Can you do HCs for Alastor x Azrael! male! reader? Azrael is the mythological Angel of Death and in this case, he's a soft Goth boy draped in black with the power of Death itself, but even though he's Death itself and the most powerful being in existence, Azrael! reader is very carefree, kind, and darkly humorous and is a total simp for Alastor?
Alastor x Azrael!Male!Reader | Headcanons
You’re literally Death incarnate — one of the most feared entities in existence — but you wander around Hell in a draped black aesthetic, soft goth vibes, cracking morbid jokes like “Don’t worry, I only reap on Tuesdays.”
While demons cower when they realize who you are, Alastor finds your carefree, darkly humorous take on death utterly fascinating. He thrives on unsettling others, but you? You’re comfortably unsettling.
You don’t fall into his games or intimidation tactics; if anything, you cheer him on with supportive, borderline, simpy energy. “Oh my god, Alastor, that laugh?? Music to my ears. Do it again.”
Alastor likes control, but he finds himself constantly thrown off balance because you don’t fear him and instead adore him.
Where others might flinch at his violent tendencies, you’re like, “Haha, you’re so cute when you’re menacing.” He absolutely doesn’t know how to process being simped over by Death itself.
When Alastor crackles with radio static, you sometimes harmonize with it in your eerie reaper tone just to tease him. He pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves it.
You casually warp the essence of death around you — black butterflies, skeletal motifs, whispers of souls — but instead of wielding it in a scary way, you do it theatrically. Like conjuring a mini skeletal bunny to “hop” around Alastor’s feet.
Alastor is used to holding the upper hand in terms of raw intimidation. But you can casually open your palm and snuff out souls with a sigh, and then giggle like it’s nothing. He’s both aroused and unnerved.
Sometimes, when Alastor rants or monologues, you sit cross-legged on the floor, chin in your hands, staring up at him dreamily. “Wow…you’re so powerful when you get murdery.”
You worship Alastor’s aesthetic as much as his personality. You’ll gush over his antlers, coat, and smile constantly. “Do you know how good you look in blood red? Like, unfairly good.”
Alastor is not used to receiving affection (especially from someone as powerful as you), so while he brushes off your simping with a smile, internally he’s delighting in the novelty of it.
Despite your carefree vibe, if anyone dares to mock or threaten Alastor, your aura instantly shifts — cold, suffocating, a reminder that you are Death embodied. You don’t raise your voice; you just say, “Leave him. Now.” And they always do.
You tease Alastor about being your “favorite sinner,” which he pretends to dismiss, but secretly? It stirs something warm in that twisted heart.
You gift Alastor tiny, darkly romantic tokens — raven feathers, pressed black roses, or bones carved into charms — and he actually keeps them.
When you get especially simpy, you’ll call him “my darling broadcast” or “my little frequency fiend.” Alastor responds with, “Careful, dear boy, you flatter me too much,” while absolutely glowing inside.
Despite being the Angel of Death, you are incredibly gentle with Alastor — brushing dust off his coat, fixing his tie, or twirling his antlers absentmindedly. He allows this because he’s both amused and oddly comforted by your touch.
Summary// With your mother only being half river nymph, you didn’t expect to have to deal with hardly any of the things that full nymphs have to go through, especially heat. However, after a few days of painful cramping and unrelenting need, Madja diagnosed you with the thing you had thought would skip over you. So when you isolate yourself from your friends, specifically three Illyrian males, to ride it out, the last thing you expect is for them to come to your door offering help.
(My first multiple fic, my first heat fic, my first bat boys fic…ya girl is stressed but ready to impress. I hope it meets every wild fantasy you have because let's be honest, who hasn’t thought about being in the middle of them? Let me know how you like it!)
WARNINGS: 18+, smut, multiple partners, one reader, dirty talk, just so messy, oral (m&f), anal, everyone gets a hole lol, teasing, multiple orgasms, masturbation, cum eating, double penetration,
After Madja had sent you off to your apartment, giving her best advice to just ride it out until the hunger and fever broke, you felt like sobbing. The room was too hot, the feeling of your clothes on your skin stimulating you too much, and with every agonizing step towards your bedroom, you cursed your mother and her entire bloodline.
River nymphs had heats every year, it was what kept their species alive, and you couldn’t fault them for that. But you did fault your mother, who granted was only half nymph, for dismissing your concerns over the same thing happening to you and explaining that you were hardly considered one of them, your blood holding more faerie than nymph.
She had only experienced them every ten or so years so after you had hit the age of maturity and showed no signs, your mother assumed you were in the clear. If she were here now, you would be stomping your feet and shouting like a child for her lack of information that could help you at your most desperate hour.
“I’m going to die here.” You groaned, stripping off your clothes and letting the air try to dry your sweat-slicked body. “I have nothing, no one, to help and by the time anyone finds me I will be dust from how bloody hot my skin is.”
A sharp cramp twisted your stomach, sending you to your knees as you cried out in pain. Madja had given you a few tips to help you, most of them being some form of intercourse or sexual gratification, but you could barely gain the strength to use your own hand let alone prowl the streets for a poor guy.
Suddenly you remembered her suggestion of an ice bath, knowing it would at least curb the heat, and you crawled to your bathroom to turn on the tap to the coldest setting. You didn’t even wait for it to fill up, slinking all the way down as the water rose slowly.
It made you hiss at the drastic change, your skin now feeling like it was getting freezer burned, but you gritted your teeth and closed your eyes to try and meditate through the pain.
I can do this. I can get through this. I am more than my pain.
“Motherfucker.” You grunt, feeling like a knife is slicing open your belly while a fresh wave of need makes your already wet sex even wetter. Using your foot to turn off the water that was now up to your neck, you let your other hand slide into the tub and between your folds.
As soon as you touched your clit the tension in your neck and shoulders started to disappear. It was like drinking water after going through a desert, an orgasm already building up quicker than your fingers could rub.
Your mind flickered through different people, and different scenarios, trying to find one to settle on to bring you over the edge. The coil was getting tighter and tighter, your body screaming for release just as you imagine your friends, three of them to be exact, watching you hungrily as you chased your release.
The image stayed front and center in your mind, molding to them fisting their own cocks as they watched, and you felt your orgasm start to travel up your body.
Until loud, insistent knocking ripped you from your fantasy.
You let out a shriek of frustration, almost falling out of the bathtub as you got up and wrapped a towel around yourself to march over to the door. Whoever it was was still knocking, and when you yanked it open, you opened your mouth to scream at them to leave you the hell alone before letting it snap shut in shock.
Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian stood outside your apartment looking somewhat uncomfortable, all of them fidgeting in their spots as you stood there dripping wet.
Literally and figuratively.
“W-what are you guys doing here?” You stuttered, grasping your towel closer to your body while trying not to think about what you had just imagined in the bathroom. Madja had told you she would explain your condition to them, but you hadn’t expected them to come over.
“Uh, Madja told us you were sick, so we just wanted to check on you.” Cassian said while rubbing the back of his head. You knew they could smell your arousal, but you were praying to the Mother that they wouldn’t mention it, that they would just leave before the cramps came back.
“Yeah, she said you were hurting pretty bad.” Azriel added, mouth tight and hands clenched. You pinched the bridge of your nose and looked over to your High Lord, watching his eyebrows draw together in concern.
“Do you need anything, Y/N?” Rhysand asked with sincerity, making your heart flip at the kindness. They all had your best interest at heart, the four of you had been friends for years, but it was coming at the worst time possible.
“Yeah no, I’m okay.” You smiled before grunting as your cramps came back, making you grasp the doorframe with all of your strength as if it was calling out your lie. “Really, I-I’ll be fine!” The last word was more of a wheeze and you shut your eyes to take in some deep breaths.
“By the gods, Y/N, are you alright?” Rhysand cursed, catching you in his arms when your knees buckled. His warmth and scent immediately had your mind going into a frenzy, moaning as your common sense started to drift out the door when he unconsciously pulled you closer.
It felt so nice, he felt so nice, and you couldn’t stop yourself from burying your head into his neck and inhaling his smell. You missed the look he was sharing with his brothers, looking to them for answers. They licked their lips, practically tasting your arousal in the air, and Cassian motioned for everyone to go inside.
Whatever was going to happen didn’t need to be done in the hallway.
“Fuck this place is covered in her scent.” Azriel noted, his cock stirring in his pants as they went further in until they found your bedroom. He turned to look at you squirming in Rhys’s arms, noticing how you were rubbing your thighs together in need, and even he couldn’t control how his shadows slid out and down his arms in excitement and curiosity.
Rhysand laid you on the bed gingerly, groaning loudly as you all but ripped the towel off of your body. All three of them felt their morals slip, eyeing you up like a piece of meat as you reached for the closest male…who turned out to be Cassian.
You looked up at him with big, doe eyes and a pout on your lips. “Please, please touch me, I can’t do this alone…” You pleaded while moving your hands down to the front of his pants, palming the large erection that made your walls throb in want. “Cassian, please!”
He took a deep breath through his nostrils before grasping both of your hands in his own, holding you still as more pretty cries left your mouth. “What do we do? We can’t just leave her but I don’t think I can take much more of this, Rhys.”
They shared another look, as if they were speaking in their own language, before Rhys took Cassian’s place and bent down to your eye level. He grasped your face firmly, trying to use pain to get you to come back to reality for a moment so he could ask for your consent.
“Y/N? Y/N.” He said sternly, watching the light return to your eyes briefly. “You need help. We can help you but we need your consent.”
The world around was blurry, your primal instincts fighting with all their might to take back control, but you tried your best to focus on his words. They wanted to help you through this, like the good friends they were, but…
“All of you?” You questioned, words slurring while looking at Cassian and Azriel. “At the same time?”
Azriel chuckled, coming up behind you while Cassian joined Rhys in front of you. “If you can take us, angel.” He teased, one of his shadows caressing your bare arm which made a shiver overtake your body momentarily.
Rhys shot him a glare, knowing he wasn’t helping, before softening his gaze when he looked at you again. “You’re in pain, darling. Let us help you.” He cooed, his own lust prickling his blood while Cassian ran a large hand up your leg.
“We’ll take care of you sweetheart, we promise.” Cassian smirked, watching your eyes flutter at all of the attention your body was craving. It wasn’t even up for debate at the point you were out, your body so desperate for them that you would sooner throw yourself out the window than say no to the men that you dreamed of.
You licked your lips and nodded, looking deep into Rhysand’s eyes as you softly whispered, “Yes, please. I want it. I want all of you.”
As soon as you gave your permission, they descended on you, three pairs of mouths claiming you in different places. Azriel had moved your hair so he could kiss your neck, his tongue easing the fire under your skin while Cassian lifted one of your legs to start kissing up your inner calf and thigh. Rhysand had taken your lips, molding them perfectly against your own and groaning at your taste.
It was hard to focus on who to pay attention to so you decided to finally give in fully to your heat and let your body guide you. One of your hands went behind you to grasp Azriel’s hair, nails digging into his scalp while your other went down to Rhys’s collar to pull him closer.
They continued their coordinated attacks for a few more minutes before Cassian grew tired of being at the bottom. He grabbed both of your legs and threw them sideways so that you were now fully on the bed, ignoring his brothers growls as he quickly found a home between your legs.
“Look at how wet you are for us, Y/N…” He grinned, spreading you open as Azriel and Rhys bent over to look. All three of them moaned as they saw how sticky you were, the juices of your arousal now sliding down your ass from how much you wanted them.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Cassian murmured before licking your pussy clean, his long tongue going in every crevice to taste as much as he could. You gasped loudly, your hands flying to grasp at the sheets as he ate you out.
Your hips immediately started to grind against his face while Azriel bent down to start playing with your breasts, pinching and squeezing the soft mounds that caused your sounds to grow even louder. He watched you with those dark, amber eyes as he took a nipple into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue at the same time Cassian flicked your clit.
The pleasure was making you go insane. Your head tilted back only to blink in surprise when Rhysand stared back at you, a feline grin gracing his lips as he went behind you and held your arms above your head so that you were powerless against them. He then forced your head back down so that you were watching his brothers touch you, whispering into your ear to add to your experience.
“Look at how they are touching you, darling. How desperate they are for just a taste of you.” He purred, licking the shell of your ear while you started to pant. Another coil winded tightly in your belly and they could sense it, helping you get closer to your release. “I can’t wait to see for myself but I want you to cum first, can you do that?”
You nodded shakily, your mouth opening as all of the sensations of their touches grew to be too much. Cassian’s tongue snaking into your hole and Azriel’s teeth tugging your nipple was what pushed you over the edge, babbling out incoherently as your orgasm hit you like a shooting star.
Rhysand talked you through it, his cock throbbing steadily as he watched you coat Cassian’s face in your cum. Azriel removed himself from your breasts and started to take off his clothes, his brothers following suit until you were all naked and horny.
All of their cocks were of various sizes and girths but you wanted to taste and fuck them all, your body moving on its own as you crawled towards Azriel and started to fist his cock. You were on all fours, ass out, and you didn’t even flinch when you felt one of them slap their cock against your cunt.
When Cassian appeared beside you, you realized who was behind you, turning to look as the High Lord of the Night Court eased himself into you. It was a stretch but you didn’t feel any pain, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat as he wasted no time in grabbing your hips and picking up speed.
“Angel,” Azriel called, his shadows curling around your face to turn you to look back at him and Cassian. “Don’t forget about us.”
Your hand resumed its pace while you turned to Cassian and gazed up at him innocently, opening your mouth wide enough so he could guide his dick into your mouth so you wouldn’t lose your balance. Both Illyrians growled above you, Cassian using your hair as leverage while Azriel thrusts his hips in time with your hand.
“That’s it, darling, that’s it.” Rhysand praised behind you, enjoying how tight you were squeezing him and also how much you were into this. He wishes he could freeze this moment forever. You looked so beautiful, taking them all like this, and he knew his brothers felt the same.
“Mmmmm, fucsks!” You garbled around Cassian, drool trailing down your chin as Rhys abused your hole like he owned it. You switched your positions so that Azriel was now in your mouth, taking him all the way down which had him shouting your name while you let Cass fuck your hand.
The room smelled like sex and sweat, an intoxicating combination as Rhysand felt his own orgasm swell in his balls. Your body sensed it as well, catching up easily as your walls fluttered around him. Azriel’s thrusts were starting to get sloppy as well and before you knew it, they were both filling you up with their cum.
Both of your holes couldn’t handle the amount of seed and when they pulled away, it leaked out of the corners of your mouth and cunt. Rhysand used two fingers to catch what had fallen and stuff it back inside, smirking at how you sucked his fingers back in.
Cassian’s release was right there and you turned to face him, opening wide as he moaned your name and coated your face and chin with his finish. It was hot and sticky but you loved it, swishing around the mixture of him and Azriel before swallowing it.
Two strong, scarred hands lifted you up and brought you to his height, kissing you and tasting himself and Cassian on your tongue. The fire that was once burning uncontrollably was now dying down but you still needed more. You wanted them all.
“I need more.” You panted, turning to look at them pitifully. “Please, I need more of you all. To be stuffed full.”
They chuckled at how desperate you sounded, as if they would deny you of that. Cassian snatched you from Az’s arms and laid himself back onto the bed, getting comfy as you reached down to line him up to your cunt. He was longer than Rhys, hitting that button inside of you immediately. You grunted when he bottomed out inside of you, enjoying as his hands came up to grope your tits as you started to ride him.
“So perfect,” Azriel said, coming up behind you and kissing down your neck as you felt one of his fingers prod against your asshole. It felt foreign but you didn’t care, arching your back to give him easier access. “You think you can take both of us, Y/N?”
Rhysand came up to your side and tilted your face to look at him, brushing the hair out of your eyes while taking in your cum-stained beauty. “Of course she can, Azriel. She’s a good girl.” The words sent a chill down your spine and he smirked, bending down to kiss you gently at the same time Azriel pushed into your ass.
A loud whimper came from your chest at the feeling, nails digging into Rhys’s skin so deeply that blood pooled at the sight. He could care less though, pulling away so he could wrap a hand around your throat to watch you lose yourself in their presence.
After a moment you motioned for Cassian and Azriel to move, eyebrows knitting together at just how good they felt being in you at the same time. It was your wildest fantasy and judging from the sounds of everyone else, it was theirs as well.
“Oh my gods…” You moaned, your face still turned to Rhys’s. He stuck a thumb in your open mouth and you immediately wrapped your lips around it and began to suck it.
Meanwhile, Cassian and Azriel looked like they were in heaven. The former had his eyes screwed shut as you bounced on his cock like you were made for him while the latter was biting and kissing any bare skin he could get to. The sound of everyone’s skin slapping against something had your ears ringing and despite your best effort to hold off, your body wanted to cum again.
You looked down and saw Rhysand’s cock standing tall but lonely, trying to reach for it but he tightened his grip on your throat and shook his head. “I enjoy watching as much as I enjoy partaking, Y/N Darling.” He cooed, pushing his thumb farther back until you gagged. “Just enjoy what my brothers are giving you.”
A nod was your only response as he let you go, Azriel taking full advantage and pulling your face towards him for a searing kiss. Rhys started to stroke his own cock as Cassian started to get close to another release, smacking your ass roughly.
“M’gonna fill you up, sweetheart, fuck.” He panted, watching you tongue fuck Azriel’s face which only spurred him closer to the edge. “Cauldron help me. You’re going to be the death of me Y/N.”
His cock throbbed inside of you and when you left Azriel to kiss him, he lost in. Cassian’s mouth was dominating as he thrust sharply into you, groaning into your mouth as he emptied his balls into you. Azriel was right behind, grasping your hips and moaning loudly.
The feeling of both of them stuffing you full had you finishing with them, your body slumping forward and onto Cassian’s chest as you barely had any energy to even cry out. It felt like the first wave of your heat was finally done, your body exhausted, as they both pulled out of you.
Before you could fully fall asleep, you realized Rhys hadn’t came and when you turned to him, he smiled sweetly and kissed your forehead. “Go to sleep, Y/N. We can continue this when you wake up.”
Your body immediately listened to him, eyes shutting as you fell asleep quickly on Cassian’s chest. They all looked at each other, everyone tired and fucked out, before Azriel said, “When she wakes up?”
“Oh yes, heats like these come in waves,” Rhys explained, heading towards the bathroom to grab some towels for everyone. When he returned, he threw them at his brothers with a smile, looking at you sleeping peacefully and saying, “We’re definitely doing this again.”
“Can’t wait.” Cassian grinned, kissing your temple. Azriel nodded in agreement and joined the two of you in bed. It was going to be one hell of a week.
A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out!! I’ve had a hectic couple of weeks! We moved, it was my birthday, and I’ve been working through some health issues. I hope part 5 was worth the wait!!
It was a long week working with Madja, and you were exhausted. You were grateful to the older female for sharing her knowledge, but it was draining. You didn’t get a chance to talk to Azriel all week. Barely even got the chance to eat or sleep.
At the end of the week, the last thing you wanted to do was have a conversation that you knew would be emotionally draining. You weren’t sure you’d even be standing after work, let alone after spilling your heart out to Azriel.
Just when you were thinking about soaking in the tub with a relaxation potion Madja taught you how to make, you felt a scrape against your mental shield. You groaned out loud, but allowed Feyre access anyway.
‘Family dinner at the River House tonight. Please come.’
You stifled your sigh. You hadn’t seen much of the rest of the in we circle at all in the last couple of weeks. Between what happened with Azriel, and working with Madja, you haven’t had time. You weren’t necessarily ignoring your family, but it did make things a little bit easier to manage at the moment.
‘I’ll be there.’ You told the High Lady.
‘Thank you!’
You snapped your mental shield back into place, feeling a little bit guilty at how excited Feyre was to see you. She’s always been a good friend. You made a mental note to spend more time with her when you could.
The thought of seeing Azriel had your shoulders tensing, and you opted to take that bath after all. You still had a few hours before you had to be at the River House.
You ran warm water into the oversized basin, and picked up the vial that had the relaxation potion. You swirled the purple liquid around a few times, the scent of lavender filling your nose. You took a deep breath, before emptying the vial into the tub.
Quickly removing your clothes, you sank into the steaming water and sat back against the soft curve of the tub. You sighed happily, sinking lower in the water.
You tried your best to clear your thoughts, but your mind kept wandering to thoughts of each of your lovers.
Lucien, who had fire in his heart, and the glow of the sun in his veins. Emissary, Warrior, and future High Lord. You knew he would be some day. He was a born leader with his strength and compassion. A good male, who managed to be snarky and charming all at once.
And then there was Azriel. His exterior was dark and brooding, but deep down- deep down Azriel had a heart of gold. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his family. A fierce and loyal warrior, who moved in the shadows. Azriel had an outward arrogance that made his enemies flinch, but the part of him that you got to see was what made you fall in love with him.
You couldn’t stop your mind from flitting between thoughts of their other…attributes.
Lucien’s flowing red hair, and his stunning sharp features. His toned, tan body. The way he made you feel so good…
You couldn’t stop your fingers from trailing down your body, the way that Lucien’s did when you were with him. You tweaked your nipple lightly and groaned, feeling heat building between your legs.
You though about Azriel with his piercing hazel eyes, and soft, dark hair. The way his muscles flexed when he moved. His large, rough hands…
Your fingers circled your clit and you hissed out, suddenly needing the release of tension after the long week.
Letting out a steady breath, you spread your legs a little wider and let your head dip back against the cool edge of the tub.
You closed your eyes and worked your fingers diligently around the sensitive bud, and allowing thoughts of both men to fill your head. It felt so wrong to be thinking of two men at once, and you knew shame would take over as soon as the pleasure ebbed. But for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy it.
You gritted your teeth as you felt your release building in the pit of your stomach. Your body tensed and you felt your toes curling. Allowing the ecstasy to override your thoughts, you found yourself picturing a fantasy that had been in the back of your head for months: a threesome with both of your lovers. The mere thought of having both males pleasure you at the same time sent you over the edge, and you came with a shaky moan.
And as you knew it would, guilt followed the pleasure, as it always did. You knew it wasn’t rational to feel that way, but part of you knew that this arrangement would make it nearly impossible to fulfill your ultimate fantasy- Azriel being in love with you too. He knew too much of your relationship with Lucien. He couldn’t feel the same way about you knowing that you were with another male.
Shaking the thoughts away, you washed quickly, and set to getting ready for dinner.
-
You showed up at the River House in a fitted, black, satin dress that went to your knees and hugged your curve’s beautifully. You paired it with simple black heels and small pear jewelry. It wasn’t often that you got to dress up lately, so you wanted to make the most of it. Your hair was pinned up in a delicate, but simple updo, and you kept your makeup neutral. It wasn’t an overtly glamorous look, but it was elegant, and you felt beautiful.
Before you could even knock on the door, Cerridwen was ushering you into the house with a smile, which you graciously returned.
The half-wraith guided you into the sitting room where most of your family was already relaxing, each nursing glasses of wine.
Your eyes immediately spotted Lucien’s bright red hair, and you did your best to contain your surprise. The inner circle all had their own opinions on the Emissary, and most of them were negative. Still, you were happy to see him. You smiled at him, before you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.
Feyre.
You laughed and hugged the High Lady back.
“Fey!”
“(Y/N), I’m so glad you’re here!”
You laughed again, and saw Rhysand walking up behind his mate.
“Feyre Darling, you’re going to choke the life out of (Y/N) if you don’t let her go!” He teased.
Feyre relented and let you go and you smiled brightly and them.
“If that’s how I go, I’ll be honored,” You teased back, and Rhys smirked.
“Me too,” He agreed, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Gross.” Cassian quipped from his spot next to Nesta on the sofa, his nose crinkling in disgust.
Nesta snorted out a laugh, but nodded in agreement with her mate.
Just as you were about to take the seat in the other side of Nesta, Azriel stepped into the room and his eyes met yours immediately. He glanced between you and Nesta, and you knew.
Nesta had told him that you know he is mated. And she must’ve told him your reaction.
You watched him carefully, taking in the emotion swirling behind his eyes. So unlike the cool mask he usually wore.
“(Y/N).” He breathed out.
You cleared your throat, and glanced at him cooly.
“Azriel.” You greeted, nodding at him politely. You were determined to not let the male see that you were bothered.
In a few strides, he was at your side, “Can I talk to you?? Outside?” He asked. You felt the eyes of the inner circle in you, and you had to stop your eyebrows from twitching in surprise. You didn’t think he would be so bold- so obvious- in front of everyone else.
“I’m sure talk of spying and missions can wait until after dinner.” You said, playing dumb. You knew you needed to talk to Azriel, but not right here. Not like this.
He eyed you carefully, and paused for a moment, before nodding.
“Right. Sure.” He reluctantly agreed.
As if sensing their cue, Nuala and Cerridwen appeared in the doorway and announced that dinner was ready.
The group made their way into the dining hall and sat at the table. You opted to sit by neither Lucien or Azriel, and placed yourself between Cassian and Feyre, across from Elain. It seemed like the safest seat to avoid anymore awkward encounters.
The two half-wraiths served dinner to the table, a massive feast of roast chicken, more vegetables than you could count, and freshly baked bread. It looked absolutely delectable.
As everyone plated their food, you chatted amongst yourselves, relishing in the easy conversation with loved ones.
Talk of fighting and training and war, held off until halfway through the dinner, which thoroughly impressed you. It usually didn’t take long before the males were boasting about their battles and strength.
But it was a refreshing surprise when the topic came up and it was Nesta that brought up the topic, launching into stories of the Valkyries and their training.
Once Nesta ran out of tales to tell of her adventure with Gwyn and Emerie, she turned to you and asked about your training with Madja. You launched into a story about a potion gone wrong, laughter erupting from the table.
After the laughter subsided, Cassian turned his attention to Elain, who hadn’t uttered a single word during all of dinner.
“How’s your training with Amren going?” He asked her politely. You knew she was a Seer, but you weren’t quite sure how that gift operated. You were happy to see the middle Archeron sister training and embracing her Cauldron blessed gift.
“It’s going alright,” Elain shrugged, a cool smirk playing on her pink lips, “I was able to use my…powers in some unexpected ways.”
“How so?” Cassian asked, curiosity evident in his handsome features.
“I can see when people have secrets sometimes. Like (Y/N).”
You went still at her words.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You said evenly, eyes locking with hers.
“So you’re not fucking two people sitting at this table?” She said, sarcastic innocence lacing her words.
Somewhere at the table, silverware clattered, and a cup slammed down on the table so hard that the whole thing jolted. Someone gasped- you weren’t sure who it was- but all you could focus on was the woman across the table from you. The glare you threw in the direction was deadly. Pure ice swirled in your eyes, and you gritted your teeth.
“Elain-” Feyre started, trying to silence her sister.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” You spat, cutting off the High Lady.
“Oh, but isn’t it, (Y/N)? It wasn’t enough to just sleep with my mate,” The disdain dripped from her lips. She still couldn’t even say his name. The fact that she still felt some sort of claim to Lucien even though she rejected the bond had your blood boiling. Elain had no right to Lucien. Especially not now.
Nearly all eyes at the table shot to Lucien, who had his eyes fixed on you. Your own eyes were still carefully trained on Elain, sizing her up like an enemy, just the way Cassian had taught you.
The wide, wicked grin looked so foreign on her mouth. Her eyes flitted over each face at the table, seeming to thrive on the palpable shock and discomfort. It would have sent a shiver down your spine if you weren’t so alight with rage.
“Elain,” Feyre tried again, pleading now.
“You just had to fuck Azriel, too.”
All at once, the heads at the table whipped to face Azriel, with his gaze still firmly on you. From where you sat, you had a clear view of Rhys’s face, gaping like a fish. You’d never seen the High Lord speechless before and it would have been comical in a different circumstance.
A sharp intake of breath- from Nesta, maybe- then all eyes were back to you. You secretly cursed them all, hoping they’d get whiplash from the force of how fast they looked between Lucien, and you, and Azriel, then back to you. Bunch of nosy motherfuckers.
Elain’s lip curled up, making her look nothing like the sweet girl you met a year ago. She had been so kind, so lovely. Becoming Fae broke her; it snapped her right in two. And now she was this spiteful, angry creature in front of you. She eyed her sisters lazily.
“Be careful, sisters. She took both of my males. She’s probably sleeping with Rhys and Cassian, too.”
Her males? You were seeing red. How dare she? Azriel, so observant, so sweet, had been a great comfort to her when she arrived in Velaris. You knew that. You knew they were friends. But he wasn’t hers. He wasn’t even yours.
A strangled noise came from Cassian’s throat, something between utter disbelief and sharp protest.
You flew to your feet with such force that your chair sailed backwards, tipping over in the marble floor with a stinging thwack. You slammed your hands on the table, absolutely seething.
“Shut your fucking mouth, Elain,” You snarled at her viciously. It only made her smile wider. Delight glittered in her beautiful doe eyes. The air was so thick, so uncomfortable, so tense that you swore Azriel could’ve sliced right into it with Truth Teller. You didn’t dare to look at anyone else.
“The same could probably be said to you. But you can’t stay off your knees-”
You couldn’t even think, sheer blind rage propelled you across the table. You lunged at her, sending plates and cups flying. A symphony of gasps sounded around you, and Rhys and Feyre were on their feet in seconds.
Feyre, shielding her sister from you, had a look in her face that you couldn’t even identify. A mix of despair and anger. Whether it was directed at you or for you, you had no clue. Rhys’s hands were on your shoulders, fingers digging in hard. Bruising. Holding you back from tearing out Elain’s delicate throat. Your eyes went wild, glaring between Feyre and Elain. Calculating carefully if your rage was worth the risk.
“Whore.” The word, laced with more malice than you knew possible, fell from Elain’s lips. Even Rhys recoiled at the insult that was leveled at you. The same thing people sneered at him for 49 years Under The Mountain. The silence was deafening for a beat. Then another.
And then Azriel was on his feet and at your side.
“Let her go,” His voice was low and soft. You could feel the anger radiating off him, and you were afraid that the anger was directed at you. For losing your cool. For being a threat to the middle Archeron sister.
Rhys hesitated for a moment, and you didn’t have to look to know there was a silent conversation being had. After a breath, Rhys relented and dropped his hands.
Azriel took your shaky hand in his. Shadows swirled around your legs, circling up, and up, and up until darkness surrounded you both. The shadows swallowed you whole. You were winnowing, you realized. Winnowing through the shadows. You almost forgot that Azriel could do that. He prefers to fly whenever he can. Your shoulders sagged, exhaustion mixing with a hint of relief.
-
When the shadows eased up around you, you realized that Azriel took you to the cabin in the Illyrian Mountains. You could feel Azriel’s intense gaze on you, as you started just as intently at the floor. Azriel’s hand was still on yours and released a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding. The two of you stood at the center of the living room, nothing but the sound of your breathing in the air. The silence echoed in your ears.
Azriel tugged on your hand gently and led you to the couch. You sat down stiffly and carefully avoided looking at him. He sat down next to you and studied your profile.
“(Y/N)?” He asked. You hummed in response. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was so soft that it made you ache. He knew better than to ask you if you were okay. It was clear you weren’t. You were humiliated. Shame radiated through every pore in your body. You shook your head.
Azriel gently lifted your chin with his fingertips, forcing you to meet his eyes. You could’ve crumbled completely with the way he looked at you. So open and caring. He brushed a stray lock of your hair behind your ear and your face flushed at the intimate gesture.
“We don’t have to talk about it right now. But we’ll have to talk soon, okay?” You nodded, then cleared your throat softly.
“I know.”
*
A/N 2: I just want to state that I am not anti-Elain and no offense is intended to those who love/identify with her. She is only written that way for the sake of this story!
(a.n. This is my first one shot, please show me mercy)
Warnings: trauma, panic
The lights in the long hall of the house of wind gradually lighted and went out as you trudged to the kitchen. Stepping through the doorway, the house lit the lights for you in greeting. You managed a small smile, rubbing the sleep from you eyes. Ever since Nesta brought out the magic in the house, it had been your favorite place to stay, much to your mate, Azriel's, chagrin. You didn't mind sharing the space with the general and his mate ... Azriel, on the other hand, did (only when he was able to hear them, that is).
Now, the house was quite, as it was the well before the dawning hours in Velaris. Somehow, your light sleeper of a mate failed to wake after your hours of tossing and turning. Hoping a cup of tea would help, here you stood.
Pulling the kettle from the rack, you leaned against the counter, lifted the lid, and haphazardly filled it about half way. Yawning, you turned to the stove and set the kettle on to warm. Leaning against the wall, a small smile rose your lips as you closed your eyes, extending your forearm to the small shadow that swam to you. Even when he was asleep, his shadows had the habit of following you. Despite his control of them, a few always seemed to escape to be with you. You turned your forearm, chuckling as the shadow looped and looped around your wrist playfully.
At the whistle of the kettle, you reached for a chamomile tea bag and a mug before clicking the heat off. Still half asleep, you reached for the kettle, grasping the handle, taking a little too long to realize it had been kept on the heat too long, as the handle itself had started to warm.
With a curse, you flinched and let the kettle drop to the stove from the few inches of height you held it at. The shadow around your wrist began viciously twisting and writing as you jogged over to the sink, running the fresh pink mark on your palm under the cool water. You winced and held back a groan at the slight burn and pins and needles the water caused as it dribbled against the burn.
You hadn't even heard him approach. You naturally jumped as his strong back pressed against your shoulders, his arm tracing yours until he grasped your wrist. You sharply turned over your shoulder upon feeling the heightening of his breath. Azriel's eyes were blown wide, scanning your hand as he gently turned your wrist back and forth, attempting to fully assess the damage.
He had been jolted away by whispers of his shadows. Burned. She's burning. Immediately on alert, he leapt out of bed, shadows swirling around him. He prided himself on his cool countenance he constantly held, which was especially effective and essential to his job as the court's spymaster. When it came to you, and the idea of you in pain, all of his precarious training and that calm countenance went out the window.
He absolutely feared the worst. Only when his shadows lead him towards the kitchen did he stop the rambling thoughts in his head. He cursed his shadows for not elaborating, their words immediately triggering his idea of his worst nightmare; you burning as he did when he was young.
He exhaled a breath as he met your eyes, guiding your hand back under the cool water. You gazed at him, reading the panic recede from his face. You leaned into him, resting your head on his bare chest.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, knowing the process of thoughts and emotions that must have been flowing through him, finding the bed empty and his shadows whispering to him your condition. He wrapped his free arm around your waist, leaning his cheek on the top of your head as he exhaled.
"It's okay," he whispered, nuzzling into your hair. "Your always so clumsy when you're tired."
You slightly tapped the arm holding you tight to him, returning your gaze to the burn on your hand that was finally numb, huffing.
"Am not....." you whispered, trailing off as he chuckled against you.
You tilted forward with the curve of his body as he reached to turn off the tap. Still gripping the wrist of your burned hand, he brought it to his lips and gave the flush skin a grazing kiss. Tucking your head into his shoulder, you brought the same hand holding yours to your lips, mimicking his sweet kiss.
In one fluid motion, he swept you in his arms, beginning the slow walk back to your room, both of you forgetting the abandoned kettle and mug of tea on the stove.
masterlist
(azriel x reader)
author's note: just a bit of fluff for everyone's favorite bat boy. enjoy!
summary: during a night out, the shadowsinger proves that he can, in fact, sing.
You were only supposed to be gone for a moment.
You weren’t expecting Rita’s to be this crowded tonight. As you pushed through the packed crowd, you almost wished you’d taken Cassian up on his offer to pay for this round, but in his current state, your friend could barely manage to walk - let alone balance a tray of drinks through the boisterous crowd. Pile him with alcohol and the feared general turned into a clumsy, overgrown toddler. A giant Illyrian baby, just like Feyre always called him.
You couldn’t help but smile as you made your way over to the bar. For once, things were quiet in Velaris. There was no longer a looming threat of war. The tension between the High Lords had come to a ceasefire. Rhys hadn’t sent you out on a mission in over a month. All was well in the city that you loved. At least for the moment.
However temporary it was, you were determined to enjoy being home.
The bartender greeted you, making conversation about your recent ambassadorial trip to the Continent and her daughter’s latest project at Feyre’s art studio. You promised to drop by later in the week to see the painting before she scurried off to fetch your usual order. You smiled, cherishing the moment. It was the little things that made Velaris feel like home.
As you leaned against the wooden countertop, a male sauntered up to you. He was handsome and made polite conversation, but you were only half-listening. You knew that he was flirting with you and while you were flattered, you weren’t interested. He just wasn’t your type.
Because your type was a certain mysterious, brooding Illyrian warrior who also happened to be your closest friend.
You shook the thought away. The reason you insisted on fetching the drinks was so you could clear your head from being in such close proximity to the Shadowsinger who often invaded your thoughts and now thanks to the private suite upstairs, also invaded your personal space. The room, which was reserved for the Inner Circle’s more intimate gatherings, was starting to feel a little stuffy.
It was usually fine, but with Amren bringing Varian along and Mor finally gathering up the nerve to ask Emerie out, the space was a little more crowded than normal. You didn’t begrudge your friends for bringing their significant others. They were the best people you knew and they deserved to be happy, but you were literally an inch away from ending up in Azriel’s lap.
Not that you’d mind that. But you didn’t know if he’d mind that.
To be perfectly honest, your relationship with the Shadowsinger was a little confusing. The two of you were close. You often talked into the late hours of the night, discussing anything and everything. Azriel understood you in a way that no one else ever has and your friendship was so closely-knit that even Cassian was jealous. You told each other everything. Well, except for the fact that you were hopelessly in love with him.
Sometimes you wondered if the lingering stares, the accidental touches, and the palpable tension between you was all in your head. If it was anyone else, you would’ve just outright asked. But this was Azriel. He was your best friend and you didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship.
You sighed, snapping your attention back to the male before you. He asked you a question, but you couldn’t recall what it was. Luckily, it seemed to be a rhetorical one since he was now pulling a golden coin from behind your ear. You suppressed the urge to snort. Was he actually performing a magic trick in the presence of the Night Court’s most powerful sorceress?
You smiled politely, looking over his shoulder as if that would somehow summon the drinks any faster. Fortunately for you, the bartender was returning with a tray in hand. Salvation at last.
“Do you need any help with that?” The male, sans gold coins and magic tricks, asks as you expertly hoist the tray over your head.
Before you could answer, the tray was being lifted from your hands as an arm snakes possessively through your waist.
“She doesn’t need any help.”
Like shadows given form, Azriel’s cold, smooth voice swept over you as he placed a kiss on your cheek. If his arm around your waist made your traitorous little heart rattle in your chest, his lips pressed against your skin threatened to send you into outright cardiac arrest. You said nothing as you looked up at him, mouth gaping at the sight of the Shadowsinger.
Beneath the glow of the golden faelights, Azriel looked like a dream. He was dressed casually tonight and you were inclined to deem it his best look yet. Instead of his usual fighting leathers, he wore dark trousers and a black silk shirt with the first few buttons undone, giving you a perfect view of the tattoos swirling through his chest. His wings were tucked tight behind his back, but you could’ve sworn that they flared slightly at the sight of the male.
Azriel’s dark hair was perfectly tousled and his cheeks were slightly tinged in the endearing way that they always were when he drank, but those eyes of his was what startled you the most. Shrouded in the darkness of his shadows, they glowed a bright, golden color as they landed on you with the intensity of a predator tracking his prey. Cauldron boil you, Azriel was going to be the end of you.
“Do you, my love?”
You raised a brow at the nickname, conveying your utter confusion at whatever the hell was going on. Azriel only smirked and you swore to the Cauldron that your heart leapt at the sight. Gods, he really had no business looking like that.
“I - I’m sorry. I didn’t know you two were together.”
Azriel leveled a gaze at the male that would’ve sent lesser men running. It was strange to think that the same male who participated in an annual snowball fight with Rhys and Cas was one of the most powerful Illyrians in history and the feared spymaster of the Night Court. The very sight of him incited fear out of most people, but not you. You were fortunate enough to know the real Azriel.
Still you couldn’t say that you minded this overprotective side of him.
“Now you do.” Azriel replies in a dark tone, as polite of a dismissal that the Shadowsinger could muster. “If you’ll excuse us, we should be getting back to our friends.”
Not awaiting the male’s reply, Azriel grabs a hold of your hand and navigates the both of you through a throng of people. You followed him up the stairs, struggling to keep up with his pace despite the fact that he was currently balancing a tray of drinks over his head. Damn those long legs of his.
When you finally reach the top, you completely lose it. You double over in laughter just as Azriel sets the drinks down on a sturdy surface.
“My love?” You ask incredulously.
He grins, giving you a full view of the hidden dimple on his right cheek. “Too over the top?”
“The liquor’s really gone to your head, Shadowsinger.”
“I -” Hiccup. “Haven’t -” Another hiccup. “Had that much to drink.”
“Very convincing.” You chuckle, nudging him with your hip.
“I clocked your discomfort from a mile away,” he replies with a chuckle. “Did he honestly think that would work?”
You grimaced. “I’d need at least another gallon of Rhysand's expensive wine to wash the memory down. You didn’t need to scare him half to death though. I had it handled.”
Azriel is still holding your hand as he leans against the wall. You looked down at your intertwined fingers and felt his grip loosen. It wasn’t a secret that Azriel was self-conscious about the scars on his hands, but you’ve always thought that they were beautiful. Just like the rest of him.
You squeezed his hand tighter, offering a small smile.
“I know you did. Scaring him was purely for my pleasure.”
That earned Azriel an eye roll. “Busybody. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”
“I don’t doubt that you could’ve had him on his ass if you wanted to, but you’re too nice to actually say anything and you looked so uncomfortable that I had to intervene.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “My shadows told me he pulled a coin out of your ear. Be honest with me, did he mistake you for a piggy bank?”
You slapped his arm, eliciting a dramatic gasp from the Shadowsinger. “If you mean to make fun of me, maybe I should take my chances with the magician.”
Azriel snorted. “He’s not your type.”
You quirked a brow. “How would you know?”
His grin grows wider. “I’m the spymaster, remember?”
“Keeping tabs on me now, I see.”
“Only when potential threats are nearby.”
“I’d hardly call him a threat.”
Azriel shrugs, but his eyes are trained on you. “He was a little over familiar, don’t you think?”
“Are you jealous, Az?”
“Of course I’m jealous. He’s talking to my best friend while she leaves me alone to fend for myself up here.”
You chuckle. “I haven’t been gone for that long and you’re not alone.”
“That’s true, but it’s more fun when you’re by my side.”
Your face heats as you pitch forward, praying to the Cauldron that your hair would hide the flush spreading over your cheeks. “I guess I owe you my gratitude all the same.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Cas somehow convinced everyone into participating in some sort of singing contest.”
You snorted. “And here I thought you were rescuing me out of the kindness of your own heart.”
Az actually shuddered. “You don’t need rescuing, but I might.”
“Do you think I could ask our new friend to teach me his trick? I’d pay at least a month’s worth of wages to witness your inebriated singing.”
“Over my dead body,” replies the Shadowsinger.
You shake your head. “So dramatic, but I am willing to wager something far more interesting. If you get in there and sing. I’ll…” A wicked smile tugs at your lips as the perfect bait came to mind. “I’ll read one of my romance books to you.”
Az squints, considering the offer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful, complicated brain of his. For months, he’s teased you about the smutty books that you, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie bonded over. He was so intrigued that he’d even asked you to read a passage aloud to him. You refused, frantically sprinting out of the room before he could press the matter even further. It only made him that much more curious.
Another pause and you knew Az would cave. “A full chapter and I get to choose.”
For a chance to hear him sing, you would have agreed to reading Sellyn Drake’s entire collection of novels. “Deal.”
The tingling sensation on the back of your neck officially sealed the bargain. You run your fingertips over the new tattoo, tracing the outline of the half crescent moon embedded into soft skin.
Azriel pulls down the collar of his shirt to show you the matching ink on his golden brown skin. “A sign of a deal well struck.”
You respond with a smirk. “Now get in there and sing, Az.”
As it turns out, the Shadowsinger could, in fact, sing. You watched in amazement as his voice embraced you with an angelic melody, amplified by the strange enchanted device that you picked up during your last trip to the Continent. The fact that Azriel had a lovely singing voice didn’t surprise you one bit. Your friend was irritatingly good at everything he set his sights to.
Even Cassian and Rhys, nearly stumbling over from the amount of alcohol they’d consumed, listened intently as Azriel sang. Beside you, Feyre and Nesta released a sigh, causing you to giggle. The sisters may be happily mated, but no one was immune to Azriel’s charms. Especially not you.
Mor sent you a knowing look from across the table as she draped an arm over Emerie’s shoulder. She was well aware of the feelings you had for Azriel and often encouraged you to make your affections known. With the matter between Mor and Azriel addressed and settled, she wanted nothing more than to see both of her friends happy.
Your move, the blonde mouthed.
As the honeyed wine worked its magic, warming your flesh and bones as your nerves settled into a pleasant hum, you childishly stuck a tongue out at your friend. Busybody.
Mor snorted in amusement and you ignored the way Azriel’s stare lingered on you as he sang the final notes. The beautiful crooning of the Shadowsinger came to an end as Rhys and Cassian snatched the enchanted innovation away from their brother, launching into a godsawful rendition of some bawdy song, complete with an uncoordinated array of movements that you supposed was meant to be an accompanying dance. You wouldn’t be surprised if the two had rehearsed this in their free time.
As Rhys dramatically serenaded Feyre, Cassian tugged at your hand.
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on, little witchling. I know you can sing. Nes and I hear you belting out songs from the bath all the time.”
You shot an accusing look at Nesta, who only offered a smile of amusement at her mate’s antics. “You’re lucky that I’m too drunk to argue,” you reply to Cassian.
The Illyrian warrior laughed, whirling you over to Rhys, who placed the enchanted little device up to your mouth. The three of you sang, voices melding together into a mixture of Rhysand’s cool tenor, Cassian’s low, rumbling bass, and your lilting falsetto. Rhys and Cas hook their elbows around yours, swinging and swirling you through the small space until you felt dizzy with laughter. You beamed when Feyre, Nesta, Mor, and Emerie rose from their seats to join your merry dancing.
Even Amren, who was curled up on the settee with Varian, smiled at the sight.
Feyre grasped your hand and twirled you through the air, pushing you straight into the solid wall that was Azriel’s chest. The Shadowsinger caught you by the waist, leading you into a soft sway as you breathed in the familiar scent of cedar and night-chilled mist.
“Chapter 42.” Azriel says softly. His hazel eyes glitter with mischief as your arms rest just above his shoulders.
“What?”
“The chapter that I want you to read to me.”
You chuckle, leaning into his open arms as your bodies clicked together like perfect pieces of a puzzle. You had to give it to him. Az never took his eyes off the prize.
“Since you gave one hell of a performance, I’m inclined to throw in another chapter. Free of charge.”
The rumble of Azriel’s laughter, deep and electrifying like the sound of thunder, washes over you.
Home.
It was good to be home.
“I think I like drunk Az better than sober Az.” You announce, carefully teetering through the cobblestone steps lining the dimly lit streets. Fresh, powdered snow crunched underneath your feet as you breathe in the crisp air. There was truly nothing better than the sight of glittering snowflakes raining down upon the frozen banks of the Sidra.
After tonight’s festivities, Rhys had to drag a drunk Cassian back to the River House. Feyre and Nesta trailed after their mates while Mor winnowed Emerie home. Amren and Varian had slinked off to her apartment sometime during the night, leaving you and Azriel alone. You suppose it would’ve been easier to fly home, but you wanted to drink in the blissful peace that had settled over Velaris. Azriel followed closely at your heels, his shadows dancing across his shoulders.
“Ouch.” The Shadowsinger said with feigned hurt, clasping a hand to his chest. “You wound me, angel.”
Your cheeks warmed at the nickname and Azriel smirked. He liked making you flustered, and especially now, with the aftereffects of the wine still buzzing through your skin and the white flurries crowning you with winter’s kiss, you were the perfect embodiment of an angel.
“I’m just saying. I didn’t even know you could sing until tonight. What else are you hiding from me, Az?”
He chuckled as the soft wind rustled through your hair. “More than you know. Mostly the fact that Cas cheated during your last game of cards.”
You squinted at the confirmation of your suspicions. “That giant Illyrian baby will pay.”
Azriel rolled his eyes fondly, walking quietly by your side as the stars glittered above. A beat of silence passed until he spoke again. “I think I like drunk Azriel better too. He was brave.”
You raised a brow. “I’ve never known you to be afraid.”
Azriel paused, his fingers lightly gripping your wrist. The two of you stopped below the the glow of the moonlight, enveloping you in the starkissed night as tender hazel eyes made your breath catch in your throat. In the middle of the quiet streets of the place you called home, his golden-brown skin washed in a soft, silver light, a dimple peeking from its hiding place, Azriel looked like heaven.
The cool, neutral mask Azriel wore slipped away and you saw him. Hopeful and shy, staring at you as though you were the only female in the world. He weighed the words on the tip of his tongue a hundred times over. Whether it was the wine or the male that had hit on you earlier, something pushed him to stop being afraid.
“The truth is, I’m a coward. I’m too afraid to tell my best friend that I’m in love with her.”
He wanted to tell you the day that you two returned from fighting Hybern or the day at the House as you sat curled up with your favorite book, cheeks pink from the explicit content, or the day that you knocked him on his ass in the training ring and every day in between since the moment he met you. Seeing you here, with fresh fallen snow coating your hair, grinning at him after a night out with his family, Azriel couldn’t hold it in any longer.
He loved you.
Your chest tightened. For the first time since you met him, Azriel looked nervous. As though he was offering his heart before you, vulnerable and exposed, yours to do with as you wished.
“I love you, too.”
Love seemed too simple of a word to describe what you felt for Azriel, but it was a good start.
Azriel breathed a sigh of relief and pulled you to him, noses touching with barely a wisp of breath separating your lips from his. He waited, careful and patient, for you to say yes. To his surprise, you rose on the tips of your toes and pressed your mouth firmly against his. The kiss was soft and gentle and it felt right, like the answer to an unasked question that you’ve been searching for your whole immortal existence. One hand weaved through your hair while the other snaked around your waist, lifting you off your feet and pulling you closer as his plush lips, tasting of honeyed wine and peppermint pressed soft kisses against your mouth.
“Angel?” Azriel murmured against your skin.
“Hmm?” You asked distractedly. Drunk not on wine, but Azriel himself. His mouth, his hands, his warmth. You wanted to drown in him.
“Make it three chapters.”
The smirk on his face, beautiful and glowing, made your heart ache.
The beginning of this one is angsty, but hopefully the second half makes up for it. Send me a message and tell me what you thinkkk! or any questions you have! ily! have a good day!
Az x TOG!OC
Words: 4.6k
Warnings: Asteria has a panic attack, descriptions of anxiety and existential dread, very negative self talk, a little angst followed by a lot of fluff, mention of maeve (srry).
“Any progress?”
Asteria opens one eye, peeking up at the High Lord where he stands beside her, night blessed eyes gleaming and kind, his posture relaxed even with his hands clasped behind his back.
“No,” Asteria bluntly responds, kneeling on the frozen Sidra River that runs through Velaris, her bare, scarred hands chilled to the bone where they’re pressed onto the ice, magic alight under her skin and glowing brightly in the daylight.
Rhysand hums, mulling over the blunt word, “So it is not the location that’s discouraging the Realm.”
Asteria clenches her jaw, the Realm’s sneering, cruel words rattling around her brain.
‘You are nothing. You do not belong here. You are not my Realm Reader.’
Gulping, Asteria pulls her magic back within her, rising to her own two feet and wiping her cold, wet hands on her pants, “No, it’s not location. It’s me.”
“We could try it from the top of Ramiel,” Rhys suggests, holding out Asteria’s brown leather gloves for her. She takes them, hastily shoving her hands into the warm confines of the material, “Maybe the mountain-view will put the Realm in a better mood.”
“I don’t think I’m that lucky,” Asteria mutters, beginning to shuffle towards the edge of the canal, the High Lord following her lead, “It’s not the location, the Realm barely acknowledges me, and when it does, it’s telling me to fuck off.”
“So no positive progress,” Rhysand concludes, stepping up onto the ledge with ease and offering Asteria a gentlemanly hand to help her up.
Taking it and allowing the High Lord to pull her up off of the frozen river to the snow dusted cobblestones, frowning at him in the process, “Have you heard back from the Summer Court?” She asks.
“Not yet, Tarquin seems to be taking his time with our request,” Rhysand drawls, leading Asteria up to one of the many bridges that connect the halves of the city that the river runs through, “We’ll call a meeting when his reply comes through to make a plan.”
“Is this High Lord not your ally?”
“Our relationship has been–” Rhysand pauses, leaning a hip on the edge of the bridge as he searches for the right word, Asteria halts in front of him, “-Complicated, as of late.”
Asteria hums, nodding her head.
Complicated wouldn’t do. Her existence is complicated enough. Being here, a stranger in a Realm that wants nothing to do with her, and tasked with something dauntingly impossible; to heal that very Realm from its own damages.
The more she speaks to the Realm, hangs on its every word as it refuses and degrades her, the more Asteria feels discouraged. Unlike herself. Unable to comprehend how she’d gotten here.
In Erilea, her home, she had more raw, unbridled power than she knew what to do with, and the few years of her life where she had her own freedom, Asteria knew no challenge. Realm magic can do anything, and so can a fully realized Realm Reader.
That’s not what she is in Prythian. All she is in this Realm is a female with a shallow well of power. Power of truth, and of light.
Asteria knows it would never be enough, not to save this world from itself.
Without the trust of the Realm, she’s useless.
Asteria turns away from Rhysand, resting her elbows on the bridge’s railing, her fingers suddenly shaking with a familiar fear that she tries to shove down before it shows itself to the High Lord by her side. She wrings her hands, trying to distract herself from her own heart hammering against her ribcage.
“Can I ask you something and have you answer it honestly?” Asteria questions, looking to Rhysand, who lowers himself to mimic her posture on the railing, giving her a nod, “When you saw me falling that night, why did you save me?”
The question makes Rhysand’s chest deflates with a long sigh, his dark features accentuated with the violet tones of night under the sun of the day, and he looks more thoughtful than Asteria had ever seen him, as if he’s carefully choosing his words.
“I saved you,” Rhysand begins, voice soft and full of breath, “Because as soon as you entered this Realm, I could feel your pain. It was deep, and hopeless, and something I am unfortunately very familiar with.”
Asteria bites the inside of her cheek, taking her eyes off of Rhysand, unable to look at him while he speaks, and instead directing her gaze to the frozen Sidra that they’d just been standing on.
“I had felt that kind of pain before, in myself, in my mate, and in each member of my inner circle,” The High Lord continues, “It is a harsh, lonely kind of pain, and when I looked up and saw you entering our Realm, about to fall into the next, I stopped you. I couldn’t rid myself of the thought that if what you were feeling was so familiar, that maybe, just maybe, you’d be one of us. And you’d need our help,” Asteria meets Rhysand’s eyes once again, “When I looked in your head and discovered just what you are, I realized we may need your help more than you need ours.”
“What if you were wrong?” Asteria asks, frowning, feeling nothing but discouraged in her own ability, “What if I can’t do this?”
“Then we figure out another way.”
There is no other way, Asteria wants to scream. But she stays quiet, offering Rhysand a small smile that is probably more of a grimace than anything else.
The High Lord claps a hand on her shoulder, standing up straight and beginning to rattle on about Velaris, and the parts of the city Asteria would enjoy, or the politics of Prythian Courts, or even about his and his Mate’s activities from the night prior. Asteria doesn’t know. She isn’t listening.
She’s staring down at the frozen Sidra, trying to keep her breathing steady.
The longer she’s here, the more she realizes how useless she really is to the healing of the Realm. Rhysand’s faith is misplaced, it has to be, because if she was really meant to save Prythian from its own ruin then the Realm wouldn’t be rejecting her the way it is. She wouldn’t be stuck, confined, in her unfamiliarly shallow well of magic.
She’s going to let Rhysand down. She’s going to let down Feyre and Azriel and the rest of the inner circle.
She won’t be enough.
The thoughts raging through her make her breaths shallow out, enough that Asteria has to focus to stand up straight, her palms sweating underneath her gloves. Rhysand’s words are muddled out, overtaken by the sound of the heavy, fast beating of her heart rushing into her ears.
They may be outside in in the dead of winter, but Asteria feels uncomfortably warm, every part of her starting to heat up, walls of her own mind crumbling down around her. Trapping her. Crushing her.
She won’t be enough.
The words rattle around her brain, everything she wouldn’t be able to do for this group of people that had shown her so much kindness since she quite literally fell into their lives. That’s the worst part, they are giving her so much, and there’s nothing she can do for them in return. She won’t be enough.
Asteria wrings her own hands to the point of pain, trying to bring herself back into her own head, to calm down and breathe when suddenly, a shadow finds her hands, slowly swirling around them, as if analyzing her actions to figure out just what she’s doing.
A little surprised, Asteria lets her hands relax, stopping the wringing and watching as the wisp of shadow seemingly becomes satisfied with itself, slowly wrapping around her arm, and moving upwards behind her shoulders and down the length of her long, tightly braided silver hair.
Asteria follows it with her eyes as best she can, watching as it returns back to the very male that the shadows belong to.
Azriel’s concern isn’t masked, his hazel eyes intense when she turns to face him. So intense, that Asteria barely registers that he isn’t alone until the unfamiliar female is already approaching with her arms open.
Asteria has a split second to register her name, Elain; soft and feminine, matching the female perfectly, before she’s wrapped in a tight hug.
Arms tense by her side, Asteria’s heart doesn’t falter in its frantic beating, an overwhelming floral scent invading her nose and pushing her senses even further to their limit.
Remaining rigid, Asteria can’t help but hate this. She can’t stand being touched unless it’s by someone she knows and trusts.
It’s a relief when Elain steps back, a kind smile on her face as Rhysand introduces Asteria, the words muffled by Asteria’s screaming mind. So much, that all she can manage to do is give what she hopes is a polite nod.
Another shadow reaches out to Asteria, and she forces herself to look at Azriel again, and actually take in what’s happening around her.
She finds the shadowsinger as hauntingly beautiful as ever in the scaled armor he’s worn each time she’s seen him, and in his hands he holds a few shopping bags. His massive wings are tucked in tightly, and his shadows are whirling around him in their usual fashion, a few of them wafting out towards Asteria, as if concerned for her. Maybe they have reason to be.
The female beside him, Elain, looks so soft, and feminine, just as Asteria had thought moments ago, that everything about the silver haired female suddenly feels too harsh, too severe. Like even her name is odd and grim in comparison.
“Rhys, would you mind taking Elain back to the house?” Azriel asks handing his bags to the High Lord under Elain’s confused gaze, his low voice cutting through Asteria’s racing thoughts like a hot knife through butter. His concerned eyes find hers again, “Asteria, I want to show you something.”
Then, in the blink of an eye, Azriel is ushering the silver haired female away, his hand on the small of her back and wing stretched around her.
Just as quickly, as if her body had recognized him, she relaxes, her heart rate slowing as Azriel guides her through the streets of Velaris.
—
“Are you alright?” Azriel asks, handing Asteria a steaming cup of tea that he’d purchased from a cafe a few doors away from the bench he and Asteria had settled on.
Asteria takes the paper cup from him, savoring the warmth that bleeds through her gloves and into her palms, “Yes,” She says, watching the male as he sits close to her, taking a second to get his wings settled over the back of the seating. Asteria is a second away from suggesting they go somewhere else when Azriel finally gets comfortable, both his thigh and shoulder brushing Asteria’s, “Thank you.”
The Shadowsinger gives her a small smile, the concern still in his gaze as he looks down at her while she sips the hot tea, “Does that happen often?”
Asteria swallows, the pleasant herbal taste sticking in her mouth and the warmth spreading through her, “Does what happen often?”
“That kind of….”
“Panic?” Asteria finishes, saving the Shadowsinger the trouble of finding the right word, “Not before the last hundred years or so, but yes. It happens more often than I’d like.”
Azriel hums, nodding, looking towards the street corner, watching the other fae heading from shop to shop, some laughing with friends, others with determined gazes and places to be.
Asteria stares up at him, suddenly curious about the Shadowsinger’s watchful gaze, “How did you know?” Asteria asks, bringing his observative hazel eyes to him.
He considers the question his arm extending to the back of the bench behind Asteria, “I didn’t. Not really,” He answers, “You just looked like you needed a friend.”
“Is that what we are? Friends?”
“What else am I supposed to call the only person who knows that strawberries disgust me?” Azriel asks, smirking.
Asteria snorts, amused, while looking up at Azriel with a tight lipped smile, “You should know, I’m not very good at keeping friends.”
“Well, I’ve dealt with Cassian and Rhys for the past five centuries,” Azriel says, tone light, “I’d say you’re in good hands.”
Asteria hums, sipping her tea once again, “And what’s the key to friendship, my dear Shadowsinger?”
“There are very few secrets between friends,” Azriel says with a sly smile.
His expression makes Asteria roll her eyes in an exaggerated manner, extremely amused with the Spymaster and his desire for the unknown, “Of course you say that.”
She knows Azriel can see it, see how much he’s entertaining her, clearing her head without even trying, especially when a new, intriguing, glint of mischief enters his simmering hazel eyes, “What? It’s true.”
“You just want me to tell you all of my secrets,” Asteria accuses, hiding what could be a smile behind the rim of her cup, taking a long drink of tea and watching as Azriel shrugs, no trace of denial to be seen. Asteria lowers her cup, leaning a touch closer and playfully sneering, “Greedy male.”
Azriel mimics her, leaning closer until their faces are barely a couple inches away, one of his shadows sneaking past him and curling around the end of her braid as he lowly utters out, “Captivating, mysterious female,” With a smirk resting on his lips.
Asteria can feel each of her tense muscles softening from the Shadowsinger’s nearness, making her mind race. No one, not even the Hellas-following male she once believed to be her mate, had such an easy effect on her. It’s almost as if her body recognizes him and is waiting for the rest of her to catch up, a warm feeling budding in each part of her, especially her lower region.
The silver-haired female swallows, crossing one leg over the other and squeezing her thighs together in what she hopes is an inconspicuous manner as she clears her throat, “Which of my secrets do you want now?”
“Only the most important ones,” Azriel says, leaning back and giving Asteria the room to breathe again, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Oh, that’s personal.” Asteria answers quickly, earning a low chuckle from the male that pleasantly rumbles through her, “It’s always been green. What’s yours?”
“Blue.”
“Obviously,” Asteria says, reaching up with one of her hands and tapping the blue gem on his chest, “What are these? Is it a secret?”
The hand that isn’t resting on the back of the cold, metal bench wraps around Asteria’s, making her breath hitch as he lowers them to her lap, releasing her to show her the crystal on the back of his hand, identical ones on his chest, shoulders, and knees, counting seven in total, “No, not a secret,” Azriel says with another chuckle, “They’re siphons.”
Asteria raises a brow with a subtle curiosity, quietly urging him on.
“To put it simply, siphons are used by Illyrians, like Cass and I, to channel magic.”
“Do all Illyrians have them?”
Azriel shakes his head, “Only the powerful ones.”
“Do all of the powerful ones use seven?”
“No. No one else has enough power. They’d be lucky to use more than one.”
Asteria lets out a low whistle, suddenly impressed with the male beside her, one she never would have guessed to hold such raw power if he hadn’t told her. He moves too gently, and carefully to be carrying a level of power so severe.
Seven. Seven siphons to channel his magic.
Asteria remembers the red shield she’d run into just before her first encounter with Cassian, and how his crimson siphons flared brightly at her. It sends a shiver down her spine.
“Maybe I shouldn’t piss off Cassian as much as I do,” Asteria mumbles, still thinking about the dangerous gleam of the crystals.
Azriel breathes deeply, that easy smile still gracing his features, “He’s harmless.”
“So then you’re the one I should be afraid of?”
“No,” Azriel answers, “Friends don’t fear each other.”
Unable to help the playful scoff that moves up her throat, Asteria looks over to the Shadowsinger with a smirk on her lips, about to speak when she’s frozen by the sound of a fiddle streaming through the air.
Automatically, Asteria turns her head to a street corner just a few feet away, a blue haired fae female tapping her booted toe to a upbeat tune she shreds out on her instrument, a male with insect’s wings launching into a complementary melody with a fiddle of his own just a moment later, their delightful song filling the square.
Blindly, the silver haired female taps Azriel’s chest with the back of her hand, unable to take her eyes off the performers, “Az? Did you know they’d be here?”
Asteria doesn’t look at her companion as he grips her gloved hand, giving it a contented squeeze before releasing it, making her feel warm, “I wasn’t lying when I said I had something to show you. They perform here every night.”
The pair of fiddles build further, the counter melodies mixing and blending and challenging one another as the musicians come face to face, grinning as they get to a certain point of the song, slowing the tempo for a fraction of a second before launching back into it, making Asteria even more delighted.
“You really love music, don’t you?” Azriel asks, thoughtfully.
“More than anything else,” Asteria says, as if it were automatic. She turns back to the Shadowsinger, feeling as though she’s vibrating from her own excitement, “I played the fiddle, among other instruments, but preferred the pianoforte. I used to be a composer, too. For a hundred years the Doranelle Orchestra used to play my symphonies, and they were picked up by the companies in Adarlan and Terrasen. But that was before-” Asteria stops, her breath hitching and a familiar sadness flooding over her chest despite the addictively upbeat tune raging around her. Her voice goes quiet, “That was before.”
Before Maeve decided to take the music away completely, and put a ban on all of Asteria’s work.
The green eyed female takes a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs and rejoicing in the feeling that comes with it, and for the first time since the door between worlds was thrust open, Asteria reminds herself that Maeve, that horrid, cruel queen isn’t here. She doesn’t exist in Prythian. And Asteria may have left a war behind, but she also freed herself, completely and truly.
Yes, at one point Maeve had taken music away. But Prythian gave it back to her, and Azriel led her to it.
“Do you want to just sit and listen?” Azriel asks, softly, able to recognize her dampened mood.
Asteria remembers when they were at Rita’s not long ago, a different group of musicians playing something completely foreign to the otherworldly female. Azriel had asked her to dance then. Until now, turning to look at him, feeling as though she may start crying joyous tears at any second from the epiphany of her own freedom, Asteria didn’t realize how much she was hoping that he’d ask her again until a question moved past his lips.
There isn’t a doubt in her mind she’d say yes now, and she can’t help but wonder if he’d do the same.
“No, actually. Would you like to-”
“-Dance with me?” Asteria and Azriel are snapped from the small, seemingly private bubble they’d put themselves in by the voice of an unfamiliar male.
Looking up, Asteria finds the male to be young, probably having just Settled, with a hand outstretched. He looks nervous, fingers trembling just slightly, but also kind. Long, sand coloured hair and dark eyes waiting expectantly for her answer with a slight grimace.
“Dance with you?” Asteria repeats, looking from the strange male back to Azriel, who has both brows raised, the shadows swirling around him seemingly darker, thicker than hey were a moment ago.
The stranger gulps, nodding, “People are- are, uh, starting to-to do it. To dance, that is. Would you? With-with me?”
Looking past him, Asteria sees that couples had in fact started to make their way into the square, dancing excitedly to the music from the pair of fiddlers, grins on each face and sparks of joy in each set of eyes, bodies moving in time with the melody.
A little closer, there is a trio of young males that draws Asteria’s attention, staring at them. Snickering. Mocking the male in front of her’s posture, and jostling one another with conniving, rude expressions.
They’re making fun of him, and Asteria immediately hates them for it.
“What’s your name?” Asteria asks, bringing her eyes from the group to the lone male in front of her.
Gulping, the stranger answers her, “Murry.”
“Well, Murry, my name is Asteria, and I have to tell you that I’m not a very good dancer,” Asteria says, handing her half-full cup of tea to Azriel, who takes it without being told to, “But if you know that, and you’d still have me. I’d be honored to dance with you.”
Murry’s grin spreads across his face in an instant, “Really?”
“Really,” Asteria nods, putting her hand in his, only to be eagerly tugged to her feet by the sandy haired male, her lips parting to release a startled yelp as Murry all but drags her to the square.
Looking over her shoulder, suddenly questioning what she’d gotten herself into, she sees Azriel watching her intently and smiling from ear to ear. The sight punches her in the gut, catching her off guard and making her stumble over her own feet.
Before she can right herself, Murry is sweeping her into the line of dancers with a hand just above her waist and her hand held firmly in his. Asteria puts her hand on his shoulder, trying to keep up with Murry and the rest of the crowd as they bound and twirl in a seemingly organized formation, her eyes glued to her feet, trying to get it right.
It only takes a few moments for Murry to playfully tell her, “You really weren’t lying.”
Something overtakes her then. Perhaps the upbeat music embedding itself into her blood, or the fact that she knows that group of males from earlier may be watching, but Asteria can’t help the genuine laugh that bubbles from her when her companion mocks her dance talents, “I warned you!”
Murry doesn’t falter, however, instead, he quietly lets Asteria know when to turn, and when to take larger steps, and when he’s going to release her, only to spin her out and bring her back in, a smile on his face the whole time.
The song thunders through her, fiddles giving her the other ques she needs to fall fully into the dance, confident in her moves, so much that when she looks over Murry’s shoulder to try and catch Azriel’s eye, she finds he’s not there anymore. Her still-steaming tea sitting lonesome on their bench.
She doesn’t have time to frown, though, because when Murry turns her again, she catches sight of the Illyrian Shadowsinger fully engrossed in the dance, smiling down at a smaller, old female between his arms.
Asteria’s heart clenches at the sight, warmth radiating through her down to her very soul. She doesn’t get to savor it, though, because the song ends, and the Fiddlers stomp their feet twice, and without a word, Murry steps away.
Barely a second later, an absurdly tall creature with green skin that feels like leather, big hands and a wide jaw sweeps Asteria off her feet as a new melody begins.
Just when she’d gotten a hand of the dance, she’s suddenly forced to do it in reverse, cursing under her breath with a chuckle, this partner’s movements more suave than Murry’s. He moves automatically, barely giving Asteria a moment to second-guess herself, his lead almost domineering.
Looking around the circle, Asteria finds Azriel dancing with a raven haired nymph, his gaze finding hers over the head of his partner, smiling wide.
The Fiddlers stomp their feet again, and Asteria is nearly knocked over by a red headed fae with crisp blue eyes and fast feet, seemingly moving in double-time with the music.
Like magnets, Asteria and Azriel find each other’s eyes again, and they both laugh, Asteria feeling ridiculous while the fae whisks her around the square with a showmanship like no other.
The music crescendos, the beat carrying on steadily as they switch partners again, another stranger in front of Asteria, and Azriel getting closer and closer as if he’s trying to rush towards her as he sweeps through partners.
Asteria craves him through the song, feeling it in her bones as it builds and builds, her feet keeping time beneath her as she’s brought into the arms of a new partner.
After that, it’s a dark skinned nymph.
Then Murry again.
She wishes it were Azriel.
A shadow whisps around her braid, and a new fae male spins her wildly.
He’s followed by a tall Urisk, Azriel finally just a partner away.
The Fiddlers stomp their feet again, and Asteria’s heart leaps wildly in anticipation.
She steps into Azriel’s arms at long last, and the music abruptly stops.
Panting, her chest heaving, Asteria looks up at Azriel. His hands burn at her waist, the heat of them bleeding through her tunic and into her skin, making her entire body feel as though it’s on fire.
Asteria feels her cheeks warm, knowing they’ve definitely tinged themselves pink at his nearness. She smiles up at Azriel, broad and without restraint, unable to do anything else as the crowd around them erupts into applause for the musicians that had hold up their instruments, finished performing and beaming with joy at the dancers they’d entertained.
Azriel’s grin falters, mouth parting slightly as Asteria takes a hesitant step back, almost unsure to be moving away from his embrace, clapping and cheering with the rest of them. She eyes him suspiciously, afraid that she’d done something wrong, as his throat bobs with a swallow, one of his wings twitching before he joins the applause with her.
Asteria nudges him with her elbow, the shadow that had found her during the dance swirling around her wrist for a few more moments before returning to its master, and the silver haired female can’t help but laugh.
Just an hour ago, she wouldn’t have pictured this for herself. Dancing in the heart of Velaris, the city of starlight, with complete strangers, reveling in unexpected, wonderful music, enjoying herself.
But she’s here, it’s all because of the male beside her.
Azriel finds his grin again, and Asteria’s nerves settle when he waves to the old lady he’d begun the dance with, and Asteria decides that she’ll remember this night, a part of her soul that she’d long forgotten existed sparking to life as she takes him in.
She’d remember how his very presence brought her out of a dread-filled panic and how his hands felt on her waist. She’d remember the burning delight in Azriel’s eyes that was meant just for her, and she’d keep it all to herself. A thing of private beauty.
He had given her something truly valuable this night. Something Azriel had been right about when they’d first sat down on the bench by the Sidra.
You, Azriel, and Cassian had been sent to go scout out the borders of the Spring Court as Hybern loomed closer and closer. The threat of war was growing every day and while you didn’t really like the idea of being stuck with the two Illyrians you also had to obey your High Lord’s orders.
While you weren’t a shadowsinger, you had a knack to move without being seen and listen without being heard. The trip was only supposed to take two days, in and out, but when a unexpected storm had the three of you sheltering in your tent for an extra day you couldn’t help but be annoyed.
Cassian and Azriel were having their own secret conversation, leaving you out once again, while you tended to skinning the rabbits you had caught and scowling.
“What’s the matter, princess?” Cassian asked, his sarcastic smile making his eyes crinkle. “I think it would be most girls dreams to be stuck in a tent with us.”
“Most girls are idiots, especially ones who think you two would make great company.” You bite back, moving your knife a little too fast and knicking your finger.
“Look what being smart gets you.” Azriel chuckled while walking to the other side of the wall so he could watch you.
“Can you two please go back to your own conversation and leave me out of it?” You huff, watching the cut heal before turning back to your task. “Some of us are trying to make sure we have food for tonight.”
“You do care about us.” Cassian said smugly, glancing over at Azriel who was fighting his own smirk.
“I care about not getting my ass beat if I come back without you. It has nothing to do with you.” You reply with a roll of your eyes, not noticing the wisps of shadows creeping behind you.
“Are you sure?” Cass prods, suddenly invading your personal space. Before you can move away he uses two fingers to turn your head towards him. “You feel nothing for us?”
You swallow thickly, your body heating up involuntarily. Fucking Illyrians.
“Nothing.”
It was a half truth. You felt many things towards them. Annoyance at their arrogance, anger at their inability to take you seriously, jealousy when they came home with multiple women every night.
You would be stupid not to recognize their attractiveness. It seemed to be an Illyrian trait, with their tan skin and dark hair. Who wouldn’t find that hot? However you had standards and morals, you refused to sleep with people you work with and you refuse to add anymore fuel to their massive egos.
“Why are your cheeks flushed then?” Azriel commented from his corner, eyebrow raised. “Why can we smell you?”
Your body had indeed betrayed you. It was present in the air, just faintly, but enough to notice. You also picked up on their musk and it made your nostrils flair.
“It’s a normal bodily function.” You defend, your voice higher than you would’ve liked. They both shared a look. Busted.
“We can help you with that, little mouse.” Azriel hummed, watching as you stood up to try and distance yourself from them. “All you have to do is say the word.”
“I don’t want your help,” You frowned, chewing your bottom lip. The wetness of your cunt was already making your panties damp. What was wrong with you? “Or yours.”
Cassian stood and walked up to you until you were chest to chest, his eyes dark. “When was the last time someone took care of you? I haven’t seen anyone come visit you since you moved in with us.”
“It’s, it’s none of your business.” Your voice is wavering and you curse in your mind. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can do it myself.”
You shivered when you felt two tendrils of smoke, no, shadows, wrap around your bare skin of your arms. Azriel appeared behind you, trapping you between the two men.
“I think you do. I think you want us to take care of you.” He whispered into your ear, smiling at Cassian when your eyelids fluttered.
“You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” Cassian added, his fingertips ghosting over your collarbones.
“I…I don’t…” Your resolve was crumbling before your very eyes. How did you go from hating them to yearning for them this quickly?
“It’s okay to take the things you want, princess.” Cassian bent down, grasping your hand in his much larger one before guiding it lower and lower until he stopped you right at his waistline. “We certainly do, isn’t that right Az?”
“Mmm.” Was Azriel’s response, his breath hot against your skin. “We do. And we see something we want right now.”
Your breath was coming in short pants as your brain short-circuited. Ever since you had arrived you had fought against their natural attraction, distanced yourself in the name of morals and standards. but as they pressed against you, offering you something you didn’t realize you so badly wanted, how could you say no?
(Pls tell me y’all want more of this bevause holy fuck this was so hot to write)
You had been sent to sift through the Shadowsinger’s room in the Court of Nightmares. It wasn’t that you wanted to, you were actually terrified of him. No, you were here under threat of torture from your own family.
They were desperate to find some dirt, some stain, about Rhysand and his group to use against them. It was a foolish, stupid plan that you were extremely against but your opinion did not matter to them. The only thing that did was how quiet you could move around and be near undetectable.
Keir was in kahoots with the whole plan and had even given you a pathway to get to the secluded area. Of course he would reap some of the benefits of whatever you were able to find, no good deed goes without a greedy hand to snatch half of it.
You had been promised that the Shadowsinger would be gone when you arrived, busy with torture or maiming or whatever it is the illusive man did in his spare time. Rhysand and Feyre were busy with Keir in the great hall and seeing as you were as memorable as a vase in a far corner, this plan should be foolproof.
So why were your palms sweating and heart racing as if you were running against the clock of your own death?
“Come on, come on.” You whispered to yourself, trying your best to be quick and neat. The last thing you wanted was for him to suspect someone had been here. “Something. Anything. Please.”
But there was nothing of substance. The drawers were full of clothes and sheaths. The desk in the corner was bare bones. It was almost eerie how clean this room was.
You had been in here for far too long and with one final look around, you decided to throw in the towel. There was nothing here for you to expose. Surely your family would understand, right? They couldn’t kill you.
Just as you were walking across the room to the door, a loud slam reverberated around you. It suddenly got a few degrees warmer and you were so terrified that you felt like about to wet yourself.
Steam rolled past, fogging up the mirror slightly that was in front of you. It took everything in your power not to scream as you made eye contact with a very wet and shirtless Illyrian.
His wings were slightly open, water droplets hitting the floor as a white towel hung loosely over his hips. You couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking downwards at his stomach, briefly admiring his beauty before moving back up to his face.
Immediately you were drawn into the mysterious air around him, your eyes captivated with the shadows that were curling around his shoulders and neck. The tattoos that marked his skin were an inky black that paired well with his tan skin.
You tensed when a small smirk graced his face, his head tilting to the side as he studied you.
