Summary: No one expected you to understand fae customs just yet—much less Illyrian customs. So maybe Azriel should have made his intentions a little more obvious. He began to understand that mistake as you began to pull away.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Biggest miscommunication trope lol, angst, pining!, idiots in love, Archeron!Reader but really only that she was human and now fae
a/n: I can't believe I actually wrote something finally lol thank you for reading if you're heree <3 This is such a fun trope to read I love it please enjoyyy! (part 2 coming)
Read part two here!
Main Masterlist ♡
~~
You slumped back into your seat, arms crossed over your stomach in a show of frustration you would rather hide. Sometimes, it was easy to pretend you weren’t falling in love with Azriel in a pathetic way. Today was not one of those days.
The Shadowsinger had his head tipped back in a laugh, cheeks tinged a subtle pink as Mor recounted something you couldn’t hear. Well, you could, your new fae ears tuned to every sound, but you’d learned how to block out what you didn’t want. Sound had been the most disorienting sense after you’d been Made, but Azriel had done well in teaching you to hone it.
You wished he had taught you how to tamp down your emotions as well; immortality in the face of longing and jealousy was looking bleak.
Clutching your wine glass in twitching fingers, you directed your attention to Feyre and the babbling Illyrian babe in her lap. Things always seemed so effortless for her in this world, but that wasn’t true, and you knew it. Still, you found yourself envying her mateship and the ease with which love found her. It may have been a journey, but Rhys was clear with his intentions, and the mating bond cemented that.
Even Nesta, harsh and unrelenting as she was, had a sure bond that she could rely on. And then there was Elain, finding her way with Lucien in minute acts that all meant something to both of them. You had tried to chalk your feelings for Azriel up to jealousy or seeking a partner in a paired-up family, but those were surface-level excuses. The way your heart raced in his presence, the spark that lit up your skin each time you touched—those were not symptoms of pure loneliness.
But you were sure he would think it was desperation if you pursued him. He was the only single male out of the fae you knew, and you knew so few people in this world. If you started professing your love for him, waxing poetic about the simple way he smiled, you knew the pitying look of rejection would come soon after. He would wince slightly and run his hand along the side of your head as he so often did, and then he would say that he didn’t see you that way. That you were new and unexciting and a responsibility above all else—his High Lady’s sister that needed help adjusting to life as fae.
He hadn’t exactly shown interest in you. He had been kind and attentive and bordering on adoring, but that was just how he treated his family. You’d seen it. You were not going to be the pathetic little thing chasing after him in the wake of a war. Things were at peace now, and he didn’t need to be bogged down with the toll of rejecting you.
Still, you sighed as you watched him enjoy his night. You bit the inside of your cheek and choked down another glass of the fae wine you could barely stomach. Your sisters asked you questions about your training with Madja, and you answered them, allowing the ring on your pinky to dig into the skin of your palm. When Azriel had given it to you, sliding it onto your smallest finger, you had been elated, feeling light and dizzy with affection. You felt foolish wearing it now.
You couldn’t take it off. Azriel seemed to look for it whenever he saw you, eyes going from your face to your hands as if on instinct. He would touch it sometimes—when he flew you over the city or took things from your hands to carry instead. You would feel his thumb brush the metal embossed with twines of azure stone and think something was there, but then he would offer you a polite smile and simply walk beside you. He would blush and laugh with Mor, but he would only smile with you.
Pity. It was pity, surely.
You had clung to him for weeks after being Made. Something about him brought you comfort in a newly abrasive world, so he allowed you to follow him around and you accepted his touches with greed. It had all been ordered. Rhys had surely ordered his Spymaster to ensure his mate’s sister was properly cared for, but you hadn’t been thinking about the implications at the time, pathetically seeking him out under the pretense of a genuine connection. And sure, Azriel was not cruel. He thought of you as family and cared for you as such. But your feelings were yours alone.
“Shall I take you back? Or would you like to sleep here?”
You startled at the sound of his voice, Azriel suddenly at the back of your chair. The room had dimmed in conversation, with Rhys and Feyre gone to put Nyx to bed and Mor only muttering short sentences in low tones that had Cassian nodding in agreement. Elain had all but vanished from the table, and Nesta was facing the fire to capture its warmth. You had missed the shift as your thoughts ran rampant.
Your chair creaked as Azriel leaned against it, mouth closer to your ear. “Are you alright?”
You blinked and tilted your head slightly to show you were attentive to his words. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Azriel hummed. “So would you like to stay?”
Staying at the Riverhouse would mean distance from Azriel. And you could walk to the clinic in the morning rather than depending on him to fly you down. That was good.
“Yes. That would be best.”
“I’ll walk you back then.”
He always walked you to your room—all the way there. He never came in, always content to stop at the door, but he never did anything less. Even now, when he would leave for his own room at the House miles away, he was offering to take you down the hall. It was too much. You’d become too much.
“That’s okay,” you breathed out, finally turning your head to look at him. Your faces were only inches apart, and you had to catch your breath at the closeness. “I’ll find my way.”
Something unusual flashed across his expression, quickly righted with a soft smile. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s just down the hall, Azriel. I doubt I’ll get lost.”
He blinked, looking between your eyes before clearing his throat slightly and standing straight. You used the opportunity to push out from the table, trying to ignore his guiding hands. “Right, of course,” he nodded. He looked lost for a moment, standing before you. His wings twitched as you looked over his shoulder to the joining hall. “I’ll—goodnight, then. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Azriel.”
~~
Distancing yourself from Azriel after your dinner revelation was not an easy task. You hadn’t realized how much you’d intertwined your life with his, and the realization was enough to make you cringe. He was a whole person with a life before you, and now you were reliant on him for so many things.
So, you tried to make your own way. You stopped asking to stay at the House so you could walk wherever you needed. You asked passersby for directions instead of waiting for Azriel to tell you where shops and restaurants were located. You even tried making friends, talking more with the patrons of the clinic to… be more independent—separate, even, from Azriel and your newly grown family.
You figured he would appreciate the effort. He was probably so tired of guiding you everywhere, of keeping polite smiles on his face as you droned on about your new life and let him fly you around Velaris. And he probably loved that he finally got his overcoat back. He had let you borrow it several weeks ago, placing the Illyrian-forged threads over your shoulders when you asked him to go flying in the middle of the night.
He had told you how much it meant to him that night as he buttoned it up to your neck. His mother had hand-woven it when he came of age, he had told you, and he had saved it ever since. You might not have understood why a coat was of so much importance, but you understood that you were hogging it. That he had let you borrow it on a cold night, and then you had practically commandeered his prize possession. He always insisted you wear it when he would fly you around, but he was just being polite.
The thought grated on you.
“What?” Azriel asked, mouth slightly agape as you gently placed the coat in his stiff hands.
“I—Thank you for letting me borrow it for so long. I should have returned it ages ago. I was being greedy with it,” you tried to joke, pressing it further into his grasp.
Azriel remained frozen. His eyes flicked down to the material now in his hands and then back up to you. “I don’t—I don’t think I understand. You don’t like it?”
A flash of confusion struck you, but maybe he assumed you weren’t going to give it back? “What? No, Azriel, it’s a wonderful coat. Honestly, the softest, warmest thing I’ve ever put on. I just… I know it’s important to you. I’ll wear my own when I need you to take me somewhere. Although I think I’ve been doing well getting around by myself. I’ve been trying to learn Velaris’ layout, and I think I almost got it.”
Azriel finally moved, curling the coat closer to his chest. He wet his lips before shooting his gaze down to your hands. Finding some semblance of an answer there, he nodded once, mostly to himself. “I’ve noticed that. Have you enjoyed exploring the city?”
No. You enjoyed exploring it with him. “Yes, very much. The people of Velaris are very helpful with directions.”
Azriel hummed, rubbing his fingers along the sleeve of the coat. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I’ll look forward to you enjoying flying again, though.”
“Yes, well, I never stopped enjoying that. I’ll try to space it out more, though—maybe get Cassian or Rhys to lug me around every once in a while.”
“Why?”
An unmistakable inflection of hurt trailed in his tone. Wonderful, now you were offending him. “Oh! Well, just to take some of that off of you. I know you’re very busy, and I’ve needed a lot of help for a long while.”
“Take…what off of me?” he asked, words slow and lingering.
“Um, the responsibility? Again, I know how busy you are. And I know it’s taken me a while to adjust, but I think I've got it now. At least, I’ve got it more than I used to,” you tried joking again, a dry laugh rocking you back on your heels.
“Responsibility,” Azriel repeated.
“Right,” you affirmed. “Now you can spend more time on other things.”
“Such as?”
You clicked your tongue, glancing up at the ceiling as if there were answers there. “I don’t know. What did you do before I was around?”
Azriel’s brows came together. He shook his head slightly as if you were partially insane. “I don’t think… I didn’t think you wanted to talk about that yet.”
Maybe you were partially insane. You thought you were having one conversation, but it seemed Azriel was having another. What did that mean? Maybe his life was far easier before you started forcing him into tasks and stealing his clothes? And you weren’t ready just yet to hear that? He really thought you were unstable then.
You laughed, despite that thought, brushing a hand through the air casually. “Come on, Az. You obviously had a life before me. Multiple lives, if we go on human terms. I’m sure you had several hobbies that didn’t include taking me places.”
And now he looked uncomfortable. Azriel folded his coat onto his arm, and his mouth twisted before he let out a sigh. “There were pleasure houses, obviously. A few relationships, although they do not seem important in the slightest now.”
You choked on air, clearing your throat as Azriel itched his jaw and looked up at the ceiling himself. Nothing was up there, but both of you were sure looking. “Oh,” you squeaked out.
“The relationships are in the distant past. The—well, the casual things are more recent, though nothing after I met you, obviously.”
Your mind was doing flips, bashing jarringly against your skull as Azriel looked at you with an almost concerned discomfort. When you said hobbies, you thought he would share that he used to train more or had a secret joy for puzzles. You had not expected a brief overview of his sexual partners, but Azriel looked about ready to give you a list if you asked. To dive deeper into the topic you were about to melt into a puddle over.
This was what you were really holding him back from, then.
He wanted to go to pleasure houses, but you were taking up all of that time.
When you remained silent, Azriel shifted his weight between his feet. “I know things were different for you. You were human. I’ve learned of the demands and expectations of human women, so that’s why we’ve been going slo—”
Your ears were ringing as he spoke. You clutched your hands together and interrupted him. “Right, yes, different for humans. And not alive as long, obviously. Less time for hobbies.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t care about that,” he offered slowly. You weren’t even sure what he was talking about. Another beat of silence, and then, in the most usure voice you had heard from him, Azriel asked, “Is that okay?”
Was it okay for him to go back to pleasure houses? To seek out intimacy? Who were you to decide that for him?
“Of course,” you blinked, raising a hand to your forehead. “I’m—I’m going to go rest, I think. Long day.”
“Alright,” Azriel simply replied, left standing in the hall.
~~
You missed him, which was terribly awful in the worst ways.
Not only had he made it abundantly clear that he was setting his sights on other women, but he was being extra nice now, probably fearing for the worst now that you were aware he was going to be spending his newfound time… doing other things.
He asked you to accompany him to dinner every night this week. You turned him down each time, but he still asked, a casual hope ringing in his words. He arrived at the Riverhouse every morning, ready to walk you to the clinic even though you assured him you were okay to go alone. He didn’t bring his coat back, but he grabbed your own from the closet by the door and had it open for you on each of those mornings.
And his wings were doing strange things. When you would come to the door, he would spread them just a few inches wider, seeking your eyes as they roved over the exposed veins. He opened them behind you as you walked, almost ushering you closer to him on the streets of Velaris. They seemed to ruffle when he sat beside you at dinner, in the sitting room, when he caught you reading and joined you on the couch. It was almost imperceptible, but the sound was becoming soothing, and that was dangerous.
You were reading too much into things, acting crazy again, and so, you distanced yourself more when you started to notice the patterns. And then you missed him because of it.
He noticed. You were sure he noticed. You could only turn him down so many times before he began to question the change.
“Have I done something wrong?” he asked after two weeks of your eyes flitting away from him.
“What? Of course not.”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not.”
Azriel took you by surprise then, kneeling by the chair you were nestled into. “You are. Tell me what I did.”
Such a picture of devotion made you squirm. You unraveled your legs from under you and sat eye-level with the Shadowsinger’s form. “Nothing, Az. Remember, I told you I was trying to be more self-sufficient. Give you more time back.”
“Is this because of our conversation a few weeks ago? Because I only told you because it’s important to understand my history as my—”
You quickly shook your head, not wanting another recount of his love life. Not when you weren’t part of it. “Nothing like that, I swear.”
Cassian chose that moment to enter the small library, a decision that was both your downfall and eventual salvation, as time would reveal.
“Nothing,” you quipped, feeling Azriel’s eyes still glued to your face as it heated and turned to Cassian. “What are you doing here? Feyre said you were at the camps until next week.”
“Yeah, well, got sick of the camps,” he replied, brow raised when Azriel reluctantly rose from the ground and stiffly turned.
“Glad you’re back then.”
“Thanks for the warm welcome, sweetheart.” Cassian kicked back into a far chair, the air still heavy. “Anyone have plans tonight? I feel like going out.”
Azriel cleared his throat, fingers flexing with shadows that twined between them. “I believe Mor is going to Rita’s. But I have… business tonight.”
“Business, huh?” Cassian smirked, flicking his gaze over to you in a quick motion.
“Cassian,” Azriel warned, but it was too late. Something ugly and hot gripped your throat, making it impossible to swallow.
This was it. This was what you wanted. He was finally free from you, and his words tonight were only a semblance of guilt for leaving you when you asked him to. But it wasn’t fair to hold him in your grasp when he didn’t want to be there. When you were a duty to him.
He needed to know that it was okay to move on from the responsibility of you, so you steeled yourself and swallowed down the searing pain in your chest that felt like it was yanking at you when you were resolute in your next words.
“Sorry, Cass, I’m not free either. I’m going on a date.”
Azriel x reader
fluff / domestic intimacy / teasing / hurt-comfort
Tired of watching Azriel run himself into the ground, you storm into Rhys’s office and emotionally blackmail the High Lord into giving your mate a week off.
Azriel returns home exhausted, suspicious, and entirely too amused by the chaos you caused for him.
Rhysand was already annoyed before you even slammed the office doors open.
The sound cracked through the river house loudly enough that Cassian glanced up from the couch with immediate interest, the sharpening stone stilling against the dagger in his hand while Amren sighed over her book like your entrance had personally ruined her morning.
Rhys merely leaned back in his chair with the slow patience of a male who already knew he was about to lose an argument.
“No,” you said immediately.
“Good morning to you too,” Rhys replied dryly.
“No,” you repeated, striding across the office. “You are not sending Azriel back out again.”
Cassian’s mouth twitched.
Rhys folded his hands atop the desk. “There are problems at the Illyrian camps that need handling.”
“That’s not true.”
One dark brow lifted.
“You just want to send your best warrior to glare at everyone until they remember how to behave.”
Amren snorted softly into her wineglass.
Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is, unfortunately, part of handling the problem.”
“He’s exhausted.”
The amusement faded from his face then, if only slightly, because he knew it too.
Azriel had spent weeks flying between camps and borders and meetings, carrying half the Night Court on his shoulders with that same quiet endurance he carried everything else. He came home later now. Spoke less. Slept less. Even Cassian had started looking concerned.
And Azriel, of course, had said absolutely nothing about it.
“He would never ask for a break,” you continued, crossing your arms. “So I’m asking for him.”
Rhys exhaled slowly. “You know the timing is difficult.”
“Oh, spare me,” you said, throwing your arms in the air.
Cassian outright grinned now.
You pointed accusingly at Rhys. “You’ve worked him into the ground.”
“I have not—”
“You absolutely have.”
Rhys opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Cassian coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.
“So,” you said sweetly, “you are giving him a week off.”
“A week,” Rhys repeated flatly.
“A full week.”
Rhys stared at you. “Do you know how much work he handles in a single day?”
“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. “That’s exactly why I’m asking for seven of them.”
Amren smirked over the rim of her glass.
Rhys drummed his fingers once against the desk. “Do you realize the amount of chaos you’re asking me to deal with while you two disappear into domestic bliss?”
You leaned closer across the desk, crossing your arms with all the confidence of someone about to make a truly unreasonable offer.
“I’ll babysit Nyx for a week.”
For a moment, the entire room went silent before Cassian burst into laughter loud enough to echo off the walls.
Rhys blinked once at you. “You want to keep my son during your vacation?”
“No,” you said immediately, sounding genuinely horrified. “After.”
Cassian nearly slid off the couch laughing.
Rhys looked at you for another long second, like he genuinely could not decide whether to be offended or impressed. “You’re trying to barter childcare for my spymaster.”
“Yes.”
For a heartbeat, he simply blinked at you. Then laughter finally broke from him too, rich and disbelieving enough that even Amren looked mildly entertained now.
“You are unbelievable.”
You smiled sweetly. “And yet deeply persuasive.”
“You’re manipulative,” he informed you, though there was no real irritation left in his voice anymore.
“You raised me.”
“That is not remotely true.”
You waved a dismissive hand. “Close enough.”
Rhys shook his head slowly, still laughing under his breath as he leaned back into his chair. “Five days.”
“Seven.”
His eyes narrowed immediately. “You’re impossible.”
“You owe me.”
That finally made him pause.
Cassian’s grin sharpened instantly.
Rhys narrowed his eyes. “What favor?”
Your own smile turned positively wicked.
“Oh, don’t pretend you forgot.”
Rhys already looked wary enough that Cassian immediately sat up straighter, clearly sensing entertainment.
“You were sixteen,” you said casually, “and you broke one of your father’s study windows sneaking back in at night—”
Cassian barked a laugh.
“—so I told your father it was me.”
Rhys groaned loudly enough to throw his head back against the chair. “Mother save me.”
“You said you owed me.”
“I was a child!” Rhys snapped.
“And now you’re High Lord,” you replied smoothly. “Look how beautifully things worked out.”
Amren was openly smirking now.
Rhys threw up a hand in outrage. “You’ve been waiting years to use this against me.”
“Absolutely.”
“I should have let Uncle kill you for that window.”
“You cried. Like a big baby,” you snorted.
Cassian made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and choking.
Rhys looked deeply offended. “I was emotional.”
“You were throwing up from fear,” you said through a laugh.
Cassian collapsed back against the couch laughing hard enough that even Amren muttered, “Pathetic,” into her wineglass.
Rhys glared at all of you with the exhausted suffering of a male betrayed by his own court.
“You are all cruel.”
You smiled brightly. “I want Azriel home by tomorrow morning.”
Rhys held your gaze for another long moment before finally waving a hand in surrender.
“Fine.”
Victory surged through you so fast you nearly laughed.
“You’re the best cousin anyone’s ever had,” you declared proudly.
Rhys stared at you over the edge of his desk with the exhausted expression of a male who had ruled an entire court for centuries only to somehow still lose arguments to you specifically.
“I regret every moment of your existence.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“No,” he admitted dryly after a beat, waving a dismissive hand toward the door. “Unfortunately.”
—
Snow drifted softly beyond the balcony the next morning while pale winter light spilled across the river house in silver ribbons.
You were halfway through making tea when shadows curled suddenly across the balcony doors.
Your heart leapt instantly.
Azriel had barely landed before you were moving toward him.
He only had enough time to straighten before you collided into him hard enough to rock him back a step, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck while cold air and cedar and night clung to him.
A soft laugh escaped him the moment you collided into him, warmer than you had heard in weeks.
“There you are, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you tightly against him like he could not quite get close enough fast enough.
Gods, you had missed him.
You clung tighter as his arms slid around you automatically, warm and solid and achingly familiar. His wings tucked close behind him while he buried his face briefly against your hair like merely breathing you in eased something inside him.
Then he kissed you.
Slowly at first, his mouth brushing yours softly before he did it again, deeper this time, exhaustion and relief and quiet longing all tangled together.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, one hand firm against your waist while his thumb traced absent circles there.
“What have you done this time?”
You blinked up at him innocently. “Nothing.”
Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. “Sweetheart, that face usually means Rhys is about to develop a headache.”
You gasped softly. “You wound me.”
“I know you,” he replied, warmth threading through his voice in a way that only made your grin worse.
“Rhys said you weren’t needed at the camps anymore,” you said quickly before he could continue interrogating you.
Azriel went still for half a second before one brow lifted slowly. “Oh, did he?”
The amusement in his voice deepened immediately, smooth and deeply skeptical now, but you ignored it completely and grabbed his hand before he could start asking dangerous questions.
“You have a week off.”
That finally made him stop moving altogether.
“A week,” he repeated carefully.
“A full week.”
Now he was openly suspicious, his shadows curling around your shoulders like they too were waiting for an explanation while he studied you with growing amusement.
“You managed to convince Rhysand to give me a full week off,” he said slowly, sounding like he was piecing together evidence at a crime scene, “and I’m supposed to believe you did absolutely nothing.”
“Yes.”
Azriel held your gaze for another long moment before the corner of his mouth finally curved.
“That’s deeply concerning.”
Rhys strode past moments later with a cup of coffee in hand, looking entirely too composed for someone who had been emotionally blackmailed less than twenty-four hours earlier.
“Good to see you home, brother,” he said smoothly as he passed. “Please enjoy your time off with your mate.”
You immediately shot him a warning look that very clearly said shut up.
Rhys’s mouth twitched.
“You’ve been working so hard,” he continued innocently to Azriel, entirely ignoring you now, “I wouldn’t want her to feel neglected.”
Azriel looked between the two of you slowly, suspicion giving way to realization piece by piece.
Then he laughed.
The sound was low and warm and rare enough that your chest tightened painfully at hearing it again, especially when genuine amusement finally softened the exhaustion lingering beneath it.
“You threatened the High Lord for me?”
“I negotiated.”
Rhys snorted loudly into his coffee.
Azriel’s eyes gleamed as he pulled you closer against him, his hand settling more firmly at your waist while his shadows curled lazily around your shoulders like they were just as entertained as he was.
“Remind me,” he murmured near your mouth, “to thank you properly later.”
Behind you, Rhys gagged dramatically.
You didn’t even bother turning around. “Go away.”
Rhys left laughing under his breath, though not before throwing you one deeply entertained look over his shoulder.
The moment Rhys disappeared down the hallway, silence settled softly around the house again, broken only by the crackle of the fireplace and the distant murmur of Velaris waking beyond the windows.
Azriel was still watching you.
He didn’t look suspicious exactly. If anything, the quiet amusement lingering in his eyes was somehow worse, because it meant he already knew you had absolutely caused problems and was simply waiting for you to admit to them voluntarily.
You moved back toward the kitchen with deliberate innocence and reached for the kettle again, though you only got as far as touching the handle before shadows curled around your wrist, gentle and insistent.
You glanced over your shoulder.
Azriel stood a few feet away, snow still dusting the dark shoulders of his leathers while exhaustion lingered beneath the gold and green of his eyes despite the growing amusement there.
“What did Rhys bargain away?” he asked.
You snorted softly. “His dignity, mostly.”
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he kept watching you in that steady, patient way that made lying to him feel almost impossible.
Almost.
You sighed dramatically before turning fully toward him. “Fine. I may have reminded him that he owed me a favor.”
“And what favor exactly did you use to convince the High Lord of the Night Court to part with his spymaster for an entire week?”
You grinned. “Classified.”
His shadows drifted curiously toward you, brushing around your ankles like smoke.
Azriel stepped closer then, slowly enough that you could have moved away if you wanted to.
You never did.
“How angry were you?” he asked quietly.
The humor faded from your face at the softness of the question.
You looked down briefly, fingers tugging absently at the sleeve of your sweater before muttering, “Pretty angry.”
Azriel said nothing after that, and you hated when he did this—this quiet patience, this unbearable way he simply waited until you gave him the truth willingly because he knew eventually you would.
“I know there are actual problems,” you admitted after a moment. “I know your job matters.”
“It does.”
“But Rhys keeps sending you because everyone listens when Azriel shadowsinger walks into a room looking murderous.”
A quiet exhale left him, not quite a laugh.
“And?”
“And I’m tired of everyone acting like you can endlessly carry things just because you don’t complain.”
The room fell quiet after that.
Outside, wind rattled softly against the balcony railings while Velaris carried on below, distant and glowing beneath the snow.
“You shouldn’t have spent your favor on me,” Azriel said at last, the quietness of his voice making your chest ache instantly.
There it was again.
Not embarrassment. Not annoyance.
Something far worse hidden carefully beneath restraint, wrapped so tightly into his composure most people mistook it for strength.
You crossed the remaining distance between you without hesitation.
“I’d spend worse things for you,” you replied softly.
Azriel’s hand tightened around yours so suddenly it almost hurt.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. He simply looked at you with that terrible quiet intensity of his, like he still never quite knew what to do with being cared for so openly.
Then Azriel looked away first.
Your heart ached at the sight.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you whispered.
Something flickered across his face, quick enough most people would have missed it entirely.
Not you.
Never you.
“I’m alright,” he said automatically.
You stared at him flatly. “You fell asleep standing up last week.”
“That happened one time.”
“Azriel.”
A pause stretched between you before he finally sighed.
“…Maybe twice.”
“You walked into the bedroom door yesterday.”
“It was dark,” he replied with complete seriousness.
“You are literally made of shadows.”
Another pause.
“...It was very dark.”
Despite yourself, you laughed, and the corner of Azriel’s mouth curved faintly at the sound.
Now that he was home, now that the constant tension of duty had loosened even slightly, you could finally see how exhausted he really was. His shoulders remained stiff beneath the leather of his clothes, his wings slower to settle behind him than usual while even his shadows drifted lazily around the room with a strange sluggish softness, like they were tired too.
When your fingers brushed his hair back from his forehead, his eyes closed immediately, his body reacting before his mind could stop it, like gentleness itself had become permission to finally stop holding himself upright through sheer force of will.
That hurt more than anything else.
“You need food before you pass out,” you said quietly.
One eye opened slowly. “I’m not going to pass out.”
“You nearly fell asleep while kissing me on the balcony.”
“That could have been very romantic, my love.”
“It would have been if you weren’t swaying.”
A quiet laugh escaped him then, warm enough to make your chest tighten all over again.
Before he could argue further, you grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward the dining room.
Azriel followed immediately, not even pretending to resist.
Halfway down the hall, you stopped suddenly to grab a blanket abandoned over the back of a chair, and Azriel nearly walked directly into you before catching himself at the last second.
You turned slowly toward him.
“…Are you aware you’re following me around like a particularly dangerous housecat?”
“No,” he replied far too quickly.
“Liar.”
The corner of his mouth twitched while one of his shadows curled smugly around your wrist like it agreed with you entirely.
The dining room was already occupied when you entered, warm light spilling across the long table where Cassian lounged with enough food for six people spread before him, Nesta seated beside him with her coffee while Feyre bounced Nyx lightly on her knee near the far end of the table.
Rhys looked up first, and the moment his gaze landed on the two of you, a deeply entertained smirk spread across his face.
“Oh, this is fascinating.”
You narrowed your eyes immediately. “Shut up.”
Cassian glanced between you and Azriel once before his own grin widened into something outright dangerous.
Azriel had stopped directly behind your chair, close enough that the front of his chest brushed your back when you pulled the seat out for yourself, one hand still loosely holding yours while the other rested absentmindedly against your waist.
He did not seem remotely aware he was doing it.
Cassian absolutely did.
“Did the bond break his survival instincts,” he mused aloud, “or has he always followed you around like that?”
Azriel gave him a flat stare.
Cassian only grinned wider. “You know she’s not going to disappear if you stop touching her for five minutes.”
As though realizing it only because it had been pointed out, Azriel’s hand shifted slightly against your waist, though he still didn’t move away.
You bit the inside of your cheek so you would not smile.
Rhys looked delighted by the entire thing. “Oh, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”
“Rhys,” you warned.
Feyre was openly laughing now while Nesta hid a smirk behind the rim of her coffee mug.
Cassian leaned farther back in his chair, looking genuinely fascinated. “This is unbelievable. The terrifying shadowsinger returns from weeks of missions only to become—”
“If you finish that sentence,” Azriel interrupted calmly, “I’ll throw you into the Sidra.”
Cassian pointed triumphantly across the table. “See? He means it now because she’s here.”
Nyx giggled loudly at absolutely nothing.
Traitor.
Before the conversation could devolve further, you shoved a plate toward Azriel. “Eat.”
“I can serve myself,” he replied automatically.
“And yet you aren’t.”
Azriel looked down at the plate for a moment before glancing back at you, and then, to the visible horror of everyone at the table, obediently started eating.
The entire room went silent.
Cassian looked genuinely alarmed.
“Who are you,” he demanded, “and what have you done with our Azriel?”
You smirked quietly into your tea while Rhys leaned back in his chair with the air of someone suddenly remembering far too much childhood blackmail material.
“You know,” he mused lazily, “when we were children, she once chased me through the entire house with a fork because I made fun of her braid.”
“It was a very hurtful comment,” you replied.
“You chased me for twenty minutes.”
“And I’d do it again.” You threatened him with your fork.
Azriel glanced toward Rhys thoughtfully. “I believe that.”
Cassian barked a laugh while Rhys looked scandalized all over again.
“You’re encouraging her.”
“Oh, she doesn't need me at all,” Azriel replied smoothly.
You smiled sweetly at him.
Azriel’s hand settled absently against your thigh beneath the table. Not possessive, not deliberate, just there, like some instinct in him needed the reassurance of contact now that he was finally home.
Your heart softened at the feeling.
The conversation drifted around the table after that, easy and warm and mostly filled with Cassian complaining dramatically about training recruits while Nesta ignored him with the patience of a female who had heard this exact speech twenty times before.
Azriel barely spoke after that.
At first, you assumed he was simply listening while the conversation carried on around him, but then you started noticing the smaller things: the slight delay before he answered whenever someone spoke directly to him, the way his eyes kept drifting half shut whenever the conversation moved away from him for more than a minute, the way his thumb had gone completely still against your leg beneath the table.
Rhys noticed a second later, and you saw it happen in the subtle sharpening of his expression as amusement quietly gave way to assessment while he studied his brother more carefully.
Azriel blinked slowly once, then again, exhaustion finally beginning to win its battle against sheer stubbornness.
Without really thinking about it, your fingers slid gently into his hair and brushed the dark strands back from his forehead.
The reaction was immediate.
Azriel’s eyes closed completely beneath your touch, his body softening for the briefest moment like instinct had overtaken awareness before he could stop it.
Silence settled around the table.
Not awkward silence. Not dramatic silence. Just the sudden stillness of everyone realizing at the same moment how exhausted he truly was, because Azriel never relaxed like that around people and certainly never let himself look tired enough for anyone else to notice it.
Your fingers continued slowly through his hair while his breathing deepened almost imperceptibly beside you, his head tipping the slightest bit toward your touch before realization finally caught up to him.
His eyes opened immediately.
Embarrassment flickered briefly across his face, subtle enough most people would have missed it entirely.
You did not.
And judging by the expressions around the table, neither had anyone else.
Cassian was staring openly now while even Nesta’s expression had softened slightly. Rhys looked like someone had quietly punched him in the ribs.
“He’s exhausted,” you said flatly before anyone could speak, your tone making it very clear that you were not inviting commentary from anyone at this table.
Cassian’s expression lost all humor immediately.
Rhys leaned back slowly in his chair, guilt flickering briefly across his face before he masked it again, while Azriel looked vaguely like he wanted the floor beneath him to split open entirely.
So you squeezed his hand once beneath the table before saying with complete casualness, “Anyway. Bath.”
Feyre immediately choked on her tea.
Cassian looked delighted again within seconds.
Azriel blinked at you slowly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Rhys actually laughed into his coffee while Cassian pointed dramatically across the table.
“See? Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.”
“You’re all exhausting,” Azriel muttered, though the faint color still lingering high on his cheeks ruined any real intimidation.
Feyre smiled brightly. “You love us.”
Azriel looked at her for a long moment before replying in a perfectly deadpan voice, “…Debatable.”
Nyx giggled loudly from Feyre’s lap like he personally found Azriel hilarious.
You stood, taking Azriel’s hand before he could decide to pretend he was fine for another hour. He followed you from the dining room with very little resistance, though Cassian’s voice immediately trailed after you both.
“If she throws you in the bath fully clothed, blink twice.”
Azriel didn’t even bother turning around. “If she decides to kill me, no one here is stopping her anyway.”
“Noted,” Cassian called back. “I’ll start planning your funeral.”
You rolled your eyes, though Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly around yours, faint amusement flickering down the bond before fading again by the time you reached the sitting room.
Without another word, you reached for the siphons strapped across his chest.
Azriel glanced down at you, one brow lifting slightly as your fingers immediately started working at the leather buckles. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Disarming you.”
“I’m not a threat.”
“You are, the second someone mentions work.”
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, though he stayed perfectly still while you unbuckled the straps one by one. After a moment, Azriel finally let his arms loosen fully at his sides in silent permission, watching you quietly the entire time.
The siphons glimmered softly as you placed them onto the nearby table beside Truth-Teller.
The second your fingers wrapped around the dagger, his shadows recoiled dramatically like you had personally offended every single one of them.
“Don’t start,” you warned.
One immediately curled possessively around the hilt anyway.
You narrowed your eyes at it. “Oh, so now you care about workplace safety.”
Azriel huffed a tired laugh, low and warm enough that your chest tightened at hearing it again.
You carried the dagger toward the mantel and placed it high enough that he would actually have to make an effort to retrieve it later before turning back toward him with narrowed eyes.
“Upstairs.”
Azriel immediately looked suspicious. “Why do I feel like I should be concerned?”
“Because you should be.”
One of his shadows vanished down the hallway ahead of you both without hesitation, like it had already decided whatever you were planning was an excellent idea.
You pointed after it triumphantly. “See? Even they agree with me.”
A dangerous glint entered Azriel’s tired eyes then, low and warm enough to send heat curling through your stomach despite yourself.
“If your plan involves getting me out of these leathers,” Azriel murmured as he stepped closer, his voice dropping lower while his gaze dragged slowly over your face, “you could have simply climbed into my lap and asked, sweetheart.”
The look in his eyes nearly undid you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much that voice affected you.
So you rolled your eyes with as much dignity as possible while pushing firmly at his chest toward the staircase.
“Move,” you ordered, even as your face betrayed you completely.
Azriel barely resisted, which honestly worried you more than if he had.
Usually, he would at least pretend to argue.
Instead, he only shot you a slow, lazy grin that said he knew exactly what kind of effect he’d just had on you before allowing you to shove him toward the staircase without further complaint.
His shadows curled lazily around your ankles as you led him upstairs, one occasionally nudging against your heel like it wanted you to hurry up and put their ridiculous male to bed already.
The bathroom slowly filled with steam while you rummaged through cabinets gathering oils, salves, and clean cloths. Behind you, leather hit the floor piece by piece until the room finally fell quiet.
When you turned around, your chest tightened.
Bruises mottled his ribs in deep violet and yellow while thin cuts crossed his shoulders and abdomen, half-healed already thanks to fae healing but still fresh enough to tell their story clearly. His wings hung lower than usual too, not badly injured, only overused in the way muscles looked after being pushed far beyond exhaustion.
Azriel noticed your expression immediately.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said.
“That sentence should be carved onto your grave someday.”
A quiet snort escaped him, though his eyes stayed fixed on you as you crossed the room again, watching the anger flicker briefly across your face before gentleness replaced it entirely.
Your fingers brushed lightly across one of the cuts near his shoulder, the touch so careful it almost hurt to look at.
Azriel inhaled softly at once, his eyes lowering to your face while that familiar look crossed his expression again, the one that always seemed caught somewhere between tenderness and disbelief, as though he knew your softness by heart by now and still could not quite understand how it belonged to him.
You guided him toward the bath with surprising ease for someone handling the Night Court’s deadliest male, and the second he sank into the steaming water, a low exhale escaped him so involuntarily it almost sounded startled, like relief itself had caught him off guard.
“There he is,” you murmured softly.
Azriel opened one eye slightly. “Who?”
“The male I threatened a High Lord for.”
A tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he let his head fall back against the edge of the bath again.
You knelt beside the tub and began gently washing blood from his skin while silence settled comfortably around you, warm and intimate beneath drifting steam and candlelight.
Azriel watched you the entire time, not speaking, just looking at you with that same quiet intensity that always made your chest ache, like some part of him still could not fully understand how someone could love him this gently and mean it.
Your fingers eventually slid through his damp hair, combing the dark strands back from his forehead while tension slowly left him piece by piece beneath your touch.
“You know,” you said quietly, “you’re allowed to rest before you collapse.”
“Mmm.”
A small smile tugged at your mouth. “Use your words, sweetheart,” you teased softly, stealing one of his own favorite lines.
Even exhausted, Azriel cracked one eye open just enough to give you a knowing look, desire flickered low beneath your ribs.
Then, after a small pause, he finally muttered, “I know.”
Something in your chest twisted painfully at the admission.
You moved behind him then, carefully lifting one wing enough to inspect it properly, and Azriel tensed instantly beneath your hands with pure instinct.
Your fingers stilled immediately.
“It’s okay,” you whispered softly.
The tension slowly eased.
Wing membranes shimmered darkly beneath the candlelight, tiny tears and strain visible along the strongest parts from too many hours spent flying without proper rest. Your fingers moved gently while you spread healing salve carefully across the damaged skin, and Azriel’s head tipped back against the edge of the bath, eyes sliding shut again.
The sound that escaped him when your nails lightly scratched near the base of his wing was dangerously close to a groan.
You froze instantly.
Azriel’s eyes opened at once, heat flashing there despite the exhaustion weighing them down.
“That,” he said hoarsely, “is unfair.”
A slow smile curved across your mouth. “Oh? The terrifying shadowsinger finally has a weakness?”
Azriel narrowed his eyes slightly, though the effect was ruined entirely by the way his wings had twitched beneath your hands.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Maybe,” you admitted lightly before dragging your nails along the sensitive spot again just to watch his breathing hitch.
Azriel swore softly under his breath.
Your smile widened immediately. “Gods, you’re easy.”
His shadows stirred restlessly around the room while Azriel looked back at you over his shoulder, his expression equal parts exhausted and heated.
“You are enjoying this far too much.”
“You make it very enjoyable.”
A rough laugh escaped him then, low enough to send a shiver down your spine.
“You’re cruel.”
“And yet,” you murmured while smoothing more salve carefully across his wing, “you’re still sitting very still for me.”
That earned you another one of those dangerous looks, slower this time, heavier somehow despite how tired he clearly was.
“Love,” Azriel warned softly, “if I wasn’t half asleep already, this conversation would be going very differently.”
Heat climbed immediately into your face, which only seemed to amuse him more.
Barely.
Because a moment later his eyes drifted shut again almost helplessly, exhaustion finally dragging him under faster than he could fight it.
Your heart cracked quietly at the sight.
So you kept tending his wings while snow drifted softly beyond the windows and the rest of the world faded farther and farther away.
At some point, your wrist began to ache from holding his wing at the careful angle you needed, and you shifted your grip so slightly you barely noticed it yourself.
Azriel noticed anyway.
His eyes opened halfway, heavy and unfocused, but his hand still found your wrist beneath the steam. He drew it gently away from his wing and pressed his mouth to the inside of it, a slow, absent kiss that felt more instinct than thought.
“You’re straining your wrist baby” he murmured.
You blinked at him. “Azriel.”
His eyes were already drifting shut again.
“I’m allowed to take care of you too.”
“You’re barely conscious.”
A faint hum escaped him. “Didn’t stop me noticing.”
The words were so soft, so entirely him, that you had to swallow around the ache rising in your throat before carefully returning your hand to his wing.
“Ridiculous male,” you whispered.
His mouth curved faintly, but a breath later he was gone again, sinking deeper beneath exhaustion as your fingers continued their slow, careful work.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer.
Eventually, you realized Azriel had gone completely still.
You leaned slightly around his shoulder and found him asleep.
Actually asleep.
Your throat tightened instantly.
Even then, even unconscious, his brows faintly furrowed when you shifted beside him, like some stubborn part of him still resisted rest on instinct alone.
Gently, you brushed damp hair from his forehead.
“Finally,” you whispered.
Azriel slept through drying off only halfway gracefully and absolutely refused to fully wake when you guided him toward bed afterward. He leaned heavily into you the entire time, one arm wrapped loosely around your waist while his wings dragged tiredly behind him.
“You’re bossy,” he murmured sleepily against your shoulder.
“You love it.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, eyes still closed. “Unfortunately.”
You laughed softly as he collapsed face-first onto the mattress moments later, wings spreading across nearly half the bed while one arm immediately reached toward where you stood beside him, like even half asleep he was still searching for you automatically.
Beautiful male.
You only meant to grab an extra blanket from the nearby chair, but the second you stepped away, Azriel made a quiet dissatisfied sound in his sleep and reached blindly across the bed after you, brows pulling together faintly when he found empty sheets instead.
Your heart nearly stopped.
“Alright, alright,” you whispered, climbing back beside him immediately.
The moment you settled beneath the blankets, instinct took over completely.
Azriel moved toward you at once, one powerful arm wrapping tightly around your waist before dragging you flush against his chest with surprising strength for someone barely awake. His face buried automatically against your throat while his hand spread across your back, fingertips flexing once against your spine like he needed to physically reassure himself you were there.
Even asleep, he kept pulling you closer.
One leg tangled with yours beneath the blankets while his wings shifted instinctively around the bed, curling slightly toward your side like they, too, were trying to keep you near.
The bond between you pulsed warm and drowsy beneath your skin while snow drifted quietly beyond the windows.
Then, already half asleep again, Azriel pressed a slow kiss against the sensitive spot beneath your jaw before murmuring softly against your throat, “You make me forget I’m tired.”
The words hit like a bruise straight to the heart.
You turned carefully within his arms just enough to press a kiss against his temple.
“Good,” you whispered.
A sleepy hum vibrated against your skin while his fingers slowly traced once along your spine, more instinct than conscious movement now.
Then, voice low and rough with exhaustion, Azriel brushed his mouth slowly against your throat before murmuring against your skin—
“Tomorrow,” he promised softly, “I’m going to pin you beneath me and remind you what happens when you spend an entire evening teasing my wings, sweetheart.”
---
a/n : this piece was so fucking funny to write because i’ve had this exact vision of exhausted azriel for MONTHS 🤭
i don’t know if they’ll become a full series necessarily, but i definitely want to keep writing little glimpses of them because their dynamic has completely taken over my brain at this point.
Summary - Feyre was a High Lady. Nesta was a Valkyrie. Elain was a Seer.
And she was the sister the Cauldron ruined and forgot.
Invisible in a family of legends, haunted by nightmares no one noticed, she learned to stay quiet... to expect nothing.
Except Azriel noticed. The Shadowsinger who never spoke too much saw everything—her pain, her loneliness... and the bond between them she didn't even know existed.
When the world decides she is the easiest one to break—Azriel will make them suffer for it.
A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
This is my very first Archeron sister fic! For the sake of the story, I've had to make the sisters a little harsh at times but that's purely for plot reasons, not an invitation to throw shade at them x
Expect healing, found family vibes, and basically an overlooked girl x quiet boy kind of story. There will be heartbreak, angst and eventually fluff :)
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
mutual pining, friends to lovers, az is in heat, tiniest bitta gore, mating bond, heavy on the creampie, FITA, breeding kink, & cum play
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:
Trouble finds you when your Illyrian friends are away, and just as you’re about to meet your fate, the shadowsinger comes to save you. But now you have an entirely new issue at hand— he’s near-feral and in the peak of his heat, and you’ve both reached your breaking point.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:
I don’t… have any words to explain myself. Do Illyrians have a mating season? Not that we know of. Does Az have a breeding kink? SJM hasn’t explicitly said anything, but… I’d like to imagine so, yes. At least, in this fic, I sure know he does ;)
‘...Warm liquid splattered across the side of your face.
A sickening thud sounded before you and a gust of air and dirt washed over your trembling form. You held your breath, your arms still up in defense.
Another second passed before you slowly chanced a look… only to find a tall, winged figure looming over you, deathly silent. You could see the violent glint in his eyes even from your position on the ground, the sapphire of his siphons shimmering in the moonlight. They only reflected the light from the sky, not from the use of his power— no, he hadn’t needed to tap into that imposing, law-defying reserve— not in order to rip the ulf’s head clean off its shoulders; his brute strength had been enough for that…’
– - – - – - – - –
Four long days had passed since the Illyrians had left for the harsh mountains of their native lands, and in their absence, a quiet unease had settled into the House of Wind.
Family dinners had initially been amusing— with Nyx thoroughly enjoying the undivided attention of all who stayed behind. But the house still felt too empty without the three males’ presence— perhaps one in particular, for you. Ultimately, you’d dismissed yourself to the quaint little cottage you kept at the edge of Velaris in attempt to escape the longing that lurked in your heart, and the void left by the absence of a certain hazel-eyed male.
The place was stationed on a hill atop a sleepy meadow, a stone wall curbing the property and the twinkling lights of the city on the horizon on one side, the other a breathtaking view of the sea. You liked to come here for reprieve every now and then— a haven from the bustling city and the busybodies that were your friends. It had been quite some time since you last visited; your friendship with the Night Court’s “Inner Circle” had grown stronger than ever lately, and as the newest addition to their little group as in-house healer, you found yourself rarely leaving the residences they often frequented.
The cottage was just as you’d left it, if not a bit overgrown; the grasses and various plants from your garden climbing over the trellises and fences, leaves spread wide and stems heavy with luscious crops. A little slice of peace; the perfect place for your solitude.
The only person you had ever brought here was Azriel.
You had been in the heart of the city with him, in search of presents for Starfall many months in advance. You’d told the Spymaster that you had to stop somewhere else before returning to the House of Wind. You insisted that you’d manage yourself, that he didn’t need to accompany you. But he was equally as firm in joining you on the errand– finally resorting to mention the thousands of stairs that you’d have to face if you split ways.
So, he came along with you to your humble home, quiet and observant as you guided him down the winding cobble path, through the garden, and inside the quaint walls. He had given few words of acknowledgement, but he did seem satisfied to gather another scrap of information about you, for you’d caught him examining the framed art and dried flowers that adorned the walls, even going so far as to peek into your ceramic cookie jar when he thought you were busy in the other room. That night you’d hidden your small smile as he tucked you into his chest and shot into the sky, content that he found your residence intriguing.
Azriel– the male that plagued your thoughts, the elusive shadowsinger. He who was content to observe instead of join the conversation, the one who was absent half of the time as his spymaster duties so often kept him busy. Always you noticed his presence when he had the time to entertain a social gathering, always you would meander over to his side to greet him. And always would he return the gesture, saying hello with a soft smile and kindness in his warm, hazel eyes. It was a look you cherished; one that sent butterflies fumbling in your stomach and warmth trickling into your cheeks. A look that you hoped was reserved just for you.
It was only natural you had grown feelings for him. How could you not? He was the kindest, most intelligent, and by far downright sexiest male you’d ever grown close to. Even his scent of cool cedar, of a needled forest just revitalized by heavy rain drove you wild, your crush in the male was irrefutable. And by Gods, when he stood next to you. He completely towered over you, those massive wings high and proud behind his strong back. Any interaction with him always reminded you that he was in exquisite shape, too… and that he would be perfectly capable of both protecting you and having his absolute way with you at any moment he so wished.
Unfortunately, such enamor for the male only made his current absence harder to withstand. Especially under such circumstances.
Your thoughts constantly wandered to him, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was with someone right now— how many he had already taken in just the short time he and his brothers had been away. All because it was Illyrian mating season; a rare event that occurred only once every three hundred years or so, when for one week, hormones would rage in all sexes of the warrior race and the camps would inevitably become— as Mor had so eloquently put it— an all-out fuckfest.
The very camps the trio had flown off to just days ago.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and pointed your attention back to the meager meal you were making. Your stomach was painfully empty, but the idea of eating was completely lackluster, even as you sliced the plump tomatoes you had gathered on your way in with careful precision. Hunger had evaded you recently, with the queasiness that took hold of you at the notion of your beloved’s cock balls-deep inside of another.
You knew you didn’t really have the right to feel such things… Azriel had never explicitly said or done anything to suggest he desired you, and you liked to think you kept your crush a secret which only you were privy to. But he was, after all, the spymaster of the court; a centuries-old being— it was certainly possible that he was indeed aware of your feelings and simply did not return them.
Nonetheless, you hoped that he felt some similar sentiment for you– there were times when it would be just the two of you that stayed up after everyone else retired for the night, full of smirks and jokes and undivided attention. Times when you would wear something tight and sleek, and you swore you could feel his eyes burning into your curves… only to find them elsewhere when you turned to face him. And all the times he would take you as his sparring partner during the training that he insisted you take under his instruction, when he would best you and hold you there for a moment, the tip of his blade or his fist just brushing you, hazel hues locked to your gaze.
But that was all conjecture. He hadn’t once done anything beyond that for you to think his rare lingering touches and stares truly meant anything. And then, there were always rumors that he had his fair share of lovers. But that wasn’t surprising— he was one of the most handsome males in Prythian, and a powerful, mysterious one at that. It was to be expected that various fae threw themselves at his feet, legs spread and ready for the taking.
Frustration hit the bottom of your barren stomach, and you sighed as you grabbed a knife from the wooden block on the counter. You made your way to the garden at the back of the cottage to collect some extra herbs. Surely some food could help your spirits lift from the gloom they’d settled into, so long as you were able to force yourself to chew and swallow. You tried your best to rid your thoughts of the shadowsinger as you pushed the door open and wandered into the yard.
A few sconces were lit around the perimeter of the home, a lonely lamp post flickering at the end of the stone path that wound through the garden. A cluster of spindly trees loomed further on in the distance, their murky shadows nearly blending with the otherwise dark night sky. You hadn’t realized it had gotten so late; stars shone through the clouds above, their light barely reaching the moist blades of grass that tickled your bare feet. You took a second to admire their blazing brilliance; even just a short distance from the city, their dazzling glow seemed brighter.
Finally finding the plant you had been searching for, you crouched down and rubbed your fingers on the leaves, its earthy scent releasing into the air. You took a deep breath of it, savoring the pleasant, spicy aroma… until your eyes opened wide and you froze, limbs going stiff.
That smell… it was of rotten flesh and matted fur. It was…
A twig snapped behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. Fear shot down your throat to form a tight ball in your gut, your fingers tightly gripping the puny paring knife that would be your only weapon to defend yourself.
The ulf lunged forward at the same moment you whirled around, the tip of your knife now raised as you struck across where you hoped its throat would be.
But an emaciated, leathery arm was outstretched there, and it let out a terrible cry as you plunged the blade into the limb. Almost instantly it had struck you with its other hand, sending you flying into the cottage wall.
Your breath whooshed out of you as you collided with the rough stone bricks, your ears ringing as your skull smacked into the arm you threw up to take the brunt of the blow. Your vision shook as you sat there stunned, the doubled image of the furry beast before you merging into one just as it lept toward you.
You rolled forward, tucking out of range from the assault, narrowly missing its gnarled teeth, canines glinting in the starlight.
Just as you got your feet under you and you braced your legs to shoot up into a run, its wretched claws sank into your exposed ankle.
Your scream pierced the silence of the empty meadow, pain racing up your leg as the terrifying creature dragged you toward it, digging deep enough to scrape bone.
Tears flooded your vision but you forced them away, focusing all your strength into a kick across the creature's muzzle, and a second one straight to the neck. The impact summoned a garbled wheeze from the ulf, and it released you as it stumbled back in recoil.
You scooted back on the grass, shaking and one hand covering your fresh wound, the other reaching out blindly behind you in search of whatever you could use— something you could throw at it, stab it— anything. Your blood began to spill onto the dirt beneath you, a dark trail smearing the grass as you kept moving backward. With it was the fragile hope of defeating the beast, as though all the grueling hours of training were leaking out of you along with the scarlet.
Your wide, fear-filled eyes would not leave the terrifying beast, tracking its every movement. You took in its horrifying face, its filthy lip that curled back at you and those wicked eyes that locked onto you as it regained its bearings.
Your brain screamed into your subconscious, a desperate plea that would reach no one. Help! Please, oh Gods, help me!
There was nothing you could use to defend yourself— your tiny knife was still lodged in its flesh, and the only thing you’d managed to grab from behind you was an unripe carrot from the soil. The ulf seemed to realize it had you, for it sat back on its gnarled haunches and pounced for you.
This was it.
You closed your eyes, a whimper leaving you as you braced for impact, wishing for a quick and painless death.
A high-pitched whine. And a horrible ripping sound.
Warm liquid splattered across the side of your face.
A sickening thud sounded before you and a gust of air and dirt washed over your trembling form. You held your breath, your arms still up in defense.
Another second passed before you slowly chanced a look… only to find a tall, winged figure looming over you, deathly silent. You could see the violent glint in his eyes even from your position on the ground, the sapphire glow of his siphons shimmering in the moonlight. They only reflected the light from the sky, not from the use of his power— no, he hadn’t needed to tap into that imposing, law-defying reserve— not in order to rip the ulf’s head clean off its shoulders; his brute strength had been enough for that. The rest of the beast’s decapitated body was slumped on the soil just a foot away from you, black blood oozing into a pool that slowly crept outward.
You still hadn’t taken a breath as your gaze flicked back up the male before you— only to then realize he was shirtless. The ridges of his muscles stood out in contrast between shadows and starlight and he stared down at you, practically fuming where he stood, icy rage billowing down broad shoulders. His toned torso glittered with sweat, dark whorls of ink dancing across tan, firm skin. You wondered what he had been doing in order to glisten with exertion like so; he had killed the ulf with such ease that certainly the perspiration couldn’t have been from that.
The cool caress of shadows at your ankle managed to pull your attention, sparing a glance at the tendrils that fussed over the scarlet trickling through your digits. They wiggled beneath your fingers and you gasped as they turned colder, binding around your skin. A soothing calm seeped through the limb, and you finally dared to breathe again.
Azriel still had yet to say a word, observing as you slowly shifted to sit on your knees, unsheathing the kitchen knife from the ulf’s corpse. He seemed fine, almost– perhaps if you didn’t know him so well, he could’ve gotten away with such a judgment. But you could see how his hands were clenched into pale-knuckled fists, see that his breath was forced, coming out in clipped, ragged pants. The male was as stiff as a board, braced as though he was ready for flight or fight.
You’d never witnessed an Illyrian during their mating season– not many had. It was a sacred event that the race liked to keep to themselves, cooped up in their camps and locked away, not to be disturbed. Amren had told you of an elders’ tale that claimed that once, an army had tried to attack an Illyrian settlement during the season, thinking the warriors would be vulnerable… only to find that the winged race was tenfold more vicious and bloodthirsty, and had decimated the offenders with abhorrent devastation, leaving no survivors before returning to their ritual. It was said the race was only capable of two things during the season: fighting and fucking.
Now as you examined the male, you could imagine the fable holding some truth.
The shadowsinger was visibly pumped– even in the dark, you could tell that his muscles were bigger, making his already-impressive frame even more intimidating. Pure power and testosterone pulsed off of him, weighing down the air with cedar musk. The silhouette of his massive wings loomed behind his shoulders, making him appear even larger as you studied him from below. To any other, it would be a terrifying view to behold. But all you felt was security; absolute safety in his presence.
“Are you alright?” Azriel finally rumbled. His voice was deep, gravely as if he’d just woken up. Maybe it was another physical side effect of his current predicament.
You pushed yourself up from the ground and stood on fawn legs. “I think so..,” you said, taking a tentative step.
It took that full step for you to realize that the shadow tourniquet only numbed your pain— it did nothing to heal your wound. You whimpered and tumbled forward, mortification flooding your cheeks as soon as you began your descent.
But you never touched the grass.
In an instant, Azriel’s corded arms were wrapped around you, and you were pulled snug into his chest. You gasped at the same time he groaned, his skin a thousand degrees where it touched yours. Heat burst in your cheeks at the sound, your eyes going wide.
Not a second passed before you were off of him, his hands planted firmly at your arms’ side, thrusting you as far away from himself as possible. His head hung down toward the ground, silky locks falling into soft waves that shielded his face from you. You noted the way he panted, fingers like steel digging into your skin.
“Um… are you alright, Az?” you asked, observing the tremble that reverberated throughout his tense body.
Something akin to a growl tumbled out of him.
“I’m fine,” he replied, voice clipped and his eyes still fixed on the grass at his feet.
Maybe it was stupid to be toeing the line with him when he was in such a state… but you couldn’t help it. He had saved you from a nasty fate, he had come for you even when he was under such stress, when he was so far away. You weren’t quite sure how he knew you were in danger when he was so very far away in the Illyrian mountains— though you had an inkling. If maybe somehow… perhaps the two of you were…
You swallowed.
Reaching for him, your fingers stretched out before they met his stubbled jaw. The male stilled, unable to fight himself and pull away. His shaky exhale washed over your exposed collar, something stirring low in your stomach.
“I can’t be here,” Azriel said, his voice hard yet soft somehow. His eyes flickered toward your lips before he scrunched them closed, his form taut and coiled, like a snake ready to strike.
His statement made your heart deflate, your hand falling to your side. You crossed your arm over your middle, rubbing your forearm awkwardly. “Right, I… I’m sorry for interrupting you, you must’ve been…” you gulped, “… busy.”
Hazel flew up to meet your gaze but you wouldn’t look at him. Instead he took in the way your brow was slightly furrowed, a ghost of a pout on your pretty, pink lips.
“I wasn’t …” he paused, tongue parting his mouth. “Don’t apologize. I’ll always come for you,” the male vowed, fixing you with his intense stare.
Butterflies swarmed your stomach at his promise, your cheeks fuzzy with sudden emotion. Wordlessly Azriel closed the distance between you and you froze, wide eyes locked on his close face. And then your feet were swept out from under you and your body was secure in Azriel’s embrace, your head snug against his naked chest.
You didn’t miss the low inhale from the male, your heart racing at his attempt to subtly take in your scent. Your core throbbed and you blushed at the intensity of your body’s response to his. Never had you been up against his bare chest like this… the proximity made you dizzy, your fingers tingling with the urge to explore every inch of him. His skin was so warm– or maybe that was yours, feeling hot wherever you directly touched him. And whose heartbeat was thumping like crazy up against your chest?
Azriel stalked his way inside your home, feet heavy and strides rushed, but careful not to hit you on the doorway. His wings tucked in as he entered the kitchen, and you swallowed at his large silhouette. His head was only a short distance from the ceiling, the apex of his wings nearly dragging against the plaster.
“Did you get… taller?” you peeped up as he gently deposited you on the edge of the sturdy wooden table in the middle of your kitchen, large, scarred hands making sure you were balanced before they drew back.
Shadows slithered off into all directions, melting into the darkness of your dimly lit home. You watched them disappear before you looked at the male once again, only to find his gaze already trained on you.
“Yes,” was his curt reply, hazel tearing off of you as shadows supplied the first aid kit from beneath your bathroom sink cabinet into his waiting hands.
“Oh,” was all you could muster, not quite sure what to make of that.
Your eyes followed long, agile fingers as he opened the kit, rifling through the gauze and bandages. He wordlessly handed you one of the little vials of tonic that would help with the pain and speed up the healing process. Popping the little cork off the bottle, you tipped your head back and gulped down its bitter contents without protest.
Azriel was silent save for his burning gaze and heavy breathing. Even if you couldn’t hear his labored breaths, you could see he was somewhat off by the way his firm chest muscles heaved.
“It’s because of the season,” he explained, voice rough. His wings shuddered and then let loose a brief shake— the claws that lined each joint flexing inward. You shivered as you studied them, imagining the talons would slice through flesh like water, the hooked tips glinting with the promise of pain.
You had to admit, there was something remarkable about just how deadly the male before you truly was… and even more so in his current state. Your eyes wandered to his lean forearms when he uncapped a metal tin of salve, mesmerized by the way his veins bulged with the smallest exertion.
What else could those fingers do?
Your tongue poked out to wet the seam of your lips, just at the same time you turned to look at him. Hazel was ablaze and focused entirely on you, the corner of his eye twitching as his hands turned to fists.
“Don’t,” he warned, tone hard and unwavering.
You swallowed, wincing as he smeared the paste onto your oozing gash. A rough thumb smoothed over the adjacent skin as if to apologize for the fleeting pain, skilled hands wrapping your ankle in bandages with practiced precision.
“Don’t what?” you asked, your voice not sounding your own. The overwhelming terror that had filled you just minutes ago was completely dissipated now; washed away and drowned under fresh waves of desire.
Azriel ripped the gauze from the roll with ease, taking care not to pull too tight as he finished the job with a little bow. The male shook his head, trying to clear the lustful fog that permeated the usual disciplined walls he threw up whenever he was around you.
“If you’re okay now, I have to leave,” he said through clenched teeth, each second spent in your presence making his fight all the harder. There was no venom in his voice— but it was hard, and heavy. His words seemed empty– his body remaining still before you, a scarred hand lingering on your leg.
“Can you stay? Please?” you said, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eye, giving him your best attempt at demurity. Normally you would never be so bold, but this was far from usual circumstances.
Azriel flashed his teeth at you in what could’ve intended to be a grin, but it came off as more of a grimace, shaking his head. He removed his hand from you, retreating a step. Shadows slowly gathered toward him, and panic flashed in your chest.
“I can’t,” is all he replied with, darkness melting into the edge of his silhouette.
“Why?” Your spine went straight, pushing yourself up to sit upright and face him fully. “Is there… someone waiting for you?” You wanted so badly to sound strong, accusatory… but it only came out as hurt, your words soft.
“No,” he denied instantly, some unknown emotion making his wings flap with indignation behind him, making scrolls scatter around the room, tiny herb jars rattling at the force. Neither of you paid them any mind. “There’s no one. I can’t—” he huffed, turning his face to the side, eyes falling to the floor. He continued, his voice low, “I’ve been alone this season.”
Relief exploded through your body, warmth blooming at his admission. He hadn’t been with anyone else? Worry quickly weaved its way into your heart— why hadn’t he been acting on his instincts? He’d been fighting his desires for the last four days? Wouldn't refraining from… fulfilling his urges have repercussions?
You frowned, taking in the sight of the male before you. He was clearly a divine specimen– there was no way that the other Illyrians simply didn’t want him. And wasn’t he supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust right now; a hunger, a need to fuck anyone who so much as looked at him? You thought harder about what you knew of the season, about the little scraps of knowledge you had discovered deep in the library catalogs.
During mating season, Illyrians are filled with an immutable need to procreate, to extend a lineage with as many partners as possible. Hormones skyrocket within the race and their thirst can only be calmed through physical exertion. Some activities may provide relief, such as violence or self-stimulation, but ultimately, the urge may only be temporarily quelled by sexual intercourse. The only circumstance an Illyrian may abstain from such primal needs is through the recognition of the mating bond. Only through such unparalleled devotion may an Illyrian remain loyal during the mating season, either choosing to spend their rut in solely their mating bed, or in extremely rare cases, solitude.
Your heart felt funny, your stomach flying up into your throat. Wasn’t it possible that Azriel was… your mate? No– because he wouldn’t keep such knowledge from you… not if he knew. But then, if he was truly alone, then it was clear that he knew he had a mate. He had come running to your call when you mentally cried out into the abyss, when you hadn’t even known who you were calling to, if anyone could hear you.
But Azriel heard you. And he had rushed here to save you, even in such a state.
“Then stay,” you said simply, hands coming to lay behind either of your hips on the table.
The shadowsinger bared his teeth, a growl ripping through him that shuddered your core. Your invitation was testing him– you were pushing him too far, and you had the audacity to bat your eyelashes at him while doing so. He was just barely shaking, muscles so tight with restraint that he looked to be in physical pain. “Can’t you see that I’m losing my fucking mind at the sight of you? I can’t control myself right now,” he groaned hoarsely, sweat lining his temple.
You leaned forward, excitement sparking as his eyes immediately flew to the bit of cleavage that was revealed with the motion. Slowly, you spread your legs, your fingers trailing your inner thigh. Your face felt on fire— every part of you did. This was so uncharacteristically bold of you; the two of you had been walking on the eggshells of your attraction for so long now.
But you couldn’t look away from him, couldn't stop yourself from tempting him. You were tired of the games, tired of the questions, of the chase. You wanted him.
You wanted him now.
Your heart felt like it was beating a thousand times a minute as his gaze fixed on the apex of your legs, and you whispered, “So lose control.”
Azriel’s eyes widened, jumping to your face as shock flooded them. His shadows didn’t need to be told twice, immediately twirling around your feet and crawling up your parted legs. He stepped back after a moment of buffering, his shadows seeming to shriek with protest as he yanked them back, withdrawing further away from you.
“No— I could hurt you. This is not how this is supposed to go, we—“ he huffed, fists curled and muscles wound tight. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”
You melted inside, his sentiment sending warmth echoing through you like the wake of a stone plunged into placid water. He had thought about the two of you being together before? The pieces of the puzzle were all falling into place, your doubts dissolving by the second.
Azriel’s eyes widened, surprised he had actually just revealed that to you. A faint blush dusted his tanned cheeks, and he closed and opened his mouth, shocked at his own confession. The inner battle with his raging hormones had made his iron-clad restraints weak; letting words slip from his tongue that had been lingering there for so fucking long.
You slid off the table and took a step forward, palms open at your sides as if he were a wild animal that could be scared off at the slightest wrong move. “Az, you’re right,” you said, eyes fixed on his. “This was supposed to happen a long fucking time ago.”
The male gaped and blinked, hazel eyes wide as they raked over your advancing form.
You drank him in, too— gaze lingering on the sizable bulge that jerked in longing beneath his pants. You pursed your lips, salivating at the thought of what laid beneath. You chanced another step.
“Fuck,” he swore, his breath ragged. He licked his lips, pecs heaving with every labored pant. “Y/n please, you can’t— you don’t know what you’re doing, I’m not myself right now, I don’t want to hurt you.”
You smiled softly. Didn’t he see? “You won’t, Azriel. I trust you…”
“You shouldn’t,” he said, protests growing weaker with every second. You could tell his resolve was slipping, his shadows inching closer to you, stretching for another taste of your skin.
Azriel twitched when your hand met the hot, inked skin of his chest, throwing his head back as he swallowed a moan. His hormones were wild with the season’s influence, heavy pheromones permeating the air with infectious lust. It was becoming unbearable to be this close to you without pressing you against the nearest surface and plunging into the tight heat that was surely slickening between your legs. Kept fingernails dug into the palm of his hands as he clung desperately to the last thread of his composure.
“Please, Az,” you murmured, lips finally touching the column of his throat, as high up as you could reach, just beneath his jaw. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you for another second.” Your tongue poked out to taste him, salt and musk ambrosial on your taste buds.
This time, the male didn’t hold back his moan, instead letting it fill the heavy kitchen air and making butterflies explode in your stomach. The sound sent a rush to your core and you clenched hard, fingernails digging into his flesh.
You squeaked when scarred hands gripped you and flung you back onto the kitchen table, hard enough to concuss. But there was only shock, no pain; for Azriel cushioned the impact, an arm curling around your waist and hand cushioning the back of your skull so you didn’t slam your head— the male fluidly moved with you, ending up pressed above you chest to chest. Your body thrummed with anticipation, excitement bursting forth in your veins.
Now you’d done it.
The last scrap of his restraint had been ripped away and now you were in for the fuck of your life. You blinked in stupor, but Azriel left no time to waste. Hazel was blown wild as he stared down at you, pinning your wrists with each of his large hands.
“Trust this,” he asserted, rutting your clothed sexes together. You gasped, the hard, huge length of him shocking even through the clothes between you, your eyes growing wide as they met his burning hazel gaze. “I am steel for you. Only you.”
His hot tongue lashed out to claim your neck, full lips joining to mark the divot between your clavicle and shoulder. The intensity made you keen, your head tossing to the side as you screwed your eyes shut and sang for him, hips rocking up against his. You could feel your panties wet with slick, his savage behavior making your body throb, readying itself for his taking.
This was insane. There was nothing that could compare to this— the need, the depravity of this, of him.
You could hardly believe that he had come for you, had saved you. Was this the gratitude every maiden in peril felt, or was this something more? Something much more? From the way the male was possessively claiming your skin with his mouth, your heart leapt into your throat, stomach twisting with hope.
But you couldn’t dwell on it, his fingers quickly traveling to the front of your blouse and promptly ripping the seam down your middle. Buttons clattered all around you on the floor below, your breasts spilling out for his eyes to devour. His mouth followed, lips quickly catching a nipple and sucking you in, nose poking into your flesh as he drowned himself in your supple skin.
Your back arched as you mewled, lashes flying shut and digits flying to curl into his hair. Soft onyx locks twisted between your fingers and you couldn’t help the grin that sprouted as he moaned your name into your skin— you weren’t the only one lost in the throes of pleasure.
You couldn’t slow for a second, couldn’t stop— he was hard as rock beneath his leathers, every piece of him lined with lean muscle. But the part of him that melted your brain most was his cock; you could feel it reaching for you, the thick outline of it pressing against your core through the layers. It made you ache, intolerably so— your pussy stirring as you imagined what that length would feel like stretching you out and filling you to the brim. Your hands reached out before you could even comprehend what you were doing.
Azriel roared when your fingers landed on the stiff forearms of his wings, his front surging forward and rutting into yours. The surprise in his gaze quickly morphed to voracity and your body shook in response, your legs spreading to curl around his waist and draw his lower half closer. You squeezed the hard appendages, fingertips sliding down to rub closer to the joints.
Shadows swarmed the pair of you and you cried at their cold touch, having forgotten them completely. But they were sure to remind you of their abilities, and you’d never underestimate them again. One second you were engulfed by darkness and the next, you were completely bare, your nakedness on full display for the shadowsinger’s ferocious gaze to drink up. The tendrils lashed out and snatched your hands from his wings, growing taught around your wrists and holding them down atop the table.
All you could see was his piercing eyes taking in every inch of the sight before him, his shadows covering his body as the silhouette of his massive wings hung high and dark behind him. Obsidian swirls curled into his hair and licked upon his skin, blending easily with the dark whirls of ink that marked his frame.
Your mind was now wholly consumed with lust; the utter primality with which he was treating you made your core stir like nothing else. Your hips wriggled as you waited for him to touch you, but immediately the shadows strapped you firm against the tabletop, your ankles dragging to the corners to expose your most intimate part right before his eyes.
Heat burst into your cheeks, embarrassment blooming in your chest at the exposure. But you saw the way Azriel’s face twisted when his eyes traveled down from your face, down past your tits and your navel and down until they fixed on your pink, glistening hole. Thick brows furrowed and you could practically see the steam from his heavy exhale, his pupils dilating til you swore his gaze had been engulfed by shadow too.
And then all you could see were the wicked talons that crested the tips of his wings, because the male fell to his knees and shoved his face directly into your cunt.
You cried out, body ringing taut when his nose shoved into your clit. The heat of his tongue flat against your entrance drew a subsequent moan out from the depths of your lungs, fingernails digging into the lacquered wood beneath you.
Azriel took you into his mouth and you melted as his guttural moan vibrated through you, your body tingling all the way to your toes. His stubble tickled your thighs as he nudged deeper, drowning himself in your essence. He dove into you without holding back, tracing your slit with precise flicks of that wicked tongue and then slipping the warm muscle inside your quivering hole. The lower half of his face was soon coated in your slick, and with every movement of his, only more wetness leaked out of you for him to savor.
Scarred hands curled around the tops of your thighs, calloused fingertips digging into soft flesh. They spread your legs wider, broad shoulders coming to hold you open as he ravaged you, pulling you closer so that no space remained between the pair of you.
You sobbed when his tongue finally trailed from your entrance, following your folds the short distance to your clit. He growled into your center in response to your garbled noise, lips taking hostage of the sensitive little pearl. Your skull smacked hard wood as your head flew back, but you didn’t care— Azriel’s hands had wandered from your thighs to your hips, slipping underneath to grab handfuls of your plush bottom. His fingers dug into the meat of your ass, pulling you apart so he could shove his face even deeper into your cunt.
“Aha– oh, Az– fuck!” you moaned as he ate you mercilessly, your limbs still held prisoner by taut shadows. No matter how hard you struggled, the void would not give– if you could only hear the things they whispered to their master, if you could only know how happy they were to assist him in his plight…
Azriel groaned against your soaked pussy, the sound echoing in waves of pleasure that rippled through your body. Your legs had begun to shake, fingers curling into fists that couldn’t grab him but desperately wanted to. It should’ve been shameful, the way you were already racing toward an orgasm. He knew just what to do to you, knew exactly how to deliver you right to ecstasy’s doorstep.
And then he drew back.
You had just enough time to open your eyes and look at him to protest, lips already forming your displeasure. But instead, you clocked him as he stood, your eyes falling from his sizzling stare down his contoured, tattooed torso… down to that delicious V that tapered down narrow hips, the ink adorning the lines of his body until—
You gasped, gaze wide. His cock stood upright— tall, thick, swollen, and hard as… steel. A translucent trail of his lust trailed down the vein that bulged along the underside, a sticky bead dripping slowly off the pink tip. Fuck, had such a marvel been within reach all this time?
Your hole clenched in welcome.
Blush stained your cheeks as the male caught the movement, a devilish smirk curling at the corner of his lip. You whimpered when he stepped closer, the tip of him nudging through your glistening folds. Azriel sighed, gripping the base of himself and rubbing the two of you together. Your cries were music to his ears, your hips flexing against the shadows to try and trace yourself onto the thick length of him.
“Oh Gods, you’re perfect,” he murmured, a hand coming to cup one of your breasts in his palm, thumbing over the hardened nipple there. Your name drifted out of him as he loosed a shallow thrust, the very tip of him dipping into your soaked opening.
You wailed when his hips drew back and he slid back in with ease, half of him disappearing inside of you. How he had slipped inside of you so easily, you couldn’t know– you were wetter than you’d ever been, yes, but his manhood was also almost too big– you didn't know if it would fit all the way inside. Your head fell back against the table once more, your quick breaths making your chest rise and fall, your breasts heaving with the action.
The shadowsinger watched the movement, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Only once he heard your sob did he realize he had thrust in all the way, and your eyes had rolled back as your body strained underneath him. You looked so angelic like that, with your cunt wrung tight and wet around all of him, your curves making both his wings and his cock twitch with anticipation.
He gave another tentative thrust, the last shred of sanity slipping from his brain as your walls hugged him, his body trembling. He’d been able to hold out on his own for the last few days by pleasuring himself, but that was leagues away from this. The inside of you was completely soaked for him, and the heat of you squeezing around him made the last of his resolve melt away into nothingness.
You could see the moment his control really slipped— his hazel gaze bleeding black on the edges. His grip tightened, fingertips digging into your flesh like claws as he gathered your hips closer to him, so your ass rested right on the edge of the table. Excitement and a little fear burst forth in your stomach as intensity radiated off of the male, the scent of his outright arousal heavy in the air.
Suddenly his hips snapped forward, and you couldn’t stop the shriek that spilled out of you. Azriel moaned too, louder than you’d imagined he would in your fantasies. Every inch of him was nestled inside of you and that was no ordinary feat. Your cunt throbbed with the thought, more of your essence oozing out for him.
Azriel didn’t waste a drop of it, finding a rhythm that buried himself to the hilt inside you with ease thanks to your ample slick. Huge, magnificent wings trembled behind him, a sign of just how strung out he was in his current state.
“Ugh, fuck— Goddess, you’re a goddess,” he praised, gaze fixed on the bounce of your tits as he rammed into you again and again.
His name fell from your lips as you panted, your hole stretched wide around the base of him. Each stroke had your mind melting, sweat starting to cling to your skin as you trembled at the intensity of the pleasure. You watched his massive cock slide in and out of you, your slick coating the inside of your thighs as you greedily took in every thrust.
“I can’t, ahh I can’t, I can’t—“ Azriel chanted, his abs clenched so hard you couldn’t help but watch sweat drip down the valleys between the prominent muscles.
Suddenly his thumb found its way to your clit and began to glide over the little nub with great generosity. You wailed and clamped onto him harder, your climax racing forth as his hips continued to slap wetly against yours.
“Cum,” he ordered, voice clipped and full of unshakable authority. The sheer dominance radiating off of the male above you was palpable, your body bending to his command. “Be a good girl for me and cum on my cock. Y’want me to cum in this pretty pussy baby? C’mon, cum and milk it out of me, good girl— oh fuck yes—“
Your cunt went tight around him and you cried out as stars flooded your vision, your orgasm hurtling into you, his filthy words sending you over the edge. Pure ecstasy pulsed through your entirety as you came, your walls pulsing as they ached for his imminent release. You felt like your entire body was aflame, and yet that was nothing compared to the heat glowing in your chest, a foreign, welcome weight presenting itself, a rope to hold onto as you nearly lost yourself in the throes of pleasure.
Azriel moaned and pushed all the way inside of you as he met his own climax. Hot streams of his seed spurted out of his throbbing cock, deep into your womb and your eyes rolled back at the heat that blossomed there. You could feel yourself filling with him— he just kept shaking and throbbing and moaning as more and more emptied out of him. Days of just barely scraping by the mating season had left him with balls painfully full and now all you could do was ride out the waves of your shared orgasm as he filled you to the brim. Sweet relief washed through Azriel’s overheated body– emanating from where the base of his cock nestled deep inside of you. With every spurt of release, that insatiable need within him extinguished until he nearly fell on top of you, shaky arms braced to catch himself.
His face fit into your neck, labored breaths cascading over your hot skin. Tremendous leathery wings draped down over his shoulders, his rough hands coming to wrap around the back of your neck and your waist, pressing your bodies together with great care. You hummed with satiety and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, floating back to the ground from your ecstasy. Your hands now released from his shadowy binds, one combed through his silky hair while the other found the divot of his spine, fingers trailing over his dampened skin in soothing motions.
For the first time in days, Azriel’s mind was clear. His eyes opened wide as he came to his senses. He had just taken full advantage of you– he was balls-deep inside of you, and you were full of his seed. His breath began to quicken, his just-calmed mind now gaining speed as the full extent of his actions now hit him.
Slowly he retreated from the solace of your embrace, just enough to catch your eye. “Y/n, I–” he began but you wouldn’t let him.
You wouldn’t let him regret this when you were still here, in the best moment of your life, the intensity of the fresh golden thread between your hearts glowing and filling your body with unbridled joy.
“I love you, Azriel,” you declared, hands coming to hold his sculpted jaw, thumbs drifting over his cheeks and chin. You imagined the tether in your mind, taking hold of it and tugging, like you were pulling your chests impossibly closer.
Surprise flooded his gaze, his brow high as his parted lips ticked up into a sideways grin. His hazel eyes softened as they roamed your face, like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He breathed out your name, voice soft as a feather, his fingers stroking your neck tenderly.
“My mate,” you whispered and Azriel visibly shuddered, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he closed his eyes and smiled bigger than you’d ever seen. It was the most breathtaking sight, him smiling like that– and your heart felt so full, knowing that you were the cause behind it.
The male tucked his face back into your shoulder and gathered your body flush to his, cradling you even closer than before, pressing every piece of you together as close as possible. “My mate,” he echoed, deep voice almost a purr, his happiness rippling over the bond in loud, unapologetic swells.
You pulled his hair just enough for him to lean back and see eye to eye again, sharing a loving look before your lips met. Sparks rushed through your body, his lips slotting between yours and your noses brushing together. You drew back to catch your breath, but Azriel leaned in and captured your mouth once more, unwilling to part with you for even a moment. You gasped and his tongue glided in, meeting yours with a wild tenderness you’d never experienced before. Your tongues brushed together and you couldn’t fight the small moan that crept out of you, your body moving on its own volition to roll your hips against his.
Azriel moaned back, and your cheeks flushed with heat as you felt his hard cock twitch inside of you– you hadn’t realized he’d never softened, even after that law-defying orgasm. You could feel his essence leaking from you– his member taking up so much space inside you, there was barely any room for his cum to remain within your walls.
You seemed to be on the same page, for he stepped back and you both watched as he unsheathed his thick length from you. Finally he removed himself and your hole clenched at the emptiness. Your cheeks became hot as you witnessed a river of his thick, white cum rush out, the sheer amount of it so much that the stream swiftly became a puddle that spilled over the table’s edge and onto the floor.
The sight only made you hungry for more, your bottom lip taken prisoner between your teeth. You caught Azriel’s equally-desirous gaze, throwing one more glance at his cream-covered cock before you flipped yourself over, your palms and knees now resting flat on the tabletop, careful to keep your injured ankle dangling off the table.
Your male growled at the invitation, immediately closing the distance between you two. His hands took hold of your ass, so large that his fingers could grip the curve of the soft flesh and his thumbs spread your raw pussy open at the same time. You whined as you felt more of him leak out, trailing over your clit and down your thighs.
Azriel moaned at the sight, dipping a thumb into his spend and inside your cunt, enjoying the feeling of your aching walls throbbing around him. You panted and bucked back against him, desperate for more. Now that you’d had a taste of his cock, and his cum… nothing else would suffice. The Illyrian complied with your needs– his cock already hard and dripping with precum again, the sight of you too much. The lust from his hormones was already starting to build again– or maybe that was the fresh acknowledgment of the bond– he didn’t know, nor care.
You keened when the searing tip of him pressed against your entrance once more, spread wide so he could watch your pussy swallow every inch he offered. He slipped inside just as easily as before, both of you letting out a long moan in harmony as your ass met his hips, cock hot and hard inside your throbbing walls. The stretch of him was so utterly delicious, you couldn’t stop yourself from bouncing back onto him just to feel it again, and then again.
Azriel threw his head back and allowed himself to revel in the pleasure as you set a steady pace, pussy greedily gobbling up every inch of his incredible length. You whimpered at the sensation of his tip prodding deep, deep within you– a spot you didn’t know existed revealing the very apex of your vulnerability, your pleasure.
The noises you let loose as you sat back onto him each time you never knew you could make– the feeling of your bodies becoming one unlike anything you could have imagined. Your mate was just as deep in the tides of euphoria as you, rough hands steady as he guided you back and forth on his cock. You didn’t know how long you’d last, how long you’d been fucking back onto him, didn’t even know your name. All you could feel was pleasure, your mate, his pleasure, your bond.
You felt that knot tightening in your stomach again.
You cried out when you felt his thumb rove over your asshole, pressing firmly against you as he took control, his other hand holding your hips in place so he could set a punishing pace. The digit slipped inside and your eyes widened, the stretch foreign but oh so welcome. You started to shake, your orgasm nearing as he thrust hard and deep.
Azriel panted as he watched you take him, the curve of your spine bent just right, your ass up and his hands on you– in you. Your soft little body taking his hard large one so well– fuck, he could feel your climax coming through the bond and that only catalyzed his own. Words evaded him this time, your emotions mingling with his along with his Illyrian hormones; everything felt that much stronger– overwhelming. He was so close– he needed you to cum, needed you to milk him again, his mate.
Shadows slithered up onto the table and twirled around your nipples, and you tensed, crying out at the surprise stimulation. The whirls then curled around your thighs and met your poor swollen clit, the cool sensation the final straw as you clenched down and came hard.
You screamed his name, your orgasm barreling through you like never before. Your ears rang, your vision flashing white and your chest hot– searingly hot– so, so hot, and then–
Azriel cried out as he came too, pressing into you ‘til he was balls-deep, emptying into the depths of your womb. Your mate’s ecstasy careened over the fresh bond, and paired with the shadows that kept on caressing you, you sobbed as you came again, not even recovered from your initial orgasm.
Your entirety felt as though it had been dunked under complete and utter bliss. Pure pleasure totally consumed you, leaving you totally helpless with no choice but to feel everything.
Azriel struggled with the same intensity behind you, cock still pumping into you even if he had nothing left to give. His great wings shivered with ecstasy, eyes rolled back, fingertips digging into your soft flesh for dear life as he whimpered.
Eventually the earth materialized beneath you and you all but collapsed onto the table. Azriel let out a grunt of agreement, chest still rising and falling in exertion. His hand left your ass and gripped the base of him as he pulled out, watching as his seed followed, dripping onto the table once more. There was not nearly as much as before, yet still a decent amount came out. He bit his lip, tracing the outline of your soiled cunt with the head of his swollen cock, studying your pink intimacy as your body quivered.
It was unnatural that he already felt the smallest itch to go again— but his cock had been rock hard since the season started and he doubted he would ever soften now that you had recognized him as your mate. At least now his body felt his own; the need to procreate fed and tamed, for how long, he didn’t know.
Suddenly cool shadows enveloped the pair of you before depositing you both upon your bed in the adjacent room. Your head hit the pillow and you moaned in delight, exhaustion taking root in your core.
Azriel lay beside you, face to face, a small smile on his lips as he watched your eyelids fight to stay open. You shivered and scooched closer to him, and he curled an arm around you, happy to comb a hand through your hair and hold you close. His shadows pulled a thin blanket over you, meandering across your exposed shoulder and hair with a calm kind of joy.
“Rest now, my little mate,” he murmured, savoring the beat of your heart so close to his, the feeling of your warm breath against his chest. “You’ll need your strength if we’re to survive the rest of the season...”
how do we feel about the idea of Az being super touch averse (esp after being kept alone in the dark his whole childhood and his hands burned by his so called family/half brothers) UNTIL he meets his mate? I feel like she would absolutely respect his boundaries but he’s so touch starved and he loves her sm that he talks to her about starting with small touches and working their way up and then they eventually get to the point that she can touch him wherever and however she wants and she’s always so affectionate and loving and just pours all her adoration for him into every touch and he just smiles like a dork every time. But the first time the IC see her all over him they tense and wait for him to tell her off but he just leans into it and kisses her
loved this idea! i so agree re: him not loving touch/knowing how to accept it or initiate it. i wasn't gonna post this because by the time it was done it felt like it fell flat, but decided to post it anyway; apologies if it didn't hit the way you wanted it to!
Azriel x mate!reader who brings out a different side of him [1.5k words]
CW: fem!reader, dirty jokes, references to sex but SFW, fluff
Feyre hasn’t known Azriel for as long as most of the Inner Circle, and most of what she knows about the notoriously private male comes from the stories shared with her from his family.
But there is one thing Feyre has come to know about the Shadowsinger that no one needed to inform her about.
Azriel has a clear aversion to touch.
For someone whose job can be so physical, he keeps physical contact to an absolute minimum.
Greeting new people usually comes with his gloved hands folded behind his back and a gentle nod, his wings are always tucked tight and elbows kept close to his sides so as not to brush elbows with anyone. Even his brothers—centuries spent in close proximity to one another—seem to know precisely when they can push it, and when they ought to steer clear.
The closest thing she’s ever gotten to a hug from the male was the gentle brush of his shoulder against hers in thanks during a gift exchange last Solstice; she had known him for years at that point.
Nesta—the nosey busybody—once asked Cassian how that (being Azriel’s aversion to touch) works when he used to come home smelling like a female in the mornings following a night at Rita’s.
Rhysand and Cassian shared a knowing look before Cassian mumbled something about Az “running a tight ship” and then offered absolutely no follow up information (not for a lack of trying on Nesta’s part).
So, it’s safe to say that none of them knew what to expect—how to react—when Azriel came home smelling like a bond and announcing—more like reluctantly admitting—that he met his mate.
While Feyre and Nesta can hardly be considered having experienced a normal mating bond (whatever a normal mating bond may be), they’ve heard stories about perfect strangers meeting by chance in a market and embracing each other like…well…like two halves of a lost soul finally reuniting.
But Feyre’s only seen Azriel hug his own brothers a handful of times over the years she’s been here, so she definitely couldn’t imagine Azriel wildly embracing his new mate on a whim in public.
Needless to say, they were all on the edge of their seats, awarding Azriel with the privacy he needed, wanted, and deserved as he navigated his new mating bond while simultaneously itching to see how it might look.
Tonight was finally their chance.
“Does my hair look okay?” Cassian asks the room, running fingers through his wild locks in a show of insecurity rarely ever seen from the brute.
“Why does it matter? It’s not like you’re meeting your mate for the first time,” Amren hums judgementally around the rim of her wine glass.
Cassian narrows his eyes at the ancient being. “This is important, alright? I want to make a good first impression.”
Nesta snorts. “Well I wouldn’t worry then. You’ve never once made a good first impression.”
“You guys are very mean,” Cassian huffs, giving up on the tugging of his hair. “I hope she’s nicer, maybe I’ll finally have a godsdamned friend in this house.”
“Hey,” Feyre laughs. “Come now.”
Cassian softens. “Okay, fine; another friend besides Feyre.”
“Thank you,” she concedes.
The room stills when boots sound on the terrace of the House of Wind, and it’s clearly an effort for the entire family not to stand simultaneously and rush the door to get a peak of you.
The two of you appear in the doorway; Azriel’s wing extended behind your back like a gentle guide keeping you close to him.
“This is my family,” Azriel explains softly, eyes travelling over the group of fae currently holding their breath. “Family, this is my mate.”
Somehow, Azriel’s voice softens around the syllables of your name, making it sound like a note of a song or the gentle hum of a breeze.
“Hello,” you greet quietly, nerves obvious though so is your excitement.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Rhysand welcomes first. “We’ve been wondering when Azriel might deign to share you with us.”
“I…I feel like I should bow, but Azriel told me it was very important that I keep you humble,” you admit, knees clearly itching to bend when being greeted by the notorious High Lord of the Night Court.
“Oh, thank the Mother,” Cassian sighs in theatrical relief. “I don’t think the rest of us will survive if his head gets any bigger.”
“My head is perfectly sized, thank you,” Rhysand huffs at his brother, softening his gaze when he turns back to you. “But there’s certainly no need to bow; we’re family.”
Your chest rises with relief and pride, and the corner of Azriel’s lips lift in time with it.
“It’s nice to finally meet you all,” you state as your gaze drifts over the entire group, and Feyre can understand why Azriel seems to have a hard time peeling his gaze from you; you’re magnetic, your eyes so soft and so kind that you make every person feel like the most important person in the room just by looking at them. “I’ve heard so much about you all, it feels like I’ve already known you for centuries.”
Mor breaks first.
“Oh, I am so happy to meet you,” she all but squeals, racing towards you.
Feyre isn’t entirely sure what she expected to happen, but she certainly wasn’t expecting for you to step away from Azriel and meet Morrigan in the middle of the room in a tight embrace.
“You must be Morrigan,” you hum happily into her shoulder.
“I’ll be whoever you want me to be, sweetheart,” Mor laughs, pulling away from you. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Alright, my turn,” Cassian announces, all but shoving Mor out of his way to bring you in for his own embrace, though his involves lifting you off of your feet and eliciting a surprised oof out of you. Azriel’s wings twitch in subtle agitation.
“Cassian, I assume?” you giggle.
“You’d assume correct, beautiful. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Alright, out of the way, you big bat.” Feyre swats at Cassian’s arms to release you, only for you to be transferred into her own. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Thank you for having me,” you murmur, quieter now, as though meeting her holds some extra weight.
She looks over at Azriel and his soft gaze confirms it: you were worried about meeting her.
“The honour is really all mine,” Feyre assures you, pulling away only to hold you by your shoulders.
She nods her head, really liking you for her brother-in-law. “As I’m sure you know, this is my husband Rhys. That there is my sister and Cassian’s mate, Nesta, and that’s Amren, Rhys’ second in command.”
Azriel finally fully enters the room, moving to step up behind you as though a quiet anchor. Your shoulders subtly loosen at his proximity.
“So, how has it been being mates with Azriel over here?” Cassian asks jovially, returning to his seat in the living room.
“He’s perfect, really,” you tell them earnestly, smiling up at the Shadowsinger who’s turning a beautiful shade of pink. “I truly couldn’t have asked for better.”
“Ah, so you’re a liar too,” Amren drawls with a roll of her eyes.
Azriel looks like he’s trying not to do the same before gesturing for you to take a seat. “Ignore her.”
“I hope she doesn’t lie to you anywhere else, brother,” Cassian continues, smiling when his quip is met with a lethal glare from said brother. “You know, like in the bedroom.”
“Yes, thank you, Cassian,” Azriel deadpans.
“Oh, don’t worry Cassian, he’s perfect there too,” you respond quickly, surprising the room into silence as Azriel joins you on the—rather cozy—loveseat. “If you’d like some tips I’m sure I can convince him to let you watch.”
Rhysand bursts into unrestrained laughter.
“Mother above, where did you find this female?” Cassian sputters.
The corner of Azriel’s lips turn up. “What? You think I warned her about Rhys and not you?”
With this Azriel lifts his arm and places it along the sofa behind your head; Feyre holds her breath as you lean your head back on it.
Except Azriel doesn’t pull away.
He doesn’t straighten, he doesn’t grit his teeth, he doesn’t make a quick excuse to get a drink.
In fact, Azriel’s gloved hand drops from the back of the couch and onto your shoulder where he lovingly caresses the exposed skin near your collarbone.
You turn at the touch, smiling up at him warmly which finds his shadows blooming with joy.
And then your hand lands on his knee.
Feyre braces for impact again.
It doesn’t come.
Well I’ll be damned, Rhysand drawls in Feyre’s mind. He’s a changed man.
But Feyre’s not so convinced; she doesn’t think the softness of his eyes or the adoration in his smile or the dedication of his attention are necessarily new attributes, just largely unseen.
I think she must just have a way of bringing it out in him, Feyre counters thoughtfully.
“Who the fuck is this male and what have you done with Azriel?” Cassian hollers then, not nearly as subtle as the rest of his family.
And who’s responsible for bringing that out of Cassian? Rhysand sighs silently.
content warnings: apathetic parental figure, heavy on the yearning, a possibly wobbly timeline, future parts will have updated content warnings
word count: 5.9k
synopsis: Azriel was always meant to be yours.
trope: childhood friends to lovers
my masterlist
~ ~ ~
“Do you have a mate?”
The clatter of silverware and gentle chatter around the table came to a halt, all eyes swinging between the overly brazen Day Court liaison and Azriel. A rapid flush was creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears, his hand slowly lowering the fork that had been half way to his mouth.
His lips parted slightly and he blinked slowly, staring at the female across from him who was toying with her crystal glass holding half a sip of dark wine. The question was wildly inappropriate from an official guest in the High Lord and Lady’s home, but not entirely unexpected—not to you, at least. You had kept a catalog of every sly look and sultry upturn of her lips she had cast Azriel’s way the entire evening.
Every prolonged glance she cast his way was another pinprick against your lungs, but you could not even fault her for it. Azriel was beautiful, alluring in a way that made every other male pale in comparison. She was beautiful too, with luscious dark hair that fell in tight spirals to her mid back, glittering gold paint accenting her dark complexion in all the right places, and eyes so sharp and bright that there was no question she belonged in Helion’s court. It only made the fire in your blood burn hotter.
Inexplicably, Azriel’s eyes darted to you. A fleeting glance loaded with emotions locked behind a stonewall. It was entirely confusing and infuriating. The male who had waxed poetic to you only months ago about finding his beautiful mate, the greatest gift the Mother could have bestowed upon him, even though she didn’t reciprocate it, was awfully silent now.
A childish, foolish part of you had always thought that Azriel might be the one—that he might one day be yours. That one day the Mother might finally lift the veil between you, that she might finally pull an invisible string between your souls taut and end your insufferable pining. It did not matter that you had lived centuries beside the male, that you had endured centuries of yearning for the boy you met as a mere child. It did not matter that every day that passed your soul grew a little more weary. There would always be a part of you that burned for Azriel.
It was pathetic.
It was inevitable.
You had accepted it decades ago, maybe even longer.
You were okay with loving him from a distance for eternity, as long as you had him. As long as there was still a possibility. A seed of hope to kindle your fantasies, to make them feel just a little real.
“Yes.”
The solid, quiet answer rang through the room, an arrow that ricocheted off the walls and the ceiling only to lodge directly in the center of your chest. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.
Rhys and Cassian were unsurprised by his answer, but their mates appeared to be suppressing their shock and confusion at the revelation. Mor looked…indifferent. Intrigued, maybe. You weren’t sure if she knew. You could not tell if her narrowed eyes gazing over the rim of her wine glass were from confusion, or disapproval—if she might know more than you.
Then her eyes cut from Azriel to you, her lips pursed in a way that made your skin prickle, and you really didn’t want to know what her thoughts were on whatever she believed was happening at this table.
The female—Soleil, was her name—hummed, her glass setting on the tablecloth with a soft thud. “Interesting,” she said, the word drawn out just enough to know she cared only for her own self-interest. Her brows raised a bit, glancing around the table pointedly as everyone else watched her with bated breath. “Where is she then?”
Azriel’s throat bobbed, and his grip tightened around his fork. And because you loved him, briefly, your heart ached for him.
Because you loved him, you noticed the nearly imperceptible twitch of his wings. You noticed the slight stagger in his breath as he looked away from Soleil. You noticed the way his body, adorned in dark leathers, blurred just a bit at the edges, and the how the planes of his face grew just a little more shadowed.
You almost stretched your leg out beneath the table, almost toed his boot with your own from where you sat across from him.
“The private lives of my court are of no concern to yours.” Rhys’s voice was sharp and finite, his words yanking you back to the present, forcing you to remember yourself.
Azriel’s shoulders relaxed, but his gaze was impassive as he looked from Soleil to his brother. Soleil’s lips were pursed, the shine of amusement in her eyes dulled.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rhysand,” she answered, with far more gall than she should. “There are political advantages to be considered, potential alliances—”
“Azriel has a mate,” Rhys cut her off, his words scalding your chest as they slid down to your stomach. “He is spoken for—and even if he was not, the members of my court are not pawns for you to play with.”
Azriel has a mate.
He is spoken for.
A mate.
Simple facts that you had managed to leave as blurry half-truths revealed from booze loosened lips in a dark alley in Velaris for nearly two months in the back of your mind. Now they were real. Now everyone else knew too.
You stood up, your chair scraping along the hardwood floor. Everyone’s eyes cut to you, but the only ones you could focus on were the ones that left you feeling so raw and exposed you ached all over.
You could only hold his eyes for a brief moment, immediately looking down at your feet when you felt a tendril of shadow curl around your ankle. You could hardly breathe. “Excuse me,” you muttered, then fought for every ounce of dignity and composure you could muster as you walked out of the dining room, your pace quickening once you were in the hall.
You didn’t start running until you were out the front door and the moonlight hit your cheeks and outstretched wings, and even if you heard the door open and close behind you as you took off into the sky, you didn’t look back.
~ ~ ~
“Have you met the new boy?”
You blinked owlishly at your mother, your heart racing in your chest. “Who?”
She cast a glare over her shoulder, her peeling of the potatoes over the sink growing more aggressive. “The new boy in your cohort. They say he is a shadowsinger.”
There was no new boy in your cohort. There were no boys at all in your cohort, not since they separated the girls and boys after they turned ten—and you turned ten last month. Your mother knew this.
Instead of reminding her—correcting her—you asked, “What’s a shadowsinger?”
She huffed, the peeler and potato hitting the edge of the sink. “Do you know nothing?” she snapped.
Somehow, you always made her mad. You never said the right thing.
“Pay attention tomorrow,” She told you. You nodded when she looked at you again, but you avoided her eyes. “A shadow boy would be hard to miss.”
If there was a boy made of shadows, you imagined he would be hard to miss—even if you only saw the boys in the eating hall—but there was no “shadow boy”, and there were no new faces that stuck out as you made your way to your table.
The other girls at your table were all older, and none of them were particularly nice, but at least they had let you sit with them. It was better than sitting with the girls in your age group. These girls left you alone, and they always had stories to share.
The stories were generally trivial and petty. Sometimes they talked about boys. You tried not to listen too closely during those conversations.
“Have you seen him yet?” one of the girls, Freya, asked.
Across the table, Lara furrowed her brows. “Who?”
“The new boy,” Freya answered eagerly. “I’ve heard he’s cute.”
A third girl, one you had forgotten the name of, scrunched up her face. “He talks to shadows, Freya.”
Freya waved away the comment as if it was entirely inconsequential and not the strangest thing you had heard in your life—also, she said he talked to shadows, not that he was made of them.
Lara looked even more disturbed. “He’s also eleven.”
At that, Freya looked more discouraged. “I didn’t know that,” she groaned. “I don’t know why I listen to anything that comes out of Elsie’s mouth.”
Their conversation pivoted, moving on quickly from the new boy who allegedly talked to shadows. You looked around the dining hall again, no longer looking for someone made of shadow, but anyone that seemed unfamiliar.
You knew all these faces, though, whether you wanted to or not. There were only so many children in the camp, let alone ones that were eleven. Your eyes snagged on a boy that was in your age group across the hall, his hair wild and eyes fiery as he climbed up on the table, his voice carrying throughout the entire hall.
It sounded like the beginning of a challenge—Mother only knew what for. Cassian had always been wild and a little unpredictable. He was never mean to you like some of the other boys, though, so you tried to ignore his antics. Still—if you were new and at your dining table sat Cassian, you might hide away too.
So you stood up, pocketing your apple and tossing the rest of your lunch in the bin, the girls at your table not even batting an eye as you slipped outside the dining hall. Fresh snow was falling in big flakes from the sky, a fresh layer sticking to the stone path. You weren’t supposed to be outside, but you still had ten minutes until the end of lunch, and you wanted to find this boy.
Maybe it was foolish to seek out an Illyrian boy on your own—a boy that spoke to shadows, no less—but there was a coil inside your chest rapidly growing tighter the longer you thought about him. Every step you took along the wall of the mess hall pushed a little more air out of your lungs, and you needed to find him.
A black inky tendril darted in front of your face, just barely grazing your nose as you rounded the back corner of the building. You reared back, your feet slipping from beneath you on the freshly fallen snow. You had never been the most graceful child—an embarrassment, according to your mother—so it was no surprise when you fell down into the cold, wet snow instead of regaining your balance.
There would be no hiding where you had wandered off to during lunch now.
“I’m so sorry!”
Your head snapped up to find a wide-eyed boy standing over you. His hair was dark and unkempt, the strands so long it was starting to curl around his ears. His face was flushed a light shade of red, and his eyes were a bright hazel that shined with embarrassment. He held his hand out to you, his wings twitching behind him as he waited for you to take it.
You slipped your hand into his, the skin rough and jagged in a way that made your breath hitch—then the coil that was tight in the center of your chest sprung free, and you could finally take a full breath again. You stared at him as he pulled you to your feet, his skin warm despite standing in the dreadful cold. Your skin tingled, and your entire body felt shimmery—like fresh snow beneath rays of sunlight—yet you somehow felt overwhelmingly warm where your heart beat hard in your chest.
He was very tall. Taller than most of the boys in your year—maybe even taller than Cassian, who was the tallest of them all, and very proud of that fact. Standing in front of you, you barely rose past his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” the boy said again, his voice much softer. He let your hand drop, then tucked his hands behind his back.
Your eyes flit down to your cold and limp hand, thinking about the way his skin looked like it had been gnawed on by a beast in the forest. You almost made a comment, almost asked one of your many questions that your mother reprimanded you for time and time again—then you saw them. Dark yet translucent tendrils of…something, creeping out from behind his back, some slithering over his shoulder like a territorial pet.
Shadows.
They were shadows.
Your ogling must have been obvious, because the boy looked down at his shoulder, then back at you, somehow even more embarrassed. “They won’t hurt you,” he promised, his voice quiet and a little desperate.
It was strange. Strange for a boy to tell you he was not a threat, strange that he cared. Strange, because most of the boys in this camp seemed to relish in doing the exact opposite. Most of them saw your separation in year ten as a reminder of who was better, stronger, smarter—and it was certainly not the females.
“You’re the new boy,” you said, voice trembling a bit from the cold.
The boy blinked.
You wiped your hands on your pants, drying them of the melted snow before tucking them beneath your arms. “They say you talk to shadows.”
His face scrunched up at that, just a little, just enough to make your lips quirk up at the side. Then his shoulders fell. “I guess,” he muttered, then took a step back.
“That seems cool,” you hurried out, stepping a little too close to him, but he didn’t move away. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. It was likely the cold. “I was looking for you, actually.”
He eyed you warily, and suddenly you felt like the strange one—which, maybe you were, in his defense. You stepped back, your chest aching as his warmth vanished. You reached into your coat, pulling out the apple you had smuggled outside. You thrust it toward him, the movement awkward and hasty. The boy just stared at it.
Your face suddenly felt warm.
You shook the apple in front of him. “For you.”
He glanced between your eyes and your outstretched hand, seconds stretching between you before he finally took the apple. “Thank you?”
“Y/N,” you offered, though you weren’t sure if he was really asking. You shrugged, taking another step back. “Maybe don’t skip lunch anymore,” you said. “The girls at my table have already noticed, at least.”
He held the apple with both hands, nearly covering it. He looked down, avoiding your gaze.
You bit your lip, knowing your time was running out and he probably wanted you to leave him be, and yet— “I know Cassian is loud—like, really loud.” The boy’s eyes snapped back to you. “But he’s sort of nice? In a weird way. He won’t do anything too bad.”
He frowned. “He stole my gloves.”
You winced. “He…does that.” You scrunched up your nose, gesturing to the hall. “He’s better than the rest of them.” The wind was starting to whip at the damp legs of your pants, and you were beginning to tremble. “I should go.” You waved, regretting it immediately, then turned around.
“Azriel,” he said.
You turned on your heel, eyes wide. “What?”
He blinked once, then said, “I’m Azriel.”
You grinned, your eyes crinkling up at the edges and your mouth stretched wide. “Bye, Azriel.”
~ ~ ~
“Are we going to talk about it?”
The thud of your fist against the leather bag was answer enough.
Nesta appeared at the other side of the bag, bracing it as it started to swing. You met her eyes briefly, her gaze cold and impatient. You hit the bag again, a huff falling from her as she replanted her feet. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why must you all be so dramatic?” You hit the bag again, this time the angle off, and pain raced through your hand. “Y/N,” she said, her voice firm. You glared at her, holding your hand against your chest. “Did you know?”
You considered playing coy, acting aloof, but it would only get you so far with Nesta. You started to unwrap the leather wound around your hands, admitting softly, “Yes.”
She blinked, her shock evident. “I thought—” She shook her head. “You left so suddenly.”
“A headache overcame me.” You inspected the redness of your knuckles, your joints aching as you flexed your hand. It had been over two hours since you came up here, the sun only just now creeping up over the horizon.
“A headache,” she deadpanned.
You shrugged, walking over to your pile of things on the floor. You sat down, dropping the leathers beside you as you drank from your water.
“And Azriel—did he help you with this headache?”
Your head snapped to her. “What?”
She rolled her eyes again. “He left dinner not even a minute after you, then never returned. Do you think us so dense—”
“Azriel did not follow me,” you told her, making your confusion clear in your tone. The sound of a door opening and closing behind you as you took to the sky echoed in your mind. “Why would he?”
Nesta, for once, was at a loss for words.
Why would he not check on his friend?
Why would he follow you home from dinner, a female who was not his mate?
It was a back and forth you could spin in circles for an eternity if you let her, and you had no energy for her interrogations.
Your breath caught in your throat as a dark tendril gently slid down your arm, curling around your wrist as you lowered your water. Nesta watched the shadow silently, the two of you holding your breath as Azriel walked through the doorway, then froze.
He glanced at Nesta, then his eyes fell on you. “Good morning,” he said softly, hesitantly. You needed to get out of here.
You waved the shadow away, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Good morning,” you said back, gathering your things in your arms before standing. “I was just leaving, so I’ll leave you be.”
Azriel blinked, but he didn’t say another word, even as you felt his gaze follow you all the way to the corridor, and you were finally free of his attention.
~ ~ ~
“Hi.”
Azriel flinched so violently that he stumbled back into the tree behind him, a dusting of snow falling down around him. His head whipped to you, where you were standing sheepishly at his side.
“Sorry,” you said, but still took a step forward. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Which was true, but you also had enough sense to realize that he was lost in his own world, given he was standing still in the middle of the forest alone.
His face was flushed as his bewildered eyes sharpened into a glare. He brushed the snow from his shoulders as he stood up straight, and his shadows wiggled around his feet as if they too had been startled. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.
You raised your brows, a bit of indignation crawling up your spine. He was the one loitering on the edge of your clearing. At least, you considered it yours. No one else had ever stumbled upon you here when you managed to slip away from your mother for the evening. “What are you doing here?” you threw back.
His face somehow turned redder. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.
You looked him up and down, noticing the thick flying leathers that looked slightly too small for his body. The boys always got a new set of leathers when they turned ten, but never the girls.
Azriel must have been given a poorly sized spare when he arrived in camp.
You watched the shadows slinking up his body, blurring the edges of him into darkness, as if they might engulf him to save him from your prying gaze. You took another step closer, barely a foot between you now, and Azriel eyed you warily as you stuck your palm out.
A tendril of shadow immediately broke away from his side, skittering closer to you to wrap around your wrist and weave in between your fingers. You giggled at the cool and silken touch that was unlike anything you had ever felt. They were sort of cute.
“I’m sorry,” Azriel rasped, dragging your attention back to him. “I’m getting better at controlling them.” His shadows pulsed once, as if disgruntled by that, and Azriel grimaced. “They won’t hurt you.”
He had said the same thing the first time you met him, and again when you bumped into him once on your way home. “I know,” you said simply, rather than remind him of his past assurances.
You dropped your hand, content to let the shadow brush over your skin as it pleased. “I heard Cassian talking to Rhys a few days ago,” you said, curiosity seeping from your voice. You met Azriel’s eyes again, who already looked like he was dreading whatever might follow your sentence. “They said something about flying lessons?”
Azriel looked away, and the shadow around your hand darted back to him. “They’re teaching me,” he murmured.
“Teaching you?”
Azriel looked pained. “Yes.”
“What do you mean?”
He closed his eyes, tilting his head back.
“I don’t know how.”
“To fly?” you asked, incredulity clear in your voice.
Azriel nodded slowly, the movement forced and stiff.
“Oh.”
You had your suspicions that Rhys and Cassian were talking about Azriel. The three had formed an unexpected trio since Azriel arrived a few weeks ago, though you weren’t sure they were friends. Rhys and Cassian seemed to be antagonizing Azriel at every turn, yet they seemed to close ranks around him when others tested him.
You had also heard from some girls at lunch that Azriel was apparently living with them.
Azriel rubbed at his nose, and only then did you realize that his hands were covered by black leather gloves that looked nicer than the rest of his garments. “Cassian and Rhysand don’t know how to keep their mouths shut,” he grumbled.
You winced. “Are they good teachers?” you asked, trying and probably failing to hide your skepticism.
He gave you a dubious look. “No.”
You pursed your lips. “Well I could teach you.”
Azriel's face flushed red again, and he started shaking his head. “No—no. I don’t need anyone’s help—”
“I was coming out here to fly anyway,” you interrupted him. You shrugged when he finally met your eyes. “I always come here—or, there—” You pointed to the clearing through the trees where there was a small cliff you liked to jump from. Azriel turned to look. “To fly by myself. I wouldn’t mind a friend.”
Azriel’s head snapped toward you again. Your face warmed. “I would like that,” he said softly.
You smiled, then grabbed his hand, your chest feeling warm with excitement. “Let’s go.”
You dragged him through the trees at an awkwardly fast pace that was on the verge of becoming a run, and when you tripped over a branch sticking out of the snow, Azriel caught you before you could fall. The two of you giggled as he pulled you upright, and you kept moving toward the clearing.
The sun was bright once you were free from the canopy of the woods, a few rare beams breaking through the overcast sky and making the snow shimmer. You dragged Azriel up the hill that led to a cliff—if you could really call it that. It would certainly hurt if you fell, but you wouldn’t die. You thought.
You dropped Azriel’s hand as you neared the ledge, looking down at the snow covered ground. You turned to smile at him, but looked less than thrilled as he looked out over edge. “Please do not shove me off this ledge—”
“What?” you exclaimed. “Who said anything about shoving you off a cliff?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you remember who my teachers are?”
You huffed. “Well we’re not doing that.” You reached for his hand again, pulling him closer so that he toed the edge with you. His muscles were tight with tension, so you gave his hand a squeeze as you smiled at him. “We’re going to jump.”
Azriel tried to jerk away, but you kept your grip firm on his hand. “How is that any different—”
You shook your joined hands. “I won’t let go, for one.”
He immediately shook his head. “I’m bigger than you. I’ll just pull you down and then we’ll both get hurt.”
“I’m stronger than I look,” you argued. “I can manage a soft landing for both of us just fine.” Maybe not soft, but you could cushion the fall if you had to probably. “But it doesn’t matter because you’re going to glide, not fall.”
His throat bobbed, but he didn’t argue. “How?”
“Spread your wings.” You did just that, your wings stretching out a little wider than necessary, but you wanted to make a point.
Azriel seemed to chew the inside of his cheek before nodding, then he took in a deep breath and stretched his wings wide behind him. His wings were larger than yours, a deeper shade of purple than your more rustic hue. They caught a ray of sunlight, and the delicate membrane shimmered. He squeezed your hand, and you had to think before you could remember what to say next.
“Good,” you said, and you leaned forward a bit, your wing brushing with his.
Azriel sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry—”
You waved him off, not minding at all if his wings brushed against yours. He was your friend. You trusted him. He wasn’t mean or loud or aggressive like the other boys in the camp. “It’s fine, Azriel.”
He nodded, and he didn’t let go of your hand.
“We’re going to jump, and we’re going to leave our wings out like this. They will catch the wind, if we fall forward a bit, and then we just glide. There is plenty of space. That’s it.”
“Okay,” he agreed, his voice slightly shaky. He nodded, then said again, “Okay, I can do that.”
You grinned, nodding excitedly. “Ready?” you asked, dragging him even closer to the edge, the toes of your boots hanging over.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Now!” you yelled, and the two of you jumped, and your bodies both instinctively leveled out with the ground, the wind whipping around your face as you grew closer to the Earth.
Then your body jerked, and the wind was pushing against the membrane of your wings, and you were soaring across the clearing.
Azriel laughed beside you, a smile stretching across his face as the two of you flew over the wide expanse of the mountain clearing. “This is amazing!” he yelled.
“I told you it would be fine!”
He squeezed your hand, closing his eyes as the wind washed over his face, and it was the most joy you had seen on his face since you found him behind the mess hall weeks ago.
Unfortunately, you were paying far too much attention to the boy beside you and not to your surroundings, and the rapidly nearing tree line in your peripheral made you jerk upright, stealing any of the momentum the two of you had found.
Azriel’s eyes flew open as you flapped your wings haphazardly, trying to right the two of you unsuccessfully, and then you were just trying to soften the inevitable fall. The two of you landed in a plume of snow, tumbling over one another with the force of your fall. You eventually came to a stop, Azriel’s body covering your own.
Your body ached, and you knew it would hurt tomorrow, but you seemed to be fine otherwise. Azriel’s shoulders were shaking, his face hidden from your view, and your stomach dropped. “Azriel, I’m so sorry. Cauldron, are you okay? I should—”
Azriel was laughing. He pushed himself up, still hovering over you as he finally met your eyes. He looked fine. He looked more than fine.
He rolled off of you, laying next to you in the snow as he gave into his uncontrollable laughter. You started laughing too, even if moments ago you were terrified he was hurt or that he might hate you now.
“That was amazing,” he said around his laughter. “Thank you.”
Your laughter slowed, small chuckles still escaping from your lips as you turned to meet his sparkling eyes. “What are friends for?”
~ ~ ~
“You’re avoiding me.”
The spoon in your hand clanked against your mug, some of the tea sloshing over the side. You took in a sharp breath, then reached for a towel to wipe it up.
“It’s the middle of the night, Azriel.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” He walked closer, his hip leaning against the counter only a few feet away from you. “Have I done something?” he asked, a bit quieter.
You finally looked at him, your hand still clutching the towel as you leaned on the counter. You hated the way your chest ached every time you saw him. Before, your heart had ached from feeling so overwhelmingly full—a tightness caused by feeling so much and with desperate hope to one day give it all to him. Now, your chest ached from an emptiness that had hollowed you out, your heart and soul dark and weathered and still soaked with love, but a love that now faced the agonizing reality of never being seen.
“No,” you said, quietly, after too many beats had passed. You looked down at the towel in your hand, clutching the fabric tight as you forced yourself to take just one full breath. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Azriel.”
Your breath caught in your throat when his hand grabbed yours resting on the counter, gently pulling the towel from your grasp. His thumb brushed over the back of your knuckles, the two of you staring at your hands on the counter. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
His voice made your heart ache. The way he softened the syllables as if they might not pierce the fragile cloak of night around you. The way his questions were always gentle, genuine, and entirely sincere—spoken in tones that always made your defenses disintegrate.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” you answered quietly, finally daring to meet his eyes. You shrugged, as if that might knock the guilt of the half-truth off your shoulders. “I’m tired, that's all.”
Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because you have broken my heart. Because you have truly done nothing wrong and still I am left poorly gluing shredded pieces of myself back together that fall apart every time I’m near you.
“It’s nothing. Really, I’ll be fine.”
Azriel looks like he does not believe you. He doesn’t believe you, not a word that has come out of your mouth. You are admittedly a terrible liar—although you have mastered the art of evasion and half-truths over centuries of secret pining—and Azriel knows this. He knows you.
He’s also the Spymaster of the Night Court, of course.
He seems to take pity on you, for whatever reason. He blows a puff of air out of his nose as he looks away, slowly pulling his hand from yours to rest it on the counter. The inches between you now feel like an endless chasm.
“I am visiting my mother tomorrow,” he tells you quietly.
You frown. “Tomorrow?” you repeat. “Why didn’t you tell—”
Your words die in your throat when you meet his gaze, a pointed look staring back at you that makes a tendril of shame curl low in your stomach. You swallow hard, looking away. “She’ll enjoy that,” you say softly.
“Do you want to come with me?”
Your heart stutters. His eyes are wide and pleading, begging you for an answer you cannot fathom why he wants.
“I would like it if you came with me,” he adds softly. His shadows slowly slink out from behind him, curling around your ankles and moving up your calves.
Their touch is light and silken, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It’s meant to be a soothing touch, a comfort you had taken from them for centuries. You had never feared Azriel’s shadows, not even when they knocked you on your ass that first day you met.
Their familiar strokes now left your heart racing, a coil of panic unfurling in your chest as you thought of what he was asking, as you thought of all you stood to lose in a handful of time that was quickly slipping through your fingers.
He had found his mate.
Moments like these, intimate conversations in the dark between shared breaths, were now fleeting. Tendrils of shadows that had felt like an extra limb were no longer yours. You were a fixture in his life that was fading, your presence now blurry and confusing and ephemeral.
He was a pillar in your life that was cracking, bits and pieces crumbling as time pressed in. It was inevitable that the bond would snap for her. It was inevitable that Azriel would devote himself to his mate. It was only a matter of time.
You swallowed hard, acid burning the back of your throat. You reached clumsily for your tea, your fingers bumping harshly against the handle, sending more liquid sloshing over the sides. You cursed, grabbing for the towel again at the same time Azriel did.
His fingers covered yours, and you yanked your hand away within a second.
He blinked, a flash of hurt passing through his eyes for the briefest of moments.
You stepped back, eyes darting between the spilled tea, Azriel’s hand on the towel, and Azriel’s soft and confused eyes. You shook your head once, a motion you barely realized you were making before you choked out, “I can’t.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, batting away a shadow that had come up to stroke your cheek. “I can’t,” you said again.
“Y/N—”
Forcing yourself to meet his eyes, willing your voice not to tremble, you plastered on a forced and painful smile as you said, “I can’t go with you, I mean. I’m sorry.” You glanced once more at the spilled tea, slowly spreading across the granite countertop. “Send your mother my love.”
Azriel looked like he wanted to argue, to ask again, but you could not bear to hear another invitation. You could not bear to see misplaced disappointment on his face when you declined again.
So you walked away, your sock clad feet slipping once on the stone floor in your haste, Azriel’s arm shooting out to catch you. You sniffed once, your skin flushed and cheeks searing, moving out of his hold and disappearing down the dimly lit hallway.
Sleep evaded you the rest of the night, the image of spilled tea and drooping wings and glistening hazel irises haunting your every thought.
~ ~ ~
a/n: I will try to do a taglist for this series! let me know if you want to be added :)
azriel x reader
summary: reader had been sent on a mission on the continent for weeks, and was going to miss this year’s solstice celebration. rhysand decided that the only way to cure a brooding azriel was a surprise visit home from his mate.
wc: 2.4k
The Inner Circle knew Azriel well enough to tell that he was brooding. On a regular day, most people mistook the spymaster's usual silence for agitation, but his family knew that he simply preferred to listen. His behaviour for the last six weeks however - this had become incessant brooding.
The first two weeks you were gone, he was tolerable. Given your positions in the court, both of you were used to being sent away for brief trips that separated you. You had learned how to cope with small lengths of time away from each other. He had gone about his days as usual; training in the morning with Cassian, and checking in with his spies in the afternoon for any new information.
The next three weeks, he was on edge. It wasn’t uncommon for a mission to stretch on for a month, but the distance definitely wasn’t comfortable. By this point, Azriel had resorted to keeping himself occupied at any given moment - he stayed out all day, and drank at night to keep himself from dwelling on how much he missed having you by his side. It snowed plenty in those weeks, and he had to stop himself from scowling in your absence each time he remembered the way you would light up at the sight of the snow falling outside your window.
By the sixth week, the Inner Circle knew to tread lightly around the male. Everyone around him was abuzz at the spirit of solstice, but the shadowsinger had no holiday spirit. You wouldn’t be returning until just before the new year, and he didn’t feel very festive without you. Mor would ask him what he wanted as a solstice gift, and he simply huffed in response. His brothers had endless smack talk, taunting each other over who would win this year’s snowball fight, but the male stayed silent - he didn’t care about the outcome because he wouldn’t have you there to celebrate his victory.
Azriel did what he could to not put a damper on everyone else’s solstice spirit - he helped decorate the river house to make sure everything was orderly, he bought everyone gifts, and made sure to get Nyx a few noisy toys that would give Rhys a headache. On solstice morning, he got up with his brothers to participate in the annual snowball fight, and he put in as much effort as he could muster. He did enough to put a smile on his family’s faces, but he wasn’t fully present. He wouldn’t be, unless you were there with him.
As evening arrived, the entire family gathered at the river house to eat dinner together, celebrate Feyre’s birthday, and open presents. The group had chosen to open presents first this year - Nyx couldn’t stay awake long enough, so they decided to get the gifts out of the way and enjoy an adult-only dinner when he had been put to bed.
Everyone wanted to see Nyx’s reaction to his gifts, so he opened them first while the others watched. The toddler giggled at the sound of wrapping paper being opened, and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face at the child’s glee. You might not have been there, but his heart still felt warm being with the rest of his family. The happiness in the room was contagious, and despite the shadows skittering restlessly around the room, he felt at peace with his family around him.
Rhys shot Azriel an annoyed look as Nyx opened up his final gift; a child’s drum kit that the shadowsinger had purchased with the sole intention of pissing off his brother. Feyre also looked weary as she looked at her son, who was already causing a ruckus with his new toy.
“And to think I got you the best gift you could have asked for, and you punish me with this,” Rhys joked, exasperation in his voice.
Azriel raised an eyebrow. “You got me the best gift I could have asked for? That’s high praise.”
Rhys looked at his brother, a smug smile on his face. “If you can seriously think of any gift you’d like more than what I brought you, I will personally wear a tutu and go out into the streets of Velaris.”
Cassian’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Did you buy him a palace or something, how are you this confident?”
Rhys simply shrugged, to which Azriel narrowed his eyes. “Well let’s see, if you’re so sure.”
Azriel couldn’t even begin to guess what Rhys had bought him. At their age, gift giving was hard - everyone already had every material item they needed, so the holidays were filled with gag gifts, or items that ended up in a drawer unused. The only thing he wanted for solstice was you, and the day had already proven to be lacking in that area.
Rhys stood up and left the room with a mischievous smile on his face, everyone’s eyes trailing him.
“What could he possibly have gotten?” Cassian asked no one in particular, trying to think of what his brother would have wanted as a gift.
Nesta, who was pressed against Cassian’s side, looked to Feyre. “Are you in on this?”
Feyre shook her head, equally as confused as everyone else in the room. “I have no idea what he got any of you.”
Mor, on the other side of the room, crossed her arms. “Well whatever it is, he better have given this much consideration to all of our gifts, it’s no fair if Azriel gets something spectacular and the rest of us get mediocre gifts.”
The High Lord reappeared in the doorway, a small box in his hands. Considering how much Rhys had been boasting about his present, everyone looked skeptically at the size of the box.
“Are there keys to Azriel’s palace in that box?” Cassian muttered, though loud enough for everyone to hear.
Rhys passed the box to Feyre, who handed it off to Azriel, the daemati’s eyes still twinkling with mischief. The box was small and surprisingly light, with a red ribbon tied around it for some festive flair. Azriel looked down at it, mildly afraid of whatever it contained.
“Open it,” Rhys urged, leaning in the doorframe, everyone in the room watching expectantly.
Azriel finally pried his eyes away from his brother, going to untie the ribbon. He took it off gently, and opened the lid of the box to find…
“Gloves?” Mor asked, no doubt surprised that it was - frankly, a quite nice - pair of gloves inside the box. Azriel’s name was stitched into the material, but it was nowhere near the calibre of gift that everyone had begun expecting.
Azriel furrowed his eyebrows together, thinking about how they’d all be seeing Rhys in a tutu very soon. He lifted his gaze to Rhys and started to make the retort when the words died on his tongue.
While everyone had been focused on Azriel unboxing his new gloves, Rhys had moved out of the doorframe. The space where he had stood moments before was occupied by a new figure - one that had Azriel forgetting how to speak. You stood in the doorway, a big smile on your face. Your cheeks were flushed from the cold, and there was a long red ribbon tying your hair back, identical to the one that had been wrapped around his gloves. Rhys had gifted Azriel you, served to him with a bow on top.
It was as if the world outside of the two of you faded away. Azriel’s heart began racing in his chest as the two of you locked eyes and if possible, your smile grew even further.
The Illyrian barely heard his brother say “Happy Solstice”, before he had shot out of his seat and crossed the room so quickly that the others might have thought he winnowed. Within a matter of seconds, he had picked you up in a hug, his face lit up in pure joy. His shadows, which had been moving restlessly around all night finally focused, rushing towards you as quickly as their master had.
“Happy Solstice my love,” you whispered into his ear as he spun you around, and you could feel both of your hearts beating wildly in your chests as your bodies pressed against each other. Your mate finally set you down, and took your head in his hands as he examined your face. He was beaming, and took in every one of your features as if he wanted to never forget any detail about you.
“I’ve missed you more than you can even imagine,” he muttered, finally moving to place his lips on yours. The two of you kissed like two people starved, desperate to make up for time lost in the last six weeks. You had gotten so lost in your reunion that you had forgotten you were in a room filled with family until Amren cleared her throat from across the room.
“So, the brooding’s finally over.”
You peeled yourself away from Azriel, slightly embarrassed, though happier than ever to finally be with your mate once again. Surely enough, the male who usually wore a stoic face like a uniform couldn’t stop looking as if his whole world revolved around you.
“I wasn’t brooding,” he tried to defend himself, though his words contradicted his actions, given that he couldn’t peel his gaze from your face.
Nesta scoffed, “You definitely were.”
Rhys laughed. “Cut them some slack, we’d all be the same if separated from our mates.”
You and Azriel couldn’t even be bothered to nod your agreement as he took your hand and guided you back to where he had been seated. You pressed up against his side, looking at the box of gloves that were now on the floor.
“Nice gloves,” you commented, your head going to rest on Azriel’s shoulder as you took everyone in.
“I can’t tell if this means we’ll still be seeing Rhys in a tutu,” Cassian commented, eyes drifting down to the gloves again.
Your face scrunched up in confusion, having missed that earlier part of the conversation. “A tutu?”
“The gift Rhys was talking about was his wife, not the gloves, idiot,” Mor quipped, “Unless Az really can think of anything he would have wanted more.”
Azriel couldn’t deny it - Rhys was spot on. He had gotten him the one thing he wanted and nothing would beat having the one he loved in his arms after being away for so long. Although… “I can think of one thing.”
Rhys’ eyebrows shot up, and you looked towards your husband, mildly offended that he would suggest that there was something he wanted more than you. “You can?”
“Well, for her to have not left in the first place.”
You rolled your eyes, and Rhys scoffed, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s a technicality and you know it. Given the situation you were in, I got you the best possible gift.” Rhys disputed, crossing his arms with an eye roll.
Azriel smirked at his brother before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Unfortunately we’re getting no ballerina Rhys this year.”
For the rest of the evening, you and Azriel were in pure bliss. As your family opened gifts, you and Azriel shared stolen kisses, your hearts alight with joy. Laughter rang out all night, as you indulged in the wine and cracked jokes with your loved ones.
During dinner you stuffed yourself with delicacies, reveling in the family mealtime that you had yearned for every night. You shared stories of what your life had been like on the Continent for the last month, and your family caught you up on all that you had missed.
You and Azriel couldn’t keep your hands off of each other; the spymaster kept one hand on your thigh at all times, and your hand constantly rested on top of his. When either of you needed the spare hand to eat, Azriel’s shadows slithered around your ankles, unwilling to let you go. The others poked fun at it, but they saw how happy the both of you were, and were finally happy to see you back at home.
“We finally conquered Az’s winning streak at the snowball fight this year,” Cassian announced to you as he took a bite of a Feyre's birthday cake, “I took home the victory at last.”
Azriel shook his head as he took a sip of his wine. “I demand a rematch. You only won because I wasn’t in the right state of mind. Now I could kick your ass.”
“So you admit, you were brooding?” Rhys piped up, a taunting gaze shot towards Azriel, which caused you to laugh. “I will admit, it didn’t feel like a fair competition. I’m up for a rematch tomorrow morning.”
“And we’re just nullifying my win? How is that fair?” Cassian complained.
“If you really thought you could win, you should be able to do it even when Azriel isn’t at a disadvantage,” you teased, to which Azriel smiled proudly, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss atop your knuckles.
“Fine, I’ll show you that I can win tomorrow as well,” the general complied, turning his gaze to you, “But Azriel will be at a disadvantage tomorrow as well with how much you’ll wear him out tonight- ow!”
Before Cassian could finish his sentence, Azriel had dealt a swift kick to his brother’s shins under the table, earning small chuckles around the table.
“There’s no chance anyone’s beating me tomorrow. None.” Azriel stated, eyes staring into your own, blazing with a confidence you very rarely saw from the male.
Surely enough, as the snowball fight ended the next morning, the three brothers entered the cabin to greet the girls, who had opted to lounge there for the day. Rhys couldn’t hide the laughter on his face, while Cassian dragged his feet as he walked towards the birchin, pout clear for all to see. Azriel walked in last, a smug smile on his face.
The spymaster reclaimed his winning streak, because when he looked at the cabin and saw you peering out, eyes hopeful and encouraging as you sipped your mug of hot chocolate, there was nothing that could stand in his way. After six long weeks he had you home, and with you by his side, he finally felt the solstice spirit. He was complete at last.
─────── · · STATUS: ON-GOING. VARIOUS ONE SHOTS! ♡
Pairing: Baby Daddy!Azriel x Fem! Illyrian! Reader
Summary: Watching your best friend mate with someone else was devastating enough. But when a night of seeking solace with an-equally bitter Azriel results in an unplanned pregnancy, you're forced to figure out how to co-parent with a male you barely know. Yet as your unlikely partnership unfolds, you begin to discover that sometimes the most beautiful things grow from the most unexpected circumstances.
Overview: SMUT/ EXPLICIT CONTENT, one night stand to co-parents to friends to lovers, pregnancy, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining/unrequited love, slow burn, found family, healing trauma together, illyrian generational trauma, soft!Azriel, soft!Reader, bestie elain archeron, HEA! please check specific part warnings for more!
୨ৎ An Honest Mistake┃4.4k 18+
Lonely and bitter following Gwyn and Balthazar's mating ceremony, you and Azriel sleep together. As it turns out, one night is all it takes to change everything.
୨ৎ Sweet and Strange┃4.5k
Weeks after a one-night stand with Azriel left you pregnant, Elain Archeron becomes an unlikely friend. When Azriel discovers your secret, you both must confront an uncertain future.
୨ৎ Topics of Conversation┃6.6k
A dinner with the Inner Circle triggers unexpected resentment. Back at your apartment, you and Azriel have a heartfelt talk.
୨ৎ Something to Lose┃2.6k
Azriel struggles with the weight of impending fatherhood after a political meeting turns personal.
୨ৎ Brave New Beginnings┃8k
Azriel's reluctance to be honest about his protective surveillance clashes with your confusion over his mixed messages, finally forcing both of you toward genuine communication.
୨ৎ Out in the Open ┃4.6k
During a quiet morning with Azriel, the reality of your pregnancy meets the one person you've been avoiding.
୨ৎ Partners in Crime┃2.5k
Pregnancy hormones, unrequited feelings, and family dinners don't mix well. Luckily, Azriel understands the art of a strategic exit.
୨ৎ A Mother's Home┃4.1k FAV!
You take a trip to Rosehall to meet Azriel's mother. The visit unearths more than you expected.
୨ৎ Learning Curve┃3.8k
On his mother's porch, you and Azriel find yourselves talking about forgiveness
୨ৎ Soft Spots┃2.3k
Ice cream nights and sweet confessions.
୨ৎ Growing Pains┃7.9k
Azriel grapples with his possessive instincts when you find comfort with a new healer, forcing him to confront what friendship actually requires.
୨ৎ Measurements of Progress┃3.9k
A bad day prompts you to call Azriel over. The afternoon leads to conversations about your romantic histories.
Current Word Count: 55.2k
BONUS CONTENT
ONE SHOTS:
୨ৎ Sweet Treats┃1.7k HALLOWEEN AU
Six months pregnant, you and Azriel celebrate your first Halloween together.
CHAPTER MEMES:
The Plot of 'Growing Pains' Summarized Through Memes
Moments from 'Measurements of Progress' in Meme Format
ASKS, DISCUSSIONS, AND THOUGHTS:
#Honestverse tag or #baby daddy!az
RE: TAGLISTS: i no longer do taglists! please follow me on my library blog and turn on notifs to be alerted when a new fic is posted! ♡
