips trail down the back of her arm until his hand found hers and he interlocked their fingers. Goosebumps arose in his wake.
"What's wrong?" she asked, having heard the urgency in his tone. When she turned, however, Azriel's heavy-lidded gaze told her the purpose of his proposal.
She smiled and put down her glass to lift her now free hand to cup his face, her thumb running along a sharp cheekbone. "Now?"
Azriel's eyes fluttered at her touch and when she let her thumb slip lower to trail along the curved lines of his lips, he pressed a kiss to the pad of her finger.
"What brought this on?"
"Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?" She noted a spark in Azriel's eyes, his hand tightening in hers. "As breath-taking as it is, I've spent the majority of the night going through all the ways I could get that dress off you as soon as possible."
It was true, the seamstresses of Velaris had outdone themselves this time. Heavy, flowing fabric bunching at her hips, a plunging neckline, a tall slit up the side for her leg to see daylight. The entire thing had been covered in diamonds barely big enough to see, though certainly big enough to catch the light and sparkle as though she'd been clothed in the night sky itself.
She couldn't help the grin that tugged the corners of her lips higher. "Careful. You'll make a girl blush."
The grin on Azriel's face mirrored hers, and when she turned to steer for the exit, she kept his hand in a firm grip.
They’d barely managed to find an empty office—Rhysand’s empty office, to be exact—before Azriel’s hands were on her.
"I changed my mind," he all but growled against her lips as he backed her towards the desk in the middle of the room. "Keep it on."
Her hands made quick work of his pants, her breathing already laboured when Azriel lifted her onto the sturdy wooden desktop and pried her legs open wide enough to step between her thighs. Nimble fingers bunched the fabric of her dress on her hip, and suddenly he was pushing into her, his groan as sinful as the shudder that ran through his wings.
“Fuck.” He buried his nose in her hair, his raspy tone enough to have her moan as he cursed softly. “I love being inside you.”
All she could do was hold on to his shoulders, her lips whispering delicious moans right into the shell of his ear as he took her for all she was, the desk creaking beneath her with each of his pounding thrusts.
She noticed then that they hadn't closed the door all the way, and when Azriel shifted a wing just an inch to the left, her eyes locked on the wide-eyed form of a faerie standing in the gap of the door.
Y/N didn't know her, but judging by her golden-blue attire she was one of the Summer Court's emissaries.
The unknown faerie stood stock still, her lips slightly agape as she held Y/N's gaze, and when Azriel lay more power into his thrusts and pounded into his mate with the wet slap of skin on skin, Y/N's nails dug a bit deeper into his shoulder, her moans reaching a higher pitch, turning pleading.
The faerie seemed to recoil, though there was no denying the heat that had entered her expression as she watched.
Azriel sensed her then, too, though he didn't turn to throw a glance over his shoulder, but instead lowered his forehead to Y/N's, his eyes on her as he slowed his thrusts to a deep grind.
"It seems we have an audience, my love," he spoke softly enough so that only she could hear. He lifted a hand to thread his fingers through her hair, his grip tightening to angle her head back far enough to meet her gaze. "Shall we put on our best show?"
She grinned, digging her teeth into her bottom lip as she tried to urge him deeper with her heels in his lower back.
"Can't leave them hanging now, can we?"
She caught the flash of a grin before Azriel pulled out of her. She barely had enough time to register the loss when he thrust back in to the hilt, and her body jerked with the sudden intrusion.
"Fuck," she cursed, breathless as she tightened her legs around him, doing her best to brace herself against the harsh snap of his hips. "Fuck, Azriel—ah."
Azriel kept an arm tightly looped around her waist, his free hand lifting her thigh higher, his hips relentless. He buried his face in her neck then, his grunts turning into groans, and as Y/N held the gaze of the faerie in the hallway, he ground against her hard enough to have her toes curl with pleasure that wiped every thought of the stranger from her mind.
-
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
Her chest was heaving in the dim light of their bedroom, Azriel’s arms wound tightly around her waist as she leaned back against his chest. She could feel the scruff of his chin against her temple, his lips so close to her ear that she shivered with every word he spoke in that low tone of his.
She moaned softly, her head lolling back onto his shoulder, her eyes falling closed.
“No, no,” Azriel tutted quietly, one of his arms loosening its grip for his fingers to take gentle hold of her jaw and direct her gaze back down towards her centre. “Look at them go,” he sounded mesmerised as he spoke, his every word dripping with desire. “Look at the way they feast on you.”
Her lids were heavy as she followed the direction of his gaze. Her knees were bent, her thighs held open by Azriel’s legs, baring her to the room and the shadows he’d unleashed upon her.
Shadowy tendrils brushed along her inner thighs before gliding against her very centre, teasing with cool sensations and barely-there touches, licking at her skin, sinking into her.
It was driving her crazy.
“Azriel,” she breathed, her head heavy with desire, her skin burning, longing to be touched properly. “Azriel stop teasing. Please.”
She felt his teeth on her earlobe then, dragging her skin between warm lips. “What was that?”
She writhed against him, the urge to snap her legs closed overwhelming at the gentle teasing of his shadows.
“You just want to hear me beg,” she huffed, turning her head enough to catch his gaze. And true enough, Azriel’s eyes were shining with anticipation, a small smirk edged into his features.
“I would enjoy that, yes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, lips tightly sealed, but when she felt one of his shadows curl into her, she couldn’t help the breathy moan that broke from her throat. Everything they did, every kiss of her skin, it all felt good—good enough to drive her crazy with it. But it all felt like the ghost of a touch, not the real deal, and certainly not enough.
“Fuck me, then,” she gasped, breathless. “I’ll beg all you want if you just fuck me.”
Azriel leaned down to kiss her then, the hand he didn’t keep wrapped around her waist slipping down to cup her breast. When he pulled back, he tracked half-lidded eyes down her face, a contemplative hum resonating in his chest.
Her body tensed when new shadows joined and Azriel chuckled into the shell of her ear.
“Just a little while longer, I think.”
-
"I wanna go again."
A tired laugh fell from her lips, her eyes closed as she kept her cheek pressed into the soft pillow, her arms wrapped around it. She could feel his fingertips trailing along the length of her spine and all the way down to her tailbone before returning to the back of her neck. She shivered.
"I can't," she breathed into the pillow. "I don't have another one in me."
She could feel his smile across the bond, could hear it in his voice when he spoke, his tone quiet, his words soft.
"I don't think that's true, my love."
A comfortable shiver shook her body when his lips appeared at her temple, breathing featherlight kisses along her cheekbone, and down towards her jaw.
She hummed, hugging the pillow tighter at the tingling his kisses left in their wake.
"How are you still going?"
"They call it frenzy for a reason."
She forced her eyes open at that—just a crack, just enough to see Azriel's smirk. "The frenzy lasts three weeks. We've been mated for a year."
He leaned down to kiss her then. It was slow, lazy, innocent, but she felt his palm flatten against her back, his warmth washing over her as he urged closer.
"I don't feel like it ever stopped," he breathed against her. "I spend every minute of every day wanting you, longing for you, aching for you."
She met his kiss firmer then, turning into his embrace until he pulled her close enough for her to feel his heartbeat against her own.
Azriel turned to his back, wincing a bit when he rearranged his wings beneath him. In truth, he was just as sore as she was—every inch of him aching with hours and hours spent loving, and fucking, and writhing in pleasure. It was the good kind of ache though. The kind he'd do anything to never lose.
She lay on top of him now, her arms wrapped around his neck, and Azriel's hands slipped to her thighs to pull her legs apart for a knee to rest on either side of his hips.
She urged closer, wanting to feel every bit of his warmth, wanting to chase away every bit of air left between them.
“I’m really sensitive,” she spoke against his lips, her eyes closed, her words barely above a whisper.
Azriel stroked his palms along her back. “I’ll be gentle.”
She couldn't help the gasp that left her when he slid into her, intruding her tender flesh with a single push to glide smoothly against the slick mess they'd left between her thighs. She dug her fingers into his skin and Azriel soothed his palms across the globes of her ass, cautious in the way he moved her against him.
It was lazy, slow, his strokes barely enough to call them that, but neither of them needed more. Sensitive from countless rounds and orgasms, she tightened around him just a few grinding thrusts later, her moans closer to whines as she buried her face in his neck and panted softly against his skin.
She shook against him, her body quaking with an orgasm, her low moans muffled against him, and when Azriel joined her, he gritted his teeth as a wave of pleasure crashed into him and he pressed their hips together with a raspy groan to crack through his throat.
"Fuck," he hissed, letting his head plop back into the pillow, his arms now moving to circle her waist.
Silence enveloped them for a while, only the sounds of their breathing mixing.
"I won't be able to walk tomorrow," she finally hummed against his neck, and Azriel smiled as he ran his finger through her hair.
"I shall carry you then, my love."
-
"Hello?" Mor waved her hand before Y/N's eyes, causing the faerie to flinch.
The Lie of Windhaven | Azriel x reader [Masterlist]
Summary: Windhaven is a cruel place, and Azriel does his best to save her from a fate no Illyrian female can outrun. But in doing so, he might have just sentenced them both to death.
A/N: I'm so sorry I really need to be stopped with all the series I've been starting left and right without finishing the ones I already have running, but oh well
Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. ✨
Warnings: angst, talk of and description of injuries and violence and misogyny, SMUT (18+), please check each chapter for specific warnings
summary: Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of Spring and Autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.
a/n: If you enjoyed this imagine, you can find more snippets of Az & witch reader below! I'll be randomly adding to this. If you have any ideas or would like to request something, feel free to send it my way. I can't promise to always be able to write an actual imagine but I can definitely do some headcanons.
☪ = smut ☁︎ = fluff `♡´= angst
𓇢𓆸 au where you're the one who says the line "please don't talk to me like that" [click here] `♡´
𓇢𓆸 feyre's reaction to Az and you [click here] ☁︎
𓇢𓆸 just some lovely headcanons of Az and you accepting the bond [click here] ☁︎ ☪
𓇢𓆸 night out at Rita's [click here] ☁︎
𓇢𓆸 the family reunion [click here] ☁︎
𓇢𓆸 the night you get kidnapped [click here] `♡´
𓇢𓆸 the love potion [click here] ☁︎ ☪
𓇢𓆸 a little headcanon of Az and you having a daughter [click here] ☁︎
𓇢𓆸 slipping through my fingers (dad Az) [click here] ☁︎
romaincrisis
snowghoul
titsay
pixelskylines
andulkaphoto
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
