#StBT series

[angelshadowsinger]

Supposed to Be Together {part 3 - finale}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.8k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst, fluff, SMUT SMUT SMUT 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: long-winded confessionals, many a love-bomb, and many a spice ;) 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 . 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴!! 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨-𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪-𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘚𝘵𝘉𝘛! 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺. 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘩, 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘵-𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥! 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵-𝘵𝘰-𝘵𝘩𝘦-𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵 (𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘈𝘻 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘦). 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺~

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

Azriel all but fell into the room. The large male caught his footing at the last second, having been flush against the door just seconds before. He seemed shocked that you had really granted him entry, prepared to grovel and linger pitifully on your doorstep all night– all week– however long it took. 

You bit down the noise of pleasure that attempted escape when you grabbed his wrist and your skin sang, yanking him inside and shutting the door behind him. Now it was just the two of you in your bedchambers, and if the rest of the Inner Circle had their wits about them, you would remain undisturbed for quite some time.

Glassy hazel eyes widened at the sight of you– your chest heaving slightly, your starry, doubtful gaze shooting arrows into his limbs and pinning him to the door that he had just so desperately clawed at the other side of. He tried to put on some kind of guise– as he did any time emotion bloomed– but he could only stare at you. No words filled the void between you, which only seemed to grow vaster as each moment passed. 

You watched as his mouth parted, but nothing came out, his eyes flicking around every inch of you– frantic, nervous– anxious. Anxiety cascaded from the other end of the bond, and you wondered if he could spot the surprise on your features. You had thought all the anxiety you felt this eve was only yours, but it was also nagging him– crushing him, drowning him. 

He was still fumbling, breath turning erratic as he tried to say something– anything– but he didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to approach you when he had left you so shamefully the other morning. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to tell you. But you were looking at him expectantly, and his body was absolutely roaring at him to engulf your smaller figure, to hold you in his embrace and never stray from you again. All while his mind scrambled to select a route forward, weighing between dousing the fire inside that demanded to feel your skin on his, launching into some magical explanation that would justify his horrid actions, and just plainly falling to his knees in repetent woe before you. 

His body decided for him. He took one step toward you– expression unchanged, unaware he was even moving– and his knees slammed onto the floor. 

The sound of his descent was deafening, and you flinched at the pain that twisted his chiseled face. Somehow you had a feeling it was not from the physical action, rather, the emotional distress he was currently battling. He appeared almost ghostly in the dimly-lit room, skin drained of the usual caramel color that you’d imagined the taste of on many a night. 

“I am sorry,” the shadowsinger finally choked out, his voice gravelly and low. He closed his eyes, lips pursed and wavering, then gaze snapping open and fixing you with such intensity you stopped breathing. “I was weak. I never should have run from you. The thought of your suffering– the cause only mine, my cowardice alone…” he couldn’t look at you anymore, and his visage darkened, shadows coming to swirl around his knees as utter shame enveloped him. “I shall regret it every moment, until I draw my last breath. I am sorry… I’m sorry…” he kept repeating it, quieter each time, fists balled on the tile just inches from your feet.

Tears dribbled down your cheeks and gathered at the point of your chin, lips wobbling as you tried to clutch onto the sheer disappointment, the anger that had governed your emotions for the past few days. But the sight of this male– your male– so laden with contrite, his self-hatred overt in the way he was slumped, eyes downcast, wings drooped behind him on the cold tile before you… 

It was his sob that finally broke your trance. 

The spymaster of the most feared Court in Prythian, perhaps the most feared Illyrian there ever was… he was crying. Fat, salty droplets splashed onto the ground below him, the evidence irrefutable. He was on his knees for you, remorse billowing from his silhouette just as the dark shadows that obeyed him did. You could smell his sorrow, the stench of undiluted regret oozing out of him. 

And you could tell, now, what he was thinking, what he was coming to accept as truth as every second passed and he lay before you, vulnerable and guilt-ridden, and you remained in silence, watching him, unmoving; that he had had his chance– the chance he had written off after so many centuries of solitude, and he had been stupid enough to let it– let you– slip right through his fingers. That you would never accept this, and that you would not want him, not give him another chance. That as you stood and took in his pathetic excuse of an apology, his teary groveling, you would decide to reject him. Forsake him to the true fear that chilled his mind as he fell asleep each night, the solitude that he had become far too familiar with, the loneliness he believed he deserved.

You did not speak. 

You did not breathe as you sank to your knees, joining his deflated form on the ground. 

You did not hesitate as you took his wet jaw in both your hands, closed your eyes, and kissed him. 

Azriel stiffened. Long, tear-clumped lashes fluttered as he realized your lips were on his, not really believing you were actually kissing him, after his disgraceful, meager excuse of an apology. But only a small moment passed before he released a soft moan, scarred hands coming to grip your chin and lean into your caress, eyes closing and broad, dark wings fluttering. Breathing life itself back into him. He did not dare to break your kiss, would rather suffocate than part with your delectable mouth, those soft lips he had dreamed of, yearned for.

As he savored your kiss, it felt like he was drugging you, like ecstasy itself was seeping into your body from where he touched you, where his mouth connected with yours. You shivered, legs clamping together. Your body wanted him, wanted its mate, wanted the sweet and addictive feeling that he was providing you with to never end. 

But you could not forget the manner he had treated you just days ago. You could not move forth without a clean slate, and you intended to get just that. 

He had some explaining to do. 

Azriel gasped as you pulled away from him, leaning far forward enough as he trailed your departure that he nearly fell into your lap. Honeyed eyes fluttered open and he blinked away the moisture remaining there, trying to clear the lustful fog that had begun to infiltrate his skull with just a simple kiss from his mate. He whispered your name, a breathless prayer, perhaps not even realizing it had slid from his parted mouth. 

His gaze followed you like a magnet as you stood, still not uttering a word, and offered him a hand. You helped him up, though he did not use the appendage you offered as physical support… Which was the sole reason you allowed his hand to remain touching yours as you settled facing each other on the velveteen couch, even if the contact made your thoughts considerably harder to direct toward maintaining conversation. 

“So…” you cleared your throat, eyes wandering to the beams of moonlight cast upon the marble floor of the balcony. “You know…”

The shadowsinger sat up, schooling his expression and finding his composure. It would have been perfect, could have fooled even you had you not been able to see how his wings still sagged, feel how his fingers gripped onto yours just a pinch tighter. 

“I know,” he replied evenly. “I can feel the bond now. I can feel your pull… feel you on the other side… my mate.” 

You couldn’t stifle the shudder that went through you when he nearly growled.

Azriel scrutinized you, surely noting how your crossed legs squeezed together underneath the casual linen dress you’d thrown on for dinner. You didn’t trust either of you enough to stay on course when his gaze sizzled into the soft skin of your exposed thighs, so you forced yourself to speak.

“Why did it take you so long?”

You hadn’t meant to say it, at least, not that bluntly. But you’d spoken without thinking, and the first thing off the top of your head had flown out. 

Azriel gave you a pained look, like you’d kicked him square in the chest. “I’m sorry to make you wait,” he murmured, his rough thumb sweeping over your knuckles. “I would never intend to make you wait, I know that waiting can be… arduous. Can feel… eternal.”

It was your turn to squeeze his hand. You’d never know how it felt to be alone, not for as long as he had been at least. He had centuries of seclusion on you— waiting for someone whose existence he had eventually written off. Just two measly weeks had you strung out, you couldn’t imagine how he coped through the years. Not that it was exactly the same, but still, it was worth considering.

“I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” you assured, scooting closer to the male. His shoulder almost brushed yours now, and if he sighed, his exhale would move your hair to tickle your collar bone. “I only wish you would tell me what you were thinking. The morning after, you barely said anything. Just that it was a mistake.”

He bristled. “I never said that.” Every word spoken that dreadful morning had been seared into his brain, looping a thousand times over since the moment he had slipped out your door.

“That’s how I heard it, though.”

Azriel looked at you like you had just stabbed yourself, his handsome face aghast. “Y/N–”

“Do you…” you almost whimpered at the fear that pulsed through your heart at your own question, “Do you think this is a mistake?” 

It took all but one second for Azriel to scoop you in his arms and press every inch of your torsos together, large hands coming to grip the base of your head at the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“Never,” he hissed, the mere premise making his gaze darken, his shadows lashing out and crackling through your room, swallowing nearly all light. His expression was downright icy, and had he given you such a look for any other reason, you’d be running, tail between your legs. “Though I found the bond just hours ago,” he continued, “not for one second have I thought that. Nor will I ever.” 

Sweet validation trickled into your veins. Coupled with his firm, passionate touch, you were melting in his arms. In his big, strong, tattooed arms. 

He must have scented your interest, because his pupils floated back behind his eyelids and he groaned, gripping you harder. He ducked into your throat and traced your jaw with the tip of his nose. Your delicate skin was calling to him to be nipped, sucked, claimed. He could even see the ghost of his claim from the last time, barely purple at the base of your neck. It made him rock-hard beneath his leathers. 

But he needed to focus, he would not fail you again. His embrace loosened so that you could easily slip back, but you made no move to withdraw from him. 

“You said you wished to know what I was thinking,” he said, finding comfort in the way your soft skin felt against his scarred fingertips. It felt right, even if the sight of his unworthy flesh touching yours nearly made him cringe. “If you’d indulge me… I’d like to give you the full story. My story.”

You nodded, giving him your sweetest, most understanding look. It was a look he had received many times before, a look that had made him spill his guts much more than he was comfortable spilling. But somehow, words would continue to tumble out of him, even when he thought he had nothing left to say. When you would give him your undivided attention, and he felt like you really saw him, through his masks, his hard facade, the enigma behind the shadows… You were the only one to make him feel that way in all his centuries, and it was partly because of that recognition just hours ago that he had realized how precious you were to him. When the bond had snapped into place in the center of his chest, he had hurtled from Windhaven swifter than ever, as fast as he could to get back to you. 

Sweet herbs tickled the male’s nose as he took a deep breath in attempt to regain his bearings, the medicinal plants that flourished from various pots and flower boxes at your balcony and windows lacing the heavy air. But even that, coupled with the smell of pungent salves and dusty encyclopedias could not hold a flame to the lingering allure of your fresh, dulcet scent. How he found the strength to speak, he did not know.

“For a long time–” Azriel’s voice shook and he swallowed, rattled by such strong emotion, fighting his instincts to push it down, fighting to tell you his truth. His chin dropped to face your lap. His wide torso was rigid with each forced breath, wings tucked tight along the ridge of his shoulder blades. You could sense his growing impatience– how he despised the silence that prolonged as he continued to fail with words, loathed how they did not come to him as naturally as they did his brothers.

“It’s alright, take your time,” you soothed, fingers gently trailing up and down his ink-bound bicep– trying to calm his body, even if his head was still playing catch-up. “We’re in no rush… I’m yours.”

The admission was an immediate reprieve. You could feel the tension dissipate, his shoulders sagging and breaths becoming deeper, filling his lungs once again. His stubbled cheek came to rest upon your shoulder, and you could see how exhausted this poor male was. It reminded you of how a small child would slump after a crying fit, tuckered from their own distress. Your heart nearly broke as you considered that this could quite possibly be the first time anyone had ever held your mate like that at all. You squeezed him just a little tighter, your lip quivering as you attempted to send a wave of love down the bond, unsure if you were doing it right. 

Azriel’s body trembled, a shiver going through him as he received your unbridled affection. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he wanted to feel it again. And again, and again. He squeezed you tightly, refusing to look you in the eye, hoping it would make it just a little easier for him to find the courage to say everything he needed to. 

“For a long time now…” he began again, taking another breath before continuing, the words barely audible as he whispered them into your hair. “I’ve been… alone.”

His fingers picked at his nails behind your back, never before saying aloud the words that so often floated through his mind. 

“I started life alone. I won’t get into the details of my childhood, if you could call it that… but, eventually I found my brothers. And for a time, I was happy. It was just the three of us, and we were only committed to each other– we kept each other occupied, content, fulfilled. Then, there were bigger things at hand– Amarantha’s rein, the war on Hybern...” 

You nodded, your arm snaking up along his front so your fingers could wind into his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp. He preened at that, welcoming your touch, wings stretching and fluttering before draping down once again, relaxed. His shadows curled at your lap, beckoning you further into his embrace. The sensation was like no other– a cool caress that somehow elicited warmth.

“Even before that was over, my brothers, they– They found their mates.” Azriel paused, wondering how this was going to come across. “And I was happy for them– truly. I was happy they had found a higher purpose, a new priority. I was happy for our family to expand, content to be on the sidelines. But… naturally… I started to feel… alone again. It wasn’t as bad as before, not nearly, and yet– even though I was happy for them– I was jealous, too. Jealous, and— at the end of each day— alone. And every time I attempted to find someone to kill that loneliness… it never worked.”

You tried not to scowl at the mention of his previous lovers. You hadn’t known him then, and yet, the mere thought of your mate lying with another made something malicious stir in your bones, a bitter tang invading your mouth.

Azriel knew, of course, nuzzling your throat, and effectively extinguishing any ill feelings that had attempted to surface. 

“So I thought that I was destined to be alone. Forever. It made sense, I knew that continuing to hold out hope that I’d find my mate, that I even had one— after everything I’ve done, and… Really, I had just come to accept my sentence of solitude as fact when out of nowhere you walked into our court and everything I had known– everything I had thought I’d known– changed.” 

Your heart throbbed. The memory of your eyes raking over his lean, dark physique for the very first time made your body purr, recalling your immediate approval, cheeks tinged with flush.

“Undoubtedly, I was in denial. At first, I tried to act like there was nothing different about you, tried to treat you as I would any other addition to our little… family. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to act normal around you– and yet– every time you gave me that sweet, pretty smile and your eyes crinkled and you looked at me– really looked at me, looked at me like I was whole, like I was worthy– and there was no fear there, just… unspoken, unearned trust— I… I was falling. I was falling so fast and so hard and I knew it and refused to acknowledge it. Then that night, you walked in looking like a— a goddess— just as you do every time when we go out, but this time… I needed to hide my desire more than ever, so I drank. I had far too many drinks, and then you came to me, you pulled me onto the dance floor. I never– never do that, but with you it didn't feel so wrong, I didn’t feel like I needed to put on that front, that mask, and… and then we were in your room and you were kissing me, I was drunk— drunk on you, and touching you felt like touching pure starlight. I was so desperate to just take it all, take everything you would give me that I–” 

Azriel shifted slightly, trousers becoming tighter with the recollection. Your eyes were suddenly glued to the ceiling, inspecting the crown-molding there, a mirage of modesty. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn’t what I wanted our first time together to be like, the first time I told you I loved you to be like.”

You flushed–  he remembered. And he’d meant it?

“I had this plan, this… fantasy, I suppose, where I would take you to this meadow by the Sidra and confess, and I would lay you down and worship you, and kiss you ‘til we couldn’t breathe, make love to you ‘til we didn’t know where one started and the other began…”

You crossed your legs again, hoping you were sly. You were making such great progress with the shadowsinger, it would be a shame if your blatant arousal were to distract him from his explanation. You weren’t sure if you would ever hear the rest of it if he stopped now, and you didn’t want to take that risk. Pressing your cheek against his in silent affirmation, your fingertips lightly traced the strong sinews of his back. 

“But the morning came and I was terrified. I didn’t expect for that to happen, and when you asked if I meant it, if I meant what I said then, if I regretted what we did… I was a coward. I let fear take over and I ran from you, ran from the truth with such disgrace.” 

His voice shook with self-loathing, his arms becoming snug around your waist, as if his body wanted to right the wrong he had committed when he ran, when he should’ve held you close to him and told you, showed you, his true feelings. 

It was then that he pulled back, those beautiful hazel eyes peering deep into your gaze. There was so much emotion there, so much pain, and regret, and– and love swimming there. There was so much love in the look he was giving you it took your breath away. 

“I am so sorry, Y/N. So, so sorry for doing that to you, for being so stupid. I am sorry for hurting you when I swear all I wanted to do was love you, all I should have done was love you. I am sorry… sorry that you have such a spineless mate. I… don’t deserve you… I don’t think I ever will.” Azriel’s gaze dropped from yours, shame overtaking his face as his morose gaze found the floor. His whole body deflated, arms falling from you as he seemed to find truth in his words. 

For the first time in your life, Azriel looked small. The 6’5 spymaster, the shadowsinger, perhaps the most powerful Illyrian male there ever was, looked like he had reverted back into the little boy who was left to rot in his cell. Curled into himself and unacquainted with the touch of a gentle hand, his shadows ebbing into the perimeter of his silhouette, his shame and despair near swallowing him. 

You lunged for him, throwing yourself into his lap, legs around his waist, arms around his neck. He let out a low huff at the action, hands stuck in midair as he tried to process what you were doing. 

“Don’t you ever say that,” you said, voice hard as steel. 

Azriel stiffened at your tone, not daring to say another word.

You couldn’t contain the telltale shake of your lungs as you tried to squash your sob, arms wringing tighter around him. “Don’t ever think that,” you cried, wetness hitting the tops of his broad shoulders as tears escaped you. It was impossible to hold it in, the thought of your mate thinking so little of himself upsetting you to the very core. “Please, Az.”

His body finally allowed him to squeeze you back, his embrace anchoring onto you as he realized you wholeheartedly disagreed with his doubts. 

“You deserve so much baby,” you said, and sweet pleasure shot through him at the debut of your first pet name for him. “You deserve so much love and I can’t wait to be the one to give it to you.” 

You kissed him then and tears gathered along the long, dark lashes that fluttered shut on the sharp plain of his cheeks. Your lips felt so right on his, the kiss desperate and rough but it was everything, conveying just how much you wanted to wash away his pain. You were kissing him, you were kissing him after all he had put you through and you were wrapped around him, in his arms, flush against him. His heart was pounding against his ribs, ready to explode. If he died at this moment it wouldn’t be all that bad. 

It was over much too quickly, his mouth trailing after yours when you retreated, your hands coming up to press on the wide, firm pectorals that lay just a layer of leather away. You mirrored each other– panting, tears dripping down both your faces– and he was looking at you like you were the sun, and the moon, and all the stars that glittered in the Night Court sky. 

“Don’t ever apologize for how you feel,” you said quietly, looking into his gaze to make sure your words hit home. He nodded barely, eyes still wide and starry. His thumbs came to brush away the wetness littering your cheeks. “Especially not for being scared. Az, fear is part of being alive. I… I was scared too.” 

Azriel rushed out another meek apology then, realizing that when you had confronted him that morning, you were probably just as terrified as him. And he had confirmed your fears, he had left you there, breaking and alone. He vowed to himself never to do that to you again. 

You hushed him, drying his tears then, “I know. I know, Az. I forgive you, it’s okay.” You took his chiseled jaw in your hand and he leaned into your caress, eyes full of remorse. “The next time you get scared, though, I want you to tell me. I want you to come to me and tell me because if we are going to be together, we face everything together. I know that might be scary, because you’re used to handling things by yourself, but… I’m your mate, Azriel. We are meant to be together and that means we have to communicate and work together, find resolutions together.”

The inky-haired male nodded, eyes sincere and hands firm on your hips. “I can do that,” he confirmed, thinking of how you held him just moments earlier, allowed him to settle down and find his words, how they just started flowing when he had you in front of him, your comforting touch goading them out. He could talk about his feelings if you were the one listening, if you gave him time and support like you had today. “Does that mean… you’ll give me a chance?” 

You fell quiet, taking in the man bearing himself before you. In all your time of knowing the Illyrian, you had never seen this side of him so clearly. Here he was; beating heart out in the open, gaze full of pure, untainted love and hope, and promise– promise to love you, and cherish you, kneel to you, give you anything, everything, all of him. 

“Of course, Azriel… I love you,” you admitted, watching as a gleaming smile split his lips. He’d never shown you such unbridled joy before— it shook you to your core and you suddenly had the urge to elicit such mirth from the male every chance you could get. “We’re supposed to be together, after all.”

The bond glowed and your chest felt hot at the admission, warmth seeping into your cheeks as scarred hands slid up your sides. His grin faded as his gaze fell to your lips, hunger swirling in those beautiful hazel orbs. “I love you,” he said, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I have loved you for so long, now… This is…,” he kissed the other corner, taking a deep breath and admiring the smell of your skin, “You are unreal.”

Your lips silently parted as he dipped lower, warm mouth skimming down the column of your throat. He traced the mark that still lingered from his efforts the other night, inspecting how the purple melted away into your beautiful skin.

You nearly screamed at him when he pulled back, body desperate for his embrace.

He smirked slightly, seemingly back to the quick-witted spymaster you’d fallen for. Perhaps he could tell just how much you wanted him through the bond— even if technically you had not mated yet. He seemed to share your pain, though— you shifted in his lap and felt the thick length of him beneath you, blood rushing to your cheeks.

“As much as I would enjoy ravishing you immediately,” Azriel said with a twinkle in his eye, “I would request your approval for a short intermission… I would like to… prepare a few things for us.”

Your heart swelled at the thought. Your male wanted to make things perfect— to right the wrongs that had been made before. Besides, you had to find something to feed him so you could play your role, anyway. The thought of completely mating with him made you salivate, gaze flickering over his tanned physique. 

“Okay,” you agreed, “just— don’t be long.”

Azriel chuckled and nodded. “Give me twenty minutes, my love.”

He slid you from his lap, your bottom hitting the plush velvet of the sofa once again. The pet name made butterflies unleash in your stomach, and something dark and lustful swirl in your core. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, shadowsinger,” you teased, finger trailing down his jaw. 

“I’ll make it ten,” he growled, nipping at the digit before his shadows gathered around him and he vanished from your room.

–

True to his word, your mate appeared on your balcony ten minutes later. 

Azriel was not at all out of breath, an even calm precisely conjured on his handsome face. His gaze devoured you as you walked over to him, eyeing the small pouch you had slung over your shoulder with intrigue. Little did he know that he would find things much more interesting beneath your linen dress… a disguise of your own. 

Large, warm hands found your hips as you seamlessly slid into his open arms. It felt so cozy being flush against your male’s firm chest, his capable arms fastening you into him as his shadows wrapped around the both of you. You laughed as they stroked your cheeks, playing with the ends of your hair and distracting you as they carried the two of you to wherever your destination may be. 

The shadowsinger smiled fondly at the sight– you, his beautiful, ethereal mate giggling happily, and his shadows, absolutely as infatuated with you as he was himself. 

Just like that, you had arrived. 

The shadows snuck away into the whispering blades of grass that washed your calves, moonlight pouring out into the open field without restraint. Tall, spindly trees dotted the far corners of the meadow, and milky wildflowers dotted every inch of the grass around you, mixing a sweet tinge into the otherwise pleasant summer breeze. The spot you were standing in was on a small summit overlooking the mouth of the Sidra, emptying into the star-sparkled sea. The sight of such gorgeous, natural scenery took your breath away. 

“Gods,” you breathed, attempting to let the glory of it soak in. “This view… it’s… beautiful.”

Azriel stood quietly behind you, observing your wonder as a shadow climbed up his leg and deposited a particularly perfect wildflower into his hand. “Exquisite,” he concurred, admiring the way the moonlight lit your pretty face. 

You turned to him and he smiled, tucking the blossom behind your ear, caressing the corner of your face. You were almost lost in the warm emotion that glowed in his eyes, but flickering lights behind him captured your attention. 

A picnic of sorts laid ready on the grass there, a large, thick duvet covering ample room beneath the sole tree that dared to break the sanctity of the meadow, right at the highest point of the cliff. An array of fluffy throws and plush pillows sat in a pile on one side, candles winking with charmed flame. 

“Oh, Azriel…” you murmured, taking a step around his tall figure and studying what would surely be your mating bed. It was just as you had pictured it, even as brief as his mention of his fantasy had been. “This is…” you glanced back at him, noting the way the male almost appeared bashful at your awe, “... perfect.”

He smiled at your approval, meeting you at the edge of the blanket. “You are perfect,” he said, honesty swimming in his gaze. Warmth crawled through your veins as his hands circled your waist, pulling you against him. You went without a fight, allowing him to hold you up when your legs nearly gave out at his proximity. “You are…” a kiss to your jaw, greedily inhaling your scent, “... pure…” a kiss to your neck, a taste of your skin, “... perfection.”

You fell backwards then, prepared to hit the ground, but your mate would never allow it. With a strong flap of his wings, Azriel cushioned the fall, and you gently met the plushness beneath you, with him braced on top of you, lips nibbling your clavicle. 

His name floated from your mouth, heat once again gathering between your legs. It was unfair how visibly hot he was– ruffled, onyx hair falling into his scorching golden eyes, plush, pouty lip bitten as he examined you beneath him, his hard, wide body so strong, unwavering, as if he could maintain this push-up position without tire, effortlessly. You wondered just what his body was capable of, exactly…

The scent of your curiosity wafted onto him and he smirked, taking a long whiff of it. He looked at you, sin dancing in that amused gaze. “Please tell me you brought something for me to eat,” he said, voice gruff. It seemed he was wearing thin on patience, too. His eyes darted down to the spot between your legs, then back to you with a wicked glint. “Besides that delectable little cunt of yours, I mean.” Yep– definitely low on patience.

Flames nearly danced across your cheeks, shocked at the foul mouth that had suddenly appeared on him. You let your jaw drop for a few seconds, watching the clear amusement in his features before you fumbled for the small bag you had brought with you. 

Honey irises analyzed your hand as it disappeared inside, then locking onto the small confection that your resurfaced palm offered. It was then that his form trembled above you, as if the reality of the situation was just now hitting him. He swallowed, breathing hard. The two of you moved upright in unison, sitting facing each other with your thighs barely touching. His gaze was fire on the tiny treat in your hand, so intense you half expected it to ignite and disintegrate, float away into the wind. 

Stretching your arms out now, you cupped the piece of cake with both palms, pushing it toward your male. Emotion flooded his face then, as he looked between you and your offering, scarred fingers clenched into the leathers covering his strapping thighs. “For you, Azriel,” you whispered, heart beating loudly, battering your ribs. “My body, my heart… They are yours. I give myself to you… my mate.” 

You looked at him and truly felt weightless as he grinned at you, bright teeth showing and syrupy gaze regarding you. Weathered hands enveloped yours, dwarfing them, bringing the comically small cake to his lips. His eyes did not leave yours as he made quick work of the sweet– one, two bites and he swallowed. You watched, entranced as his tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, gathering up the bit of frosting that had escaped there. 

When your gaze finally met his again, you nearly moaned. 

Something savage lurked in his eye now, a hunger that he had not known he could possess overtaking every instinct of his. Gone was the charade of indifference, gone were the measured looks and the disguised longing. Everything was outright now, everything was written right there on his face. He couldn’t pretend any longer, not when you had just professed yourself as his, his mate. Not when you had proclaimed yourself as his, not when you had just accepted your bond. He pounced. 

Within sheer seconds, you were on your back, Azriel’s mouth claiming yours. His lips dominated yours, hands scouring the contours of your curves. The sugary taste of the cake invaded your mouth as his tongue took command of yours, swirling together in a rugged dance, slick with spit and lust. The feeling of his body brushing against yours sent your eyes rolling back, the hardness of his body paired with the hardness along his thigh overwhelming you. 

You wanted him so bad– and knowing the desire was mutual made your insides twist, your heart thrumming. As if he could read your exact thoughts, your mate pushed his erection against the soft spot between your legs, your flimsy dress pushing up to gather around your hips. 

Azriel snarled, lips finally breaking from yours as he caught sight of the navy bit of lace covering your most intimate parts. You gasped, hips bucking up to catch against his clothed cock again, displaying more of the scandalous lingerie to your male. He groaned, throwing his head back, unbelieving you were really his, that you would allow him to do as he pleased to your dreamy body.

You moaned into each other’s mouths as he leaned down to kiss you again, scarred hands coming to sink into both your ass cheeks, pulling them apart to swallow more sparkling lace. The cloth felt tight against your slickening pussy, his movement making you clench with trepidation. The aroma of your arousal mixed with his and weighed heavy in the air, intoxicating you with every breath. He smelled musky, woodsy cedar and night-chilled mist turned darker, more potent and alluring– easily your new favorite scent.

The shadowsinger pulled back to catch his breath, gaze raking over your body. Deft fingers moved to undo the buckles and straps across his chest, the leathers falling off to gather on the ground behind him. Your mouth watered as you took in the tanned skin of his broad chest. Tattoos flourished all along his sides, bleeding into the broad planes of muscle on his pecs and shackling his toned biceps and forearms. You reached up and traced a ghostly white scar trailing down his abdomen, following it down to the thin trail that disappeared beneath the waist of his pants. Your male flexed for you, savoring the blatant approval in your gaze, the tease of your fingernails on his caramel complexion. 

A yelp of surprise sounded from you when he summoned his shadows, a smirk on those pink, full lips that were slightly bruised from your kiss. You could only watch as the murky shadows washed over your dress then, and in their wake, your naked skin was revealed to your mate’s frenzied gaze, his blue siphons glowing with the subtle use of his magic. Your strappy, lacy lingerie set was exposed entirely now, and heat rose to your cheeks as you watched him take in your body, searing the image into his brain. 

Thick fingers landed on your ribs and you flinched as they trailed upwards, his hand cupping one of your breasts through the thin mesh and thumbing over the intricate embroidery there. Mere seconds passed before both your nipples were stiff and aching for his attention. 

“Az,” you cried as he pulled the lace down and your breast spilled out, his tongue immediately greeting the hard bud and sucking it into his mouth. His other hand came to massage the other side of your chest, pinching the nipple between two fingers through the mesh. Small noises of pleasure slithered out of you naturally, broken gasps and whines spilling from your lips without thought. 

Azriel swore, gently biting at you and marveling at how your spine bowed for him. He flattened his tongue against you and kissed your soft skin, tugging the lingerie down to lay across your ribs, exposing your chest to him. He sucked marks into the heavy underside of both your tits, taking his time. One hand came to hold your thighs open and squeeze the plush flesh there, trimmed fingernails digging into you in a delightful ghost of pain. 

Your hand flew out on its own accord, knowing exactly where to go and gripping onto the base of his thick, hard cock. The Illyrian gasped, the sound eliciting a criminal thrill from deep within you. You squeezed him through his leathers, and he bared his teeth at you, scraping them over your chest. 

Even though you had technically already been acquainted with each other’s body, this felt different– new. It was as if… every touch, you could feel the pleasure from both ends of the bond; that much more heightened. 

Abruptly he slid south, leaving you panting, your touch lost from his throbbing length. He did not waste time; immediately placing his mouth on the inside of your thigh and bruising the skin there with ease. He sucked hard, teeth marrying your flesh while you cried for him. He closed his eyes as your fingers wove into his hair, mouthing over the scrap of cloth that covered your weeping cunt, sampling the sweet nectar that leaked from you, just for him. 

Words eluded you, pure pleasure pulsing through every inch of you as he pulled the material to the side and licked through your folds. He groaned, the noise vibrating through your wetness before he dove in, sucking you into his mouth and laving his tongue up and down your slit– up your clit, then back down and twirling your quivering hole, then repeating. 

You whimpered when you took in the sight of your large male, completely worshiping you and enjoying every second of it– he was rutting his leather-bound cock against a pillow he had trapped beneath his hips, dark wings looming over his shoulders as they twitched with excitement. You made eye contact with him and there was primality in his gaze as he consumed you. Your feet hooked over his shoulders, putting your pussy right onto his face and bucking your hips, not caring if you missed his mouth. 

Azriel moaned, loving the provocative spiral you were descending into, loving that he was able to be the one to take you there. He was so focused on working his tongue against you that he didn’t register your feet wandering up to the crest of his wings, not until your toes dragged down the sensitive skin there and he whimpered into your pussy, his entirety trembling. He sat back to softly snarl at you– no one had touched his wings since… ever. It was a boundary he did not know he so desperately wanted you to break, satisfaction leaking deep into his core. 

But he didn’t have a second to spare to question it, because you were throwing your head back and whining, begging, “Please don’t stop, Az.” 

So he didn’t. He put his head down and ate your cunt mercilessly, just like you’d requested, savoring every drop of your essence. You allowed yourself to be lost in the pleasure, head tilting back and exposing your throat to the night sky. You opened your eyes and took in the sight of the upside-down sea, stars twinkling brightly in your entire field of vision, your male relishing your taste as he eagerly worked for your pleasure.

Your body spasmed when two thick fingertips wandered up your thigh and prodded your sopping entrance. One slid in with ease and your eyes widened at the stretch– equal to at least two of your own digits. However, unlike yours, his finger reached deep, curling into a sensitive spot that had you shaking, as if he had a map and could follow directions with immediate mastery. You tried to moan his name but he stole the breath from you, a second finger pushing in and his tongue returning to your swollen clit. His calloused fingertips stroked that spot as he pumped them into you with hard, slow precision, curling as they disappeared all the way inside and making your eyes cross beneath your lids. 

You couldn’t even focus on touching his wings to extract more delicious moans from him, your brain melting and the inferno growing in your belly. Fingers gripped his soft black hair with urgency, the shake of your thighs around his head worsening as you pleaded, moaned, and cried, “Oh Gods– oh, fuck– yes!”

Just as you were teetering the cusp of an orgasm, the shadowsinger pulled back. You screamed a swear, shooting up onto your elbows and sending the male a glare full of betrayal. Your mate only smirked up at you, though he himself was panting, gaze laden with lust. He wiped the bottom of his face from the sheen of slick that blanketed it with the back of his strong forearm, then gave his bronze, inked skin a long lick as he held your gaze. Right when you were about to give him a piece of your– albeit melted– mind, nimble fingers went to undo the clasp of his leathers beneath his toned stomach. 

Words died in your mouth as you followed the revealed lines of his pronounced Adonis belt, his fingers pushing the clothing right down his middle, just over that dark, fine trail that led down, down, down… Until the hard, dark length of him popped out from its confines and you could nearly guarantee your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. You barely noted the shadows that removed the rest of his clothes, looking over your mate in all his naked glory before you. 

Azriel did not shy away from your gawking, enjoying how your eyes roved over every inch of him– examining his body, then his manhood, then somewhere else, but always returning to his sizable cock standing tall and proud before you. In all his centuries, it was the one part of him that he had been able to take undeniable pride in… he loved that he was able to bring that to the table for you. Partly because he knew how good he could make you feel, but also just so that he could garner such a reaction from you. 

You were only able to tear your eyes away from your mate when his shadows came to swirl across your body again, devouring the remaining lace and mesh until you, too, were completely bare before your mate. The thought made you just a bit self-conscious, but the look Azriel was giving you made your insides burn, approval pounding down the bond. The bond that would– in just a matter of minutes– be completely forged. 

Your male moved toward you and you sat up on your elbows, breasts sitting perfectly for him to admire. He came nearer, leaning down onto his hands and knees, his half-lidded gaze scanning your lips before he looked at you again, pure desire in his eyes. 

At this point, your wetness was dripping down your thighs, and you knew that nothing but his cock could alleviate the burning in your core. Reaching a tentative hand forward, you both watched as your fingers clasped around his width, your fingertips and your thumb just touching. You swallowed at the sheer size of him, thumbing over the rosy tip where his precum had begun to leak out of him. 

Azriel let out a harsh breath, his hips stuttering as you jerked him experimentally. The sight of your little hand wrapped around his tan, solid cock had him biting his lip, a soft growl rumbling in the depths of his chest.  You ran a finger down the thick vein spanning the underside of him, and when his length jerked in response, you moaned– imagining how it would feel doing so, while buried balls-deep inside of you.

You tried to wiggle down the satin comforter so you could get a taste of that heavenly cock, but Azriel pinned your body down with his, the sheer size of him dominating your movement effortlessly. Ecstasy shot through you at the amount of golden skin pressing against you, the contact unlike anything you’d experienced before. 

“Dirty girl, trying to suck my cock…,” he crooned, molten gaze like hot molasses on your face. You could feel every inch he studied of your naked skin, the wake of it slow and burning, singing from his inspection and the brazen approval that shot down the bond. 

You huffed indignantly, wanting to quiz why he could taste you, but would not allow you the same pleasure. 

The Illyrian hummed, detecting the fight in your eye, before he skimmed his hand down your front, fingers dipping into the evidence of your desire and swirling against your opening slowly. “If you put your mouth on my cock– Cauldron boil me, I’ll come right down your throat,” he murmured, spreading your slick onto every crevice of your core. “And though I may indulge in that later… right now, ‘m too keen to feel your pretty pussy on me.” 

His admission naturally made your legs spread, his heavy cock resting just inches from your entrance, huge and glistening, calling to you. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully, embarrassment licking your cheeks. Was he going to make you beg for him? You could barely stand the wait, your core pulsing with the need to be taken by him, by your mate. 

“Would you like that, angel? You want to have my cock inside of you? My greedy little mate…” he purred, eyelids heavy with lust. 

You panted, realizing your truest desire then, summoning all your strength to give him your sweetest doe eyes, meekly squeak out, “I’m all yours, please I need it– need your cock stretching my– my pussy out. Need you, need my mate.” 

Hazel caught aflame in the depths of his measured disguise. His chiseled body was still, taut with suspense, and then he snapped as he pinned your wrists to the duvet beside your head. Muscled thighs flicked yours open to land around his waist with ease, your primal, Illyrian male settling into his rightful place between them. Your hips lifted in a feeble attempt to coax him further, figure shaking with need–  your core aching, twitching with it. 

There was something feral about his groan as the warm underside of his tip slipped between your folds. You both watched, his length slicing through the slick dripping from your cunt. The sound of it was so erotic that you nearly came, eyes rolling back as the entirety of him just went on and on.

You couldn’t think– couldn’t bear it anymore as you pleaded, “Please, Azriel, I need you.”

Billowing navy shadows crawled onto the duvet then, and you gaped as the tendrils washed across your hips, twirling around his cock and guiding it perfectly to your entrance. 

Tossing your head back into the satin pillow, you cried, overwhelmed when he sheathed inside of you like a blistering knife through warm butter– effortless. He was so– so big, but it did not hurt, not badly anyway– it was… it was transforming the way your pussy took him like lock and key; an indescribably, irrefutably perfect fit.

Azriel seemed to be sharing the sentiment, panting as he stared at you, his knuckles turned pale around your wrists. “Y/N,” he choked, his whole body shuddering at the bliss that leaked through his bones, emanating from where your body swallowed his, “I love you.”

You shared a shallow gasp when he pulled out, watching with a long moan as he pushed back in, reaching deeper into your core, your soul. You cried, clenching onto him as your heart felt like it was about to burst. “Az, I– I love you, too. I love you, Azriel.”

He didn’t have to think; his body knew exactly what you both needed. Another couple shallow thrusts had you breathless, struggling against his grip as his cock dragged against your fluttering walls. The girth of him was breaking your mind– each time your body involuntarily clenched onto his cock, the most sensitive, deepest part of you rubbed against the very tip of him, sending waves of bliss down your spine.

“Gods–” you managed to gasp out as he dropped down onto an elbow, hands sliding to secure around the back of your neck and your waist. His hips began to find their rhythm, heavy balls slapping flush against your ass. 

Your heart, your pussy, they had both never been so full– almost aglow with the passion and validation they were both being showered with. You felt like you were whole, like there was no room in your body for any anxiety, nor torment, nothing but him. 

Even as the cool summer breeze tickled your skin, everything was warm. Your cheeks, your breasts, your stomach, your thighs– everywhere he had kissed and licked burned with the memory. And he burned, too, his skin ablaze beneath your fingertips that scratched into broad shoulders. The both of you were on fire as your bodies became one, sweat dripping and skin bruising. The shadowsinger held a steady pace, sheathing so deep that the lewd sound of your skins slapping together filled the otherwise sleepy meadow– along with your chorus of moans, of course. 

Tension collected in your core with each powerful thrust, your toes curling into the satin and tears dotting your lashes. His fingers gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and you whined as you met his intense gaze. You didn’t have to speak– the bond was throbbing in both your chests, on the precipice of complete formation– radiating warmth and love and passion into both your systems. He gave you his cock and his heart and you took it, cunt wringing tighter– tighter with every swing of those strong hips against yours, giving every piece of you to him in exchange. 

A muffled noise left you as that telltale feeling in your center heightened, your mate gasping, hips faltering and abs straining, wings flapping. You both tensed, fingers digging into one another, foreheads pressed together as you breathed simultaneously–

“I’m–”

“Coming–” 

And that band in your stomachs snapped, satisfaction imploding and euphoria surging in its wake. The bond rippled through you both and intensified everything, the edges of your minds reaching out and coiling together. 

You felt him, felt Azriel, your mate, there inside your head, your heart. His ecstasy ebbed into yours and you drowned in the expanse of it, milking his cock as though your life depended on it. And he, too, was lost in the throes of your orgasms, his cock shooting ribbon after ribbon of his sweet seed into the depths of your womb, moaning and shaking as he grappled onto you, filling your core to the brim with him. 

It took a long while for the pair of you to cease your uncontrollable trembling, your breathing still ragged and your head cloudy with the haze of lust, bliss, and a new mental connection poking you, inspecting. Azriel slowly moved to lay on his side, allowing the breeze to cool your sweat-slicked skins as he held you flush against him, still inside of you. 

Ink appeared glossy in the starlight on his caramel skin, and you traced the swirls that intertwined on his chest while studying him. You reached out in your mind, a hand waving through the murky darkness, searching, following the guide of the golden, glowing thread– and there was his scarred, rough hand grasping you and sending a dose of affection right into you. You sighed softly, shivering and clutching onto your mate. Azriel made a comparable noise of content, kissing the top of your head and wrapping a massive wing around the pair of you. 

Hi, you tested, thinking the word with utmost concentration.

Your mate chuckled, the low rumble vibrating against your head. Hello, my love, was his lazy reply. Rough fingertips coasted along the knobs of your spine, his foot curling around yours, wanting to be as close as possible.

You nuzzled into his strong neck, admiring how his strong, male scent now was slightly perfumed with yours, knowing that though now it was reeking because of your sex, once you washed, it would remain– mated. You hummed, placing an open-mouth kiss there, eying where you should place your next love bite. The considerable army of them you had already created made you smirk and your cunt clench onto his cock, eyes widening. 

…You’re still hard?

Another chuckle. 

Did you think we were finished?

Heat crept back into your cheeks. You thought about all the mated couples you’d come to know, and how they all blushed and fondly recalled the… frenzy.

I suppose we have a long night ahead of us, shadowsinger…

Azriel pulled back to look at you, many emotions flickering in those honeyed eyes as he appraised you. The love in them was outright, happiness overt, and desire overwhelming. 

You don’t even know, angel. We have a very long night ahead of us… after that, a long, ravenous week, and… after that… Well, let’s just say, I plan to ravish you for as long as you will have me. 

Your smirk melted into a smile, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek, then reaching out and trailing your nails over the sensitive membrane of his wing. Your mate shuddered, cock jolting and stirring your insides. 

You do have some time to make up for, you shot him a sensuous wink, taking him by surprise and rolling him onto his back, perched on his lap. You savored the sight of your devastatingly-handsome mate beneath you, Azriel’s torrid gaze devouring your visage from below. Though I can’t let you have all the fun. 

Heavy hands found your hips and squeezed, that signature smirk coming to rest on his lips once more. You jumped as cool tendrils of shadow flooded your limbs, clasping onto you and dragging you off of him, forcing your body to bend onto your hands and knees, giving him a perfect view of his cum dripping from your pussy and down your soft thigh. The shadows seemed to laugh in your ear as they took hold of you, rendering you immobile before your male. You could only watch as they turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

Azriel grinned, savage gaze glimmering with mischief as the tickle of darkness flicked over your nipples and parted your legs, wandering up in ghostly licks to stroke and tease your exposed cunt. Your jaw dropped as you realized you had no clue of the true extent of your filthy mate’s capabilities, not at all as his shadows snuck inside of you, exploring where his cock had just been. 

Don’t worry, my pretty girl… I know how to share…

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦����𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘤 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘉𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘈𝘚𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘮𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪-𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 <3

#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar smut #acotar fluff #azriel shadowsinger #angelshadowsinger #StBT series

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 29

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

a/n: warning for like… extremely fluffy things. is that a warning? idk. but like… the author, me, squealed while writing this part. this was combined with the epilogue i planned since it was too short. so that huge time skip? yeah.

BUT, since this is the last chapter… I want to thank everyone who came around while writing this series. Thank you all for your support, whether you were commenting, reblogging or just liking- it means a ton. This story wasn’t originally going to be posted online. It was a rewrite based off of a 115k word fic I wrote. well… not really. That one had extreme inconsistencies, and very limited character development. It was set post-acomaf, where all canon plot ended basically. I much prefer this post-acosf version. 

I'm always very nervous posting online, so getting all the support I got for stbt? It means the world to me. I can’t express how much all the support just made my day. Thank you readers, from the bottom of my heart.

After this, I’ll try to work on either a new series, or some oneshots, but I beg of you, please send requests. I am incapable of coming up with ideas to post 😂 (okay, im not, but it helps)

If you have read all that, here’s a little vote for a new series: Azris fic (or another rare pair/crackship)? or new x Reader/OC fic (probably eris)? Something else? Not guaranteeing I’ll write any of them, but just to gauge what ya’ll might like to see

Now… onto the last chapter of Stories To Be Told :)

WARNING: mentions of nsfw things.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Azriel and I didn’t come to training the day after either, both of us waking up way too late to even dare try and go. They’d probably be doing the final stretching before we’d even be ready. So we settled for a slow morning, memorizing each other’s lips.

We had, however, arrived for lunch. Nobody had said anything, but I could tell what they were all thinking. We had taken a bath before we left the room, but I knew that the bond could probably be scented quite easily now.

That afternoon, Azriel had to do some paperwork, but I relaxed with him, reading a book, surrounded by his scent. A note arrived sometime.

Family dinner tonight at the River House. See you both there.

Azriel scoffed. I lifted a brow at him in question. “Rhys,” he explained, “wants us to attend a family dinner. Clearly, Cassian told him something, because he said ‘See you both there’ like he knows.”

I chuckled a little. “Does he need to pay for traumatizing you too, my love?”

“By the Cauldron, yes. Him and Feyre, I swear. I have just been suffering. The only thing that did go right was that Cassian was the one brawling with Rhys after their bond. I was saved from some bruises.”

“Oh,” I paused. “I forgot about that part. And they what?!”

“Which part?”

“The part about bonds where the males get really… protective.”

Azriel snorted. “I’ll try my best at this dinner, angel, but do offer me some leniency.”

“As long as you offer me the same leniency, because I am one hundred percent laughing my ass off if you growl at Rhys."

He rolled his eyes. “I won’t growl at him-”

-----

Azriel growled deeply as we walked into the dining room. Rhys’s eyes had been up and looking for us, latching onto me, since I’d been the first to enter.

I snorted, and patted Azriel’s shoulder.

Rhys tipped his head back and laughed. “Alright, Cass, you win,” he chuckled. “You were right about Az being a possessive type.” A gold mark was thrown in the direction of the general, who quickly pocketed it.

I huffed out a breath in amusement and spotted Mor looking quite confused. Oh, this was my chance!

I left Azriel’s side, even as he glared daggers at Cassian, who was sitting near Mor. Mor’s eyes did indeed practically pop out of her skull when I came near enough.

“YOU’RE MATES?!” She squealed.

My face widened into a grin and I nodded.

She let out another happy squealing noise, throwing her arms around me. Azriel growled again and I laughed, backing up a step so that Mor was forced to let me go. She was smiling at me. “Oh! I’m so happy for you!” She squealed again suddenly, startling me slightly. “Welcome to the family!” She said quickly. “I was first!”

I turned my face again slightly in a useless effort to hide my huge smile from those words. Azriel curled a hand around my waist. “This is your family now,” he whispered.

I lifted a hand to rub my smile away, but it didn’t work. So I turned to behold my new family.

Rhys was grinning, with Feyre looking at me warmly. Nyx was obviously happy. “Does that mean I have a new aunt?” He asked Rhys.

“I suppose so,” Rhys chuckled. “But ask Y/N.”

I bit my lip. There was so much joy coming from me right now. Nyx turned to me expectantly.

“If you want me to be…” I replied. “You can call me aunt.”

“Yes!” Nyx threw up a fist in victory. “Auntie Y/N! Now you have to help me steal all the chocolate dad hides in the pantry.”

I snorted in amusement, giggling softly. “Alright Nyx.”

“Don’t conspire in front of me!” Rhys exclaimed.

“Did we just conspire?” I asked Nyx. He shook his head, smiling wide. “See Rhys?” I turned to face the High Lord. “We didn’t conspire anything. You must be hearing things.”

“Welcome to the family,” Cassian hummed, arm thrown over Nesta’s shoulder who sat beside him. “I would come over there and bowl you to the ground in a hug, but you have a possessive shadow death monster attached to you.”

That broke the last of the restraint I had on my laughter. I wheezed loudly, knees going weak from the force of it. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, but almost everyone had joined in. Even Az. Nesta stood and came over. Azriel almost growled a warning, but I slapped his shoulder, stepping out from his grip to hug my sister. My first family here.

There weren’t any words shared between us, but as Nes pulled away, she gave me a soft look that said everything.

Amren gave me a little dip of her head, and I deduced that was likely all I was going to get from her. Lucien and Elain, two people who’d I mostly forgotten about, also gave me slight smiles. They seemed… close, but also not as close as any of the mated couples in the room.

I sat beside Azriel at the table, and ate with my new family.

-----

Later in the night, when mostly everyone had gone home, Azriel asked me the question.

“I know I’m traditionally meant to kneel down before you,” he began. “But I haven’t had the chance to buy a ring yet, so I’ll do that a bit later since I’m impatient. Would you marry me Y/N?”

I squealed immediately, turning so that I was sitting in his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Yes!” I said loudly, drawing the attention of the remaining people in the room. Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Cassian, and Nesta.

I kissed him swiftly, which probably gave the others enough of a guess of what had just transpired.

“We are having a wedding,” I told him. “Family only.”

Azriel grinned. “Whatever you want, angel.”

“AUNTIE Y/N!” Nyx exclaimed loudly, like it was a celebration.

I turned, grinning widely. “Officially,” I agreed.

Rhys smiled, his teeth showing. “Congratulations,” he said.

Feyre scoffed. “You’re so dull Rhys,” she admonished, bursting from her seat to wrap me in a hug. “Congratulations. Welcome to the family.”

“I was just trying not to get attacked!” Rhys protested. “Azzie is terrifying.”

I huffed in amusement. “Azzie?” I questioned, turning back to my mate with a smirk.

He snorted. “You are not calling me that,” he chuckled. “Rhys gets to do it only once a month.”

“Azzie…” I cooed, and paired the nickname with a scratch at his scalp. He seemed to be placated, but glared up at me petulantly.

“I’m getting bowled over,” someone said from behind me, and then wrapped two large muscled arms around my shoulders, lifting me up. I squealed at the movement, crushing my wings to my back. Cassian laughed as Azriel got to his feet immediately, eyes darting around like he was trying to deduce the easiest way to free me from Cassian, without hurting me.

I slapped Cassian’s arm. “You idiot!” I yelled happily as he only tightened his grip. “I yield!” I shouted. “I yield!”

Cassian squeezed even tighter for a moment before he let me down. I turned to him with a challenging grin.

“I have another sister,” he reasoned. “I had to make sure she knows I give good hugs.”

“You call that a hug?” I scoffed, grinning. “I prefer Az’s.”

There was a sound behind me that told me Az agreed with me. He took his seat again, the couch dipping.

“Well then,” Cassian said, voice challenging. “I guess I have to try again. Because I always give the best hugs-”

I dodged his next attempt, shooting out my foot as he took a step forward so that he tripped right onto the couch, face planting almost directly into Azriel’s lap. I was surprised when I felt a surge of possessiveness from myself at the sight of Cassian so close to my mate’s lap.

Cassian was laughing and sputtering as he stood back up. “I’m making you pay for that in training,” he growled.

Those words made a bolt of heat travel up my spine. Goddamn, had Azriel really ruined those words for me? Must have.

I tried to keep my scent in check as I coughed. “Sure you will,” I challenged. “I’ll win.”

“You can try,” Cassian scoffed. “I always win.”

“I’ll win because Nesta is on my side,” I chuckled, meeting Cassian’s mate’s eyes across the room, still sitting on the couch with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

Cassian turned with a look of betrayal on his face. “How dare you!” He accused dramatically.

I chuckled, and fell back onto the couch beside Azriel. “Love you,” I chuckled, kissing him gently.

His hand fell onto my thigh, just a little too high to be normal. “I felt that through the bond, you know,” he informed me as I pulled away.

I blushed. “Shut up,” I growled. “Or I’ll show them where you’re ticklish.”

He paused, narrowing his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said playfully.

“Oh I will,” I said.

Azriel trailed his hand up threateningly, and I basically leapt up on top of him, and went for the ticklish spot in his armpit. He wheezed, capturing the attention of everyone.

“That’s where you’re ticklish!?” Cassian exclaimed. “Damn it. I’m exploiting that.”

I grinned as Azriel’s eyes widened even as he struggled to get my hands away from his ticklish spot. “I’ll kill you,” Azriel managed through his laughter.

“Not intimidating,” Cassian chuckled. “You’ve used the line too much.”

I relented after a moment. Azriel heaved for breath, glaring at me. He leaned up to whisper in my ears.

“You’ll pay for that.”

I grinned. I planned on it.

-----

It was the Winter Solstice, and goddamn was it cold outside. I heard a shout as Rhys assumingly got pummeled by snowballs by Cassian. No surprise there. Cassian apparently had been “training” for the annual snowball fight my mate and his brother’s had every year. As I gathered up my own snowballs to launch my attack on Cassian, I smirked in the direction of Azriel’s snow fort.

We weren’t explicitly teaming per say, but we were acting as tentative allies. That little peace treaty would break as soon as Cassian began to complain about his toes freezing off.

Az had mentioned this tradition about a month ago, explaining Cassian’s training, and Rhys’s determination to beat him. Apparently, my mate was by far the most competitive for the fight. He’d won basically every fight leading up to this one. Rhys and Cass had quite a few wins, but Azriel? Azriel definitely had the most.

I offhandedly mentioned that if I were a part of the snowball fight, I’d go straight for Rhys’s face and then pummel Cassian. Then deal with Az.

Azriel, apparently, having taken that internally, offered to let me join. His brother’s mates hadn’t been interested in being out in the cold for hours, but me? Oh I was so for it. No magic. No wings. Just an even playing ground for the Illyrian idiots who just wanted to pummel each other with snowballs.

Rhys immediately let me in on it, even trying to covet an alliance with me throughout the month, but little did he know that Azriel would be getting my “support” through the game. He’d gasped dramatically when I told him I was betraying him right after he’d told me all the strategies he planned to use. Oh, it was so worth it. Now I knew the High Lord was worried, and preparing for that strike that would end him, coming from me.

Cassian shouted as the snowballs hit him from behind his fort. “Y/N!” He shouted angrily. But a playful angry. “I’m going to get you for that!”

“Just try!” I challenged.

For another three hours, we fought. When it was basically just Azriel and I, I turned on him immediately, gaining the element of surprise as I came up behind him and stuffed a whole pile of snowballs right down the back of his leathers.

He screeched and tried to shimmy them out.

“Betrayer!” He shouted, apparently giving up on getting the snow out, and intent on getting revenge. He picked up a pre-made snowball, but I merely smirked and produced one last snowball in my hand, and threw it directly into his forehead.

Azriel groaned, wiping his face. “I’m fucking freezing,” he admitted.

“Do you yield?” I asked him, and subtly packed another pile of snow together with my boots to easily form into a snowball and throw it at him if he didn’t.

“Fine, yes,” he groaned. I grinned.

“RHYS! CASS!” I called. “YIELD OR DIE UNDER THE POWER OF Y/N!”

“I yield!” Cassian yelled back. “My ass is numb.” The second part was quieter, but just loud enough to be heard.

“Never!” Rhys shouted.

I stole some of my mate's snowballs, holding them with one arm and leaped over the fort, running across No Man’s Land. Then I leaped straight into Rhys’s fort and pummeled him with the snow.

He screamed dramatically. I smirked, and then gathered more ammo, and stuffed it down his neck as he tried to clear his vision. “I yield!” he shouted. “Fucking hell! No! Don’t stuff it down my shirt even more-”

I chuckled, and then with one final push of the snow down his shirt, I stood and vaulted over the fort again, hands raised in victory.

“FIRST WIN!” I shouted, laughing hysterically after.

Cassian came out of his fort, shivering. Azriel was still struggling with the snow down his shirt. Rhys basically dragged himself out of his fort.

“Too cold,” Cassian said, “to care.”

I rolled my eyes, scoffing. “Come on then idiot. Your mate can console you for your horrible loss.”

“This is horrible!” Cassian complained.

“Let’s go to the damn birchin before my toes decide to fall off,” Rhys said, shivering as well.

We’d decided before that they’d not go in completely naked, despite tradition. Azriel was way too possessive for that. They’d keep their undershorts and I’d keep on my undergarments.

“Who won?” Nesta asked as we came inside. Her stomach was just slightly starting to get that little bump that told everyone she was having a child. I silently hoped for a little girl.

“I did!” I announced triumphantly. “These males stood no chance.”

Feyre snorted in amusement. Gwyn clasped me on my back. “Better you than them,” she joked. Emerie, who was beside Mor, called out a congratulations.

“You guys should compete next year,” I suggested. “We’d be the height of competition.”

“Freezing in the cold for hours?” Emerie asked. “No thank you. Not even on a good day.”

“Boring,” I teased. “Is Mor making you soft dear sister?”

“Shall I slap her?” Mor asked.

“No, I’ll make her pay for it in training,” Emerie chuckled.

“Just try me,” I challenged. “Just try.”

“Oh I will,” Emerie chuckled. “Now go sweat with the other idiots.”

Azriel chuckled, putting a hand around my waist and leading me in the direction of the birchin. “Come on love, I’m freezing still.”

“Fine…” I would be merciful… today. I pecked Azriel on his cheek gently. “Only for you.”

“Oh yes,” he chuckled. “So merciful towards your mate.”

I scoffed, smiling. “Love you.”

He smiled, and said that little phrase that always left me breathless from the sheer love.

“It’ll always be you.”

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @graciereads, @chanaaaannel, @towhateverend13, @eos-princess, @marina468,

Make sure to ask if you'd like to be tagged in more of my writing! This taglist is soon to be deleted :)

#azriel #azrielxreader #azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #emerie #rhysand #feyre #morrigan #cassian #nesta #snowball fight #acotar fluff #fluff #mywriting

[angelshadowsinger]

Supposed to Be Together {part 1}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.2k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst, smut 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: drinking, Az being dumb & in denial, drunk sex, unprotected sex 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 . 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣����𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘊𝘖𝘛𝘈𝘙 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 & 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘵 100% 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘢𝘢𝘴’ 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘕𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘢'𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 (𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳)

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

The view from the House of Wind never failed to leave you breathless. 

Velaris twinkled brightly below, city lights reflecting off the Sidra as the warm summer wind tickling at your exposed skin. The sun was dipping below the horizon now, only a thin trail of scarlet bleeding into the indigo of the Night Court sky. Above, stars already blinked and glimmered, a crescent moon hung proudly above. 

The strong, swift beat of wings neared, and suddenly Mor and Nesta appeared above the wall of the balcony, each snug against Cassian’s absurdly broad chest. The two women were already donning their evening attire, jewels sparkling both their decolletages, looking near reminiscent of the stars that you had just been studying. 

Mor set sight on you immediately, skipping out of the war general’s grasp and pouncing on you. Her hair was curled in pretty waves and her lips painted a bright red that complimented the fiery orange dress snug on her hips. “Hello my sweetest,” she greeted, almost planting a kiss on you but you swerved back with a stifled laugh, pointing to her lips. She laughed, sending an air-kiss your way instead.

“Hi Mor. You look beautiful as always,” you said honestly. You’d known the female for quite some time now and it was only once you’d seen her looking worse for wear– the night she had tried to conquer a foreign green alcohol that burned your nose with but a tentative sniff. 

Turning to the other blonde, you did not fail to notice the slight flush in her cheeks as her eyes flitted away from Cassian’s, clearly amused by something her mate had communicated to her. It was only fair, given that the event that had the Inner Circle going out for the evening was their anniversary after all. The Illyrian gave you a friendly wave and shouted hello, which you returned. 

A navy dress hugged his mate’s figure and a long slit ran up her toned leg, gold jewelry spindling around her wrists and pointed ears. “Nesta, the lady of the night,” you acknowledged, “You look incredible.”

She gave a small smile at your appraisal. “Thank you, Y/N. You look nice, too.” 

It wasn’t the most amazing compliment, but you’d take it. Especially seeing as it had come from Nesta, the viper. She had calmed down since mating her male years ago, but the nickname still stuck, and you didn’t doubt that her bite could still be just as wounding as it once was. 

It was then that Mor’s fingers trailed down your forearm, sending a shiver through you and making you turn to look at her. Her gaze was currently running over the ensemble you were sporting, shining with approval at the deep violet gown that delicately draped off your shoulders and the pink sapphire necklace that followed the dip into your exposed cleavage. “Mmm, mmm. Drunk me is going to have a hard time resisting such a snack later. You know I get the drunchies,” she said, a hint of mischief in her tawny orbs. Then adding in a lower voice, “And I doubt I’ll be the only one having a hard time controlling themselves…”

She coughed as your elbow immediately jabbed her ribs. Mor was the only one that you had actually told about your relation to the mysterious spymaster of the Inner Circle. 

Ever since your apprenticeship with the renowned healer Madja had started, the higher-ups of the Night Court who so often required her services had taken keen interest in you. All of them were much friendlier than you had expected– almost more of a surprise to you than the carefree, blossoming city of Velaris. You were not of the Night Court lands, but now they felt like home to you. 

The Morrigan was the fastest friend you made, her honest nature pacifying the wariness that clung to you upon your arrival. Rhysand had attempted to befriend you first, but the sheer promise of power rippling off of him had you shrinking at the sight of him, so he allowed his friends to win you over first. Cassian was crucial in showing you that the High Lord was no threat to you, his chipper outlook wearing down the half-hearted walls you had built around yourself. Feyre also helped, who you grew closer with when you were sent to shadow her pregnancy check-ups with Madja. Many hours filled with warm vulnerability melted your frosty facade, and you bonded over the knowledge that you both had scars from your trauma, even if that acknowledgement was unspoken between the pair of you. She had even offered you a permanent position in the city, if you so desired it after your learnings with the sage healer were at a close. Once you were comfortable with her, Rhysand made your good list– if he was her mate, and if he treated her so lovingly, then surely he was not to be feared after all. Amren was… still a bit scary to you, but she was never malicious or meaning ill-will. Just unsettling. 

Last was Azriel. 

He was not present when you first arrived, and remained away during the first week of the Inner Circle’s efforts to woo you. But when he did finally arrive… you nearly swooned at first sight of him; the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes upon. It only got better when he opened his mouth, and his gentle, kind welcome pushed you off the cliff- falling, you began falling for him then. After that, he continued to treat you with such respect, and quiet thoughtfulness, that before you knew it, he was the one you began choosing to spend your free time with. One on one, he was still just as sweet, but he also showed you that he could tease, and jest, and he could be downright hilarious when he wanted to be.

It was only two weeks ago that your newest discovery had occurred. 

You had been walking through the gardens with him, a common occurrence for the two of you when he was home and off-duty, when he had flown up to the top of your favorite magnolia tree, and plucked the fattest, most beautiful blossom from the highest branch. He landed gracefully in front of you, leaning down and wordlessly offering it to you, a soft smile gracing his lips, eyes warm, and maybe even the tiniest bit of pink tinging his cheeks. It was then that the bond snapped into place. 

For you, anyway.

While you had nearly fallen on your ass in shock, disbelief– elation– he merely caught you and looked at you with concern. You hadn’t been able to form words to explain what had just happened to you, wide eyes taking in the male before you– the strong, observant, mild-mannered protector of the court– your male. Your male, with Illyrian tight leathers flush against his firm body, scarred hands holding you so softly, yet you knew his grip would never falter if he believed you not well enough to stand on your own. He would take care of you, he would treat you so well, he would…. He would, once he knew of the bond. Once the bond presented it to himself, then you’d see. Because, there was no way you were going to tell him what had just happened to you, not really. Not when he had become your closest friend, and all your hopes and dreams were suddenly pinned to him. That was just too much to put on him, not then… So you waited. Told yourself you would tell him soon, just not yet… And suddenly two weeks had gone by, and you still had yet to breach the subject.

Mor looked at you with a gentler gaze, sensing your frayed emotions and swiftly connecting the dots. Obviously you were conflicted on the subject, and she chose to dismiss it instead of prying. “Sorry,” she apologized, whispering almost. “First drink on me, okay?” 

Immediately you shut out the thoughts of your bond, nodding and putting a smile on. “It’s okay. But I will definitely take you up on that.” You winked at her and she grinned, taking your arm and leading you from the balcony into the common area.

Cassian and Nesta had already meandered inside, now standing by the grand table in the center of the space. The sconces were lit, the glimmer of magic filling the warm space and inviting you inside further. A fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of a meat-pie that must have been dinner lingering in the air, laden with foreign spices that made your nose tingle. 

“Glad you ladies could join us,” Cassian said, brows high as he gestured to the tray in the middle of the dining table. There were five shot glasses there, two empty already. The other three were filled to the brim with a clear liquid which you could only guess would surely taste terrible on your sober tongue. Beside it, a crystal container filled with more, ready for refills. 

You glanced around as Mor strode forth, unnerved. Nesta had an uncharacteristically amused smile on her pretty lips, her face relaxed as she took a sip from the half-empty glass she held. Amren was nowhere to be seen, and Rhys and Feyre were absent as well– nothing uncommon these days since they did have a small child after all, and another on the way. 

But it was always him, the subdued spymaster who now rose from his seat beside the hearth, who you were hoping to see. Azriel looked especially mouth-watering tonight, his dark hair freshly cut and kissing the tops of his ears, dark navy shirt tight across his firm chest, tattoos peeking from the collar and the sleeves rolled halfway up his strong forearms. You tried to look away, feeling like you had become engulfed by the flames licking the iron gate at the edge of the hearth as his hazel eyes raked up and down, and then back up your visage. 

The only clue to his approval was a slight twitch of the long, sleek wings behind him, and that could’ve meant anything. Though you had thought you looked good, so obviously he had to like the sight… right?

He walked toward you and smiled just a little, head bowing slightly. His shadows slowly curled toward you in greeting as well, a dark train behind him. “Hello Y/N,” he stated, then nodding to Mor. “Mor.” Deft fingers latched onto one of the remaining shots and he threw it back with ease, not even wincing as the alcohol was instantly drained. 

Cassian eyed him with some sort of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher before it was gone. Then he was refilling his and Azriel’s cup. “And what are you two waiting for, then?” He barked, amusement abundant in his strong voice. 

Mor and your eyes met, she rolled hers to the heavens, and then shrugged, grabbing her shot as well. You sighed, wondering why these ancient relics always had to go straight for the liquor, not even a chaser present for your poor taste buds. This night would surely be anything but dull.

⸻

There had been multiple rounds of shots before your small party of five left the House of Wind, and though the two men had definitely had more, you, Mor, and Nesta had all sufficiently been toasty as you made your way through the threshold of the bar. 

Rita’s was, once again, the place to be on a weekend evening in Velaris. 

Mor was already flirting with the bartender within two minutes of entry, getting that drink she had promised you as you wandered through the throng of partiers, toward the elevated side of the venue where the reserved tables stood. Rhys had long ago reserved a table for his Inner Circle on any given day of the week, and the bouncer nodded at the four of you as you made your way to it. Azriel kept a subtle arm out, ghosting behind your waist as club-goers pressed just a bit too close for his liking. 

Cassian slid into a wide stool on the other side of the booth first, allowing you and Nesta to take the booth. Azriel contemplated fitting into the booth, but ultimately chose to sit beside his brother in favor of not crushing his wings. Just as the usual containers of various juices and little water bottles appeared in the center of the table, Mor slid into the booth beside you and shoved a top-heavy glass into your hand. She gave a taller, wider glass filled with a sparkling dark red concoction to Nesta who thanked her, keeping the other glass of fizzy yellow to herself.

“None for us?” Cassian hit the table, the ice in the bucket rattling. 

Azriel frowned, waving a hand over the space before him and summoning more shot glasses, another pitcher of liquor appearing adjacent to it. Nimble hands made quick work of the shots, passing one to his brother before that striking gaze met yours and he clinked his glass against the one in your hand. He sent it back, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his sharp jaw pronounced in the flashing colored lights of the club. 

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling borderline drunk. Whatever was in the swirling purple cocktail Mor had handed you was packing a punch– either that or the four shots you downed before the flight over here were settling in. You drained the rest of your glass. A drop escaped the corner of your lip and ran down your chin, splattering onto the soft swell of your breast, a torrid hazel gaze following the movement with scrutiny. Catching the look, your body moved on its own volition, and you stood abruptly, the tops of your thighs skimming the edge of the table.

All eyes shot to you as you proclaimed, “So who wants to dance?”

You couldn't manage to look at Azriel again, so you turned to Mor instead, who was looking up at you with nothing but pure amusement. But it was actually Nesta, on your other side, who piped up that she would love to. If your decree had been a surprise, Nesta’s was the shock of the century. But you wouldn’t let it go to waste, and Mor was on the same page as you, the three of you hurrying off to find a spot on the dancefloor. 

The club-goers parted as they welcomed you– parting for the three beautiful women entering the center of the room as the bass blasted and upbeat melodies thrummed through your bones. You swore you could feel its return, his hot gaze slinking all around your body, but you forced him out of your mind, not wanting to dampen your mood with the premise of your upcoming responsibilities nor your potential delusions. The shadowsinger could have absolutely anyone he wanted in Velaris– actually, it had been hinted he had already had quite a few in the city, though he’d looked outright deadly at the mention of that from his brothers’ lips. So why were you fated for him? There was surely some other person who could better suit him. The notion irked you and you let out a snarl that turned more into a war-cry for your dancing. 

Mor was flipping her hair and moving her arms around herself sensually beside you. Nesta had actually gone so far as to throw her hips into circles right before yours, almost grinding onto your lap. You took it upon yourself to sway and let your fingers run through your hair, showing off your smooth skin and letting your head fall back as you felt the music call to you. 

It was quite a show the three of you were putting on, song after song your trio swirled and traded places with each other, staving off any males who attempted approach.

Cassian was not disturbed by the number of lustful gazes his mate was collecting, eyes gleaming with pride and possession as he studied Nesta’s body from afar. But Azriel was quietly fuming beside him, his shadows screeching with fury as a fae male eventually managed to reach your side, sliding a hand around your waist. His gaze was daggers on the suitor, who seemed unphased by the brooding Illyrian in the distance. Nesta moved over to Mor then, observantly giving him space to slide into when you didn’t immediately reject him. 

Without taking his glare off the male, Azriel messily poured another shot for himself, threw it back, and then immediately filled another. Finally his brother’s attention snuck over to him, warily monitoring as the shadowsinger tossed back yet another drink. He eyed the shadows, which were bunching and flicking with displeasure around the perimeter of him, then warned, “Az, maybe you should slow down.”

Azriel grimaced, ice cold as he watched you press a palm to the male’s chest, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. “Why ever should I, brother? Does your mating not call for celebration?” His grip was so tight he nearly shattered the glass, but then your suitor’s eyes widened comically, and he scampered away into the crowd, leaving you alone. He felt like he could breathe again, and he sat back slightly, ruffling his wings as if shaking off the tension that saddled them just moments ago. 

Cassian watched his brother, noted the gaze that was zeroed in on you, on your every move. He had an inkling for a while before now, but it was hard for him to watch Azriel pretend like he didn’t want to be anything more with you when you looked at him the same way. Before he could impart any words of advice, you were slinking up to the table, glazed eyes magnetized on the spymaster. Cassian wondered if you even knew he was sitting there as well.

“Az, will you dance with me?” you asked, hands behind your back, it made your curves look absolutely irresistible in that violet number. 

Cassian was shocked, sure his mouth had fallen on the floor, interest piqued. This was one of the best anniversary presents he ever could’ve asked for, second only to Nesta’s gown strewn on the floor of their room in just a few hours. On one hand, his brother never danced. Maybe only a handful of times had he witnessed such a sight, and that had only been bits and pieces, from nights he barely remembered. On the other, he was sure that you had an absolute hold on the spymaster– if you so much as batted your eyelashes and asked for him to fetch the stars for you, he certainly would.

He had to reign in his scream of glee when Azriel responded, “Of course.” 

Even drunk, the shadowsinger was adept. He weaved through the crowd, following you and pointedly ignoring the lingering glances of the crowd, glances that wandered from your elegant radiance onto him– at the powerful aura and ominous shadows rolling off his broad shoulders, his stunning face, or the daunting wings that loomed behind him. 

When you found a spot with ample space, your hips started moving on their own accord, and Azriel’s followed suit. Not touching, the two of you filled the space and watched each other, eyes wandering around each other’s bodies unabashedly. Azriel couldn’t help but puff his chest up at the desire that swirled in your glossy orbs, the approval shining from you as you took in the way his body moved before you, his cool cedar scent luring you closer. The alcohol that coursed in his blood allowed him to be bold, and he carefully placed a hand at the bottom of your spine, pulling you into him. The action was welcomed and he tried not to be too excited about your proximity, how the sweet smell of you twirled into his nose and made his brain become a puddle around his feet. 

He had never been so close to you– not like this– and never with his guard so low, nearing absent. Never had the marred skin of his palms held your hips, the curve of your ass brushed his thigh, never had you given him that sultry gaze beneath kohl-coated lashes, never had he been so damn hard in a public space like this. 

“You look so beautiful tonight.” It slipped out of him like he was possessed, unaware the words had even left him along with the husky whisper of your name. 

But that made you smile at him, near bashful at his compliment, your heart slamming in your chest, begging, aching for more of his praise. 

It was as if he could hear what your body so desperately desired, for Azriel then murmured, “You are beautiful every night. Every day… agonizingly so.” 

His grasp on you was gentle, and suddenly it was all you could feel– he was all you could feel, the music and the crowd blurring around you. He was looking at you with such intensity that your body was singing, your lips parted but no words able to leave you. All you wanted to do in that moment was bridge the gap between his mouth and yours. It took all the willpower in your being to stop yourself from doing so, your mate’s gaze piercing you to the dancefloor while the two of you stood still, just looking at each other. 

“Thank you, Azriel.”

Those meager words were all you could get out, too paralyzed to come up with anything better. Honestly, you were surprised you even said anything at all, for fear of confessing your love and your bond right here to him and everyone in the room, drunk and breathless in the middle of Rita’s. 

Azriel seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in at the sound of his name on your tongue, blinking and grip loosening on you. His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink before his shadows came to cover him, and he coughed awkwardly. “I, um…” he mumbled, stepping back from you and the obvious shock painted on your face, “I’ll get us some more drinks.”

Just like that, he was gone, and the crowd surrounding you seemed to come back into your awareness. You noticed the gazes of Cassian and Nesta settled on you from across the room then, one of befuddlement and the other displeasure. But you didn’t even have a second for the mortification to wash over you, as Mor materialized before you instantly, grabbing your hand and leading you deeper in the crowd. She gave you an inquisitive look once the pair of you had found shelter behind the masses, but didn’t push it, noting the confusion that settled your features even as your body moved to the rhythm once more. 

⸻

For the next hour or so, you danced with Mor, and Nesta and Cassian came to join you at some point as well. The Illyrian looked like he wanted to say something to you, but was rendered unable both from the noise of the club and also his mate who had positioned herself between you two. You knew Azriel was stationed at the table, but couldn’t bring yourself to look over at him, even though you were becoming thirstier by the minute and knew he had a drink awaiting you. At some point Mor had wandered back over to the bartender, now with her full rack resting atop the bar and in deep, seemingly-seductive conversation by the way she was looking at them. And even if the couple beside you were well-intentioned, you refused to burden them with your loneliness, finally wishing them congratulations on their anniversary and excusing yourself.

The shadowsinger sat up slightly as you came closer, the evidence of his drinking overt; two crystal carafes stood empty beside a third that was half-full, tiny pools glistening on the tabletop where they missed his glass. 

“Is that for me?” you asked as you slid into the seat opposite of him, nodding to the bright cocktail that stood alone at the booth side of the table.

He nodded in return, fingertip tracing the edge of his tiny cup, silky hair slightly disheveled and his eyes not quite as critical as usual. You thanked him quietly, taking a sip before a modest smile bloomed on your lips in unspoken appreciation at the familiar flavor of your favorite drink. The club was slightly spinning by the time the glass was drained, a drunken giggle escaping you at the light feeling that filled you. 

Azriel smiled at you, your eyes closed and slowly swaying like grass in sweet summer wind. He did not regret his admission on the dancefloor, for it had been the truth. He just wished he was brave enough to tell you that without taking twenty shots– or however many he’d had– he’d stopped counting after twelve. Even though he was not at all sober himself, he could sense that it was time to get you home. It wasn’t unusual for him to bring you back to the House of Wind; night outings like this usually did end up the two of you as everyone else paired off. Yet for some reason, it felt different tonight. He couldn’t wait to scoop you in his arms and zip through the sky. 

“Would you like to go home?” he said, watching amusedly when you opened your eyes and sent him a dazzling grin. 

You agreed, “You always read my mind, Az.” 

The tall male led you out to the front of Rita’s, catching his brother’s eye and nodding in farewell. A few other drunkards sat on the curb and passed something smoky between them, their low cackles echoing down the otherwise-quiet stone alleyway. The cool crisp smell of the night air washed over the pair of you, the stars still dangling high in the indigo sky. You inhaled deeply, Azriel doing the same as he walked you into the center of the street, wings growing and stretching. You watched as those wings shook the sleep from themselves, swelling the street with silky shadows as they unfurled, as if he had been keeping those at bay just as much. It was a gorgeous sight as he unfastened the top button of his shirt, another ring of tattoos peeking out at the middle of his chest. You could stare at him for ages. 

Azriel reached out for you, his wings flapping a couple times to warm up. His gaze was bright, as if the incident inside hadn’t even occurred. But you were eager to feel his touch on you once more, so you skipped over to him instantly, practically jumping in his arms. You’d once worried that you were too heavy to do such things, but after flying with the Illyrian so many times now, you knew you were nowhere near his carrying capacity. He was absurdly strong, just like his brothers– seven siphons adorning his body and channeling the brunt of his power. For him, bringing you to the House of Wind was probably akin to the amount of energy you’d expend skipping a small rock across a placid stream, the whole ordeal over in three seconds.

Little did you know he planned to take the scenic route, if not just to feel you clutching onto him for a few moments longer.

The ground sucked out from underneath you as he sprang up into the night, and you stifled the excitable scream that always tried to escape. He only laughed as he found his place in the sky, the powerful beat of his wings seamlessly blending with the low moan of the wind. Once you had a better grip on him, and his arms secured around you tighter, you adjusted and laughed too– excitement coursing through you. It was such a rare sight, seeing the reticent shadowsinger smile at you unrestrained like that, carefree. All you could do was mirror him before he dove the two of you into the night. 

Stars whipped past as he danced through the skies; black, fuschia, violet, and navy all swirling together above you. His shadows tickled at you gently, leaving a cool wake where they touched. Cerulean and cyan gleamed from the siphons on the backs of the hands that clutched onto you, and you catapulted forward suddenly. All you could do was latch onto the hard muscles that secured you as Azriel took you for a roller coaster ride. 

He dove and looped and held onto you, relishing the feeling of your skin touching his, the smell of your hair that whipped around him– the feeling of you gripping him so hard– hard enough that maybe it would be enough for him to leave you alone once you arrived at the house instead of pressing you up into the balcony pillars and pleasuring you until you passed out, like he so deeply wanted to do. 

The joyride could only go on for so long before it had to end; the two of you were still considerably drunk and only able to handle a few loop-de-loops on the journey. Azriel had managed to sneak in an extra minute or two of air-time, not wanting to risk your suspicion nor take advantage of you. The liquor was beginning to really hit him at full effect now, stumbling a bit as he landed on your balcony. It was only two extra steps, nothing major. But Azriel always flew with such precision that you knew you weren’t the only one feeling the alcohol.

Now that you were looking at him again, you found yourself mesmerized by his ethereal beauty. Long lashes pointed down to you as he continued to hold you, despite him now standing firmly in the middle of your balcony. Hazel eyes flicked over your face and he smiled just a little for you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you never really could– but he definitely had a great many thoughts flickering behind his gentle gaze. 

You peeped as your back touched something, and you realized he had walked over to the chaise-lounge perched under the bow of your balcony– trying to set you down. You looked back at the chair and then at him. Dark brows knitted beneath his tousled hair as he loosened his grip, but you remained clinging to him. 

Azriel murmured your name when he tried to deposit you there and you refused, again. 

“Can you…” you whispered, reluctant to leave his embrace. It felt so good to have him touching you, and your inhibitions were at an all time low as your mate held you so dearly, his eyes filled with concern. “Can you put me on my bed, Az?” 

The Illyrian blinked, wings ruffling before quickly tucking in. He pulled you up again and carried you inside your room, princess-style. It was how he always held you during flight, but somehow when his feet were on the ground it felt completely different… not quite as innocent. 

Your room was lit with beams of moonlight pouring through the arched windows and sheer curtains, yet the male’s shadows flicked over the tips of the candles by your bed and they lit as he willed them to. It was spacious enough inside that your medicinal books and tomes spread out all over the area, along with your trinkets and clothes. The strong smell of you clung to the walls, the sofa, the bed. He had never been this deep into your room for this long before, and he was sure the alcohol wasn’t the only substance he was drunk on. 

You savored the sight of him while he wandered toward your bed. You allowed yourself to dream of the day your male would know just what you were to him, and imagined he was about to ravage you instead of dump you and leave you in your big bed all alone. Your hips moved slightly against his front, and you closed your eyes in embarrassment as heat began to rush in between your legs. It wasn’t really wrong of you to be turned on by your mate, especially after drinking so much and dancing with him the way you had. But the bond was still your secret, and you didn’t know if Azriel even felt anything slightly like how you felt for him; if he had any inkling that you were made to be together. 

You chanced one more look at him as he set you atop the soft duvet, fluffy pillows plush against your back. His inky hair fell between his eyes as he leaned forward and laid you down fully, sitting on the very edge of the bed and turning to draw the blanket at your feet up and over you before he left. His back muscles rippled through his shirt, pumped after flying for just a few minutes. Another tattoo teased you from the side of his neck, and at the muscled sight of him, you wondered if he knew that he was the sexiest male to ever exist. 

He turned to you, leaving the fuzzy throw halfway up your exposed legs, a dark blush staining his cheeks as he looked at you incredulously. You blinked at him, not comprehending that you had just said that last thought aloud. He looked so incredibly flustered that it only took you a moment to realize your mistake, a hand slapping over your mouth as if that would somehow make him unhear your profession.

“I– I meant,” you gasped as you sat up on your elbows, breasts bouncing and sitting heavily on your chest at the sudden movement. Azriel glanced down at the action, the emotion wiping off his face and instantly an interested mask of cool was in its place. “I…” you stopped breathing as he leaned closer to you, his breath fanning your neck and his shadows curling around your ankles. 

Azriel’s eyes were searing into you, burning the shape of your body into the covers you laid upon. The alcohol was giving him too much confidence, your praise soaking his bones with white-hot desire as he appraised your figure that was pressed between his hard body and the soft mattress. “Is that really what you think of me?” he inquired, the words tight, restrained. Are you sure, his eyes seemed to ask.

“Yes,” you answered immediately, the word rushing out of you before you could think to lie. Maybe that was how the victims of his spymaster tactics felt, too, under the scrutiny in his never-ending hazel gaze. But you couldn’t think about that now– couldn’t think about anyone else, because then Azriel was kissing you. 

He crawled over you, caging your body under his large frame as his lips conquered yours. You were in too much shock, and too much bliss to refuse– moaning as his tongue wandered into your mouth, a rough hand gripping your waist as the other gripped onto the bend of your headboard, hard. 

This was wrong.

Both of you knew it, deep down, but neither wanted to stop, and neither of you cared now. Your bodies were strung out, needing to be connected so terribly after spending so much time together with not so much as a single kiss. Now that you had had just a tiny taste of it, you couldn't control yourself any more. And Azriel wanted you, the evidence of it pressing into you through his pants and your dress. 

On the same page, he groaned as he sat up, pulling you with him and his hands squeezing the plush of your thighs, shoving your dress up over your hips. You frantically unbuttoned his top, and he ripped the cloth off of him in impatience, cupping your ass and lifting you in one arm as he got rid of his pants with his free hand. You slipped forward so that your hips slotted over his, your slick panties rubbing against the thick, exposed length of him. The both of you gasped at the contact, and he quickly unzipped your gown and threw it over your shoulders into the darkness of your room. 

Your tits spilled out against his broad, inked chest and he growled, hips bucking against yours and sliding his hard cock against your core. Your head tossed back and his mouth was instantly claiming the skin of your neck, licking there and teeth sinking in just hard enough for you to cry out. The liquor only made everything more intense, your skin exploding wherever he touched, kissed, sucked. 

“Please Az,” you pleaded, desperate for more of him. He kissed you again, laying you back onto the pillows once more before he sunk down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Your body writhed in his arms, pleasure shooting through you. His other hand wandered up the inside of your thigh, trailing closer to where you needed him. 

He let out a delectable sound when the heel of his palm pushed into your clit through your panties, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass cheeks. He snarled as your wetness soaked his hand, your body ready for him to take you and claim you as his. Before you could beg again, his fingers slipped under the lace and he ripped the garment into shreds, exposing your dripping pussy to his greedy stare. All you could do was moan and arch your back, nipples stiff and body flushed, bare before your male. 

Azriel dragged you to the bottom of the mattress, then sinking to his knees before you. He spread you before his face, inspecting the most intimate part of you that glistened just for him. The way he was looking at you made a new wave of embarrassment wash over you, but before you could complain, he was leaning into you.

“So perfect,” he said sincerely, not seeming to care as he took a deep breath of your arousal, eyes filled with a wicked glint. Tattooed arms slithered up under your thighs and scarred hands cupped your hips as his tongue roved over your pussy. 

You were moaning unashamedly as he licked at you, kissing your clit and closing his eyes to savor the taste of you, recording each spot that had you crying out and giving them extra attention. Your body was shaking in his grasp, and you keened when his rough fingertips prodded your sopping hole. They slipped in, thrusting a few times before you were cumming, squirming and eyes rolling back. Those fingers retreated and rubbed the fresh slick along your slit, ensuring everything was nice and wet.

He stood then, cock tall and thick at the dip of the V between his hips. You tried to sit up to get a better look at it, eyes widening at the size of him and then realizing his wings had spread out behind him. Maybe that thing they said about wingspan was true after all.

“Come here,” he ordered and you shuffled down to the edge of the bed to meet him. 

You got onto your hands and knees before him, and he raised a brow as he watched your hand wrap around him. His hips thrust forward and he sucked in a breath as you took him into your mouth. He was too big to fit all the way so you went down as far as you could, tongue caressing behind your lips as you pushed him in and out of your throat. Once enough saliva had gathered in your mouth you spat into your hands and twirled them around the base of him, ample length for them to jerk over. Syncing the churn of your hands with your mouth, Azriel began panting, hands tucking your hair back so he could watch your pretty lips slide over him. He only allowed you a minute before he tore you off of him, refusing to finish without feeling the heaven your sweet cunt had promised him as he tasted it earlier. 

Desire pulsed through you as he tossed you onto your back and grasped your ankles, pulling you down so your core rested at the end of the bed, just inches away from his cock. He grabbed himself at the base, pointing the tip onto your hole and sliding the underside of it up and down your slit. Your body was tensing, twitching and trying to pull him inside you, where he was meant to be. “Az… Azriel I need you,” you sobbed, delirious. 

Azriel complied with your wishes, pushing the tip of himself inside your wet pussy before gently thrusting in. Each measured swing of his hips buried him deeper inside of you and you were thrust into another dimension as he hit those sacred, secret spots deep within you. You began clawing at his back as your legs folded on either side of him, submissive to the onslaught of pleasure he was showering you in. You couldn’t think, could barely breathe as he pumped into you, your walls hugging tight around him, begging he never leave, trying to convince him to stay here forever. He was moaning into your clavicle, wings fluttering as he fucked you deep, sweat beginning to dribble down the black designs carved into his firm torso. 

You couldn’t stop calling his name out, panting in his ear as your core took the shape of him. He was shuddering in pleasure, one hand cupping both your tits together and the other coming to curl around your back, hand supporting the back of your neck, pressing you closer to him. His tongue wrestled with yours again, thrusts becoming deeper, harder. Inked hips slapped against yours, the sound of your skin smacking mingling with both your ragged moans. You were close again, the passion in his gaze and his body’s pure intent surging with every thrust. 

Suddenly his shadows joined, slithering onto the bed around you and securing your limbs to the blankets. They flicked over every inch of your skin, tasting you, as if committing the sight and the feel of you to memory. They swirled over your hips, the promise of pleasure whispering in your ears as they crawled toward your nipples and your clit. You cried when they stimulated you, Azriel’s gaze bright as he watched them ravish you, just as he’d always imagined. They intensified everything, and it only took a few more pumps of his throbbing cock inside of you to make you unravel. Your cunt squeezed him ruthlessly, crying as your orgasm surged through your body. 

Azriel took in the sight of you, riding the ecstasy he had provided you with, and his own release came closer. He kept pushing into your slippery core, deep and hard now as his body begged him to finish inside you, for him to fill you up with his seed. He toed over the cusp of his climax, pressing his lips to yours as he uttered, “I love you,” and shot his load as deep as he could into you. His wings flapped a few times as he came, taut body shaking with euphoria.

Your heart swelled at his confession and you smiled, reaching for him to join you on the bed. He took you into his arms, holding you tightly against himself as he picked you up. His shadows brought forth a small, soft cloth and he held it underneath you as he pulled out of you, his essence dribbling out. You whimpered at the sensation, not wanting him to leave you just yet. But he set you back against the pillows once more, tucking your naked form under the covers and joining you there. He scooped your back into his chest, taking a deep breath of your scent from behind your ear. His wings hung off the side of your mattress slightly, his shadows forming a ring around the bed to guard your resting figures. 

He fell asleep quickly, the scarred fingers trailing along your forearm falling slack as his breaths deepened. You savored every second you could, fighting your exhaustion until you had no strength left and peaceful slumber took hold of you. 

“I love you too, Az…”

⸻

The chirp of sparrows on the balcony awoke you the next morning. Your head was pounding, your mouth parched and eyes bleary. Sun shone brightly into your room from the open curtains at the balcony, and you groaned, wondering if your magic could shoot the damn birds just so they’d shut up. Your stomach did not feel good either, an acidic burn at the bottom of your throat. You shifted, a hand coming to press at your forehead. Only you couldn’t– your arm was tucked under something warm and heavy. 

Your eyes flew open. 

Beside you was your mate, his naked chest on display as he laid asleep in your bed. His mouth was open just a crack, and his silky black hair was messy, his arm secure around you. Your heart shot into your mouth and you almost threw up in astonishment. You had spent the night together? 

Oh god. 

You had spent the night together.

Heat blazed your cheeks as you recalled last night’s events, recognizing the dull ache between your legs. Light bruises littered your curves, fingers wandering over a particularly tender spot in the dip between your neck and shoulder. The ghost of his touch still lingered on your skin, and it took you a moment to realize his shadows had come to say good morning to you, caressing your skin. 

You glanced over at him, but he was still asleep. It was only once a shadow trailed off your arm onto his neck and up to his ear that he opened his eyes, gaze meeting yours instantly. 

You pulled the sheet up over your cleavage a little better, wondering if there was any decency left for you to hide from him. “Good morning,” you blurted out, not sure what to say.

Azriel sat up swiftly, groaning as a hand flew to his forehead and he cradled it, obviously hungover just as you were. His wings stretched behind him and he dragged his palms down his face, swearing quietly.

You tried to calm down, your heart beating faster as the moment neared. You would have to talk about it now, right? Now that you had mated, didn’t he feel the bond in place? You didn’t remember what exactly had transpired last night, but surely he had to have discovered your bond. How could he fuck you and not have it snap into place for him?

“How do you feel?” you asked, watchful as you gripped the sheets with clammy hands. 

The shadowsinger sighed, one of his shadows running up his palm and over his shoulders. “Like shit, to be honest,” he replied, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your eyes. He looked at you then, eyes dropping to your chest and then the sheet you were holding, then to his own body. He picked up the sheet and looked at his lap, eyes going wide as he glanced over at you again. “Y/N, we…” 

You nodded slowly, watching his every move to figure out what he was feeling exactly.

Pink dusted his high cheekbones, gaze becoming apologetic. “I’m so sorry Y/N,” he started.

Suddenly your headache didn’t hurt so bad, and the nausea in your stomach heightened. “Why are you sorry?” You whispered, begging for him to be joking. He couldn't still not know… 

Azriel frowned at your emotional gaze. “I… I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” he continued, and it felt like he had just stabbed your heart. “I never should have touched you last night. We were drunk, it wasn’t right. I’m sorry.” 

Rejection. 

It was excruciating, as if Truth-Teller was carving your insides out. 

“I see.” Your words were hollow now, but you couldn’t stop the words from falling from your lips. “Do you regret it?” You hated that it had slipped out, because you knew his reply would only hurt you even more. 

The shadows around your hips dragged at you, crying as they were pulled away from you, their master slipping from the sheets, pulling on his pants. Azriel couldn’t look at you, avoiding your gaze as he fumbled around for his shirt. 

“Did you mean it?” You asked quietly, so quiet Azriel almost didn’t hear it. You didn’t know if he knew what you were referring to, if he knew you were asking him if he loved you. 

It didn’t matter, because he chose not to reply, slipping out of your door and leaving you to drown in melancholy. You had your answer.

𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱. 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 8𝘬 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘙𝘌. 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 & 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥~ 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨!!^^

next part

#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #angelshadowsinger #StBT series

[angelshadowsinger]

Supposed to Be Together {part 2}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.0k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: false unrequited love, self-doubt 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 . 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦. 𝘐 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘈𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 3 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦… 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘩𝘩𝘢. 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺~

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

It was only hours after Azriel had left that he had been called on duty and his presence had all but disappeared from the Night Court. His departure from the Court was noticeable immediately for you, the distance between your bodies making your heart ache and your despair plunge even deeper somehow. 

You were still in your bed, the smell of your mate clinging to you. Each inhale of your mixed scents was bittersweet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the sheets. His arms were around you for such a short time– you were glad that you had cherished every moment before sleep overtook you last night. His touch, his lips, and his teeth had been on your skin just hours ago, and the ghost of them lingered on every inch of your skin. 

You closed your eyes, fresh tears trailing down your raw cheeks as you allowed the scene from this morning to replay again, for what already felt like the thousandth time. 

“I never should have touched you last night.”

Your lip trembled. 

“It wasn’t right.” 

It was so hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry.”

What did that even mean? 

You sobbed, throwing one of your numerous pillows across the room. It must’ve knocked something over because shortly after, the shattering of glass sounded some distance away. You didn’t bother sitting up to see what had broken. It wasn’t like you planned to leave your bed anytime soon. 

Why would you do anything if your mate rejected you?

But was this even truly rejection, though? He had said so little before he took leave this morning; the only emotion you could feel besides your overwhelming self-pity was confusion. 

Having the spymaster for a mate was infuriating; how were you supposed to be able to tell what he was thinking when he always wore that measured mask of calm? Weren’t you supposed to be the one person he was truly himself with? Why wouldn’t he want to share his feelings with you, when all you’d been was kind and warm to him? 

Perhaps he had finally felt safe enough last night to tell you some of his thoughts, coupled with the deceitful confidence alcohol always brings. 

“I love you.”

You shuddered, your body recalling the sheer ecstasy that had paired with those sweet, simple words. You allowed yourself to remember how his silky-soft hair had felt between your fingers, the scratch of his calloused, scarred hands wandering over your curves, the sweep of his tongue along the column of your throat. 

Feeling like this was awful. It only solidified your logic prior to last night; that you should have kept your bond a secret from the shadowsinger. Maybe the bond itself was a mistake, if Azriel couldn’t even realize it was there after you had given everything to him.

A muffled rap on your bedroom door summoned you from your darkening thoughts. 

Sitting up, you perched on the edge of your bed with ears perked, keen on discovering who dared to intrude your sorrow. The heavy door cracked open, just enough to let a mass of beautiful blonde waves poke inside.

“Hey, I heard a crash and I just wanted to check if…” Mor started, earthy orbs flicking over you intent on finding the disturbance but then double-taking at the gloom radiating off of you. 

You didn’t bother hiding your puffy eyes, the mess of hair that had knotted and mussed about from tossing in your sheets the last few hours. This female was much too smart for you to feign togetherness, and she was indeed the only soul that you had confided in about the very bond that was now tormenting you. 

Mor stepped into your room silently, eyes still trained on you as she closed the door with a quiet thud. She locked the handle, even though the pair of you both knew it was a rather insignificant measure, considering nearly everyone who entered the House of Wind was riddled with magic. Regardless, it was an acknowledgement that you wanted your misery to go unnoticed by the rest, at least for now. A burst of gratitude warmed your aching heart for your friend who could read you like an open book, words not necessary. 

The bed dipped beside you as she sat down– softly. As if, if she plonked down you’d shoot up from the mattress and smash into a thousand pieces on the tiled floor below. 

She was quiet for a minute, politely examining the curtains on the far balcony, her nail beds… then, admitting, “I have the worst hangover right now.”

It actually made you laugh. 

Just a small, hollow one, but nonetheless, you hadn’t expected even that from your lips today. 

Your friend half-smiled at the sound, eying you from her periphery. Her grin faded quickly, her strong, warm fingers coming to rest over yours on top of the velvet duvet. “You look like shit, babe. What happened?”

Her query was barely a whisper, but still you froze, unwilling to meet her gaze. Your shoulders shrugged and you could tell your face was beginning to pinch, twisting into that ugly look that only ever accompanied deep, painful sobs and gasping tears. Regaling what the shadowsinger had said to you felt impossible,  like it would only gauge at the wound that was already maiming you. 

Mor waited with gentle patience, rubbing her thumb over the back of  your hand. 

Eventually words found you, but your voice was raw and nearly cracked as you murmured, “I can’t, Mor… it– he doesn’t–” You barely managed to get that far, eyes stinging with another onslaught of saline anguish.  She nodded, rubbing your arm, sympathy in her gaze. “Please, can you just– just–” your lungs seized up as you battled another fit of sobs, unable to keep your emotions at bay any longer and your cheeks wetting again. 

The blonde hugged you fiercely, her strong grip holding you together while you cried into her shoulder, soothing you and petting your hair. At the moment, she wondered if you knew that you deserved the world, and she also wondered just which method she would use to neuter a certain spymaster the next time they crossed paths…

⸻

It had now been one day and some hours since Azriel left on his mission and his rejection still burned white-hot in your mind, a brand that left an unignorable ache in your bones and a crater in your chest. 

Mor had been able to reign off the crew for at least yesterday, claiming you were having the nastiest, most rancid hangover of the century. She said the two of you would be spending the day recovering together. After the night before, no one batted an eye. However, she unfortunately had to work today– not that she didn’t try to get out of it, but she did not prevail when it was her High Lord who called on her. 

You had planned to spend today like the last, hidden away in sulking solitude. But you had forgotten about the weekly combat training with Cassian you were scheduled for this morning, and the commander himself had shown up at your bedroom door with hands on his hips, ready to tell you off. 

Except with one look at the exhausted, tear-swollen face that had answered his relentless knocking, he caved and decided to make you pancakes instead. You had quietly pushed them around your plate as he and his mate shared looks and no doubt some mental assessment on the situation sitting across the table from them. But it had overall been a very uneventful meal, thankfully the two of them having enough sense not to interrogate you. You were grateful for their restraint; you didn’t know if you could cry any more and you didn’t really want to find out.

Then when you had wandered out for a small piece of sustenance around lunch, you cursed the Gods that the circle had assembled at the House for midday meal. Even though you tried your best to hide your dismal mood, every one of your friends had been able to instantly tell that you were dealing with something. Before any of them could ask why you looked so tired and depressed, you had skittered back to your asylum, unable to handle so many curious, pity-filled gazes.

The orange afternoon sky was now melting into purple, the evening arriving in typical Night Court grandeur. It was breathtaking as usual, yet even the stars that twinkled in the sky above seemed dimmer than usual. You sulked on your balcony, legs curled up to your chest as you sat on the plush chaise, a blanket wrapped around you despite the tepid summer breeze. 

Panic bloomed in your chest as you recognized the beat of wings looming closer, an acrid taste forming on your tongue, but it was all fleeting as the High Lady of the Night Court gracefully landed a few steps away from you. 

Feyre was always gorgeous, but her second pregnancy had made her glow with a certain brilliance that had you in awe. Slightly jealous, even. It was so rare for High Fae to be blessed with another child so soon after the last, and she had a loving, attentive mate who took care of her every need. But the bitterness only lasted for a second, because you knew the female before you deserved all the blessings she had, after all she had sacrificed and endured. 

“My Lady,” you greeted, scrambling to get up. But Feyre only placed a hand on your shoulder, her conjured wings disappearing into thin air before she took a seat beside you on the chaise. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that every time you see me?” she smiled, her touch warm and somehow pacifying your frayed nerves. She was the embodiment of a High Lady; kind, fierce, strong, and caring. She was an even better friend. Though she was powerful, perhaps more powerful than Rhysand, she did not scare you, for you’d come to know her during the time you’d settled into her Court. During the time you’d become one of her healers.

“Gods–” you gasped in realization, fingers coming to your lips and wide eyes meeting her careful gaze. “I forgot about your appointment this afternoon, I– I’m so sorry Feyre, I–”

“I know,” she took your hand from your face, lithe fingers enveloping yours just as Mor’s had yesterday. “Please don’t apologize, there's no need… I know.” 

You looked at her for a while, searching for confirmation. And she just looked back at you, no pity, no questions. Just… understanding. 

“You know?” You whispered, fixing the blanket that had fallen from your other shoulder, “About…  me and… Az?”

She nodded. 

You studied the floor, the leaves that lay there, scattered by the wind. Mor wouldn’t have told her, you were confident in that. You supposed it was obvious, then– your longing looks at the shadowsinger, all the time the two of you spent together. Feyre was perhaps the most perceptive of emotion in the Inner Circle, but still– how had she seen it when your mate hadn’t?

Anxiety tickled at you. “Does Rhys?” 

Feyre snorted, bright eyes rolling. “Gods, with his thick-skull?” A pause, before, “...He does, now. Took him long enough, though.”

You allowed that to sit for a moment, then bit your lip. “Does… everyone?”

The female sighed. “I’m not sure. We have not discussed it, though I think it’s safe to say that after today, everyone suspects.”

You were surprisingly numb. Perhaps you had exhausted all the tears you could manage, your overwhelming emotions drained. So everyone knew, probably even Madja. How humiliating.

Feyre spoke after a while, when it was clear you would not be the one to break the silence. “The way he looks at you… I had my theories about the pair of you. Hopes, actually.” 

You glanced at her, surprised. She only smiled, and looked away, studying the silhouette of the mountains in the far, dark horizon.

“I heard about your outing the other night. Cass told me that you all got piss-drunk at Rita’s, and you got Az to dance. Rhys and I howled at that, it’s been so long since Az has given anyone the time of day,” she was quiet in her explanation, as were you. “I… we hoped that something might’ve happened, finally. But then yesterday morning, word came of an incident at Windhaven, and Rhys called Az and Cass in for a meeting.”

You stiffened, shocked. You had suspected that Azriel had begged Rhysand for a mission, a reason to flee– been happy to have an excuse to get as far as he could from you and the drunken confession he’d let slip only hours before. But he was actually on duty, had a legitimate reason for disappearing. Not that that would excuse the way he left your quarters, but still– it was a pinch of comfort to your aching heart.

“Az was… I’ve never seen him like that. Rhys and Cass were shocked, too. He was just so… so angry, unmasked when he came in. He was obviously upset and brooding more than ever– short with Cass, with Rhys, with me. The three of them went to Windhaven after that, Rhys wanted to get him away, for him to harness that foul mood and put it to use there. The situation deescalated enough for them to leave around dawn, but someone needed to stay behind to make sure the camp would get back on the right track, so that’s where Az is now. Rhys told me he was going to have Cass stay, but Az was still riled up, and he thought it was better this way.

When Cass saw you this morning, he let us know and that’s why we were all here for lunch. We just wanted to make sure you were okay, but you looked so… broken, I knew Az had gone and fucked it up. That’s why he was so irate yesterday, why he was mad at himself. I don’t know what exactly happened between you two, but I know you both cherish each other so much. I’m sorry he does not have the emotional prowess to best handle this situation, he’s never been great with his feelings. Especially not sharing them…”

Feyre was looking at you then, gauging your frown and the far-away look of reflection in your gaze.

“Azriel is my mate,” you said eventually. It was only the second time you’d said the words aloud, the first being to Mor in near silent secrecy. “We were drunk and we had sex the other night… and he still doesn’t know. I gave him everything and he… left two minutes after waking up that morning. He said he was sorry and then he just left me there.” 

She blinked. Then snarled, shooting up with her fists clenched at her sides. “That stupid male!” She started pacing before you, measured but still, wrath seeping in her wake. You had a feeling that if she was holding anything right now it would sail off the balcony and into the night.

You smiled a little at her anguish. Friends like Mor and Feyre were rare and you had come to love them like sisters, especially in moments like these.

After she had sat down beside you again in a huff, you asked the question that was eating at you for so long now. “What if he never realizes?” 

Feyre exhaled, long and pained. She took her time to formulate her answer, but that was fine; you were terrified of what she would say. 

“I think, deep down, he knows already,” she said. You weren’t sure if that was relief or panic you were feeling. “I think the only reason the bond hasn’t set for him is because he’s in denial. Denial that the Gods would ever bless him with such an amazing, beautiful, compassionate female. He has… scars. Very deep, emotional scars that trick him into thinking he is undeserving of love. This is all just my speculation, of course– every time I try to talk deeply with him, he clams up. He does with everyone, even his brothers. I’m sorry, I know that’s not an excuse for how he treated you.” 

And it wasn’t an excuse, not really. But it did make your hurt wash away a bit, it helped you understand him and why he acted like that. It made sense. 

But fear still had its icy claws sunk into you, grip unrelenting. Because even if all that sounded plausible, perhaps it was truly just conjecture. Perhaps he did not want a mate at all, perhaps he did not want anything to do with you. Perhaps that was why the bond would not snap for him, why he had left so suddenly that morn… 

Yet he had told you that he loved you. That he thought you were beautiful, that he thought so every day. 

Everything was so confusing. 

“Thank you, Feyre,” you murmured then. 

Her insight had been helpful, even if you were still deep in turmoil, it had been nice to talk to someone who was not Mor. However, you knew that nothing could be solved unless you talked to him… and the premise of doing so made a shiver go through your bones. Of either absolute salvation or rejection. There was going to be no in between. You were terrified… but you couldn’t stop it. All you could do was wait for his return, and then you would have to see if you felt brave enough to look fate in the eye.

The High Lady could see that you were in deep contemplation, but she had also reached the same conclusion as you. She pivoted then, taking your hand and placing it on her protruding belly. You smiled, the sentiment not quite reaching your eyes. 

“She kicked for the first time today,” she informed, and you gasped. Your issues seemed so small in comparison to the life that was blooming in her belly, then, even if they truly weren’t. But you welcomed the distraction, thankful for the female beside you.

“So your visit with Madja went well today, then? I promise I will not forget again…”

⸻

Feyre stayed with you for another hour before she had insisted you join the family for dinner. She slipped away to ready herself and left you alone once again, now sitting on one of the couches inside your quarters. 

The House had changed your bedding yesterday when Mor was distracting you, yet somehow, all you craved at the moment was to lay face down in those ruined sheets and inhale your mate’s scent that was plastered to them. Maybe that was filthy of you, but you so desperately wanted to be in his arms at the moment, so desperately needed him to be near. You curled up into a ball on top of the fresh duvet, closing your eyes as you imagined him behind you, strong arm wrapped around you like it had been the other morning. 

Your chest hurt at the memory. 

No, it wasn’t hurt– it was… longing, it was– tension, like the string of a guitar, taut, and– a snap. You shot upright, eyes wide, hand over your heart. The bond– it was the bond that you felt just then, it was Azriel, he– warmth washed over you. 

Then, you whimpered. 

He had strummed the thread of the bond, harder this time, with intent, recognition. 

You didn’t know what to feel. You wanted to throw up, to cry, to jump up and down. 

He felt it. 

He knew. 

You wondered how this was possible, with him being so physically far away. Wasn’t it traditional for the bond to snap with your mate right in front of you? Yes, but then, your relationship with the shadowsinger was far from traditional– you’d lain together just the other night and the bond hadn’t set for him then, so what was different now? 

Could he feel what you were feeling? Could you feel what he was feeling? 

You panted, trying to calm down, to focus, and see if you could… 

Regret. 

It was so profound you gasped like you’d been struck. There was so much regret pulsing on the other side of your bond, it was stifling, all-consuming. After weeks of radio silence from the other side of the bond, it was too much.

Quickly you put up your walls. You couldn’t breathe, panic taking hold. 

This was too much for you– what if– what if he came to you? What if he fell on his knees and pleaded for you, and you– what if you could have him? Really have him, like you were meant to, like you had dreamed of? Your thoughts had been so overwhelmingly dark these past days, you had not at all allowed yourself to consider that he could possibly accept the bond; accept you. You began pacing, clammy palms smoothing down the simple velvet dress you had put on in preparation for dinner. 

Anxious, you were so godsdamned anxious. 

When would he be back? What would he say? Would you hear him out? Would you have the strength to look at him? You had cried for two days now, there was no strength left, not even enough power for you to fake it. 

You were still trying to force yourself to calm down when there was a knock on your door.

You froze, immediately wondering if somehow it was him. But you’d come to know the sense that would sound in your body when he came near, and you knew that you’d have known if he was back from his mission. You made yourself walk over to the entrance to your room, opening the large door to find the eldest Archeron sister there, looking you over inquisitively.

“Dinner’s ready,” Nesta said, eyeing your slightly off-beat breath, the semi-wild look in your gaze. 

Reminding yourself that she probably had her suspicions, that apparently everyone did, you put on a fake smile and nodded, stepping out of your room and following her down the hall. 

Mor, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, Amren, and Nyx were all spread out around the living space when Nesta and you wandered in. All eyes jumped straight to you, any conversation halting, appraising you after you had appeared so sullen at lunch just hours before. 

“Um… Hi?” You offered, a meek wave accompanying it. Amren was looking at you peculiarly– actually, everyone was, but you tried to ignore it, embarrassed to have them all have seen you in your sorry state this afternoon. 

It was Nyx who called your name, popped up, and ran over to you, his face pressing into your stomach as he gave you a sweet hug. You looked down at him and smiled, a hand carding through his short onyx locks. You were about to greet the boy when he looked up at you and said matter-of-factly, “You smell weird.”

Both Rhysand and Cassian coughed at the same instant, the High Lord subtly turning around and wandering into the kitchen while his commander turned to inspect the fire that was crackling in the hearth. There was amusement in the air between the females, and mortification as you realized that everyone could probably smell the bond now that it had been realized on both ends. 

Your cheeks darkened and you forced a laugh, poking the boy on the nose and replying with a weak, “You smell weird.”

Nyx frowned and he looked so cute like that, like a tiny Rhys in contemplation. He lifted an arm and sniffed himself, then you again, and you could see the connection in his bright purple gaze. “Oh! You smell like–”

Feyre clasped a hand over her son’s mouth, materializing behind him as she jerked her head toward the table, where various plates piled high with piping hot food had appeared. “Would you look at that, dinner is served! Let’s eat!” 

Everyone filled their seats quite swiftly, wanting to be done with the elephant in the room. Cassian and Rhys started a low conversation, something of the updates on the training ring at the top of the house, while Feyre fussed with fixing Nyx’s plate and tucking a napkin into his shirt. 

You silently filled your plate, the delicious scent of the food tempting you to eat something more than just bread or water.

You had just finished your third bite of potatoes when the hairs on your arm rose straight up, and your heart felt like it was about to fall three floors below you and into the rocky mountain itself. 

His presence was nearing, your grip on your fork tightening, knuckles draining of color. Mor was looking at you from across the table, but you didn’t look up, fixing your eyes on the barely-touched food on the plate before you. Suddenly you didn’t feel like eating– didn’t feel like opening your mouth at all. You just wanted to shrink into the shadows and pause your existence.

Rhys and Cassian stopped talking as they heard the tell-tale thud of boots hitting the tile at the front of the house, just one room over. You still had your walls up but you could feel him now, feel the bond tight in the center of your chest, feel your mate storming over to the room. 

More anxiety. And some twisted form of excitement. 

It was hot, you felt like you were melting all of the sudden, like prey cornered by an apex predator, knowing it was about to meet its fate. 

And then he was there, you could see his tall, massive form in the doorway, shadows billowing out from him and scattering around the room. You could feel his eyes locked on you the second he rounded the corner. The intensity in them was unbearable.

Waiting. 

Silence.

Staring.

But you were stubborn, and you would not look at anything else but your plate, even as you felt multiple gazes turn to you. Your body was near shaking, screaming at you to look at him, to run to him and throw yourself at him. Blatant want was pulsing through you, and you were horrified to think that any one of the others were witnessing this, especially little Nyx, who had stopped eating and now was looking between you two just like everyone else. 

You noticed a shadow come to greet you underneath the table, its silky cool touch wrapping around your ankle in greeting. You could only think about how they had held your limbs the other night, and godsdamned this was not helping, you were supposed to be mad, or sad, or– anything but horny right now, what the fuck?

“Azriel,” Rhys greeted, his chair screeching on the floor as he stood up. Ever the leader, attempting to deescalate the situation that was about to unleash. 

The shadowsinger glanced at him, and even though it was just for a moment, it was great reprieve when his intense eyes left the side of your head. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath, and you tried your best to quiet the near gasp you made as you inhaled. And then he was already looking at you again, acknowledging his brother with a curt, “Rhys.”

Then he took a step toward you and you jumped, your fork clattering onto the table with a loud noise. You stared at it with wide eyes, noting it was slightly bent in the middle, where you had squeezed it.

Cassian shot up from his seat then, which was located right between Azriel and you. His broad figure blocked you from Azriel’s view for a moment and the spymaster actually snarled at his brother, the noise sending shivers through your entirety. Your gaze moved over in his direction then, the wall of Illyrian between you giving you enough courage to look up. 

Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their chairs, ready to pounce if Azriel decided to cut right through his brother to get to you. 

“Azriel,” Rhys said again, this time his tone dark. Some of his power was leaking out now, clearly annoyed his brother was acting like this right in the middle of dinner, in front of his son, his family. “I need your debrief of Windhaven, now. It is urgent.”

Azriel whipped to look at him then, his scarred hands clenched so tight by the side of his hips you wondered if his nails were drawing blood. It was the only part of him you could see besides his legs, his face still concealed behind his brother. 

But then Cassian moved, and you cursed him as your gaze met your mate’s. 

You couldn’t help it; you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. He was so devastatingly beautiful, even covered in dirt and grime from his mission, from his flight. He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept for days, disheveled and exhausted, but somehow he was the most handsome you had ever seen him. His honey gaze was piercing you, so much emotion muddled there, his brow cinching and his lip trembling just a bit. The bond tugged gently at your chest and you nearly cried as he took every detail of you in, all the torment that he had inflicted clear in your eyes and the sunken bags that laid beneath them. 

Rhys said his name, again, this time with warning. The Illyrian flinched at the command from his High Lord, but his eyes still did not leave yours. You felt him, pushing and clawing at your mental walls, desperately trying to reach out to you. 

You couldn’t do anything but look at him. You just kept gawking at him as Cassian came to his side, his hand softly pushing his shoulder as Rhys came to do so to the other. And Azriel threw you one more futile look of longing before he forced himself to turn and prowl off to the meeting room with his brothers. 

Once you had heard the door shut, ensuring they were locked away now, you breathed, tearing your gaze from the spot your mate had just stood in. All of the women at the table were looking at you, at the obvious distress you were now allowing to set in, wondering how they could help you. Nyx, thankfully, went back to eating.

The thought of trying to force the food before you into your mouth made your stomach twist tightly, unease rising. You had to get out, just– be anywhere but here. Azriel was right there in the other room now, and it would only be so long before his brothers could stop him from coming to you, from giving you your answer. 

“I– I think I’ve lost my appetite,” you said, and it was not a lie. You stood up, fixing your hair behind your ear as you turned. “Thank you for dinner, but I need to go.” 

Mor stood as you rounded the table, but you just put your hand up to her. You couldn’t right now, you just needed to be alone. Their hot gazes followed you until the hallway swallowed you up, and you were jogging, running to your room, slamming the door shut. 

You wanted to throw up, but there was barely anything in your stomach. Your fingers raked your hair, and you started pacing again, taking great strides from one side of your room to the other. 

Gods, this was the most anxious you had felt in a long time. You were trying desperately to calm your breaths, to no avail. You were panting, every emotion you’d come to know coursing through you. You tried to sort through them.

First, you were scared. You were scared that you were about to face your mate, and this would be the first time he knew just what he was to you, what you were to him. You were scared that he would reject you, that he would speak those terrible words that haunted your nightmares, that he did not want you. But you were also scared that he would want you. Your friendship had become so meaningful that you were scared, scared to have someone who knew you so well now having full ownership of your heart, your body. 

Then you were hopeful. You were hoping that he did want you– after all, the look he had given you ten minutes ago had been so fully loaded that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. And even now, with him locked away in that meeting, you could feel him through the bond, caressing your shields, trying to get through them, to get to you. 

Then you were angry. He had taken so damn long to realize what you were to him. He had made that whole spectacle at dinner, in front of everyone, and he– He had left you that morning without more than twenty words, your questions unanswered. 

Then you were freaking out again, because you started to prickle and you could feel him getting closer now, stalking toward your door. He stopped right there, with just the door to separate him from you, and paused. 

You could see his shadows creeping under the door, longing for a glimpse of you, wandering over to where you now resided on the sofa. One climbed the leg of it, tentatively sliding onto your finger before making its way up your arm. You shivered, still as it came to curl around your jaw, caressing your face as if it were his hand instead. You didn’t realize you had started crying again, surprised when the shadow wiped the corner of your eye.

You stood up and it shrunk off of you, flickering back to report to its master, who still stood silent on the other side of the door. He was still pawing at your mental walls, and you were clinging so hard to your anger that was quickly dwindling, because if you didn’t hold onto that, you were sure either fear or hope would take over and that meant you would have to face him with your heart on your sleeve. 

The shadow must have snitched about your tears, because he pulled on the bond, and you nearly fell to your knees at the intensity of it burning in your chest. 

“Y/N,” he said your name quietly through the door, just loud enough for you to hear him. “Please let me in.” 

But you couldn’t move, your feet stuck to the rug beneath you. You remembered the last time he was in your room, the way his words had scathed you, and you didn’t think you could survive if he decided to reject you again. 

“Please,” he pleaded, his voice raw, as if he had screamed at the sky all the way home to you. 

You closed your eyes, trying to muster the strength that this conversation would require. The door thudded softly, and you could just picture how his head had dipped down and bumped it then, his grief and desire and love flooding the bond. 

“Please just listen to my apology.” His voice was trembling and your heart was breaking, more tears trailing down your cheeks. “If you want nothing to do with me after that, then… I understand.”

Your entire being was screaming at you to open the door, even though you were still so mad at him. You needed to open the door for him. 

You needed your mate, and you didn’t have the strength to fight your instincts anymore, shooting across the room and grabbing the handle. 

𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘮. 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵~ 𝘛𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 ;)

next part

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #angelshadowsinger #StBT series

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 21

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: warning for mentions of… a missing hand. ya’ll get it. ALSO! in accordance to yesterday's post on the update schedule for stbt... updates will now be once a week on mondays :)

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After Starfall, as promised, I prepared to fly down to the River House and talk with Rhysand.

But Azriel was walking toward me, and I was inclined to listen to him speak, instead of going to Rhys right now. “Are you going to go talk with Rhys?” He asked.

I nodded. “I have to… face it eventually, don’t I? Perhaps finally get the revenge I deserve.”

Azriel’s eyes shone with sympathy. He reached forward, grabbing my hand in his. Just a little touch, but it was reassuring. And with the close proximity, I also felt a rush of comfort run down that little thin set of strings between us. It eased my nerves ever so slightly.

“Do you want me to come with?” He offered.

I swallowed, closing my eyes briefly as I considered his offer. Then I nodded jerkily. “Please,” I whispered.

Azriel smiled a little, squeezing my palm lightly. Our shadows running over each other’s wrists, playing with each other. I never saw it before, but I heard all their voices, and maybe Azriel’s were a bit more… scrambled, as I didn’t know them– but they were there. And clearly were infatuated with the aspect of me and Azriel being near, and being able to mess with the other’s shadows.

“They’re playing,” I chuckled, momentarily distracted from the aspect of visiting Rhys.

Azriel grinned wider, his eyes locking on our twined hands. “They are,” he hummed. “It’s kind of…”

“Cute?” I guessed, watching as one set jumped into the air between us, dancing around freely. 

“Yeah,” Azriel chuckled. “Cute. Just like you.”

I blushed. “You fucker,” I swore, glancing up at his face again. “That was sly, and that’s the only reason I’m letting it slide.”

He smirked mischievously. “It’s not the first time you didn’t kill me for it, so I think it’s ‘third time’s the try?’ Yeah?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot,” I scoffed.

“Better than other things,” he hummed. “I believe you called me an asshole first. I think I’ve stepped it up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head, but a smile was on my face.

“Ready to go?” Azriel asked gently, as if hesitant to bring up the matter again.

The dread from earlier immediately resurfaced and I tried to push it down again, but to no avail. “Yeah,” I hummed, eyes suddenly distant. “Let’s go.”

We took off, gliding down to the River House situated along the Sidra. Rhys opened the door, probably having either sensed us or seen us fly in.

“How’s the headache?” Rhys asked, going for a lighter tone after we’d entered the house.

I actually hadn’t had too bad of a headache this morning from the alcohol. Even after downing close to 10 drinks throughout the night. The hangover hadn’t been too bad.

“Could be worse,” I replied. Azriel nodded in agreement beside me. “And you?”

“Same,” Rhys hummed. “Are you alright with talking about what happened in Ironcrest?”

I swallowed, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

Azriel grabbed my hand immediately, squeezing it. It was comforting to have that touch for once. To have that little grounding force keeping me from falling into my thoughts and memories.

“Let’s go sit,” Rhys recommended, motioning toward the couches just a few feet away. I nodded, sitting on a couch. Azriel sat next to me, not letting my hand go. Internally, I swore to thank him. As a friend, as a mate, as something, but he was helping considerably.

“Right,” Rhys said, sitting in an armchair nearby. “I’ve heard most of what happened from Azriel, but if possible, I’d like to hear your point of view, or at least what happened when Az disappeared.”

I took a deep breath. “When Az left…” I began. “Ambroz stood, and I followed. He… uh… slapped me, and when I tried to draw a dagger, he grabbed onto my wing.”

I felt a pulse of anger from the bond in my chest. “I wasn’t able to get to my other weapons. He took one of my daggers, and held it up to my wing. He was planning to… clip me. Finish the job, he said. Az burst in not too much later.”

Rhys nodded, eyes shining with sympathy. Azriel gently nudged my ankle with his boot, squeezing my palm. I experimentally sent some of that thankfulness I felt for the actions down the bond. A pulse of something that resembled affection came back in reply.

“Well, I suppose, mission accomplished,” Rhys hummed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that to warrant it though. It never was my intention, nor anyone’s to cause that to happen.”

I nodded, looking down at the floor. “It’s fine,” I lied. It wasn’t fine. No, not in the slightest. Not with these horrible feelings spilling from me.

“The next thing I want to ask,” Rhys continued. “Is if you still want to claim his killing blow. It’s yours if you want it. And if you’d like to gain some closure by speaking with him, then you are free to do so.”

I took a deep breath, eyes closing briefly. “I’ll do it,” I muttered. “When can I?”

“Whenever you’d like. Just… don’t go alone,” Rhys replied. “And if you’d like to do it as soon as possible, we can grab some gear and go right now.”

I looked over at Azriel, silently begging him to come with me.

He dipped his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “If you want to do it today angel, we can. I can go with you.”

I nodded. “Let’s kill this asshole,” I said in the most even voice I could manage right now. My heart was pounding against my chest, the sound of blood rushing through my ears only adding to that anxiety curling in my gut. “I’ll get my sword.”

Rhys glanced at Azriel incredulously, but he soon turned back to me. “We can all go,” he decided.

I nodded, standing from the couch and letting Azriel’s hand drop from my own. He stood up beside me. “We’ll be right back brother.”

And barely fifteen minutes later, I was standing right outside the cell of Lord Ambroz of Ironcrest. My father. With my High Lord, and my mate as the spymaster. “Let’s go,” I ground out, putting my hand on the handle of my sword from where it rested at my hip. 

Azriel leaned in to whisper in my ear. “One word, and you can leave and never think about him again, got it?”

I nodded, and then motioned to Rhys to open up the door that did not have a door handle. The High Lord did not have his wings out, despite flying here, but his dark magic was showing, flowing around so similarly to my shadows. Speaking of my shadows, they were curled up close to me. A few whispered to sing with them. And though I wished I could right now, there was a job I had to finish.

The door opened and the High Lord went in first, and I followed with Azriel right on my trail.

Ambroz was locked tightly in chains connecting to the wall. He looked ragged, and so much different than the last time I saw him. He was indeed missing a hand. Halfway through his left forearm, it had been cut off. Bone severed through rage. And his healing had only been able to close the skin around the stub.

But the male himself? Oh, he smirked when he saw me. He looked so incredibly proud of what he did.

Rhys spoke first, voice speaking in a deadly sort of way that curled up like his darkness. “Ambroz, I believe you have some things to speak about with Y/N.”

Ambroz chuckled lowly. “Indeed I do.”

I took a final, deep calming breath before stepping closer to the male. “Why’d you do it?” I asked. “Why did you do it?”

Ambroz rolled his eyes. “Daughter, you look well.”

“Answer the fucking question,” Azriel snapped from my side. I saw his hand go down to his thigh, where one of his prized daggers was tightened into the sheath.

The prisoner rolled his eyes dramatically. “It is custom, daughter. And I am a lord, appeasing the citizens of my camp.”

“It isn’t your camp anymore,” Rhys snarled.

“Oh really?” Ambroz chuckled. “Whose is it then, High Lord?”

“Mine. Until I can find a reasonable replacement.”

“As if you’ll find someone,” Ambroz scoffed.

I cut in. “Stop acting as if you’re better than everyone else, Ambroz. I don’t fucking care. At the moment, you are the one in chains. And you are the one who’s going to die.”

“That’s what you think, daughter,” Ambroz said smugly.

I tensed, the word ‘daughter’ finally worming its way into my skull. “I will never be your daughter,” I snarled.

“Oh, but you are,” Ambroz smirked. Probably enjoying the fact he was finally getting into my head. “And you will forever be. It makes me curious, because you never dared wonder about your eye color, did you?”

I didn’t share the eye color my mother and brother had. I’d always had something different. And now that I looked into Ambroz’s eyes… They were the same color. Exactly the same. “Shut up,” I growled, tightening my grip on my sword. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Azriel, beside me, put a hand on my shoulder. The touch grounded me enough to realize my wings had flared out in my anger, and that I was tensed as hard as a boulder.

Ambroz scoffed. “Look at you, still uncontrollable.”

Azriel snapped his head up, his glare accentuated by the shadows curling in his hair and around his ears.

I turned away, taking a few steps away from my childhood torturer. There was a soft tap on my mind’s shields. Dark claws skittering along the edges of the barrier I kept up to protect my thoughts. I opened up hesitantly.

Rhys’s voice filled my mind, the dark claws gentle as they stood at the edge of my mind, not going in too far. You’re not obligated to stay, you know that right? I said if you want the killing blow. Not that you needed to make it.

I’m fine, I replied.

Just wanted to remind you, that’s all. And then Rhys retreated.

Ambroz continued to snarl insults at me, but I heard Azriel and Rhys snarking right back at him.

Finally, I turned back. “Ambroz, you will pay for what you’ve done to me and others in the past. But not by my hand.”

I felt surprise from the bond in my chest. I leaned in to whisper into Azriel’s ear. “Give him hell.”

Azriel turned his head to look at me, and finally, resolution filtered into his gaze. “I’ll find you later,” he promised. “After I make him pay for hurting you.”

I nodded, and then cast one more glance at Rhys before I winnowed into the skies above Velaris, snapping my wings open to glide. The silence and comfort of flying didn’t last as long as I liked, and I was forced to turn back to the House of Wind, going to my room only to collapse onto my bed, groaning at the horrible feelings I had right now.

Not just from Ambroz, but for some reason, just something felt wrong. So wrong I couldn’t even muster the energy to get up. I felt like absolute shit. And I wasn’t even sick! I just felt like shit for what was probably no damn reason.

It was hours before Azriel returned. I heard him walk into his room, boots squelching against the floor. Another hour passed before he softly knocked on my door.

“Y/N?” He called. “Could I come in?”

I groaned, but called out to him, “Come in!”

The door knob twisted and Azriel padded into the room. I turned my head to look at him, lifting my wing out of the way from where it draped across the bed and down to the floor. Azriel wasn’t wearing his leathers anymore, he was just wearing a loose shirt. He chuckled, amused, when he saw me.

“You alright angel?”

I laid my wing right back down, my face going into the bed to muffle my next groan of frustration.

Azriel huffed. “It’s not about that asshole, right?”

I shook my head. I had trusted Azriel to take care of that and exact revenge from Ambroz. I trusted Azriel. “I just feel like shit, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he admonished. “I get feeling like shit.”

I chuckled, lifting my head to look at him. His hair was wet, and almost looked fluffy like this. He must’ve taken a bath to clean off the blood that had surely been spilled.

“Do you care if I scratch your head? You seemed to like it before,” he asked, walking around my wing to crouch at the head of the bed, looking at me.

I hummed, closing my eyes again. “Sure,” I hummed.

I could almost feel his shit-eating grin from here. One of those beautiful scarred hands trailed up the back of my neck, producing just the slightest shiver, before scratching at that short hair, his short nails feeling great against my scalp.

I hummed, content.

“Am I allowed to call you cute now?” Az chuckled, trailing his hands up along the side of my head, scratching near the ear before moving to the top.

I grumbled, not opening my eyes.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Azriel said.

I leaned into his touch, too utterly emotionally raw and tired to care how it might be seen. It just felt so good to have someone I trusted, and loved–when did I establish I loved Azriel?–just gently scratching at my scalp. The feeling was only proving to make me sleepy, despite it only being midday.

“Rest, angel,” Azriel hummed. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

I smiled, and got more comfortable, bringing my wings up to rest on the bed instead of the floor. Azriel pulled the blankets out from under me carefully, not touching my wings or any part that he hadn’t gotten strict permission to touch. Then he ever so gently tucked the blankets around me, and continued to scratch my head from where he was kneeled on the floor. I fell asleep easily, feeling so incredibly safe, loved and at home. And with the scent I called home before, of cedar trees and night-chilled misty air… it was just perfect. Everything felt just perfect.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5,

#azriel #azriel x reader #azrielxreader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand #original character #hurt/comfort #mywriting

[icey--stars]

Born For Tragedy: Part 17

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: alright, so again, like stbt (my other series, azriel x reader) there will be time skips. during my extensive time skips (which i do because i don’t feel like writing out an extensive political plot for this when it’s already so long and it isn't my goal to write that in with another actual “climax”), nothing of significance happens. like, you imagine anything interesting? didn’t happen. it’s like college: you do all this work and it seems significant at the time, but by the end of it all, it just blends together.

WARNINGS: slight spicy at the end (smut next chapter)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

The cuddling for that night had been… rejuvenating. It felt right. Valda had always had trouble falling asleep with others, even with Friar she preferred to stay awake until she was sure the female was asleep, and then detangle herself to avoid… danger. It was a habit that had been broken as she felt her eyes slip closed on account of her exhaustion. Eris hadn’t spoken anymore, but simply laid there and kept her close. It felt safe. Valda had felt truly safe for once in her life. Like there was no danger in the world.

Now, Eris was in for a lot of hard, grueling work. For endless hours, Valda watched him write up letters and strategize carefully how to make sure that there wasn’t a revolution. Though, he still made sure to make sure that she was taken care of. Various more sweaters were stolen from him, but she eventually got around to buying a small wardrobe of nicer clothing. The dress from the ball was saved and kept in the depth of Lady Merle’s old closet. Valda mostly worked in the field for Eris, being an actual messenger for him. But the difference was that she could winnow directly into a heavily warded area at any time. Their bedroom.

Yes, their bedroom. Despite that first night of cuddling next to each other, Valda and Eris had not yet acted upon their desire. Valda still felt it more and more each day though. The tension was growing and she knew it would snap eventually, but she was trying to stay focused on one goal. That goal was to ease some of Eris’s load as High Lord and force him to rest, and then help him plan. Though, she still felt something hard poking her backside in the mornings sometimes. Quite often, in fact.

She also found the time to collect her payment. The male had met with her on time in the proper location with the actual payment. She was highly surprised she hadn’t had to threaten him and he’d just handed over a cart of gold without protest. The Illyrian male was odd, to say the least, but not too dangerous if they’d required an assassin to do their bidding. Despite the Night Court darkness that seemed to follow them, they at least were respectable. She’d made sure to tell Eris where she was going though and, if needed, offer any of the gold she had stored up around Prythian if the Autumn Court needed it.

Before she knew it, a month had passed of her living at the Forest House.

Things had settled for the most part. While the nobility was still pissed, Eris had managed to make them relax when he lowered taxes on them as well, effectively making the entirety of Autumn Court relax. Valda and Eris had schemed to slowly raise them over time to make sure the Court didn’t go broke, but there were extensive savings from Beron’s time when he was greedy, so it wasn’t too bad.

The army had also relaxed after Eris had told them nothing was changing for them. They still respected their general. Valda had to hand it to Eris, he’d done a good job making sure they were loyal to him and not to Beron. To him and their Court.

A couple other High Lords visited as well, and Eris had to go to some odd meeting with a few of them, but Valda made sure to stay the hell away. Rhysand, luckily, had not deigned to visit again, nor his spymaster.

——

Eris cleared his voice at the end of the council meeting and everyone quieted. “Is there anything else we need to discuss? I have an announcement to make.”

Valda looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. Was he choosing this moment? They’d discussed telling people about a mate bond as of recently, and decided that should an opportune moment arise, they’d reveal it. Maybe not all of it, but most of it. His brothers didn’t even know yet… What was he doing?

“You all, by now, have met the person sitting beside me by now. She’s given numerous reports as a spy and messenger,” Eris explained.

A few nods and murmurs.

“Well, to say it straight, she is my mate,” Eris deadpanned.

There were a few blank stares and then they all looked at me. I stayed still and emotionless as they studied me.

“What is her name?” One asked, looking at Eris.

Valda forced herself not to swallow nervously.

Eris looked at her and sent a brief bit of comfort down the bond. And something along the lines that felt like ‘I know what I’m doing. Trust me.’

“Valda is my mate,” Eris said plainly.

“As in… Valda Callahan?” One asked, tensing.

She looked at Eris in a panic now.

“Yes,” Eris said. “She is my mate.”

“She murdered the High Lord-” Another began.

Eris cut in boldly. “She did not murder the High Lord,” he growled. “I am the High Lord. Beron is a piece of history now. We will not dwell in the past. We can all see how this land has benefited under my rule, correct?”

A few nervous nods.

“Val has helped me to make most of these changes,” Eris explained.

“You expect us to accept an assassin as your mate!?” One finally yelled, standing. Valda trained her eyes on the male carefully, fully prepared to mist him should he try to harm her mate. Their protective tendencies had only grown stronger in the month of chaos.

“Sit back down,” Eris snapped. “I’m not asking you to accept anything. I’m telling you. But you should know by stories or experience that if you harm someone’s mate, there will be revenge. Need I remind any of us of Rhysand?”

One spoke up. “I think it doesn’t matter who your mate is,” he said. “If she’s been helping you, then surely she’s not all bad.”

Valda remained silent, carefully examining the room. There was a bloom of hope in her chest from that one though.

Eris grinned. “You see, you’re smart. It doesn’t matter; that’s exactly right. Because it’s happened and will happen regardless of anyone’s interruptions. Beron’s death would’ve happened regardless. Valda being my mate would’ve still been true as the Mother decreed. If you truly have a problem with it, then you may walk yourself to the dungeons.”

There was more murmuring and then one stood. “High Lord, I agree with you.”

More stood and repeated the same phrase.

Only a few were left, including the one who’d first stood up in a rage.

Valda spoke up at last. “It is true of what I did to Beron Vanserra, but it was for the one male and the one male alone. Eris is my mate, and will forever be. I may come from another court, and come from a life full of killing, but in an immortal’s life, that seems pretty typical, doesn’t it? We’ve all just fought in a war against Hybern. We’ve all killed. Unless, you were a coward. In which, it’s your choice to be a coward.

“Despite this though, I have helped this court come up from where it cracked and crumbled under Beron. It’s only been a month, and more changes are to be made while this court heals from a tyranny that is slowly being realized. Sometimes, it takes a couple deaths to set things on the right course.”

Eris smiled at her broadly. One more stood.

“Guards,” Eris addressed. “Escort the three sitting males down to the dungeons.”

They went peacefully, surprisingly. Like martyrs on a death march.

“Do we tell the court of this, High Lord?” One asked, sitting back down.

“You may,” Eris allowed.

The male blinked. “No ‘but’ to add onto that, my lord?”

“No. You may freely tell who you want, what you want.”

“Won’t that cause disruption, if rumors begin?” One spoke up.

“Yes,” Eris agreed. “But like anything, the people will learn to accept change. There isn’t anything they can do about it anyway. Regardless, it will happen. Let the rumors spread, and then over time, they will fade. Just like the scars my father left me to heal for this Court to thrive.”

Valda looked at Eris and he smiled gently.

“Meeting dismissed,” Eris announced, and grabbed Valda’s hand to winnow them into their bedroom.

Valda took a moment to breathe before she sighed, closing her eyes. “That went better than expected,” she said.

Eris chuckled. “It did, actually. I expected at least seven of them to scream at me.”

Valda scoffed. “I suppose it's out now. What if something does happen though?”

“Nothing will,” Eris assured her. “I will protect you, just as I trust you to protect me. There won’t be a revolution, not at this stage in the process. There is a lot of change being done very quickly, and the fact we are mates will just be another bit of news to get used to. It’ll likely fade into the background because it affects nobody but us.”

Valda smiled. “My scheming High Lord.”

“I’m just well-versed with politics, my darling,” Eris chuckled. “I’ve also done quite a bit of studying into Rhysand’s divided areas and discovered that his slow method of change is ineffective.”

“He’s trying to change something?” Valda asked, looking at her mate for a moment. “The hell has he been trying to do?”

“Make things like Velaris,” Eris chuckled. “Peaceful, happy.”

“Well he’s failed at all of that,” Valda muttered. “Even the Illyrians still torture their own females.”

Eris hummed. “Would you ever visit Hewn City again?” He asked curiously.

Valda looked at her mate oddly for a moment. “What for? Do you need me to do something?”

Eris shook his head. “I was just thinking of visiting Rhysand again, darling. I just… don’t want you to live in fear of him anymore. I still want you to be my High Lady.”

Valda smiled a bit. “Maybe,” she said. “But not now. Perhaps when this court has calmed down more. I’d rather like to avoid him if I can.”

“I won’t force you to do anything,” Eris assured her. “It was just an idea.”

Valda nodded. “Let’s get in bed,” she suggested.

“Kiss me first,” Eris requested.

Valda smiled and leaned in. Eris still let her take the lead here, even if he was starting to get more demanding with when he wanted to kiss her. He didn’t deepen it still, and she knew that if she did, the tension in the air would snap and her control would be lost. They could wait a little while longer. She wanted to take her time. She needed that time to come up with more ideas anyway.

——

The morning after the reveal, there was a banging on the door as Valda dressed in the bathroom in her usual black. She tensed, finishing up quickly to come out and look at Eris for an answer.

“It’s my brothers,” Eris explained. “We can ignore them if you want.”

Valda scoffed. “Hue and Kuhn didn’t seem that bad. But we’re not meeting them here. They can wait for us to come out like civilized people.”

“I’ll tell them,” Eris said with a little smile and Valda dipped her head before heading back to the bathroom.

When she came out, Eris was dressed immaculately as per usual and looking entirely too good for Valda’s sanity to remain in one piece.

“Shall we go see what chaos my brothers have planned for us?” Eris asked.

“We shall,” Valda answered with a little smirk, standing on Eris’s right side and stealing his hand in hers before following him out.

According to him, his brothers were waiting for them in one of the smaller meeting rooms. When they entered, Valda saw Hue pacing back and forth beside the window revealing a maple tree and Kuhn playing with his fingers. Jax was sitting with a blank, yet strangely pissed-off looking expression on his face.

However, as soon as they fully entered, Kuhn shot to his feet and Hue moved to stand beside him. Jax didn’t even bother with looking at them, but Valda saw his hand twitch and decided to keep him in her peripheral just in case.

Hue finally broke the growing silence. “Eris,” he breathed. Then he looked at her, smiling a little. “And… Lady Fairyn, also known as Valda, I’m assuming?”

Valda’s lip twitched a little. It seems Eris’s brothers weren’t at all stupid enough to not notice. Good thing she didn’t see Jax too much that night. “You are correct,” she replied with a little dip of her head.

Jax groaned, focusing all the attention on him for a few seconds. “Stupid fucking assassin. You were also that servant, weren’t you?”

Valda smirked and looked at Eris. Eris rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Jax. You lived,” Eris said.

“With that assassin living under this roof now, I don’t think I’m going to much longer.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Valda growled. A threat, sure, but she’d make good on it if he caused an issue. She already didn’t like him.

“Oh my gosh, wait,” Hue gasped. “You were-”

“Yes,” Valda chuckled, looking at the fourth Vanserra brother. “I was the servant you asked to keep an eye on Eris.”

Kuhn let out a burst of laughter. “Oh my gosh, Eris, you mean to say your mate has been fooling around with us that much? I don’t even care that she’s an assassin, or did in the first place, but that’s fucking hilarious. Jax, wasn’t she yours for a while there? Is that why Eris took you as his personal servant? Because you were his mate?”

Eris scoffed, but she saw the little mischievous grin on his face.

“Actually,” Valda began. “We didn’t know until the day that stupid shadowsinger was found here.”

Eris’s lips tightened slightly, but she ignored it. It was probably just a bad memory, of all that chaos. Didn’t Rhysand visit that day too? That must’ve been hell.

Hue scoffed. “Well, apparently Eris fell for your charm before. Which, I am sure you are absolutely charmful.”

Valda rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, so incredibly charmful.”

Eris bumped her gently with his elbow. “You can be charmful,” he argued. “You’re actually quite good at it. Remember the ball? Your dancing skills were wonderful.”

Kuhn groaned again. “I swear. Eris, how have you been dancing with an assassin and not known? When did you even learn that dear Valda here was the assassin who killed Father?”

Valda laughed. “Oh that. That was certainly chaotic. I’ll let Eris explain it though.”

Eris hummed, looking at his brothers for a moment. “The last time he got to me– that day. Before Calanmai. I found the Shadow in the woods and entrapped her.”

Hue seemed to pause at the beginning and then nodded. The joyful, teasing mood of the room instantly dropped its way into a dull sort of sadness and regret.

“So,” Jax broke the silence, looking mostly unaffected. “Our brother and High Lord is going to marry the assassin who killed our father?”

Eris snapped his gaze toward his still sitting brother. “Jax, now is not the time.”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Certainly. It never is. Never time for this or that conversation.”

Valda narrowed her eyes. Was Jax… feeling hurt? Perhaps there was more to this Vanserra than what normally shone through his hardened exterior. “We haven’t talked about it yet, Jax. Honestly.” She shot a little look over to Eris, feeling strangely… protective over Jax because she’d said something along the same lines to a lot of people.

Eris’s gaze softened and he sighed, tugging on the bond. That was all they’d managed to figure out recently with the unconsummated bond. Just little tugs. Sometimes with vague feelings, but Valda had yet to feel much. Eris, apparently, could feel most of her strong ones. She wondered what it would be like when they’d actually properly mated.

Speaking of which, her ideas were almost complete, especially with last night’s sex dream that awoke her, throbbing and needy and yet unwilling to break and decide to finally have sex with Eris. No… she wanted to lure him into her trap.

Jax sighed. “Right. Well, I hope you’re as good as you’ve claimed you are, Shadow.”

“Call me Valda,” She corrected. “I don’t think I’ll be using my assassin alias for a while.”

The male didn’t reply. And eventually, Eris managed to make some excuse about paperwork so they could escape the room.

“What’s up with Jax?” Eris asked curiously as he took a seat at his desk, actually having paperwork to do apparently.

“Just his words,” Valda dismissed. “I’ve heard them said before, and I’ve said them myself. Hit a bit close to home. Do you actually dismiss him that much?”

Eris winced, turning to face her again. “A lot more often than I probably should,” he admitted.

Valda nodded briefly to herself. She didn’t reply, but let Eris understand his own wrongs and hopefully right a few of them. It wasn’t her job to get in the middle of Jax and Eris and force the two eldest brothers to talk.

——

After that, the Autumn Court didn’t really change that much actually. Eris had been right when he said it’d blow over. It did, besides a few strongly worded letters from a few lords, but most were too busy trying to deal with reasserting themselves over their lands.

However, the tension between them only grew. Now, when she was in the room and noticed Eris staring off, she smelled his arousal quite often. It was downright addicting.

But she was waiting for the right moment to strike.

The moment came about two weeks after the announcement was made that they were mates. Valda felt ravenous and Eris seemed more uptight than usual, pulling her over close while he worked at his desk to “smell her scent” as he said.

She grinned as Eris came out of the bathroom in a towel. Valda herself was only dressed in a skimpy, comfortable, gold nightgown. She’d worn it a few times, but this specific time she had schemed very carefully.

Eris stopped dead in his tracks as he beheld her, one knee up and the other stretched across the middle of the bed. It hid absolutely nothing, and her mate’s self-control was fraying.

“Dear, come here,” Valda ordered, patting the bed beside her.

Eris swallowed and immediately came over, thoroughly distracted enough to forget he was only in a towel and smelled very strongly of arousal.

“What a sweet scent,” she said, leaning into Eris’s neck once he’d sat beside her. She lightly kissed the pale skin, grinning at the hitching of his breath.

“Stop holding back,” she growled. “I know what you want. I’m not giving you control, but I’m giving you permission.”

And Eris snapped. He immediately rolled over, smashing his lips to hers. Their tongues clashed and Valda groaned. Eris was a damn good kisser. She trailed a hand down his chest, rubbing a thumb over his nipple and delighted in the whimper he sent right into her mouth. Ah… she loved hearing the way she pleasured her partners. However, hearing the way she affected her mate sent her on the high of a lifetime.

When they pulled away to catch their breath, he rested his head against her shoulder, panting.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

Valda grinned. “Eris, there is nothing more that I want. I am your mate, and you are mine.”

Eris groaned against her skin and then brought both hands up to her face to meld his lips against hers again.

She couldn’t help the grin that came over her from the action. Oh… this poor male was about to have the awakening of his life. If he hadn’t been under a partner, then he was about to learn exactly what it was like to have a lover’s attention purely on him.

And Valda knew it was going to be amazing.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird, @bubybubsters,

#eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #original character #oc #mywriting

[icey--stars]

there is perhaps an eris x oc series on the way 👀

okay i lied, there definitely is. im in the process of writing for it! so far, its incredibly good. and just to hype anyone who sees this: its an assassin story. and beron gets brutally massacred. we love it 😂

soon ill probably post the series index for it (since im not doing all those links like last time with stbt) sometime soon! i cant wait to share it with you all!

hope you're all having a good day/night though!

#eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris #eris acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #unneeded icey updates

[icey--stars]

i've finally planned out the remaining parts of stbt. has less smut than i expected to write at the beginning, but honestly? i lived for the story lol

so, if we stay on schedule (and i dont get impulsive/write too much for one part), the last part will be posted on 4/17 and that will conclude Stories To Be Told. and then ill prob work on some oneshots for fun. maybe start a new series around the beginning of summer when i get more time off

idk, what would yall want after stbt? oneshots, new series or somethin else?

#unneeded icey updates

[icey--stars]

my heart is so full w the conclusion of stbt 🥰 knowing the time and the effort u put in to write such a long yet amazing story AND it was all for free? the work of an absolute angel. idk how to put into words just how thankful i am and i’m sure many others are for such a monumental undertaking and taking us all in this journey with you and your characters 🤍 i hope u take some time to rest and rejuvenate before u start diving into writing again.

thank u 🥹🤍🫡

🥰🥰🥰 i am so glad you liked it so much! i can't wait to share more of my writing! (i already started on some possible new series XD i have no self control)

truly tho, THANK YOU for all the support and love. this has made my day twice as better as before, thank you <3333

and your welcome as well! i loved writing stbt. truly, it was so much fun! sometimes it was hard, but the support from everyone needing more? just what i needed to keep writing the words on the stupid paper lmAO

#talk with me #i. love. you.