#azriel x reader hurt/comfort

[glowinthedarkmouse]

a rough evening w/ azriel

A/N: hi!! this is my first attempt at a more angsty kinda fanfic? let me know how i did and if you like this one! these are doing better than i expected them to so i’d love to write more for the community. also, this one is like 3x longer than what i normally do soooo, enjoy!! :) WARNING: mentions of childhood trauma and abuse

Everyone bowed as the Inner Circle sauntered through the Court of Nightmares, taking their places around the throne. Rhysand and Feyre sat upon the throne, Cassian and Azriel stood guard in front of them, with Nesta by Cass and her by Az. Amren stood directly next to Rhys, and Mor next to Feyre. Rhys spoke with Keir momentarily, before announcing for everyone to eat. 

She felt out of place in the Court of Nightmares. The others wore blues and blacks, with jewelry meant to resemble the stars. She, however, was instructed to wear only colors such as champagne and eggshell white, with jewelry made from pearls. Mor told her she was to be seen as innocent, sweet, and soft, a lighter side to the court. She was also meant to perfectly rival Azriel, who was in his usual all black, save for a white ring on his left hand. She had a matching black ring on hers as well, as they were meant to resemble a yin and yang balance for the court. To show they were capable of niceties, along with handling its enemies in a swift and dark way, to prove that they were not a court to mess with. 

She must’ve gotten lost in thought, for the next thing she noticed, she and Azriel were dancing. It was a quicker dance, one Mor had taught her many moons ago. It seems as though the muscle memory stayed through the years, for she was remembering the dance without thinking much of it.

“Are you okay? You seem out of it,” Az murmured in her ear, not wanting the busybodies of the Court of Nightmares, who had nothing better to do than gossip, to hear.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just ready to go home and take this stupid frilly dress off,” she softly whispered.

“We’re leaving here soon, love.”

“Good.”

He laughed a little at that, knowing her hatred for too much human interaction. He spoke to Rhys momentarily before leaning back down by her ear, “Rhysand says we can leave now, would you like to head home?” 

“Is that even a question, Az? Of course I want to head home,” she murmured back. He smiled softly before grabbing her hand and lightly guiding her out of the court, or at least he was planning to.

Until that bastard Keir calls his son grabs her shoulder, turning her towards him with such a force that Az knows equals a death sentence. The cheeky bastard smiles a wolfish grin, like he was the big bad wolf and she was Little Red Riding Hood, just waiting to be eaten. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, where's a pretty lady like you going with an ugly brute of a man like him?” he said with pure malice in his voice, getting closer to her and Azriel. He touched her long hair, before smiling even harder at the poor girl. 

She was in shock, for the way the male grabbed her arm hurt, a lot more than it should’ve. She stole a look at it and saw it was bright red and burning, leaving a massive imprint on her arm. She instantly goes back to when she was a young girl, when her older brothers would hurt her and leave similar imprints on her arms and legs. When they’d cut her long, beautiful hair because she was too ugly to have such pretty hair. Her hair was the last memory of her mother she had, before she passed from an illness that swept through the Illyrian camps many moons ago. She remembered her mother brushing and braiding her hair countless times a day, just from how much she loved it. Her mother had loved the freckles dotting her cheeks and shoulders in the warm summers. She swore her mother visited her dreams every now and then, brushing her hair and asking if her freckles came back every year like they used to. The freckles she’d gotten from her mother. The freckles her and her brothers shared.

She didn’t realize she hadn’t been breathing until Azriel lightly grabbed her other arm, threatening the hell out of the bastard son. She flinched away from him, only being able to think of her brothers from her childhood. Az released her arm, sort of in shock, as she’d never flinched from him like that before. He knew nothing of her childhood, knew nothing of the abuse she endured from her elder brothers. She stumbled back a bit, trying to remember where she was, before Az tried to move towards her. She took another step back, before running past him and taking flight as soon as she could, with her beautiful white wings. She truly did look angelic under the starlight, her jewelry dully reflecting the moonlight. Azriel went to shoot up after her, but Rhysand grabbed his arm before he could.

“Az, let her go just this once. She’s in a state of panic, and you won’t be able to help her like this,” Rhys told him mentally. Az kept a look of desperation on his face, wanting so badly to go after the woman he loved. A few minutes later, he added “She just got back to the House of Wind, Az. Go to her, but let her come to you. She’s been through more than one might think.” He released his grasp on Azriel’s arm, sending him a look of warning before the Shadowsinger took off into the night.

As soon as she arrived home, she went to one of the more hidden guest rooms, specifically the one with a small hidden cupboard behind the bookshelf, barely large enough to fit her small frame. The house lit a small candle that sat in a little alcove, putting off just enough light to keep the area from being pitch black. She had ripped off the tight dress on her way through the house, too upset to take it off properly. She managed to find a thin nightgown on her way to the guest room and changed, grabbed her cloak and went into hiding. This was the one spot in the house where no one could find her, for only she and Rhysand knew of the spot, as he had added it just for her. 

She brought the cloak around her body and shuffled into a slightly more comfortable position. She didn’t want Azriel to see her in this state of pure weakness. She was commonly seen as innocent and sweet, but weak was not one of the words to describe her. She softly sniffled, before curling into herself and softly crying herself to sleep.

Azriel barrelled through the doors of the house, silently cursing himself for making such a loud noise. He slowly shut the doors and walked quietly through the house, listening for any signs of life. His shadows searched the house for her, wanting to make sure she was okay. He noticed the ripped dress on their bedroom floor, instantly worrying about someone getting in before his shadows alerted him that they had found her, and that she was safe. He made his way to the room with the hidden compartment, which he went and sat next to (Cass found it one day, and is terrible at keeping secrets). He stayed up to keep an eye and ear out to make sure she slept through the night with minimal issues, guarding the room with shadows. He didn’t dare disturb her sleep, knowing how difficult it came to her some nights.

Morning came much faster than it should have, for the moment he heard slight stirring coming from inside the compartment, he silently sat up and opened the small door. Her legs fell out first, which he quickly grasped before softly setting them down, not wanting to push any boundaries. She rubbed her eyes before pulling her legs back to her, covering them back up with her cloak. They sat in silence, neither wanting to ask any questions. 

“You can have the house to yourself today, if you'd like. I’m sure there’s things for me to do elsewhere if you need the space,” Azriel said after minutes of nothingness.

“No, don’t leave me here alone today. I don’t think I could handle it,” she muttered softly, not moving from her spot in the compartment.

“I won’t leave, darling. Do you want to go lay down on the bed? There's no way you were able to properly sleep in there.”

“...yeah, can you carry me, please?” 

“Of course darling.”

He gently picked her up and grabbed her cloak, before briskly walking to their room, wanting her to get some proper rest. He pulled the comforter back before placing her down, making sure she was as comfortable as she could be. He went to walk away to go get something small for her to eat and drink before she grabbed his arm.

“Please just…stay in here with me for a while, I don’t wanna be by myself right now,” she said, slowly getting quieter with each word. He climbed into bed next to her, leaving some distance for her to decide how close they’d be. She instantly scooched over to him, softly folding her white wings around herself and his torso. He instantly wrapped the both of them in his much larger wings, knowing it would comfort her more. She started to softly sob into his chest, no longer being able to hide it from him. She slowly tells him about what happened when she was a young girl, with her brothers dipping their hands in faebane just to hurt her more. They didn’t possess the magic she did, so it never affected them. She explained the way they’d cut her hair, and how much her hair meant to her, especially after losing her mother. She told him of the cruel pranks they’d play, of the scars that he’d never seen due to a glamour she started using many moons ago, and of the vile and wretched things they’d tell her. She even told him of when she started to believe what they had been saying. She continued to cry into Azriels chest, letting out all of her pent up emotions. 

He just sat there and held her, letting her release all of this rage and anger she had been feeling for years. When she settled down some, he pulled her onto his chest and softly talked to her.

“Darling, you will never be less of a person due to what your brothers put you through. They were idiotic fools who couldn’t see the woman you would grow up to be. If they hadn’t been taken out during the Blood Rite, I would’ve seen to it that they paid for what they did to you. You are the light of my life, the yang to my yin, the one person I could never say no to. I love you so terribly much, darling. I’ll never let you feel less-than for what your brothers did. You’re my moon, my stars, and my entire life. Let me continue to show you this everyday, for as long as you’ll let me.”

She sniffled for a moment, before starting to cry harder, absolutely in love with the Shadowsinger in front of her. He held her, utterly in love with the woman in his arms.

Suddenly, something shifted.

Shifted into place.

Like it was supposed to be there the entire time. 

The mating bond. 

Just clicked. 

She slowly leaned away from him, making sure he felt it too. He looked back at her with a face of shock, but mainly a face of pure love and adoration. She lunged at him, holding him in the tightest hug she could manage. He peppered soft kisses on her cheeks while she slowly started to giggle, pushing him away. She leaned in and gave him a proper kiss on the lips, and he just melted into her, as if they were becoming one person. 

“One quick question?” she said in a more serious manner.

“Yes darling?”

“What was done about the man who grabbed my arm?”

“Oh, Rhys has him locked up far, far away, where he’ll never be missed.”

“Good,” she softly stated, “I love you Azriel.”

“I love you too, darling.”

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader hurt/comfort

[utterlyazriel]

an eternity, my love

eep! this is a bit longer than the last at just over 6k forgive me... but thank so much for all love on the first piece 🥹 and thank u for all your lovely ideas! i hope this does sum justice to the nonnie who asked for further miscommuncation... <3 part one here but u don’t need to read it to read this :)

How does one even begin to decide what to wear to dinner with a person, the person, who matched your soul perfectly?

When your friend had hunted her way through clothing stores of Velaris and stashed away a custom dress — far fancier than anything you owned — for the first date with her mate, you had laughed at her.

Now, staring at your closet in only your undergarments, you were beginning to envy her preparation.

Seriously, how are you supposed to choose?

You pick up your latest addition to your closet, a glossy dress the colour of red wine that reveals the length of your legs and planes of your collarbones— perfect for a night out dancing.

With a grimace, you place it back on the hanger. It was far more scandalous than you would want to be on a first date, even though — well, you’re sure that, being mates, Azriel would like anything you wore.

You heave a sigh. An uneasy prickle beneath your skin has you crossing your arms; it was almost alarming how badly you wanted to impress him. But… mating bonds were rare and powerful.

Almost as if you had summoned it — in fact, maybe you had — there’s a soft shimmer in your chest. Your beautiful glow, the bridge between you and Azriel humming to life. In a way you can’t explain, it’s as though you can feel him soothe across your mind, his soft touch full of assurances.

He’s comforting you. All your emotions must be shooting down the bond without your permission. Gods, that would take some getting used to. You wonder if he can feel your resounding pang of embarrassment as well.

You do your best to push back something less nervous, more of your excitement for the night to come — and you know, without even seeing him, he’s smiling.

After another moment of fussing, you decide on something simpler than your glossy night dress.

Comfortable black slacks with plenty of flow to them and a shirt you thought was one of your nicer ones. With the slightest touch ups to your makeup, you rush yourself out the door before you convince yourself to change all over again.

The Sidra keeps you company, a rush of water beside you as you wind through the streets of Velaris, eyes flicking up to take in the darkening sky. The sun was sinking below the mountain tops, rays tickling across the ridges.

And while you could admit that Velaris was very beautiful in the daytime, you were a true Night court citizen— and believed its true beauty came out at night.

Somehow, despite the lack of concrete plans made as you had ushered the male out of your office, you knew resolutely that you would be able to find him. You weren’t even worried about the timing of it all. It was… what was the word? Absurd. Insane. Utterly, breathtakingly incredible.

Sure enough, as you exit the alley and round the corner, your eyes falling on the sage green building you reside in for work, there he is; waiting for you.

You inhale a sharp breath. A thousand cells in your body fizz, hum, and glow, at the mere sight of him.

It's easy to understand just how he had garnered his dark reputation, the image of him every bit of the Spymaster of the Night Court — a title like Shadowsinger has never been so fitting for him.

He’s blurred at the edges, a thousand tiny wisps that blend him into the shadows of the nighttime. His wings stretch up behind, towering over his already tall frame, black as ink, and beneath his darkened attire, you can spot his tan skin. Your eyes drag up his neck, tracing his adam's apple, along the scruff of his sharp jaw until you reach his hazel eyes.

Your heart burns.

In the depth of it, you know, if he doesn't love you, he will undo you completely.

It's wholly terrifying to come face to face with — the intensity of the mating bond scorching through your mind like a fierce wind, burning embers left in its wake.

It's enough to make you pause, the definitive thought that doing this, offering him your heart and trusting him, could very well lead to your ruin.

Your chest squeezes tightly. You let your eyes drink in the Illyrian, the Male who waited so patiently for all those years and was prepared to wait years more, if you had asked.

Focusing, you pluck up that golden thread in your chest and hold it tightly. It heats and melts, hotter and hotter, and you know that any fear you have, you can conquer to be with him.

Ruination be damned.

—

Azriel notices you the moment your frame exits the alley, notices the moment you pause — has been able to feel you drawing nearer to him this whole time. Your every emotion is transparent to him through the bond between you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

You must not have the tightened mental shields he had come to be so familiar with over all his years. It makes sense; you are no warrior. Mental walls over your mind are not something you have ever had to concern yourself with.

Azriel vows it to be one of the things he teaches you. You deserved the privacy of your emotions, at the very least.

But... for now, Azriel can feel them all. It's why, as you round the corner, Azriel can feel your eyes on him and then, then he feels it.

The wash of fear that spills over your bond like icy water.

An old enemy rises within him. He grits his teeth, even as he feels the fear from you slide away and he tries to ignore the sting from an unhealed wound. But self-deprecation never seems to drown, no matter how much he tries to suffocate it within him.

He shifts his hands, relieved suddenly to have them covered up beneath gloves. His wings tuck in tighter, if possible, and he wills his shadows sternly to contain themselves. Something in the slightest baring of his teeth has them obeying. They shoot to his sides and make themselves scarce.

All this in time to greet you pleasantly as you bounce into view, sidling up before him with a shy grin. It's only been a few hours since he got his proper look at you and yet, you're every bit as breathtaking as you were earlier. More so, in fact.

It feels as though Azriel has never seen the sky before and you before him, are the first sunset of his life. You look so pretty that Azriel could probably gaze at you all evening if you so allowed him to.

And then, he remembers the pang of fear.

He doesn't waste time mulling over which detail of him had made you afraid — only that he would dim or change or hide any part of himself to stop it from happening again.

"Hello, again," You say, your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You have to tilt your head back to look up at his handsome face. His shadows swirl around him and despite his strict instructions, one still slips away to touch you.

You don't notice it circling your ankle, tentative and shy.

"Hello, again." Azriel echoes your words, unable to help his own glimmer of joy.

He wants to offer you his arm, his hand. Can feel it within him, down to the very marrow of his bones, the craving to be closer to you, to touch you, however he can.

Azriel swallows heavily and does what he has done over decades, over centuries; he takes the wanting and pushes it down, down, down.

The two of you begin to walk, side by side, with no destination in mind. Aimless and content at the same time.

Azriel doesn't need the bond to see the flittering of nerves hidden in your expression. The shadow still circulating around your ankle climbs higher, like it wants to comfort you too.

Azriel wills it to still, desperate to not scare you again. He drops his shoulders from his usual warrior posture in hopes of making himself a little smaller.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” He says reassuringly.

You steal a glimpse at him, your smile breaking into a grin. Your nerves are still potent but less so.

“Who says I’m nervous?”

Azriel smiles gently, his eyes dancing across your face as he reads your lie easily. “I do."

There's a scrunch between your eyebrows then, like he had seen during his time in your office earlier. Azriel places a hand on his chest, over the place where the glowing tug is strongest.

"I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at his gloved hand, the cogs in your brain spinning and turning at a rapid rate. Still strolling, your hand rises slowly and touches to the same spot on your own chest. Azriel can feel his heart stutter at the sight, you holding the spot that connected you to him undeniably.

"You can?" Your gaze lifts to his face, puzzlement adorning your features. You frown and focus for a moment, staring hard into the distance — and Azriel feels a sudden twinge of disgust through the thread.

"Did you feel that?" You ask, eyes wide and curious.

Azriel nods wordlessly and he can't help but ask. "What is it you were thinking of?"

You look embarrassed for a moment, eyes averting to the ground. You chuckle awkwardly and tuck your hair behind your ears, glancing back up at the Male with a sheepish smile.

"Brussels sprouts."

Azriel blinks once, twice, and then has to turn to hide his smile. He tries to cover his laugh with a cough. It doesn't work, given how you make a small noise of indignation. He turns back, his politest expression on.

"Don't laugh at me!" You whine, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder. Your touch radiates through his body like a drop of golden sun, blazing warm.

"You're right," Azriel hums, his lips twitching as he presses back his smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is important knowledge I should be filing away. I swear on my life I will feed you no brussels sprouts this evening, or any in the future."

He wants to nudge your shoulder with his own, just to touch you, wants to reach out as easily as you had. But his shadows slip before his self-control does, skittering out along onto your shoulder and giving you a small shock and Azriel remembers himself. His fists clench tightly at his sides.

You walk side by side all evening, like two planets in orbit — close, oh so close, but never quite touching.

—

The first date you share is nothing short of… wonderful.

Resolutely and overwhelming good, the entire date you can't help but feel as though your very soul is singing, a thousand particles blithesome at the nearness you get to share with Azriel. He's surprising in a manner of ways.

Firstly, he's terribly quiet.

Next to him, you look quite the blabber-mouth, no matter how much he insists he enjoys it. His dark eyes are intense as they watch you closely, soaking in every word that passes your lips, and yet, beneath it, his dry sense of humour comes out to play. There's the occasional tease, almost as if just to see if he could make you flustered. (He could, easily).

With a Male as beautiful as him, suited to your very being in every way, it's nearly unbearable how much you ache for him. How much his very attention creeps down your neck and makes every nerve along your spine tingle.

You know it will take some time to get used to his unwavering and devoted attention.

There’s… just one small, itty-bitty, tiny problem.

He doesn’t touch you.

Throughout that whole first evening, you had noticed it somewhat— a flex in his gloved hands, a moment where his wing strayed too close only to be pulled back in a flash, even his shadows, darting out to be near you but never quite touching you as they had on that first meeting.

His hands reach out but they do not find you.

At first, you believed it was a first date thing. Azriel was, first and foremost, a gentleman, and you thought perhaps, his skirting touch, like his hand lingering over the small of your back but not touching it, was to be polite. Courteous and gracious.

Then, you had seen him just two days after that date, all bundled up in your giddiness that it had managed to slip your mind.

The two of you had spent the day together, traversing through the market — before you quickly found a quieter space for your mate as it became clear that large bustling areas, such as the Palace of Threads and Jewels, were not so suited to his tastes.

As you had tugged him out of the crowd, laughing over your shoulder at how he fought to keep his broad wings from knocking into anyone else, the thought suddenly snapped back into you.

Though you yearned to link his arm with your own, to interlace your fingers with his, you remembered his hesitance. Remembered the hover of his gloved hand.

And so, you dropped his arm the moment you cleared the crowd.

A hurt warbled deep within you to so do and knowing you were not the deftest at schooling your expressions, you hid your face so you could contain your childish reactions. You huffed at your own upset. What matter is it if your mate has no affinity to touch?

Truly, it was a miracle to have found a mate at all, you tried to scold yourself. You would not take him for granted for a moment, not even if it was not quite the picture of perfection you had envisioned.

Rooted deep in you was a truth; you could abide by this, abstain to his level of comfort for years, for millennia, if it made him happier.

The fabric of the mating bond, connecting the two of you intrinsically, made it so you would not want it any other way.

It's a decidedly Azriel thing.

He always wears the gloves, he never touches you more than he has to, and he's got... this really specific look when you're doing a terrible job of hiding your emotions.

As he had vowed, Azriel had set about teaching you how to build the mental walls up within your mind, brick by brick by brick. While it would help you hold against daemati if that loathsome situation should ever arise, it would also shield you from your mate.

It would protect you from having your emotions ripped out for him to see, no matter how much you held back — if it was in your mind, it would travel down the bond.

So, the wall had to be built. It had been tedious, tricky, and tiring work. Yet every time you would feel yourself ready to throw in the towel, Azriel would lean in closer, his hazel eyes softened, and his hand resting upon your arm, thumb swatching up and down, to encourage you.

"I know it is tiresome," He had mused, that faint smile twitching at his lips as you scowled at the ground. His thumb was still moving, still drawing light circles on your bicep. The skin beneath it blazed with warmth. "But it is worth it, that I can promise. You deserve this privacy, my dear. I would never wish to take it from you."

My dear, my dear, my dear— the words had sunk into your sternum and bloomed, bright and golden.

It's enough to hold onto, his kind affections. The sweet shape of his mouth when it says your name. The way his lashes kiss in the corner when he can't hold back his smile.

It's enough to soothe yourself over. To take the lack of touch on the chin and swallow down your desire for more.

It's why— why you can't help yourself— why you couldn't tear your eyes away from Azriel's hand where it touches Cassian's arm.

You're meeting his family today, which you've quickly realised doesn't mean his mother or father but instead means... the literal Highlord of the Night Court.

There are several warriors crowded around the cramped entrance room to the River House. Each of them is taller than you, and two of them with the very same huge wingspans that you've come to revere on your own mate.

Your usual talkativeness has been dimmed in your shock, though, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Azriel is a force to be reckoned with, honed over decades, and the Spymaster of the Night Court. You know these things. The company he keeps makes sense.

Somehow... still, seeing them all together leaves you strikingly speechless. The legion that protects your home — a family.

Rhysand greets you first, dapper in his dark attire, his violet eyes equal parts calculating and welcoming as he steps forward and offers his hand.

Despite the fact you have never bowed to him before, you still have to repress the urge. His power is overwhelming, the very night lapping at his edges and you're suddenly very grateful to be meeting him as a friend and not as a foe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rhysand's voice purrs out, soft as silk. When you place your hand in his, he brings it to his lips and presses a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

"Any friend of Azriel's is a friend of mine."

You can feel your own heart thundering in your chest. Azriel hovers behind you, his presence soothing in itself. You can't see it but his wings are outstretched towards you, cocooning around you ever so slightly. A shadow hovers behind your shoulder, just out of sight.

"I— the pleasure is mine, my Highlord." You manage to make yourself speak.

You almost wish you hadn't when your words inspire a burst of laughter from one of the others behind Rhysand, the other Illyrian. He's tall, his hair dark but longer than your mate's own.

As your hand is dropped, Rhysand turns to scowl at the Male laughing, and you only grow further perplexed when he gives a whack against the other's shoulder. They begin to squabble for a moment — and you don't even hear Azriel move until he's speaking, his lips right by your ear.

"You'll have to forgive Cassian." His voice is low, raspy in a way that sends a zing down your spine. You shiver lightly. "He can be well-mannered at the best of times. But I promise he isn't laughing at you."

The two Males seem to tune back into Azriel's words, even though they had been whispered for you specifically.

"It's true!" The Illyrian, Cassian you now know, pipes up. He brandishes a devilishly handsome grin at you, with his hands held up in defense. "I apologise. It just still makes me laugh to see someone address this one so formally."

You blink. "But... he is the Highlord."

Azriel speaks again, bent over still to talk in your ear, but much less of a whisper this time. "Rhys is our Highlord but he does not bother with such formalities."

"And," Cassian interjects, lugging a punch into Rhy's shoulder, much like the other had done to him not a moment before. "Before he was the o'mighty Highlord, he was our friend."

Cassian says the word o'mighty with such an air of sarcasm that you can't help but glance at Rhys, sure he wouldn't take such disrespect. But around you, there are only easy grins.

"Might we move to somewhere more comfortable than the doorway," Azriel speaks up from behind you, his voice dry. "Unless that is, you're all hoping to do one-on-one greetings with her?"

There it is, the dry sense of humour you've come to adore. The group before you seems to grumble, as if they were quite keen on the one-on-one meetings but begin to move through the house.

One of the group dips back to walk beside you and you do your best not to repeat your past mistakes, even as your eyes widen almost comically. Azriel chuckles silently to himself, feeling your polite astonishment down the bond.

"It's so great to finally meet you.” Feyre, your Highlady greets you, her pretty face rife with glee. She seems genuinely very happy to make your acquaintance. "Azriel has told me all about you."

You stumble in surprise, your eyes casting back to Azriel behind the pair of you. His eyes are fixed on Feyre, narrowed at her blatant betrayal, his shadows swirling around him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and you smother a laugh.

When his eyes shift over to you, you're positively delighted at how his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of ruby.

"Feyre is very persuasive when she wants to be." He murmurs, almost grumbling. You turn back to the Highlady and she grins at you, devious and captivating all at once.

It’s a whirlwind once you reach one of the many living rooms, each member of Azriel’s family all very eager to shake your hand.

Cassian grips it firm, his grin still on the side of wicked as he tells you he’s been waiting years to find the woman who could contain Azriel. Nesta, his mate as you find out, is a fierce kind of pretty with a grip as strong as Cassian’s. She tells you welcome to the family with the smile of a shark.

Morrigon is next, breathtakingly gorgeous, and every bit as charismatic as Azriel had described. You don't catch the glimpse between Mor and Cassian, not the beat of relief they both feel at your arrival in their lives— in Azriel's life.

It's swallowed up in her words, going a mile a minute. She jumps about, like popcorn in a pan, overly keen to finally speak to the one whom the Mother deemed worthy of Azriel’s heart. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet?

“Mor,” Azriel warns, after her twelfth consecutive question about your life. He hasn’t moved from his protective position behind you, close enough you can feel the heat of his body. His wings had brushed your shoulder just once.

“Yeah, Mor,” Rhys jeers. He nudges his cousin in the side playfully and Cassian snickers behind the group. “Give the girl some time to breathe.”

Even with all of Azriel's masterclass on who you would be meeting, it's still terribly overwhelming just trying to keep track of them all. They're each such strong spirits, each with seemingly a thousand battles in their past and far more years with Azriel.

On top of this is the fact you met both your Highlord and Highlady so casually in one single afternoon. It's difficult to not be daunted by the group that is so clearly intertwined with each other on a deeper level altogether— bonded by devastation and choosing each other through love.

Try as you might, you can feel the seed of doubt, of insecurity, make a home between your ribs.

You clamp down the shields you've spent the last few weeks learning, building the wall up and holding it tight. It's silly to feel dismayed because these Fae, these friends, know your mate better than you do.

Azriel had told you he had been waiting for you for five hundred years. For the first time since you've met him, you wonder if he was ever disappointed.

And then— then, you see it.

Azriel's hand on Cassian's arm. Then the half embrace they share, a hand on each other's neck as Cassian grins, wild and fierce, and presses his forehead against Azriel's own; brothers, sharing a moment of euphoria at the other finding his long-deserved happiness.

You should be soaking in the smile Azriel hides from you too often, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes. But instead, you can't see past it, can't stop the loop in your own mind as it prints a fact over and over and over.

It isn't an Azriel thing; it's a you thing.

He doesn't touch you.

The mental walls in your mind feel paper-thin as a fresh kind of agony ripples through your chest. The soft rejection of a mate stings, a papercut on your very heart. You can feel it warble through you and know, terribly, the exact moment that Azriel feels it too.

His head whips around, his dark shadows that surround him suddenly spinning and flitting faster than before— a couple dive across the room to you.

You stand up and the chair scrapes noisily beneath you.

"I—" You say before you realise you haven't planned an exit or an excuse in the slightest. Azriel's gaze burns into you. You turn to Feyre instead, who had been talking across from you when you rudely stood up.

"I'm so sorry, I just—" Some excuse, any excuse! "I think I— left the stove on."

It's a lie. A complete utter lie that fools no one in the room as you retreat from it hastily. None of them try to stop you though, which you're thankful for. Each of them watches, every expression slightly concerned as you hurry out of the room, your feet walking backward rapidly until you bump into the door frame.

You pass through it with your eyes on the floor, knowing that all of the eyes are on you. You know the ones you can feel searing into your soul are Azriel's.

You leave the River House. You walk along the Sidra, your steps hurried and your chin tucked low. It hurts. It hurts the feeling inside you. A tear streaks down your cheek, unbidden, and collects on your jaw. You wipe it away meanly.

The sight of your apartment door is an overwhelming comfort, one that has you sighing aloud as you rush up to it, your fingers already digging around in your pockets for your key.

And like always, you never hear him coming.

"What happened?" Azriel asks, his voice almost pained.

You give a little yelp of surprise and whip around, remembering half a second later that there's still evidence on your face of your tears. Azriel grows characteristically still, his hazel eyes fixed on yours as you sniffle for a moment, aggravation beginning to creep in.

He could feel everything from you and you got... what? Whatever he deemed fit to offer? How is that fair?

His usually wispy shadows are inkier than usual, almost tornado-ing around his shoulders. They keep leaping out towards you before being caught in an invisible net, a barrier between you and them.

Even as Azriel remains motionless, his eyes are the opposite—they jump around, searching, hunting, begging to find the cause of your pain. Had it been one of his friends?

"Please," He tries his words again.

His heart throbs painfully when you finally find your key and turn your back on him without a word, unlocking your door and pressing your way inside. He follows quickly, wings tucked in tight, unable to keep his shadows at his side this time. They whiz to you, circling your ankles protectively.

"Please," Azriel says, an anguished growl to his words. "What hurt you? I will— my friends, if they said something— if it was someone, I hunt them down and make it right for you."

You inhale sharply and when you speak, your tone is cold in a way you have never used before with Azriel. You say the words without thinking.

"It would be impossible to hunt yourself, Azriel."

Regret howls through you like a hurricane the moment you say the words. You don't mean to be mean, jealous, or whatever unseemly emotion you can't stop from sprouting in your chest, growing in size, tangling into your heartstrings like twisted gnarled vines. It hurts.

You turn back to him, mouth open. No words come out.

Hurt is slashed across his face, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, his shadows tucked in tight. It's as though he's blended into the very air, the wispy edge of him threatening to retreat into his own shadows.

All his emotions on display just for a moment, before they're schooled away. Tucked away, hidden, not for you to see.

Inside, your hurricane howls again, this time in pain.

You can tell he feels it, even as you mentally gather your bricks. It isn't fair. How can he have every bit of you and you get what he pleases to return?

You want to know him completely, want to see every part of his rugged, weathered soul, and love him anyway. It's an untold type of agony to have him deny you.

"My love," His feet finally move, his wings almost dragging on the floor as he steps forward, slowly, as though he was afraid he might spook you.

"Tell me how to fix this pain." He pleads. His gloved hands are held out, palms up and suddenly, he looks nothing like a warrior. Just a Male, afraid of losing what is most dear to him. You shake your head, like a child, and keep building your brick wall.

"Please don’t keep this from me," He takes another step forward, his shadows sent awry as they dart across to you. You can feel them on your calves, on your arms, feel the tiny kisses they leave. Azriel speaks again, voice low. "My love, I can feel your pain.”

You can't help how you screw your eyes closed, the ache in your chest unbearable— made worse when you know he can feel it too.

"That is my problem." You utter the words quietly, eyes still clenched shut, knowing he can hear you. He takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat of his enormous frame, his wings bracketing around you. "I cannot hide anything from you."

Azriel makes a noise, a punched-out wounded sound that reverberates down the bond.

"My love," He murmurs for the third time. Down the bond, you can feel his sweet love, his golden gentle feelings travelling along to assure you. "I would not wish for you to hide anything from me."

“But you hide everything from me." You whine, eyes finally crinkling open. Azriel stares down at you, his eyes softer than they've ever been. You can see the hurt swimming in them, the hurt you've caused. Still, you speak.

"You hide your emotions. You hide your touch, yet you give it willingly to your friends." You share each ugly thought with him, whispered as you gaze into his face to search for your answers.

Lifting your hands, you curl your fingers around his wrists tentatively. Azriel swallows heavily, his eyes dancing down to where you're touching him. You slide your hands forward, dragging the pads of your fingers over his pulse, along his palm, til your hands are holding his gloved ones.

"Is there some test I don't know about?" You ask, your focus on your intertwined hands. "Is there— do I have to earn this?"

"No," Azriel chokes out the word suddenly. You look up at him. He clears his throat and you feel his hands grip yours back, surer and stronger than you had. "No, I'm sorry. There is no test, nothing to prove you deserving of this. I just..."

His words trail off and you watch as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if gathering his courage. His hands slide from yours, pulled backward and you nearly feel the urge to cry once more— before you realise he's removing his gloves.

The skin of them is warped, you realise acutely with horror. The skin of his hands is swirled and mottled, an injury long healed but scarred for eternity. Azriel is watching your face closely, holding his hands close to his chest as though he was prepared to hide them away at the first flicker of fear.

You're grateful for the link between and all your shoddy attempts at blocking him out. Your love and your unwavering devotion drifts along the bond.

Azriel shudders, his wings giving the tiniest shiver. Slowly, gently, he reaches out towards you. You feel his hands, the unruly scarred feel of his skin sliding along your jaw to hold it tenderly. He has never held you like this before.

He cradles your face gently — like his hands have never held weapons of war, like they aren't twisted and marred with a memory he can't forget, like they're worthy of holding something so precious.

Azriel holds you as if you're holy — and he's come to kneel at your altar.

"I was afraid of what you would think." He admits. His voice is hoarse, gravelly as he fights off the lump in his throat. "I— on the first day we met, I felt your fear along the bond and—"

"It was not of you." You interrupt him, your hands jumping up to cover his own where they hold you. Azriel inhales sharply, eyes darting to watch.

But you pay him no heed, the palm of your hand covering his like a lover would. You let your thumb soothe up at down the ridges of his skin. You let your love ripple along the bond.

"It was not fear of you, Azriel." You repeat, your voice soft. His eyes are still fixed on your joined hands. His wings have begun to pick up, no longer drooping behind his back— you're not sure if he even notices.

"It was fear for how strongly I already felt for you." You lean into his hand and Azriel lets you, lets the length of your nose nuzzle into the touch of his hands — something no one in all his years of living had ever done before.

"It was fear that you already could ruin me," The words are murmured. "And that I would let you."

You whisper his name to pull his wide-eyed gaze from where his hands touch you and his hazel eyes burn into yours. Every whitened scar on his skin, every eyelash, the adorable pinch between his eyebrows; you drink it all in and smile at him. Azriel, your mate.

"Azriel, I chose this despite that fear. I choose you.”

Azriel quivers at the words, at your unflinching tone and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, time moving around you, untouching, with such a perfect grace.

“I choose you too,” He murmurs, an emotion so strong a fire of possessiveness streaks down the bond. This time, you can feel his wall melt away, allowing you access to all he feels — his mountain of fear and his melting relief.

“Forgive me—” He begins and you laugh without meaning to, cutting him off.

“Stop,” you say, the word light and as pretty as your grin. “We keep doing this to ourselves, tying ourselves in knots over and over.”

Azriel laughs, his lips twitching into a smile as he allows himself to stroke his thumb lovingly over your cheek. The way you melt beneath it, your lashes fluttering and heart burning so brightly he can feel it in his own chest too— Azriel knows this longing will long outlive his body.

“We do,” He agrees. He dips his head a little lower, probably the only apology you’ll let him have, and inhales shakily. His hands shift across your face, down to hold your chin, his fingers pressed together tightly to hide the way they quiver.

“Then let me apologise in another way,” He murmurs, his voice closer to playful. “In a way I’ve been selfishly depriving you of.”

And when he kisses you, it’s with a reverence that softens all your corners.

His lips are plush and sweet, and with the way he dedicates himself to your bottom lip, you can’t help how you sigh into his mouth. He finds home in the curve of your mouth.

It’s delirious the way he kisses once, twice, three times like he’s hungry for something found only in your lips.

Your hands stagger forward, leaving his own to wind over around his neck. Your fingers curl up, raking through the hair on the nape of his neck — feeling the shiver that travels up his spine, his wings giving a little flare out.

He kisses you breathless, one hand abandoning your jaw to wrap snugly around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, something within you glows molten gold at the panting that leaves his lips. He’s gazing at you, his hazel eyes alight in a way you haven’t quite seen before. His wings shift behind his shoulders, curling forward to wrap the two of you together, not quite touching.

Your heart thrills. You grin, your lips still just an inch apart as Azriel nudges forward, his own twitching in that way when he fights his smile. His lips brush yours, his smile barely held back.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He says, sweet and low, allowing the smile to finally pull his pretty mouth up at the corners.

“Or should I make it up to you a little more?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, chaste and gentle.

“Mmm,” your eyes are bright as they peer up at him, full of playful mirth and adoring affection. “You're forgiven but... I think you should make it up to me, just a little more.”

Azriel willingly obliges, his smile as sweet as the moonlight.

—

some people i thought might want to be tagged :)

@strangerstilinski @astoriaviviane @lana08 @florence-end @lportes-22 @torrick17 @florencemtrash @sidthedollface2 @seafrost-fangirl @goldenmagnolias @jeweline16 @meshellexplosionmurder @michellexgriffey @susiekern @toobsessedsstuff @fxckmiup @littlebookbengal @elenapril0502 @glitterypirateduck @hnyclover @technoelfie @itsapunklife @coffeecares

#it got very long... i'm sorry! #we can't talk about bad miscommunication and then me not set up valid reasons for miscommunication tho #i can't DO IT #azriel a big softie in this one... #i mean he always is :) #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel hurt/comfort #miscommunication #idiots in luv <3 #i need a writing tag.....

[pit-and-the-pen]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart (Pt 2 to unrequited love)

A/n: HERE IT IS BESTIES!!! The official Pt 2 to unrequited love! I know the poll is still live but I’m impatient. So to make sure I’m still taking everyone’s votes into account there will be an alternate ending that should be posted right after this.

Read the Alt ending here, it's pretty similar in places

Read Pt 3 here

I'm still absolutely blown away by how well-received the first part was. This is going to be an ongoing series, all could be read individually but the "background" will be these two fics.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, reader suffers from depressed thoughts

WC: ~3.4k

divder by @cafekitsune

The next morning I was in Rhys office. He barely even looked up from the paper strewn over his desk before I spoke. 

“I’m going back home.” 

He sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes raked over me, “Does this have anything to do with why Azriel was so huffy this morning?” His eyebrow raised and I felt the anger I’d been trying to quell since last night rise its head up like a sleeping dragon.

“Fuck off. Let him be mad if he wants to be mad.” I snapped. 

“Mad isn’t exactly how I would put it,” He paused looking at me. “What happened?” The High Lord questioned. I sighed not having the strength to recount the events from last night. 

“Nothing but the inevitable.” he frowned at my non-answer but didn’t press any harder. 

“I’ll miss you. We all will.” He said finally. I nodded. 

“You all should visit.” Not an I’ll visit. No. If I could avoid it I would never step foot into this miserable court ever again. 

I was gone by mid-morning. Mor had helped me winnow the things I wanted to take with me. What they did with the rest wasn’t any of my concern. Rhys or Feyre had bought it all for me anyways, let them decide what to do with their money. 

Once I had gotten settled into my room, I hugged Mor goodbye and thanked her for her help. She just gave me a tighter hug and told me she would visit soon. 

It was two weeks before I could see Helion.Two weeks of settling back into my court that I loved so dearly.  He was visiting Dawn court for some trade agreement that needed to be signed. I came by every day, asking if he’d returned you. His second would just silently shake her head at me. And I would stomp back to my room like an angry babe. 

Two weeks of checking before I finally saw her nod her head and I had to stop myself from running into Helions office. I had the control to at least knock on the door but not much else. I quickly shut the door behind me as he called me in. 

“Sunbeam!” He called out when saw my face. “I had hoped the rumors of you moving back home were true.” He walked around the desk and gave me a brisk hug. Very out of character for him. 

“You’re not an easy man to schedule an appointment with, Helion.” I smiled warmly at the High Lord of my court. 

“If you wanted a piece of me, you only had to say the words and I would have come running darling.” There's the flirt I remember. I thought, rolling my eyes.

“But judging by your urgency in requesting a meeting that my second expressed to me, I’m going to assume that’s not what you wanted to see me for.”

My smile dropped as I braced myself for the question I needed to ask him.

“I need you to break a mating bond”

His mouth fell open. For once in my life, Helion was speechless. “I don’t know if I can even do that. Are you sure that’s what you want?” His eyes saw right through me. I threw my head back, a sad laugh bubbling past my lips. 

“Yes. No. Gods I don’t know. I just don’t want it to hurt like this forever.” I felt treacherous tears starting to fall down my face. Helion grabbed my arms gently before I could wipe them away. 

“I know you well enough to know that you don’t run away from hard things.” He held me against his chest as I really started to sob. 

“Helion. Every second that I’m away from him it kills me. I’m over here dying inside over some male who only ever saw me as a second option.” 

“Then he’s an idiot. But the mother still saw fit to make you two mates. Give it some more thought, you’re clearly still not fully decided. I’ll do some research to see if it’s even possible and if you still want to, I’ll be here to help.” I nodded my thanks into his shirt. He takes my head between his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe the tears still streaking down my face. He gives me a gentle kiss on the top of my head before I walk out of the room. 

I sat on the decision for a month. A month of volleying back and forth. Weighting the pros and cons of my choice. I had started doing my own research through the tomes in the library I had access to. My eyes widened as I finally found the information I needed. 

Picking up the book I all but sprinted to Helion’s office. I didn't bother knocking as I pushed past the door. Helion looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow at me. 

Panting, I showed him the page in the book. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life.” I promised him. He still looked skeptical but walked around to where I stood anyway. 

“I can’t say this is going to be pleasant.” He said wearily as I laid down on the couch in his study. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing this. I’ve seen rejection but this is cutting off the magic at the source.”

I looked into the males eyes, eyes I had known my whole life.

“Please. Nothing can hurt more than this already does.” Sympathy washed over his face and he leaned over me, placing a hand to each of my temples. It felt like the worst headache I had ever had in my life. My head was being split open and I heard the whimper leave my mouth. The pressure of his hands lifted slightly and I fought to get out the words. “I’m okay. Keep going.” I couldn’t open my eyes to see his face but his hands didn’t move. The pounding broke to a burning heat. I could feel the moment it snapped, I could almost picture the scissors snipping that tight string that connected us. One last fleeting rush of pure pain pushed through the bond. And then it was gone. My head was still pounding, I opened my eyes and saw Helion panted above me. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, helping me into a sitting position. 

“Like I have one hell of a hangover.” I pressed a hand to the bridge of my nose. Like I could squeeze out the uncomfortable feeling. “But also lighter.” My free hand going to my chest. It would take some time to adjust to this new feeling. But I could not stop the smile that spread over my face. Before Helion could say anything else, I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck.

“I can’t thank you enough.” I said into his neck. He gave a tight laugh and hugged me back. 

“You should go sleep this off. Please tell me if any of the pain gets worse.” He held my face between his hands and I nodded as much as I could. I all but floated back to my room. 

I fell into a familiar routine back in the Day Court. I took up my old job as a researcher. My days were spent surrounded by the massive libraries of my home court. People would come to us with questions and it was our job to use the knowledge at our disposal to find them answers. It kept me busy at the very least, but I did have to admit that I love doing it. I felt more useful here than I ever had at the Night Court. Pangs of sadness would rip through me when someone snarked in a way that made me think of Cassian. When someone would smirk and I could only picture Rhysand standing in front of me as he beat me in chess. The art was so beautiful that I longed to show Feyre if only to see that twinkle in eye as she dissected the colors and shading used. 

I smiled as the pang in my chest at the thought of Azriel held no pain. It had taken me some time to get used to the emptiness in my chest, I had grown so used to the hollow feeling of the unreturned bond but this emptiness wasn’t pain but instead it was like a weight had been taken off my chest. 

Someone calling my name pulled me from my musing. One of the messengers, Dia, smiled brightly up at me. “Hey sunbeam. Helion asked me to deliver this to you.” I took the golden envelope from her. I thanked her and she turned around, leaving me back to my books. 

I slid my finger under the seal and pulled out the letter. He was flirty even in a letter. He had requested that I accompany him to the latest ball he was hosting. Helion, ever the charmer, even placed boxes for me to check yes or no. I giggled to myself at the juvenile nature of it, but checked yes with the quill sitting next to me. 

The ball was just a few days away and I was so excited as dress after dress were brought into my room for me to try on. The one that ended up catching my eye was a floor length glossimer dress, such a pale golden color it looked almost like sunlight itself. The bottom was dyed a light pink color that flowed into it seamlessly. It took my breath away as I smoothed out the light fabric. It fit like a glove and I knew instantly this was the dress I had to wear. 

My reflection looked like a stranger. My hair was pinned to one side, sweeping down over my shoulder and my back. A golden tiara was woven into loose curls. Long golden chandelier earrings studded with diamonds almost touched my shoulders. The sun had created a sultry blush on the high points of my cheeks. I looked happier than I had in years. I sensed Helion's presence in my room and caught his eyes in the floor length mirror. 

He let out a low whistle and I blushed, adjusting my tiara. I walked over to him and he held out his hand for me, twirling me around dramatically when I took it. “No one will be able to take their eyes off of you, Sunbeam.” His eyes hungirly raked over me, “If you ever reconsider my offer. I would take you to bed in a heartbeat. Just say the words.” I pushed his shoulder, I didn’t doubt his words. 

“Keep your pants on Helion. We have a ball to get to.” 

“I’m High Lord. I can be late.” His pupils had dilated and I rolled my eyes, pushing him out the door before I linked my arm into his. 

The ball was as lavish as I had expected. There was much to celebrate and this was mostly to welcome the new High Lord. Eris. Beron had finally died a few months back and Eris had officially stepped into the role with grace. The autumn court once known for its cruelty seemed to be taking a new direction and as I talked to nobility from the court, it was for the better. I had gotten to know him over the years, his frequent visits to the Night Court, plus a few flirty exchanges that I always brushed off, while he was helping us during the war softened me to him. Learning the true events of that night with Mor. 

I locked eyes with Eris across the room. He had been heartbreakingly handsome when he was just High Fae but as a High Lord? His hair had grown slightly longer, just touching his shoulders. Dressed in a deep maroon suit that showed off every single one of his muscles. The permanent scowl that had been etched into his face had been replaced with a smile that radiated comfort. My feet seemed to move without deciding to. Eris kept his eyes locked onto mine as I got closer. My cheeks heated up under his intense stare. 

“Hi little sunbeam,” Honeyed words wrapped around me. “Seems like you’re no longer hiding in the shadows.” He held out his hand, eyes flickering to the dance floor. I smiled up at him and gently placed my hand in his. 

His touch was firm and the warmth of his power radiated off of him. He clutched my waist, pulling me flush to his front. I felt every plane of his toned body pressed against me and goosebumps broke out across my skin having nothing to do with the temperature in the room. The two of us gilded across the floor. I could feel the eyes of the room on us but I only had eyes for the male in front of me. 

“If I had known you danced this good, I would have pulled you out of that miserable court a long time ago.” He spoke into the shell of my ear.  “I’ll never understand what the Shadowslinger was thinking, even I could smell the mating bond on you. Plus, one look at me with those beautiful doe eyes and I would have been putty in your hands.” He nipped at my earlobe and I felt it deep in my stomach. 

“Well good thing he’s not my mate anymore.” I whispered back to him, voice breathy. He responded with a kiss to my neck. All of a sudden I felt his warmth disappear. Before I could even process what had happened, I was standing half ways across the room. Eris just smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Stand down, you overgrown bat.” The High Lord said and that’s when I heard the growl from my side, caught a glimpse of wings and sapphire blue. Before another word could leave my mouth, I was being pulled out of the ballroom and outside to the balcony. 

I thrashed against Azriel’s grip on my arm. His hand wrapped around my wrist tight enough to bruise. 

“What the hel was that?” He yelled at me, finally letting go of my wrist.

“You had no right!” I screeched at him. Anger seethed through me. I felt my palms heat up from the light trying to escape from them. He went to grab my arm and I ripped it back from his reach. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Please.” Was all he said and suddenly it was like that night all over again. Me pouring my heart out and all he could say was please. 

“Please what, Azriel? Is that all you know how to do, beg and plead. For what? Was breaking my heart once not enough for you.” 

“Gods. What do you want me to say?” He ran his hands through his hair. He looked like he was about to lose it. Good. “Do you want to hear how I was fucking terrified. How any good thing that I had ever received had been taken away from me? That when I felt that twinge in my chest, that I knew what it meant but prayed to the gods that it wasn’t that.” I went to start in on him again. “Would hearing that I looked for you in every female I came across help us here?.” 

“Stop. Just stop. I’m sure you’ve rehearsed this all before but do you actually think I’m stupid enough to believe it?” I spit out between my teeth. 

“No. Gods this is coming out all wrong.” He ran a frantic hand through his hair. I clocked the shake in them “Why did you break the bond?”

I laughed at his audacity. “Why? You have the nerve to ask me why?” My voice dripped venom, “I did it because I couldn’t stand being tied to you like that. That night..” I started, he interrupted me.

“I said the most vile things I could think of. I panicked when you told me about the bond. If you could feel it too, I knew nothing good could have come from that so I pushed you away.” I shook my head, as if I could shake his words away from my ears. 

“You seemed so shocked when I told you.” 

His head sunk down, voice small “I was shocked because no part of me believed, believes, that I deserve you in that way.” When he stepped forward, I didn’t step away. Mind too busy catching up with his words. “Please say something. “ 

I turned my eyes up to look at him. Hazel eyes soft sparkling with unshed tears. I wanted to rip into him. I truly did. Some sick part of me wanted to make him hurt like he had hurt me but I know that wouldn’t fix anything here. What is done was done. 

“You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to say all the right things and just have me forgive you. You don’t get to say that you love me after everything you did.” He sighed. Leaning his head on top of mine. I frowned at the contact, but didn’t push him away, refusing to melt into him. “Whatever your reason. You said all those things that you knew would hurt me, you said them and some part of you had to believe them.” 

“I know. There isn’t a day that I don’t regret everything that I said, everything I had put you through over all those years. I took you for granted and I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you were gone. Until I felt that bond being snatched away from me” I wanted to push him back but something in me let his words sink into my bones. 

“I had dreamed for so long how it would feel when I finally heard you say those words, And do you know what I feel?” His eyes glimmered with hope as I took a step away from him, out of his grasp. “Nothing. I feel nothing for you. Not anger, not contempt.” Tears slipped out of his eyes at my harsh words. “Of course I remember what it felt like before. Maybe some part of me will always love you in my own way but I’m not tied to you anymore and I have never been so thankful for something in my entire life.” He flinched like I had hit him.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice was so small it almost made me feel bad for him. Almost.

“I do.” I sucked in a heavy breath. “Look, we’ll most likely still have to see each other so I don’t want to end on a bad note. You were still one of my best friends for over a century and this doesn’t undo all of that but this,” I gesture between the two of us, “Will never be anything else but that, a friendship.” He gave me a sad smile. 

“I’ll take whatever you are willing to give me.” I turned to walk away and he reached for my arm, I grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before I walked back to the ball that was in full swing. 

I weaved in between bodies easily. Finding Eris with ease. Despite being in the middle of a conversation, he stepped away the moment he sensed my presence. Not sparing a glance to the fae surrounding him. 

“That’s all settled then?” He asked, giving me a once over. I nodded and took his hand again.

“I believe we were in the middle of a dance?” I pulled him against me, not realizing how much I missed the feeling of his heat against my skin. I placed my head on his chest. We didn’t so much as dance, more so swayed in place. Arms wrapped around each other. He tapped my chin with a gentle finger and I let him guide my mouth up to his. The kiss was soft and sweet, like holding your hands in front of a warm fire after a day in the cold. When I tried to deepen it, he laughed against my lips. I let out a shameless whine as he disconnected our lips. As I looked into his eyes, I felt the stirring of something familiar and for the first time, welcomed it as that hole in my chest was filled again.

Tagging people that seemed excited about pt. 2

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @yearninglustfully @myromanempiree @starsandsins @melmo567 @saltedcoffeescotch

#azriel acotar #unrequited love #acomaf #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel angst #eris vanserra #eris x you #eris x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #eris acotar #eris fluff #eris vandaddy

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

Hi hii I'm the one who sent the az request! AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!! 🩷🩷

would you write reader saying something she doesn't mean and making az cry and then comforting him? (Established relationship btw so like they're already mated) basically the same thing but roles reversed 😭 I'm sorry I just love angst to fluff too much!! Thank you and have nice day/night bb <333

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Azriel crying, slight mean Azriel.

At Least Tell Me

You slam the door as you go into your bedroom, everyone in the House flinching. Cassian walks into Rhysand's office, confusion all over his face. "What's wrong with Y/n?" He asks.

Rhys sighs heavily. "Azriel's on a mission, and he's coming back tonight." Cassian tilts his head. "Shouldn't she be happy?"

"Azriel didn't tell her that she left." Rhys sighs. Cassian's eyes widen. "How did she not-" "Azriel told her that he was going to visit his mother for a day and was going to return this morning. He has been gone three days, and Feyre darling told her yesterday that he was on a mission. Y/n has been slamming doors ever since." Rhys says, exasperated. Cassian shakes his head. "Y/n's temper rivals Nes, we may have to evacuate the house just because." Rhys snorts.

Time Skip-

Azriel lands on the balcony of the house, being greeted by his High Lady. "Y/n is pissed at you." Feyre says. Azriel's shoulders slump. "I know." "It's going to be bad." Feyre says. Azriel nods, and walks into the house, ready to face the wrath of his mate.

You knew Azriel was in the house. You overheard your older sister talking to him. But the rage bubbling inside was hard to keep a lid on it.

The door opens to reveal your mate, his wings drooped slightly. You turn to face your vanity, not bothering to make eye contact in the mirror with him. "I'm home." Azriel says.

"That's a first." You say coldly. Azriel sighs. "Y/n-"

"No don't you Y/n me! What the fuck Azriel?" You shout. Azriel flinches slightly, and the mask of the shadowsinger appears in that second. "I did what I had to do."

You laugh. "You did what you had to do." You laugh some more. "Did we hear that?" You yell, laughter erupting from you. Azriel rolls his eyes at you. "Azriel, you lied to me! Do you not see what's wrong with that? I was worried for you! I thought something happened to you!"

You come closer to him. "You don't need to worry about me." He says. "That was being reckless." You snap. Azriel lets out a cold, mocking laugh. "Now that's a joke. Miss Reckless, calling me reckless!" He scoffs. The shadows move about, flurrying in the range of emotions between the two of you.

You let out a yell of frustration. "See this is why I fucking hate you Azriel! By the gods, somedays I just want to fucking leave and never return!"

You cover your mouth, eyes widening. Azriel goes still, his shadows dropping. The house grows silent. You step back and Azriel rushes toward you. He kneels and clings to your legs. "A-Angel, I'm sorry. I'm so-" Huge sobs cut him off as he sobs into your stomach. "Angel please don't-" he sobs. "Please don't leave me. You can hate me all you want, just don't leave me."

Your heart breaks as you kneel to meet Azriel's height. "Oh no. Baby I'm so sorry. It cannot make up for my words and I'll do anything to make it up to you. Darling I'm so sorry." You wipe his tears away.

Azriel pulls you into his lap and buries his face into your neck. "Just don't leave me. Don't leave me." He sobs. "Oh baby, I'm not leaving you. I don't hate you, not at all. Oh baby." You coo, rocking the both of you left and right.

Finally, his sobs quiet, and he pulls away to look at you. "I'm sorry baby." You whisper. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry for lying to you. I shouldn't have. I should have been up front, and-"

You kiss him, interrupting his rant, and he desperately kisses you back. You break away and rest your forehead against his. "Do you want to take a bath first, then nap? Or do you want to nap, then take a bath?" You whisper. "Nap." He murmurs. He picks you up and carries you to your shared bed. You take off your dress, revealing your bra and panties, and Azriel strips down to his boxers.

You get into the bed first, opening the covers for him. Azriel follows right behind you and buries his face into your stomach, and you run your hands through his black hair, slowly putting him to sleep.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #hurt/comfort #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar series #acowar #acosaf #acomaf

[hellcat8908]

Long Gone Pt. 2 Azriel x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Language

You were surprised to see Azriel sleeping on the couch, his wings hanging over the edge. You're almost tempted to massage the stiffness out of them that you knew was forming. You shook the thought from your head as you picked up your book and curled up in one of the chairs. You struggled to retain any of the words you read as your mind kept wandering to Azriel. A flutter of his wings caught your attention as he stretched on the couch. His eyes focused on you as he woke up, surprised to see you sitting there. "You're know we have a perfectly good bed upstairs." You say as you turn your attention back to your book. "It's not the same without you in it." He says as he stretches his arms and back, causing his joints to crack.

"Welcome to my world." You say sarcastically before turning the page. "Can we please talk about this?" He asks softly. "Shouldn't you be headed back to your mission." You say with disdain. "No, I'm staying here until we fix this." He says as he pulls the book from your hands and sets it on the side table. He has you seeing red as months of pain and frustration coming flooding to the surface.

"Now you want to stay, after the countless times I begged you to stay for once, to choose me over work?! You made sure I knew exactly where I fell in your list of priorities and I was willing to accept it because I loved you with every fiber of my being and like an idiot I hoped that maybe one day I'd be at the top of that list, but you've made it clear I will never be. Watching you constantly walk away without a second glance, let alone any sign of hesitation. The countless times I've had my bags packed and a note written, but like a fool, I can't leave you! Some fucked up part of me still loves you after everything you've done!" You say as tears of anger and sadness streak down your face.

"It took me having a breakdown for you to come back. I'm surprised you even cared enough to come back, or did Rhys order you to?! Do you really think this is worth fixing at the point?!" You shout as you fall apart in front of him, seeing every word land its mark. The sorrow in his eyes mixed with guilt for allowing it to get to this point. He wants so desperately to reach out and hold you, but he can't. "Your love is always worth trying to fix. I know I've destroyed us, seemingly beyond repair, and I'm the fool for not realizing it sooner." He says as he keeps his attention on you.

"I'm choosing you over everything else in my life. I should've always put you first, but I didn't. I know words mean nothing without the actions to support them. I want you to question me and doubt me every minute of every day until hopefully one day I can prove to you that I do love you and that this is worth fixing." He says as he gently takes your hands in his. "Please, y/n, all I'm asking is for one more chance. One chance to reignite the mating bond between us. One chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved." He begs you.

You look into his eyes and can tell he means every word he said. "I'll give you one chance and one chance only. Please do not make me regret this." You say as he pulls you into his arms. "I won't, angel, I promise I'll be the mate you deserve." He says as he holds you close to him. The tension in his body easing as you let yourself relax into his touch. He pulls you into his lap as he cradles you against him, allowing both of you to relish the warmth of the other. The sound of your stomach growling interrupts the silence. You ignore it as you're starved for comfort from Azriel. He gently strokes your hair as you cling to him.

"We should get you something to eat," Azriel says as he hears your stomach protesting again. "I don't want to move," you say as you settle in against him. "Ok,  few more minutes," Azriel says with a smile before kissing the top of your head. A little bit later, there's a knock on the door, interrupting your peace. "Angel, we have to get that." Azriel says when you don't move to let him up. "No, they can come back later." You whine against him. "Trust me, you're going to want to answer that." Azriel says with a smirk. "Fine." You relent as you make your way towards the door. You open it, and your heart sinks when you see who's standing there.

"He's in the living room." You tell Rhys as you step back to let him in. "What makes you think I came to see him?" Rhys asks, feigning offense. "I just assumed -" you start to say but are interrupted. "I came to bring you this," he says as he holds up a bag from your favorite bakery, "and to see how you were doing." He laughs as your eyes light up at the baked goods in his hand before handing it over. "I take it you must be doing better," he says. "Certainly seems to be." Azriel chimes in as he walks over and stands beside you. "Thank you for doing that." He says to Rhys. "It's the least I can do to help you out." Rhys says. You quickly pick up a chocolate pastry and take a bite, savoring the sweetness.

Both of them chuckling as you let out a moan of approval. "Thank you." You tell Rhys before taking another bite. "Anything for you." He says with a wink. "I should get going, y/n, let me know when you're tired of Azriel and want me to send him away." He teases. "Not for a while, at least." You say back with a smile as Azriel wraps his arms around you. Rhys takes his leave as you finish your pastry. "Did you ask him to bring me goodies?" You ask accusingly. "I told him it might be safer if he shows up with something to sweeten you up." Azriel says with a grin. "Thank you." You say before kissing him. "This is only the beginning of the long road ahead, angel," Azriel says, "but it's a road worth traveling."

#acotar #batboys #acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #hurt/comfort

[billyrayjo]

Drowning Without You

Azriel x reader

Warnings: some violence, sexual references and scenes. Mainly fluff , hurt/comfort

The first mission that you had together. You could barely contain your excitement when Rhys pulled you and Azriel into his office. Not excitement for the alone time, you told yourself, but excitement to finally have a purpose.

You had been in Velaris for months. Training with Cassian and Azriel day in and day out, trying to find that place of belonging. While you weren’t an Illyrian warrior, you had experienced the gruff life of battle before. In your place of birth, the Dawn Court, you were brought up training just like your mother before you. Only after Amarantha’s terror-laced reign did you decide it was time to get out, finding Velaris to almost call to you, beckoning you to visit.

What was supposed to be a short trip turned longer once you were introduced to Feyra, Nesta, and Mor. The three of you clicking immediately, especially during training. Elian was okay, too, you just couldn’t shake the sting of seeing her intimate moments with a certain shadowy figure.

It wasn’t jealousy, not when you had barely shared words with the dark haired, tanned god of a man. Other than in training and “family” nights in, as the group called it, did you ever really see him. You were confused when you first felt the longing. Desire to touch him, to speak to him, the desire to find him in the crowded rooms. You shoved the longing deep down into your gut the second you saw the beautiful, timid, sweet look of Elain looking at him that way too. You could almost see the exact explanation of the feeling in your chest, just by her look. And by the looks of it, Azriel replicated her looks of longing, only not towards you.

You had to remind yourself that you were new here. They had known each other for Gods knows how much longer than you had. Azriel was always kind, unless he was pushing you in the training field, but you never felt like he was seeing you the way you were seeing him. The only intimate moment the two of you had shared was weeks ago, when Cassian had accidentally landed a particularly hard blow to your arm, spraining your wrist. Azriel quietly lead you inside, helping you wrap it in the kitchen, before giving you a soft smile and retreating back to his room.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”. Your head jerked up at that, a small blush heating your cheeks when you realized Rhys was looking at you expectantly, realizing you had zoned out. You had to pull it together. This was your first chance to prove yourself, and you damn sure weren’t going to have it ruined by a petty childlike crush on the shadowy figure to your left. To your luck, Rhys continued on, explaining the purpose of the mission. He didn’t miss the small grateful look you passed his way.

“The Autumn Court guards were spotted by one of Azriel’s men just outside of the Winter Court. I need you both to watch, and listen. They are still under the guise of the Queen, and gathering what they know could be detrimental to our side. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary.” Rhys explained, swiftly and strictly. You felt yourself nodding along, noticing one slight nod from Azriel on the other side of the room.

“We do not know their plans, who is with them, only that they are aiming to kill. We have spoken to Eris, and he is in agreement with you two staking them out. Remember, if the power of the crown reaches you, you will succumb to anything they desire. Be careful. I’ll winnow you a mile north from the soldiers at dawn.” He added, nodding to both of you, and disappearing into the house elsewhere. You forced yourself to remain stoic, awaiting words from the Shadowsinger. “See you at dawn, Y/N” he muttered, disappearing into the shadows around him.

Trying not to let the disappointment of the small encounter grace your features, you straightened your spine, heading up to your room in the townhouse to prepare. You took a particularly long bath, soaking in oils and scents. After removing all of the hair on your body besides your head, you slipped into a silk nightgown, brushing out your long, damp hair. As your head hit the pillow, you felt a nervousness deep down in your bones, anxious to get on with the mission.

Serenity. That’s the best way to describe what Azriel was seeing as he and Rhys stood next your bed. It was still early, but when they heard no noise coming from your bedroom, they decided to wake you so you had time to prepare. You laid on your side, facing the two sculpted men. Your lips slightly parted, no noise coming from you besides the small sound of your breathing. Your eyelashes were long, lying against your cheeks, a slight blush on your face from whatever thoughts invoked you in slumber. The strap to your nightgown hung off of your shoulder, resting on the top of your arm, and the blankets were pulled right up to the neckline of the silk garment. Just as Rhys was about to wake you, he got a distant look in his eye, muttering something about Feyra before instructing Azriel to wake you.

He really, really didn’t want to. You looked so peaceful, like the kinder opposite to the sleep Az had gotten last night. Tossing and turning, he was confused by the stress he garnered, most of it coming from you and your eagerness to go on this mission. He told himself to snap out of it, that you were strong and capable, but he couldn’t shake the eating feeling in his gut. His shadows kept him awake for most of the night, whispering horrifying thoughts and outcomes into his ear up until the early hours of the morning. He sucked in a deep breath as he approached your bed, sitting lightly on the edge, scared to touch you with his scarred, brutalized hands. Almost like it would hurt you… poison you.

“(Y/N)”. You stirred, another night with dreams tainted by a certain Illyrian warlord you assumed. You had just about fell back into slumber when you heard it again. “(Y/N)”. Only this time, you felt the gentle touch of something on your shoulder. Your eyes slowly opened, having to blink a few times to clear your vision before you took in Azriel, sitting in front of you on the bed. You shot up, the other strap to your nightgown falling, as you anticipated what he was doing here. “It’s okay. I just wanted to wake you up before we had to leave.” he almost whispered. With a few intakes of air, you simply muttered “oh” before you laid yourself back down, the air seeping into your nightgown suddenly donning realization that you were half naked in front of him.

“Before we go, I just wanted to remind you that uh— you can handle this. Your training proves that.” he stated, halfway stuttering as he thought of what to say. A small smile graced your face as you looked at him in thanks, and you almost didn’t notice his gentle touch as he lifted both straps of your nightgown back into place, his touch lingering for half a second before he was up, marching for your bedroom door.

After winnowing into somewhere deep in the cliffy forest, Rhys went over the plan one more time before he left you two, nothing but your leathers and packs, standing alone. “What now?” you asked, stretching out your sore ankles you glanced at Az. “First, we get to high ground. We’ll have better advantage that way.” a man of few words, you noted. You simply nodded, and that was exactly what you did.

Hours later, your breaths ragged, you dropped your pack onto a bolder. You had finally made it up the cliff, and boy was it challenging. Not only with the cold temperatures, but also the close proximity of a certain male, you struggled to find breaths that didn’t sting when you inhaled. Your eyes were glassy from the wind, and your hands frozen every time you wiped away a stray tear. Being a fae didn’t matter when it came to your sensitive eyes. Just before you, Az just watched as you gathered yourself, not a hair out of place. You slightly chuckled when you saw his look, almost of humor, pointed towards you. You could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lip raise before his back was to you, assessing the things in his pack.

By the time it was nightfall, you had dawned a few more layers, sitting on the cliff with a blanket wrapped around you. There was a lake at the bottom, the water almost as black as the shadows that danced around your partner. You couldn’t look away from it, even as Azriel had cooked dinner, rabbit meat, you assumed. You felt his presence before you heard him, and looked up to see him outreaching a plate towards you. “Eat.” He said “We have more climbing tomorrow.”. You grabbed the plate from him, and didn’t realize how hungry you had grown until you took the first few bites. In silence, Azriel plopped down beside you, his wing raising to fight off some of the biting wind from hitting you. “Do you ever wonder… wonder what things lie out in the world that we have no idea about?” you almost whispered, your empty plate having been deposited into the snow minutes ago. “Sometimes.” was all he offered, his gaze on the side of your face, before he spoke again. “We should get some sleep.”

With the wind chill and the dropping temperatures, Azriel decided that sleeping in a cave would be best. You both tucked into it, the only light coming from the moon outside the mouth. Just as you laid your head down, you felt Azriel shift beside you. He too, had laid down, only he was facing you. ��If you get too cold, wake me up and I can share some of my blanket with you.” he said. You nodded, before saying “I’ll take first watch.”. He simply nodded at you, and turned the other way.

Dripping. Dripping was all you heard as you peered out the mouth of the cave. Dripping and a slight snore from the large man laying behind you. He had fallen asleep, and you didn’t trust not having eyes on the outside in case of emergency. You should’ve woken him hours ago, but he looked so calm and so peaceful, that you decided a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. Right as you were turning to tap him, you heard leaves rustling and cracking sticks outside of the cave. You crept onto your feet, being light as a feather kicking in by your instincts before you even thought about it. Once you reached the mouth of the cave, you peered out into the moonlight. You heard something. Someone. “(Y/N)!!!! (Y/N)!!!!” It screamed, your heart stopping. It was your mother. Your mother calling for help in the darkness of the night. Before you even thought about it, you were running. Running and running and running. Running until something hard knocked you in the head, and you collapsed. The faint screams of your mother haltering in the distance.

When you awoke, the first thing you noticed was the pounding. The head-splitting throb you felt right in the spot of that object’s collision. You groaned, slowly raising your head, and took in your surroundings. You were tied, both hands extended by ropes attached to the trees on either side of you, your feet barely hanging off the ground. Everything ached. Your wrists were numb, your shoulders contorted and tired, and you didn’t miss the trail of blood coming down your face from your hairline. Once you assessed yourself, you looked ahead. There, 25 feet in front of you, was Azriel, kneeling on the snow. They had his hands tied as well, and what looked to be ash arrows were protruding through his wings. His head was hung low, as if looking at you would disgust him.

“Well…. Look who decided to join.” a deep, older voice sounded. Berron appeared in your line of vision, and you could’ve sworn you saw Azriel’s head snap up just over his shoulder. Surrounding you, there were a dozen Autumn Court warriors, all with that familiar glassy look in their eyes. “Now we can really get to the fun.” he growled. Without a warning, his fist collided with your face. With nowhere else to go, your head jerked backwards, your gaze landing on the clouds above you for a split second. Another blow, this time to your gut. Nothing but a gasp escaped your lips at the impact, the breath being knocked out of you.

“Stop!” Azriel growled, and you almost sighed at the sound of it before Berron started laughing. “I’ll stop when you tell me what business my son has with the night court.” Berron mused. You sagged. He knew, he knew about the alliance, and he damn sure wasn’t letting either of you go without answers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Azriel growled. You caught Azriel’s gaze, and quietly said “I can take it Az.” A silent pleading to give up nothing to save you. He didn’t dare look your way and out himself. Internally, he was panicking. They had dosed you with Faebane in your sleep, your wounds still slowly bleeding. You didn’t have long before you succumbed to blood loss, and Az didn’t have a plan. The guards were too close, too feral for him to get to you. “Maybe this will motivate you..” Berron drawled, inching closer to (Y/N). In half a second, he had drawn his sword, slicing through the ropes hanging you from the tree, and launched his foot into your chest, sending you flying backwards. Only, you didn’t hit the ground. Between the blood loss and the impact, you barely registered that you were still falling, falling so slowly you could see the birds flying above you. Your back impacted with something sharp, something so cold it had you alert in milliseconds. Right before you submerged into the beautiful lake you were analyzing the night prior, you heard a deathly roar rattle the world around you.

Darkness, darkness, and more darkness. What you had failed to notice earlier, was that along with your wrists, your legs had been bound as well. As you kept sinking deeper, your hands struggled, fighting against the rope tying them together. You were going too deep, too deep to be able to reach the surface before you drowned. Focus. Focus. Got it. The rope snapped from your ankles, and you immediately pushed to ascend back to the surface. Right has you started kicking, something sharp seared into your ankle. You shot your gaze downwards, and some creature had dug its claws so deep into your leg you let out a shout in the water. You started kicking it, fighting it, but it was relentless. Its claws sliced up and down your legs, pulling you further down with it. Air. You needed air. You started to internally panic as you fought against the creature. Right as everything started to go dark around you, your body stilling, you saw a blue glow just in the distance of the water.

Rage. Rage and fright was all Az felt as he watched your body soar over the cliffs edge. Without even thinking about it, he tore himself from his restraints, taking down all 12 soldiers in the matter of seconds. Berron only watched as Azriel sprinted to the edge, and dove right down into the water. It shocked him, but he kept going. You had been under for too long. There was no way you were coming back up. He pushed deeper and deeper until he heard it. A slight yell in the water. Without his vision, he used the blue glow to guide him in the darkness. Down towards the bottom, he saw you thrashing against a creature so mortifying he was even slightly scared. In a quick battle, he used his shadows to bound the creature to the sandy floor before he grabbed you, pushing off the bottom and racing to the surface. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears, and he felt your body jerking with the intake of water.

The surface broke. Just as you were fading out, your lungs ingested a breath of air so hard it hurt. Coughing, you pushed your hair backwards, reminding yourself to kick your feet. You looked beautiful. Your hair was slicked back from the water, your eyes large and clear, eyelashes dripping. Your lips were slightly blue from the cold, your delicate neck and chest expanding and shrinking with each breath you took. All Azriel could do was stare. Stare at you as you pulled yourself together. He was panting, too, but nothing could tear his gaze away from you in this moment. Just as he was about to speak, you launched yourself towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your fingers in his hair, your face tucking into his shoulder. You pretended you didn’t notice your legs wrapping around his waste. His arms snaked around you, shadows too, as he gripped you just as tight. You both breathed together, grounding yourselves on eachother. When you pulled away, eyes looking up, so intoxicatingly into his, he didn’t even fight it when he cupped your face, and kissed you. A kiss so deep, so cold, that your eyes had no choice but to close. His hands were all over you, on your neck, in your hair, on your ass. Nowhere and everywhere all at once. Your tongues met each others in a pattern, his grip landing right on the front of your throat. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t rough, it was perfect. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, and ran your fingers through his hair, earning a low groan from him, making heat pool between your legs, even in the frozen water. As if he could sense your arousal, he arched your back into him further, and you let out a slight moan.

Azriel yanked his head away from you, and with a frenzy in his eye, growled “mine” before pulling you back in.

(Should I make a part 2???) IM IN LOVE WITH HIM

Update: PART TWO IS ON MY PROFILE ;);)

#azriel #azriel x reader #hurt/comfort

[yearning-for-autumn]

Trauma-Verse -- Part III

Rhysand

A/N: Rhys is hard to write for you know...

---

Summary: Rhysand wakes after a nightmare and struggles with memories of the past, whilst also grappling with the pressure of being High Lord.

Warnings: Allusions to rape, self-harm, nightmares, angst.

Pairings: Rhysand x Feyre

Word Count: 700

Darkness swirled and swarmed. It spread, thick inky blackness across the walls, creeping through the cracks of the door, sloughing off the furniture.

Rhysand had always kept things dark in the room with Her. He made sure of it. The only thing visible through the dim light her shock of red curls. It felt better that way. Safer. That way, he could squeeze his eyes tight enough to hurt, until the swirling colours that formed behind his eyelids took the shape of someone better.

Feyre’s face, hazy and unclear until he had finally found her that Calanmai night. After that, she was as clear as day.

He awoke suddenly from his nightmare: her nails raking down his back, Feyre’s face as she stared death in the eyes, Azriel’s hands, Cassian’s mother. Re-runs of every way he had failed his family.

His sister's screams of pain.

Rhysand emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor, retching and gasping. Then grimacing he misted it away. He clutched his head in his hands until fingerprints marred his temples.

On shaky legs he staggered to the bathtub, wide enough to accommodate the wings that had sprung forth unprompted, his handle on his writhing magic weak. The water burned his skin as he sunk low, the overpowering scent of lavender rising with the steam. Rhys didn’t care. Didn’t care that as he scrubbed, his skin turned red raw beneath his hand.

It wasn’t enough to clean him. It could never be enough. The dirt was deeper than his skin, running through his blood, pooling in his magic. Infecting his soul. He could never scrub hard enough to rid him of it. But he kept scrubbing.

Before Her, when Rhys was younger, his brothers had been jealous. They tried to hide it, but he remembered clearly Azriel’s envied glances when his mother fussed over his clothes or ruffled his hair. Cassian took his things. Azriel pushed and shoved him. Perfect Rhysand. Prince Rhysand.

High Lord Rhysand.

He should be perfect. He had to be perfect. His nails broke the skin of his forearm. Hissing, he looked down, unfocused eyes watching the water turn red.

Footsteps hurried barefoot across the marble floor. Rhys barely reacted as soft hands smoothed across his shoulders and massaged the nape of his neck. Her hands had been rough, and cruel, with long nails that raked his skin. Feyre’s hands were small, and soft. Feyre’s hands were loving.

“Rhys.” She said, gently disapproving, “Rhys, your arm.”

Rhys sniffed, avoiding her eyes. Feyre clicked her tongue and he raised his head to see her standing with one hand on her hip. His perfect mate. His rock. He had disappointed her, yet again.

“Come on, Darling.” Feyre hauled him up, “Back to bed.”

Rhys shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Then let’s sit on the balcony together, but no more boiling in the bathtub.”

Rhys relented. He knew better by now than to argue with his mate.

When dawn broke, Rhys’ arm had healed, and he was in bed. Feyre’s cold feet were pressed against his legs. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but it must have been outside in the cool air of Velaris, Feyre holding him as they looked up at the stars. He wished he could stay forever with her, in her arms, hair tousled and eyes bleary with sleep. But High Lord Rhysand was perfect. High Lord Rhysand did what was expected of him. He rose early, brushed his hair and answered letters.

Cassian greeted him after training, hair falling loose in a way Rhysand could never allow his own to do. He leaned over Rhys and hugged him in his over-affectionate way, covering him in his sweat. Rhys wrinkled his nose, smoothed his clothes, glamoured his scent. Cassian laughed, but didn’t say anything.

He saw Azriel in the evening, at dinner. Feyre was sat with Nyx, spoon feeding him mashed potatoes whilst Mor chatted easily, carrying conversation that he couldn’t keep up with. Azriel was sneaking food onto Rhys’ plate. Adding a potato here and there, some roast beef off his own plate, an extra spoon of dessert.

Rhys frowned at his wife, suspecting her of spilling his secrets, but she simply smiled in return. He knew what she meant.

High Lord Rhysand was perfect. But Rhys didn’t have to be.

#autumn writes #acotar #acotar fanfiction #writing #fanfic #acotar x reader #night court #feyre x rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #high lord rhysand #acotar series #acomaf #acowar #acosf #amarantha #feyre archeron #feyre cursebreaker #feyre acotar #nyx archeron #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #angst #rhysand angst #hurt/comfort #azriel smut #cassian smut #rhysand smut

[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 :)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

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

[azriel-scum]

hi im experiencing levels of anxiety that should probably require sedation

anyone have any comfort fics?

I'm close to finishing the third chapter of it wasn't supposed to be this way, i know the story is a little bit slow moving, trying to put some more action in this part!

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #comfort #hurt/comfort

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! More pining and yearning

a/n: Here is part two! I love writing this little series :) There will definitely be more! let me know what you think ♡♡

Part 1, Part 3

~~

Sometimes you hated being a scholar. 

There were plenty of upsides to having such a cushy job, especially when your employer was the high lord himself. You got paid generously, got free access to the best libraries, and never had to pay rent. Millions of fae would kill to have your position. 

But as Cassian punched you in the ribs—for the third time—you found yourself questioning your role within the night court’s inner circle.

“Okay,” you breathed out, hunching over with a hand cradling your side. “Okay, please, Cass. Can we take a break?” 

Unfortunately, Cassian didn’t appreciate quitters. So, your feet were abruptly swept from under you and your back made contact with the floor. With a soft oof, the wind was knocked from your lungs. 

“C’mon, y/n, you’re better than that. I know you are.” 

You responded with a wheeze, blinking into the pale sun. 

This morning had been rough.

You’d been having some trouble sleeping, but that wasn’t necessarily unusual. Being alive for so long meant you had seen quite a few things, so nightmares came and went with the tide. You were going through a rough patch with them at the moment, and the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with you.

“You planning on laying there for the rest of the day?” Cassian asked, his large silhouette coming to block the light. 

You squinted up at him. “Maybe.” 

“Yeah, not happening.” 

You fought back a whine as the Illyrian pulled you up by your shoulders and steadied you. He nodded, giving you a moment to ready yourself back into position, and then bent his knees. Gods, you were going to be so sore later. 

It didn’t take long for you to end up on the floor again, this time on your stomach. Your chin cracked against the padded ring, your teeth snapping together at the impact. The sound made your brain vibrate as you rolled onto your side and held your temple. 

Cassian crouched down to the floor beside you and you could make out his worried brow amidst the shakiness of your vision. 

“What’s going on with you?” He brought his hand up to brush against your already bruising jaw. “We’ve been working on that move for weeks. You had it a few days ago.” 

You breathed through your nose and tried not to groan at the ache rolling through your body. “I think I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping very well.” 

At that, Cassian plopped down to a seat, keeping a hand at your elbow as you brought your own body up to mirror his. 

“You want to talk about it?” he questioned. 

“There isn’t much to say. I can’t remember them this time. It’s kind of strange—usually I remember them too much and that’s what makes it worse.” 

Cassian hummed in contemplation. He was always the one you went to the morning after a sleepless night. Cassian would listen as you talked through your nightmares, and you would do the same for him. He was a logical pillar in your life. 

But it was always Azriel you went to in the midst of them. You never talked about what you saw and he never asked. But it was always Azriel in the middle of the night. His shadows were a comfort in the pitch black and he was always quick to wrap his wings around you when it became too hard to breathe. 

You hadn’t gone to him these last few times.

The fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams was an unfortunate factor. Because if you knew what was causing you to wake up in a cold sweat every night, at least then you could talk about it. Or take a moment to rationalize. 

There was no rationalizing when the only thing you had to go off of was fear and hurt. 

“What does Azriel think?” Cassian asked after a small lapse in silence.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, when you go to his room at night. What does he have to say about you not remembering?” 

You scoffed. And then scoffed again. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I barely do that.” 

Cassian stared at you with a blank expression. “So we’re still doing that then. Got it.” He heaved himself up from the ground and then yanked you up alongside him.

“Still doing what?” you asked, trailing behind him as he reached for his canteen. He didn’t answer you, favoring the long gulps of water he was taking. You waited for him to finish and then asked again. He chose to unwrap his knuckles instead. “Cassian.” 

The man sighed. “Nothing, y/n. It’s just… It wasn’t a secret that you would go to his room after you had a rough night. Why do you think I never dragged you out here those mornings?” You cringed at his words. He shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Why do you hide it?” 

You didn’t have a good reason—well, you didn’t used to. You’d always sneak out of his room after the sun rose and never bring it up again. And there was never a solid explanation for why you evaded the topic. You knew Azriel would never hold it against you and you weren’t embarrassed for others to know that you sought out comfort in a friend. It just seemed like something you should keep to yourself. 

Now, though—now there was a good reason to wipe your actions from memory. To pretend they never happened and to never repeat them. 

“Cassian, Elain is my friend. Even if I did that in the past—in a friendly way—it would be wrong now.” 

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitched. “Right. Have you ever actually talked to Elain about her feelings?” 

“I don’t need to.” You reached down for your own water, ignoring the twinge in your side and the pulsing in your head. “She never stops talking about him. And they’re always together. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already seeing each other.” 

“Who’s seeing each other?” 

The cool tone of Azriel’s voice washed over you and you whipped around to find him standing at the foot of the training ring, blades in hand. 

A nervous laugh fell from your lips and you fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. “Um, no one, just some friends I know.” 

“Who?” he asked again. 

“Oh, you don’t know them. Old friends.” 

The Shadowsinger raised a brow, sending Cassian a fleeting look. “I thought I knew all of your friends.” 

“You don’t. I know way more people than you. Even though you're older than me. Not by that much, though. Have you talked to Elain lately?” Words were spewing from your mouth in the worst combinations. You were never nervous around Azriel. What in the cauldron was wrong with you?

Azriel’s raised brow turned into a furrowed one and he blinked, assessing your face with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do you have a concussion?” He turned the Cassian, expression going from confused to provoked. “Did you give her a concussion?” 

“Honestly, maybe.” 

“I don’t have a concussion,” you rushed out, cutting off Cassian’s admission. “I was just leaving though. I’m tired. You guys can fight each other.” 

There was so much sudden pent-up energy inside of you that you had no intention of sleeping, but just seeing Azriel made you feel like you were intruding on something. Which was absurd. Azriel was your friend and had been your friend for centuries. Just because he loved Elain didn’t mean you had to avoid him. 

But this energy had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was telling you to avoid him like the Illyrian flu. 

Making a break for it, you freed yourself from the training ring and attempted to skate past Azriel with a quick side smile, but he apparently had other plans. He caught your wrist as you walked past, glancing up at a “preoccupied” Cassian before turning to you with his wing out, giving the illusion of a private conversation. 

“You’re not sleeping well?” he asked, voice low. 

You warped your smile into one that met both sides of your mouth. “I’m okay.” 

Shadows crept over his shoulders and along his ears. His expression shifted and pinched and then returned neutral. “You know you can come to me if you need it.” 

“I’m okay, Az. Really.” 

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

Maybe before. 

“I’m a paper pusher, Az. I’m not out in the throes of battle,” you jested, scrunching your nose as you smiled up at him. “Nothing is that serious for me.” 

A lie. Something was that serious—serious enough to keep you up at night for the past week—but you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“That is not what I asked,” he countered, sliding his hand up from your wrist to turn your chin. “You need to ice your jaw. Cassian shouldn’t be so rough with you.” 

“I’m okay,” you said again, words a pathetic repetition because your heart was beating so fast now and you needed to leave. Something was pulling at your chest and you needed to leave. 

“As you’ve said,” Azriel muttered, his fingers brushing down along the column of your throat. When his eyes flickered up and met your own, something inside of you lost its alignment.

You looked away before the feeling could return. Everything righted itself. You took a wobbly step back. 

“Have a good training session.” 

You turned on your heel and stalked away, feeling equal parts the betrayer and the betrayed. 

~~

“You mean that girl off-continent? The one from a century ago?” 

Cassian hummed. “Yeah, her. What I wouldn’t give for a visit from her.” 

“You’re a pig,” Mor replied, a scoff sharp on her lips.

“She didn’t think so.” 

You were eavesdropping. You didn’t like to, but somehow, in the time you’d spent in the inner circle, you’d picked up the habit. Oops.

Technically, you weren’t really eavesdropping. You had been in the room first. It wasn’t your fault Cassian and Mor decided to speak very loudly with only a few shelves separating you. If they wanted privacy they should have checked the area. 

“Is it that hard for you to get laid? You have to search off-continent?” 

Cassian’s responding laugh was almost defensive. “I’m sure you’d love to know about my sex life.” 

“I really wouldn’t, actually. You brought it up.” Mor paused. You heard her shift on the lounge chair. “I am, however, interested in Azriel’s.” 

“Aren’t we all,” Cassian droned. “Pretty obvious that he doesn't have one at the moment. Hasn’t had one in a while.” 

You felt your neck jolt at the reveal of that information. Azriel always kept his partners discrete, but you’d always known he’d had them. Many of them. You had no idea who they were or where he met them, but you would hear the girls occasionally... smell their perfume on a few rare nights. 

“You think? This whole time?” Mor asked, curiosity raising her voice an octave. 

“Mor, I think the sight of other females makes him want to vomit.” 

The book in your lap was all but obsolete. 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” 

Cassian tsked. “I’m not. He’s told me.” 

“I suppose that’s what having a mate does to a person.” 

Your fingers became abnormally cold, the center of your chest caving slightly.

Azriel had a mate? No, he would have told you.

He would have told you. 

Mor’s sweet voice slammed against your ears, harsh despite its nature. “Do you think he’ll tell her soon?” 

Cassian’s reply had you standing on shaking knees. “Hope so. He’s so in love with her it's suffocating. You should see when—” 

You were out of the room in a wisp, sliding out the small back door. The book you’d been reading was still clutched in your frozen grip and you held it against your chest as breathing became impossible. With a hand pressed to the wall and your head hung low, you sucked in air, greedy for some type of reprieve. 

You were happy for him. You were so, so happy for him. 

Right? 

The book fell from your grip, clattering to the floor. The pages collapsed in on themselves as it fell face down, and you listened to the paper crumple as your throat closed. Both hands now pressed to the cold wall. Why were you freezing? 

This made sense. It made sense. 

Of course Azriel had a mate and of course it was… Elain? 

No, it couldn’t be Elain. Elain was Lucien’s mate. 

Now you were confused as well as consumed. Your body was left aching from training and your mind was in a frenzy and you couldn’t even understand why you were reacting the way you were. 

It was completely plausible that Azriel had a mate and didn’t tell anyone about it. He was a private male who kept his lovers to himself, so of course he would keep his mate to himself as well. But he did tell someone about it. He told Cassian. And Mor knew. 

Your fingernails dug into stone.

Azriel didn’t love you. 

The thought came on so suddenly that you almost looked over your shoulder. It was as if the words had been whispered in your ear by some cruel, vicious wind. 

You had never cared if Azriel loved you before, because you knew that he did love you. Like a sister. You were Azriel’s family and he was yours. 

But as the thought of Azriel having a mate invaded your mind once more, your shaky legs propelled you forward, running from the creased book and the hallway that contained all of the worst things. 

You ran until you couldn't, until your toes hit the edge of the balcony on the far side of the house and the cool air of winter hit your cheeks. You had been so cold inside, but somehow the breeze felt even colder across your skin. 

“Y/n?” 

You gasped, whipping around and gripping the railing as it pressed into your spine. You couldn’t formulate words as Azriel stood before you. His hands raised up to his waist, reaching for you as he took in the way your chest heaved.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he rushed. 

You only shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Embarrassment and confusion and a twisted sort of fear coursed through you. You couldn't look at him, afraid you would somehow see the bond connected to his chest—somehow notice things about him you hadn’t before. Maybe another shade of hazel in his eyes or a softness to his lips that you had never looked for. 

As you considered it now, it was obvious that you’d never let yourself look. 

Azriel was never supposed to be yours. 

“Talk to me, angel.” Azriel’s sweet whisper brushed against your skin. He was so close to you. You could feel him, but you refused to look. 

To see how everything had changed. 

“Let me fix it.” 

You heard the rush of wind from his wings as he expanded them outwards, followed closely behind by the whirling of his shadows, and it all clicked then. 

The images came quickly, dissipating just as fast. But they did their job, sending heavy, hot tears past the tight scrunch of your eyelids. 

Azriel with Elain. Azriel with Mor. Azriel with random, faceless women.

Him, in every iteration, with everyone that wasn’t you. 

That’s what had kept you up—the dreams plaguing your every resting moment. And you realized then that nothing had really changed at all. That you’d been in love with Azriel for longer than you’d been in love with anything. 

Your jaw trembled, your body rejecting the anguish that swept through you. Wind softly flowed from the west, swaying your skirts with a gentleness that made your breath shudder. That kind of gentleness was impossible. The world felt so cruel. 

“Y/n, tell me what happened. Should I get someone else?” Azriel pleaded. “Should I get Rhys?” 

Rhys could knock you out, and that would surely be a relief. You felt paralyzed by this overwhelming array of devastation. But Rhys would also have access to your thoughts. 

You shook your head. “No,” you said, but the word was lost in the wind. Azriel seemed to hear it anyway. “No, I want—I need to—go to sleep.” 

“You need to go to sleep?” He touched you now, something he seemed to have been avoiding. His hands came to rest behind your neck, thumbs at your jaw, and you pried your eyes open at the contact. You’d never seen the shadowsinger look so ruined, his hair askew, his eyes wild and panicked. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

His expression was beseeching you for something you couldn’t give him. You hiccuped your next words out. 

“I’m—’m tired.” 

You wished you’d stayed oblivious. That you had never become privy to the depth of your feelings. 

This pain was immeasurable.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel angst #azriel fanfic

[danikamariewrites]

My Poor Shadowsinger

Azriel x reader

A/n: I saw this post on twitter of Rogue carrying Gambit and it said ‘can’t let the bros know I’m cool with this’ or something like that. Anyway it immediately made me think of the babying Az hc I wrote and I couldn’t focus on anything else until I wrote this.

Warnings: mentions of injuries

Now that Madja was gone and his brother’s fussing was over Azriel could finally relax. His latest mission was fairly easy, that was until the last day. It’s always the last day. Azriel had won the fight easily, the male who attacked him clearly didn’t know how to fight, just throwing his muscular body around and hoping to land a blow.

Not that Az would admit this but he got cocky, too cocky and the bastard got him with his knife leaving a wide gash across his chest.

As Azriel relaxed into his pillows, letting his eyes finally rest. Of course right at that moment the front door slammed against the wall, followed by your worried voice. Azriel sat up in anticipation of you entering his room. Bursting through the room with Cass and Rhys on your heels you stop on the threshold.

Dropping your bag you rest your hands above your heart, your face contorted in worry. Your eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around his strong chest. “Oh Azzy,” you say breathless. Rhys opens his mouth to tell you Azriel is fine but Cassian grasped his shoulder. The smirk on his face telling Rhys that he wanted to see how this went.

You rush over to his bed, curling up next to him and holding his head to your chest. Placing kisses all over his face and head you sway him gently. “Are you ok baby? I was so scared when Rhys told me you came home hurt.” leaning back you run your hands over his shoulders gently, making sure to not pull at the bandages.

To your surprise Az leaned into you accepting your loving attention. Not caring that his brothers were watching on. Resting his head against your chest again and wrapping his arms around your middle. “I’m ok, it just stings a lot.” You let out a sympathetic sound, running your hands through his dark hair.

“You poor thing. Rhys,” you turn to the High Lord with a slight scowl on your face, “why didn’t you tell me he was in pain?” Cassian and Rhys couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Their jaws open wide in shock. “I-he, are you kidding? He said he was fine! Az even kicked us out because he said ‘stop babying me, I’m a full grown male!’” Rhys complained.

Cassian was speechless. He couldn’t believe his brother was acting this way.

You let out a sound of disgust, untangling yourself from Azriel’s vice like hold. “Lay back Az,” you say in a soft tone, adjusting his pillows so he can be comfortable. “Are you hungry? What can I get you baby?” You coo at him while brushing his hair back from his slightly warm forehead. You click your tongue at the warmth. “Ugh and you’re warm, did Madja give you something to fight off a potential fever?”

Az nods against his pillows, “It’s downstairs will you get it for me? And can I have that sandwich that you always make, with the cold chicken and stuff?” His voice small and a slight pout on his plump lips. “Of course baby. I’ll be right back.” You kiss the pout from his lips and make your way downstairs with a disapproving look at Rhys.

They all watch you leave. Once you’re down the stairs Rhys and Cass walk over to the end of Azriel’s bed. The High Lord places his hands on his hips giving Azriel an exasperated look. “You are unbelievable.” All Azriel does is smirk at his brother, bringing his arms to rest behind his head. “Don’t lie, you let Feyre and Nesta baby you two.” His brothers scoff at the accusation.

“Nesta would never.” Cassian says dramatically. Rhys purses his lips and shakes his head. “Run along now,” Az says teasingly. “Let me enjoy my pampering in peace brothers.” Rhys shakes his head again as the pair laugh while leaving.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel blurb

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you. 

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x shadow!reader #azriel fanfic

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: here we go honeys. when me and aly (<3!) tossed this idea around months ago, this was the big question; how to do the reveal and what comes after. naturally it was as angsty as possible tehe <3 cw: canon typical violence

word count: 4.2k

synopsis: Azriel mourns a mistake that will haunt him for eternity as he races back to you. You play the leading role in one of your nightmares, but you can't seem to wake up.

CHAPTER SEVEN :: MATES

It's too loud and he can't think— that's the only coherent thing that Azriel can seem to grasp as he stumbles forward in the snow.

His shadows burst into a wild frenzy as he staggers towards the cabin door. It's not snowing here but the wind current is fast and wicked, tunnelling over the hilltop. His breath locks in his chest and even as he gasps, he can't seem to catch it.

It's too loud, too much— every single thought and feeling within him is just climbing over one another, overlapping, melding into each other so he can't tell where one ends and another begins.

Sadness, misery, torment, upset, anger. His emotions are thrown together with yours, a thousand afflictions all battling for his attention and he can't fucking think.

He shoves the cabin door open, falls through it, and it slams shut behind him.

Like a puppet getting its strings cut, all at once the noise... stops.

As though the very action of closing the door had managed to silence the bond between you and Azriel.

A different, very real fear suddenly burrows deep in his heart.

Still gasping for air, he shoves a hand against his chest and searches within himself desperately for that tether, his eyes crushing shut. For a moment, his heart hangs in the balance, teetering on the edge of agony.

And then— there.

Golden and rooted in his very soul, the bond that connects him to you. Only once he's found it does he release the breath captured in his lungs. He breathes an audible sigh of relief and shudders lightly, his knees giving out slightly.

He lets himself slump back against the cabin door as his scarred hand slips from his chest, his wings curling forward around himself. His head swims with the overload of new information, the first dregs of it only just sinking in.

You... were not the person you said you were.

...Was that such a bad thing?

Still breathing hard, Azriel's gaze turns to stare hard at his hands, their delicate scarring paining him nearly as much as the memory does. He thinks back to their origin.

Thinks back to a space too small for a growing boy, thinks of the darkness. He thinks of the never-ending misery that seemed to torment his life in a way he feared he would never escape.

It had taken a very long time for that fear to diminish in size; or perhaps, Azriel had just learned to grow around it.

But the cruelty of those mountains and the Fae that resided there was something he was intimately familiar with. The world up there, between the pines, was kill or be killed. Rise to the top of the food chain or spend every waking moment trying to figure out how to survive.

Isn't that what you had done? Learnt how to endure the conditions, to withstand the brute force of the winter and the merciless Illyrian way?

And wasn't that what he had done, all those years ago? Perhaps, the two of you weren't so different.

But his mind keeps snagging: liar, liar, liar.

Some vicious, prideful voice in his head makes a different point— he did it the right way. He didn't deceive anyone.

He fought for all he had, trained harder than any of his camp-mates to overcome every wretched obstacle in his way, earned his place at the top of the Blood Rite by being better, by working harder and winning.

Even with his... set back with learning to fly, he had still conquered it. He'd earned his place.

But… no, that wasn't right, was it?

He'd earned it, yes, but only because there was no other choice.

He had been kicked down at every possible chance, stalked for being born from a father who detested him and none of it was his fault. He'd earned his title as warrior but he had done nothing to reap every extra hurdle to get there.

Azriel had endured a great many terrible things in his life—and it took effort to recall that it wasn't fair. That it was an injustice he shouldn't have had to bear.

Sometimes, he hated how deeply ingrained the Illyrian way was within him. How it had changed him in the most unsavoury of ways, giving him an Illyrian pride that overtook his rationale at the worst of times.

It echoed out in the most unfamiliar of ways, like a hidden piece of himself he'd forgotten about— forgotten the person he'd needed to become to survive those camps.

So when Azriel thinks of the lie you've been hiding it, protecting yourself, the forgiveness is already there. It always was there. He could never had truly held it against you.

You had lied, yes, but as if there was any other way to survive. As if he could fault you for picking the option that let you fight, let you grow strong, let you keep your wings.

He remembers your words suddenly.

Please, I- I just wanted to keep my wings.

A sinister horror creeps up his throat and Azriel lurches forward, his forearms slamming against the cabin floor as his body forcibly retches. His stomach clenches tightly and bile floods his mouth but nothing comes out but his ragged breath.

How young had you been?

He knows to make your lie feasible it had to have been too young. Nine years old? Eight? He tries to recall the age that Lord Mylind said you started turning up trouble but it only succeeds in fueling the harrowing feeling that was running through his veins.

Azriel sags forward, his eyes drawing closed as he presses his forehead to the cool wood of the ground, trying to contain his growing dread. Still curled around himself, his wings quiver in the wake of his revelation. His shadows try soothe him, whirling down the planes of his neck.

You were pleading with him.

And... he had left you.

His stomach heaves once more, his breath a mixture of raspy pants.

It's impossible not to recount every single interaction you've had over the months, turning over every memory and seeing the other side of it with startling clarity.

The lone cabin, the outlier to the group. The tenseness in your shoulders when asked about the Blood Rite or your absences from training that Lord Mylind had spoken so crudely about.

Your drive to train and learn; the utter disappointment at the inadequacy of your tonics.

You had so much on the line, so much more than he ever could have imagined.

Azriel bites his cheek meanly as he recalls the conversation in which he asked why you hadn't completed in the Blood Rite. It makes perfect sense now; the exposure of the challenge was far too big of a risk and as a bastard, you would automatically be a target.

Even if you managed to succeed, which he had no doubt you could, the tattoos... removing your shirt...

All dead giveaways.

Your voice echoes in his mind.

Azriel, please, you have to understand—

You had begged him and he left you, he left you.

His body gives another awful retch, the horror of what he had done beginning to truly settle in. Gods, in a thousand ways you had been more trusting and vulnerable that he had ever known. Allowing him into your shelter, into your life...

Letting him get close to you, knowing that the closer he got, the more your secret threatened to reveal. And you let him anyway.

Azriel lurches to his feet, swaying for only a moment, his head reaching a clarity he so desperately lacked earlier.

He needs to go back. He should have fucking never left.

Somewhere between his ribs, there's an wallowing ache on the bond. A jolt of sharp pain.

Hand flying to his chest, Azriel stares at it and desperately prays to every god he can think of that he isn't too late to fix this. His eyes flick over to the Siphon on the back of hand, dim and lifeless. Drained.

Fuck. He snarls in his frustration. He can't even winnow back to you.

Turning and pressing back out the door, his boots smash through the snow outside for only a few steps— til he beats his mighty wings and takes to the skies.

Whether the bond had snapped for you or not, it didn't stop him from gripping that thread tightly and pouring every sincere intention down it. I'm sorry. I’m coming back. I’m sorry. I never should have left. I'm so fucking sorry.

He could only hope that you somewhere on the other side, connected to the same red string of fate, you could feel him coming back to you.

—

He's taking too long.

It's the thought that's stuck on loop, like a record that keeps skipping, repeating the same part over and over again. He's going as fast as he can and still, he knows he's taking too damn long.

As his wings strain from the long journey, the endless labyrinth of trees whirring past beneath him too fast to see, Azriel glimpses down at the siphons atop his hands.

They're still gleaming in that lacklustre way but there's more of a shine to them now. He can feel it too, the well refilling with a slow drip, the build up of his power.

His keen eyes scour the landscape, narrowed as he analyses the distance between here and Exordor. It's still far— it will stretch the reserve of magic that's barely begun to replenish but Azriel doesn't care. He'll do anything to reach you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, brow furrowing, and folds the fabric once more. The world spins as he pushes through the fabric of it, feeling the strain in his bones. The snowy entrance to your shelter comes into view.

He lands with a sickening crack, his knees bending to catch himself as he touches down, one heavy motion into the snow which spins up in a flurry. It's raining heavily, the drops coming down with a vehemence, creating a thunderous applause against the frozen ground.

Around him, the trees groan and shudder as they bow to the powerful energy. Birds take flight, cawing as they do. In the distance, there's a loud snap, carried with the wind.

Azriel stares right into the cabin.

His stomach threatens to lurch again at the sight. The door to your shelter is wide open.

His mate, where is his mate?

Stretching out the doorway, there are obvious signs of a struggle. The muddy snow has been kicked around, the boards nailed to the inside of the door are fresh with splinters, and... and...

The blood. Crimson, scarlet, fucking red blood coats the floorboards, a ghoulish splatter of it leading from your bed out the door, turning the slurry of melted snow a soft pink. He knows from the pull in his chest that you're not here.

This isn't just some attack. They haven't just ambushed you, they've... found out.

Where before he had felt terribly ill, bile rising, there is only icy and raging fury. In the distance, another snap sounds and his shadows beg him to pay attention to it, their whispers kissing at his cheeks. Water soaks his dark hair, stray raindrops rolling down his face.

Azriel ignores them and stumbles forward one, two steps and stops, his heart soaking in the reality of what had happened.

He had left you and they had taken you.

They found out and they hadn't killed you, they had— they had—

The snap in the distance. This time when it sounds, it yanks Azriel's attention, his head whipping towards where it's coming from. It's towards camp. Dread curdles up in his gut, latching onto each notch in his spine and burrowing deep.

Every instinct in his body roars into overdrive as he realises what it is he can hear in the distance — the crack of a whip against skin.

—

One of your nightmares has come to life, dragging from the murkiest parts of your mind and taking the treacherous form of Brudam.

You keep begging yourself to wake the fuck up.

It can’t be real— this can’t actually be happening, you think desperately, none of this was ever supposed to happen- you had- it was- you secret was something you guarded with your life.

"Wake up," You plead to yourself deliriously. Your wrists are already feeling chafed from where they're bound against the wooden pole, the steel that binds them cold as ice. The rain has soaked you to the bone.

"Wake up," You all but sob, trying futilely to pull against the restraints on your wrists.

It only succeeds in tugging on the stakes driven through your wings, a searing, fiery type of pain the ripples along every nerve in them. A sob scrapes up your throat, answering the pain's call. It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts in a way you haven't known before — everything, every cell in your body, is being tortured.

A shredding deep in your gut as though you've taken a fistful of claws to the stomach makes you seize, your vision flashing wildly. Even now, your cycle continues its bloody rampage. You can't stop crying, can't stop your body from convulsing in pure agony.

Somewhere behind you, your ear pick up the shifting in the mud, Brudam preparing to strike again.

Even sobbing, you tense up, unable to stop yourself—instinct drives you to hastily try tuck your wings, trying to pull them from their spread position. They catch on the stakes pinned through them meanly, the delicate flesh tearing with a sickening squelch and sending rivers of pain up into your body.

You cry out a strangled gasp, your head bowing further forward, trying to escape what's to come.

The blow rains down onto your unprotected wings all the same.

It's pure fire. Like they've doused the membranous skin of your wings with oil and set them ablaze, fiery hot pain licking at the tendons, tracing all the way up to your bare back. Your teeth grit to contain your scream. Tears streak down your face, lost in the thrum of the rain.

"Wake. Up." You demand to yourself again, panting heavily now.

You can't take much more pain or you'll be unconscious soon and some awful part of you knows, that's when they'll take your wings. You'll wake up midway to the worst nightmare of them all; the splintering sound of them cutting them off your body.

There's a boot pressed suddenly to your lower back, pressing meanly.

"Oh no, this isn't a dream," Brudam taunts as he leans down, all too happily. His tone shifts to something harder with his next words, nearly spitting the words. "I knew there was something off about you, you mutt."

His voice climbs to a shout, addressing the crowd gathered around you. "I always knew you were a FUCKING TRAITOR!"

There's a roar from the crowd, lead by the antsy group of warriors you've grown up and trained beside. All of them are eager to see justice delivered for your lies. None of them are pleased to have been duped, much less by a female.

They know, everyone knows. There's no coming back from this. Even if it weren't from the scent of blood from your cycle, your bound chest—revealed through your cut away armor— is proof enough.

Another convulsion rocks your body, the pain from your cycle making itself known. You're burning hot from every laceration on your skin and freezing cold from being bare in the icy rain. Your defence gets swallowed up in your pitiful whimper.

The mud behind you shifts again, Brudam no doubt winding up for his next hit.

You hold your breath, capturing the next sob in your throat. Your wings tug inwards, despite how you beg them not to, and your wrists ache as you try to wrench them free fruitlessly.

A sense of finality sinks in. You're going to die here.

A part of you feels like maybe you'd always known it would end like this, one way or the other. It's tired. So fucking tired of living in your intricate lie and spending each and every moment of your miserable existence on alert. On defence. Waiting for a break that never seems to come.

It's that part that can't, in any capacity, be truly upset at Azriel.

You can't resent him for leaving when you're the one who lied.

You can't regret him finding out, without regretting ever meeting him—and that means... regretting all the happiness you've truly felt.

But there's also an anger swirling within you, a rage that is as icy as it is hungry for vengeance.

Inexplicably, it feels unknown. Not your own. It starts somewhere in your chest and it only feels like it's getting bigger, growing in size, glowing hotter.

In the drone of the rain, blackness swims before your tired eyes as they begin to slip shut— only, no, they haven't closed.

The darkness is real and in front of you. It's surrounding you, curling up from under your captured arms. Despite the loud protests from your anguished body, you lift your head shakily. You're still quivering, quiet hiccups pushing out your lips.

"What are you doing, witch?" Brudam snarls from behind you, his boot on your back digging in harder. You wince, the motion dragging your wings against the splinters of the stakes. You shake your head, unable to form words.

It isn't me, you want to say.

But you're not entirely sure that's true either. The black plume is only around you, rising as though it is coming from you. Protecting you.

"Brudam!" A loud voice cuts across the rustling, nervous crowd, cutting through the din of the rain clear as night and sounding as deadly as venom. The courtyard falls into silence.

Your heart lurches up your throat. You know that voice.

Something within you cleaves in half, torn by opposite forces. On one side, there the mountainous evidence of your miserable life, of every thing that's worked against you time and time again. Of the fact that things don't work out for you, they never have. You're a fool to believe that would change now.

The other side... is a terrible, feeble hope.

Because he came back.

"Shadowsinger," Brudam greets with a sneer. The boot on your back shifts and then retreats, the warrior turning away from you. Agony tears through your body again and you hold your breath, shuddering through the silent pain with gritted teeth. A dangerous hope starts to cling to your heart.

"One chance," Azriel growls. The hair on the back of your neck rises at the promise of violence in his voice.

"Let her go."

Brudam snorts unattractively, forcing a bitter sounding laugh out. You focus on trying not to throw up as the pain fogs your brain, bile filling your mouth.

"Not fucking likely."

"Walk away." Azriel snarls his demand, sounding angrier than you've ever heard him.

"Over my dead body, bastard," Brudam spits back, the mud shifting as he digs his feet in, preparing to fight. His hand tightens around the whip in his hand.

There's a moment of silence, the wind carrying a whistle, the trees swaying as if leaning closer to listen in, two warriors sizing each other up in the pouring rain. Your ears strain for Azriel's response.

"Gladly."

And then the courtyard is doused in pure shadow.

—

Azriel moves without hesitation.

Illyrian warriors are fiercely trained to fight through every type of conditions, battling in the harshest of all seasons. Snow, sleet, rain, shine. They're disciplined to go days without sleep, to fight and win, even with one arm pinned behind their back.

But what defence is there against losing your sight?

Azriel hadn't even known his shadows were capable of such a thing. Their usual whirling expands in a blink of an eye, spreading out into a storm-cloud of blackness that drapes itself across the landscape. People murmur and bleat in fright as it creeps out deathly fast, snuffing senses and blinding everyone in the courtyard except him.

Like Rhys' own cloak of darkness, of midnight — but no, it's not night, it's shadow.

Azriel doesn't dwell on it, doesn't hesitate. Not when there's still territory, still enemies, in the space between him and you.

There's a ripple of unease from the warriors but Azriel's already advancing, the shadows beneath his boots silencing the shift of his feet. Through the darkness, Brudam gives himself away with an animalistic snarl and leads Azriel exactly to his his target.

He swings powerfully and Heartstriker does what it does best—aims true.

The bones in Brudam's shoulder makes a horrible sinking crack as the blade pierces it through, the brute giving a fiendish cry of pain.

Azriel drives it all the way through, his anger aiding his strength as he swipes out Brudam's feet. Heartstriker buries itself deep into the mud, driven by the weight of Brudam's body as it hits the ground.

All Azriel can think is that he should fucking gut him, should skin him alive. He should pull that blade and drag it forward, force it through all the muscle and shatter every bone on the way, until it pierces his awful heart.

The mating bond within him roars at him to do so, every inch of his body, of his soul, enraged at the state he'd found you in, the agonising hurt bestowed on you by this male—but it's not his kill. Azriel knows that.

So instead, he draws the Truth Teller with deft, deadly accuracy and then sinks it in deep into Brudam's groin, til the tip reaches mud on the other side.

Brudam howls, his whole body twitching as it tries to curl up against either blade unsuccessfully. Between the rain and the shadows, he's too incapacitated to do anything except wail.

Azriel doesn't waste a second, already moving. There's a warrior approaching on every side but between the gift of sight and silence in the shadow, he's devastatingly lethal.

One goes down with a slice across his throat, crimson soaking his front. The next crumbles after too many jabs of Azriel's dagger land in his torso, too slow to block them when he can't see them coming. The next, his head cut from his shoulders in one mighty swing.

Their cries join the thunder of the storm but somehow, through it all, all he can hear is the softness of your weak breath. Wounded. Fading.

Azriel's vision goes red. He moves expertly, his kills efficient until the burning rage in him gets too much and then he's slashing with pure malice, teeth gritted in hate, as he cuts down any warrior who stood by and watched. All he can feel is the thread between you and him, nearly torn from how much they've hurt you.

When the clashing of steel stops, the last foe dead, only the din of the rain remains.

Like a vacuum has opened somewhere in the sky, the inky cover of his shadow is sucked away, leaving only his sluggish moving shadows and exposing the bleak day. Carnage lies all around him. Bodies upon bodies of warriors.

Azriel can only see you.

You're still strapped to that torturous pole, your beautiful wings forcibly spread out and pinned, like you're being laid out for dissection. Across the flesh of your wings is a sickening number of thin, scarlet lines, gently bleeding.

Beneath you, in the mud, is the remains of your armor and Azriel can trace the scar that'll be left on your back from where it was cut off. The binding on your chest remains, now stained with blood.

You aren't moving.

He sprints without thought, without reason, following the bond. He finds the thread within his chest, grasps it tight, and tugs desperately. You don't even flinch.

A fear mounts inside him, more heart-wrenching than he's ever felt before. A glance down at his siphons reveals their still dull appearance—fucking useless to him.

Azriel staggers to his knees as he reaches you, his scarred hands reaching up to pry off the steel that binds your wrist to the wooden pole—ripping out chunks of the wood at the same time with his rapid, panicked motion. Your hands fall limply to your sides. He feels sick again.

"Y/n?"

He's scared to touch you, scared to do more damage that he's already caused, so so frightened that he just found you and you might already be gone.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you die. He can't—the thought is suffocating in itself, like a black hole that opens and starts pulling in his entire world— you can't die or he'll— he'll- nothing will matter anymore.

RHYS. He throws the plea out desperately, nearly delirious at the sight of your unmoving body. The words sound like a sob, even in his own mind. You have to help me.

Where are you? Rhys' voice fills his mind in an instant.

Then... a haggard breath sounds, like drawing through a mouthful of blood. You cough lightly, barely audible, and murmur, "...Azriel...?"

Something explodes inside Azriel, a burst of pure energy that fills him with relief so overwhelmingly he could cry.

Exordor. He barely manages to think properly, to even respond, beyond the staggering emotion. Come immediately. Please. I need you to- she needs—you have to help her. Please.

I'm on my way.

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

@meandmysillywriting @justingnoreme @krowiathemythologynerd @hanatsuki-hime @sunny747

@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde (i'm so sorry! u asked me to tag u right at the beginning and i've forgotten this whole time! forgive me pls <3)

#god what i do i even put in the tags for this one..... #did i make it a little better? everyone getting their fill of hurt/comfort? :D #and now you'll all be like WHAT COMES NEXT (me also) ((kidding i have a plan. sorta)) #if u didn't suspect this coming from the beginning im not sure what to tell u #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel series #whom the shadows sing for #wtssf #whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn) #tell me what u think! <3

[really-fanny-longbottom]

SECOND CHANCE - PART TWO

Pairings: Inner Cirlce x Reader, Azriel x Reader

Summary: Feyre finally meets Rhysand's favorite person.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive and tons of fluff.

Words: 2.9k

Author Note: Hi everyone! So, as promised, here is part two. I hope you like it just as much as the first one. I also want to thank you guys for your support and comments. It made me really happy. Enjoy!

The flight to the House of Wind was a quick one. Feyre recently learned that she loved to fly. She loved the light of the sun on her skin, the sweet breeze on her hair, but most of all, the view. Feyre was in Rhys' arms. He held her tight against his chest while she gazed at the city below her. She would never get tired of this view or the sounds. There were children laughing and playing by the Sidra, musicians playing melodies while some couples danced around, artists painting and people walking through the market buying fresh vegetables, flowers, among other things.

Cassian was flying ahead of them, and he, too, was enjoying the view of the city of starlight.

A few minutes later, the House of Wind came into sight. They made their way towards the house and landed on the balcony that was connected to the kitchen. Rhys set Feyre back on the floor, and the three of them headed towards the threshold of the balcony and entered the House.

As soon as they entered the kitchen, they could hear the laughter and the voices of the Inner Circle through the hallway that led to the main living room. Cassian was the first to move, Rhys went to follow his brother when he realized that Feyre hadn't moved from her spot by the entrance of the balcony. 

He turned around to approach her, and a frown made its way to his face. "What's wrong? Are you ok?"

"I...hum..." Feyre realized at that moment that she was nervous to meet you. You weren't just someone. You are Rhys and Cassian's little sister. You are Azriel's best friend and probably something more. Rhys didn't mention your relationship with Amren and Mor while they talked about you, but she had absolutely no doubt that you were equally loved, cared, and important to them as well. 

She didn't want to make a bad impression. She didn't want to disappoint you, but more importantly, she didn't want you to dislike her. She hadn't thought about these things before, but now that she was here, only a hallway and seconds, maybe minutes away from meeting you? Feyre couldn't help but wonder what would happen if things didn't go as well as she wanted. What if she said something wrong and ended up hurting your feelings? She had no doubt that Amren would rip her head off if she dared to hurt you in any way. 

Rhys hand waved in front of her face and broke her from her worries and doubts. She met his violet eyes and saw concern in his face. Rhys spoke before she could. "Are you ok? I just called you three times, and you didn't even move." 

"I'm fine," Feyre said with a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. The look on Rhys face told her that she didn't convince him. 

"Are you sure? You look a little pale, and your heartbeat is really fast." Rhys insisted, trying to make her talk to him so he could help her with whatever was troubling her.

Feyre bit her lower lip, something she had always done when she was nervous since she was a child. "I think.." Feyre paused, releasing a long breath before she continued. "I'm nervous to meet Y/N. What if I make a bad impression and she doesn't like me?"

Rhys gaze softens at her worries, and the frown is replaced by a smile on his lips. Putting a hand on her shoulder in order to provide her a little comfort, Rhys replies, "I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Y/N is sweet and kind, funny and sometimes a little loud" Rhys chuckles, earning a giggle from Feyre, "she's very talkative, like really but really talkative, your only worry should be at the fact that there's a very high chance that once she starts talking with you, she'll never shut up." 

Feyre can't help the laughter that erupts from her, smacking his bicep. She says, "Stop it."

"I'm serious! She talks a lot, she also loves to hear herself talk but," Feyre laughs more and Rhys joins her, a big smile on his lips "that's one of the reasons why she's such a good emissary. But seriously, Y/N gets along with everyone, even Beron, believe it or not. In all the years that I have known her, she never disliked anyone." 

Feyre relaxed immediately, her worries and doubts completely forgotten. "How old is she, by the way? I meant to ask you that earlier, but Cassian came into the room before I had the chance." 

"She's 122. She's still young." Rhys says with a hint of irony in his voice.

Feyre chuckled, replying with the same irony. "Right, young." 

Rhys opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a new set of laughters sounded from down the hallway, making both of them look in the direction of the sound. Rhys turned again and met Feyre's gaze. "Ready?" 

She gave a firm nod and added, "Yes. Let's go meet the girl that gave you those." Feyre mentioned while gesturing to his hand where the tooth bites lay.

Rhys could only chuckle before he turned around and guided the way towards the living room where his family awaited, Feyre following him.

When Rhys passes the threshold to the living room, Feyre stops just for a second to give a deep breath before doing the same.

The moment she walked in, she saw you immediately. Your back was facing them. You were in the middle of your family, and you were talking with Amren while pointing at a jewelry box she held in her hand. A pair of earrings shined inside of the box. Rhys was only a few steps ahead of her when he called you by your nickname, "Little star." Feyre couldn't see his face, but she didn't need to. She knew that the only thing on his features at that moment was love.

You turned your head around at the sound of your big brother's voice. "Rhys!" Was the only thing you managed to say before you started running in his direction.

Rhys opened his arms, and you jumped into his embrace, holding him tightly around his neck while he held you back, spinning you around in the process. 

Rhys put you down and kissed your cheek. "I missed you." He said.

"Rhys, I have only been gone for six days." You responded with a scoff and rolled your eyes. 

Rhys chucked at your antics, "How was Winter Court?"

"Cold and snowy." You answered, earning chuckles from your family at your irony. "It was good, you'll have a report on your desk tomorrow morning."

Rhys nodded before asking you, "Why did you return earlier? We were expecting you in only a few hours," Rhys questioned.

"Because I'm amazing at my job," you said. Amusement all over your face, your family scoffed, and Rhys lifted an eyebrow at you, clearly knowing there was another reason for your early arrival. You sighed, accepting defeat, "And because Kallias and Vivienne are newly mated, and I didn't want to be a witness of their frenzy bonding in case I ended up seeing something that I really shouldn't." 

Your family laughed, and it was now Mor's turn to talk. "Oh, you poor baby, still traumatized from walking in on Cassian with that pretty nymph?"

"Ugh! Please don't remind me of that. I swear I had nightmares because of it." You protested.

"Hey, no one told you to enter without knocking first. Lesson learned, sister." Cassian told you while ruffling your hair.

You swat his hand and look at him. "What are you talking about, Cass? You guys were in Rhys office. You weren't even supposed to be there in the first place." You turned to look at your other brother who happened to have his mouth open at the new information, obviously unknown to him. "I hope you cleaned every surface and thing you have there." You paused for a second before speaking again. "You know what? Thinking better, you should just replace everything. It may be safer that way." You finished with a disgusted face.

"What?!" Rhys asked with a firm voice. His High Lord voice. 

Cassian shot you an irritating look. "Dammed you Y/N. He didn't know that." Your only response was an innocent smile.

Rhys moved to his left in order to get an explanation from the events that occurred in his office, making Feyre enter your camp of vision, and that's when you locked eyes with her.

You approached her and started the conversation. "Hi, you must be Feyre. I'm Y/N." You said while extending your hand to her and offering a sweet smile.

Feyre grabbed your hand and shook it. "It's so nice to finally meet you." She told you while smiling.

Now, with Rhys out of the way, Feyre was able to have a better look at you. And Cauldron, Feyre couldn't take her eyes off you. You were beautiful, your white hair was loose and curled down to your waist, your blue eyes, and your slightly pale skin. And then, your dress. The dress was white and light blue, the skirt reached your feet and had a pattern in waves that reminded of snow, the sleeves went all the way to your wrists, fluffy white fur laid at the ends of your skirt and sleeves. You looked like an angel. 

"Thank you." You answered with a warm smile, and it was only then that Feyre realized she said that out loud. A hint of confusion settled at your face when you asked her, "Did Azriel tell you to say that?"

Now, it was Feyre's turn to be confused. Why would you think that? "No, he didn't. Why?"

"Oh, it's just...hum," you paused, your cheeks starting to blush a little. "That's what he calls me. It's his nickname for me." You answered, a little more blushed than before.

Feyre laughed. Azriel was right in calling you that. "I thought your nickname was 'Little star'." Feyre responded amused.

You chuckled and replied, "That's the nicknames the others use for me. Except Amren. She keeps calling me 'child'." You said with a roll of your eyes. 

"Because you are a child." Amren answered you from her place next to Mor while she was contemplating the earrings in the jewelry box. Rhys and Cassian are still arguing about the office events and Azriel watching them amused.

You turned your head to her. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Granny." You said with amusement in your voice.

Feyre stilled for a moment. Thinking that Amren was about to launch herself on you for what you just called her, but then she saw Amren laugh with a genuine smile on her lips before returning to stare at the earrings. Feyre relaxed and joined the laughter while looking at Amren's earrings.

You followed Feyre's gaze, and that's when you remembered. "Oh, right." You returned your eyes to Feyre. "Wait for a moment." You told her.

Feyre saw you turn back around towards the couch from where you pulled a dark purple bag and a small box.

You walked to Rhys and extended your arm to give him the bag. "Your gift." You said and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Rhys thanked you for your gift, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead, and returned to argue with Cassian. You made your way to Feyre, and when you reached her, you gave her the small box. "Here. It's for you."

Feyre accepted it, with surprise all over her face. She studied the box for a moment. It was a simple box made of wood and on top of it had a mountain with three stars above. The insignia of the Night Court. She looked at you again. "You brought me a gift?"

"Of course. I couldn't just bring gifts to everyone else and not one for you." You explained with a smile.

Feyre returned your smile, at your kindness, she asked with curiosity dancing in her eyes. "What is it?"

"It's a music box. To help you with your nightmares." Feyre stilled at your words, and after a few seconds, you continued. "It has all of Velaris' melodies. There's a few from the other courts, too, but it's mostly Velaris. It's enchanted so it can play for as long as you want or need. The melodies are soft and calm, so it will help you sleep and keep the nightmares away." Feyre had no words. She didn't know what to say. Just a few minutes ago, she was worrying about you not liking her, but here you are, offering her one of the best gifts she has ever received. Those worries and doubts seemed silly now. Her eyes darted to the music box again, but she looked up at the sound of your voice. "Azriel gave me one a few years ago. I used to have nightmares about my childhood and also from some of the things I saw over the decades as a consequence of being part of this world. I had hard nights where I couldn't sleep, haunted by those nightmares. So Azriel, ever the Spymaster, gave me one of these," you said, gesturing to the box. "I have played it every night since. It brings me comfort and reminds me that I'm safe and I'm not alone. I gave one to Rhys after he came back from Under the Mountain. It helped him a lot, so I thought of doing the same thing for you." You ended with the warmest smile.

Feyre's eyes were filled with tears at your gesture, she couldn't get any words out, so she just nodded and then opened the box. A soft and sweet melodie reached her ears, and Feyre immediately recognized the sound. It was the music that Rhys showed her that night on the cell Under the Mountain. The music that saved her life.

Feyre closed the box and launched for you, involving you in a tight embrace, one that you didn't hesitate to reciprocate. She still didn't have any words, so she said the only thing she could at the moment. "Thank you." She squeezed you even more. "Thank you so much." 

You held her for a few more seconds before letting go. You grabbed her free hand and said, "Mor and I are going shopping this afternoon. Why don't you come with us? I'd love to get to know you more."

"Yes. I'd love that, too. Thank you." Feyre answered, her voice trembling a little at the emotions she was still feeling. You squeezed her hand one last time before releasing and moved to stand next to Azriel. 

Rhys approached Feyre. "So, how did it go?"

Feyre could only smile, "Amazing. She's amazing. You and Cass raised her well."

Rhys chuckled, "Thank you, but we can't take all the credit. That's just how she is." Rhys nudged her with his shoulder, "I told you, you had nothing to worry about." 

Feyre smiled and squeezed the box that she still held. "Yeah, you were right." She said while looking at him. He was indeed right. You were sweet, kind and funny. Feyre noticed when she first walked into the room, how comfortable and relaxed everyone seemed around you. How little of an effort you had to make in order to make them laugh or smile, how the air was lighter and brighter, and how you illuminated the room just by your presence.

They fell in a comfortable silence, Feyre looked forward, and that's when she saw it. She couldn't believe it at first. She blinked her eyes a couple of times to make sure it was real and it was. Feyre remembers Mor telling her about Azriel. How he is more quiet, reserved, discret, and colder than the rest of them. Always with a stoic and indifference in his face and a rigid composure, she even saw that Azriel in the last days since she arrived in Velaris. But that's not the Azriel that is standing just a few feet away from her. No, this is a different Azriel. His shoulders are relaxed, there's a bright smile on his face, a softness in his eyes and his arm is around your waist with his hand resting on your hip, holding you close to him while he's looking at you talking about your last days in the Winter Court. This is not the Shadowsinger or the Spymaster. This is Azriel, just Azriel. The shadows are dancing around your feet and ankles, like they are happy too for your return, happy that you are safe and back to their master's side. Feyre knows at this moment that you two are not just friends and that there has to be something more going on.

Her suspicions were confirmed a few hours later at night when she decided to go to the library for a book so she could practice her reading before going to bed but ended up finding you and Azriel instead. He was sitting on the couch with his hands on your hips while you sat in his lap, straddling his waist, your hands on his hair while you two made out. And by the way both your cheeks were flushed, Feyre knew that you had been kissing each other for a while.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! I was thinking about mabye making a part about the night the batboys found the reader? Let me know in the comments if that's something you would like. 😊 Also, the beautiful dividers belong to @tsunami-of-tears

Part One

Taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @lure-of-writing @pruvii

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #acotar fandom #cassian #acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x feyre #rhysand #inner circle #cassian x reader #fem reader #morrigan #amren #amren acotar #feyre archeron #feysand #feyre cursebreaker #feyre x rhysand #feyre x reader

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

Hii can you write az saying something he doesn't mean and making reader cry and then comforting her? Or the classic flinching during argument? I just really love hurt/comfort loll

Thank you and I hope you have a good day!! <33

OH I LOVE THESE TROPES! Your wish is my command!

Warnings: Cussing, Yelling, somebody almost getting stabbed.

Reckless

"You can't keep doing that shit y/n!" Azriel yells. "Well, what the fuck was I supposed to do Azriel? Just let them corner my older sisters?" You yell. You were supposed to only stay with Nest and Feyre while they were in the library, but you had risked your life, distracting them so Nesta and Feyre could go get help while you led the Hybern Intel down, down, down into the library, and that's when you had met your new best friend, Bryaxis(which is beside the point). Azriel was horrified to find out that you were down there, by yourself, with no one to protect you. But you were always like that. Doing reckless things with your new immortality.

"You were supposed to find a way out, y/n. You put yourself in these situations and it pisses me off!" He steps close to you wings flaring; eyes filled with icy rage. "You cannot keep being so fucking dumb and reckless!" He shouts.

You flinch at the insult, tears filling your eyes. "You whimper and a sob spills from your lips "I-I'm so sorry Azriel." Azriel's eyes widen. "No, no I'm sorry. I'm so sorry angel, I didn't-" He tries to pull you against his chest, but you shove him away. Azriel's heart breaks as he sees you sob, mentally kicking himself for hurting you.

"I was scared. So, so scared to lose you." He whispers. You look at him. "I didn't mean to say that you're dumb, y/n. You are so smart, the most beautiful fae I have ever seen. And the fact that I insulted you just now kills me. I am so sorry." He says. "It's fine." You whisper. "Now please come and hug me. I don't want to be apart anymore." Azriel nods and starts to walk over, but you rush over, impatient to be in his arms. He kisses the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth, sort of like a slow dance moment. "I love you Azriel." You say and look up at him, adoration filling your eyes. Azriel leans down to give you a sweet kiss. "I love you so much angel, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you." He says. "Well, it's a good thing I came along!" You say cheerfully and kiss his cheek.

A/N: Okay! Three in one day! Y'all keep coming with the request, it's helping me be motivated and keep me out of the funk in my head. Keep requesting from the list, but also give me some other characters so I don't get bored and back into my procrastination mood. Love y'all, be safe!

#azriel x reader #acomaf #hurt/comfort #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

[thewulf]

Escapism || Azriel

Summary: Request -can you make an azriel x night court reader fanfic request? I was listening the song escapism by raye and this just kinda came to me! It's kinda unhinged so you can change whatever if you choose to write it. Y/N and Lucien have been together for like 100+ years but then Elain Archeron comes along and they are mates so lucien begrudgingly breaks up with Reader... Read Rest Here

A/N: This one is sad but gets sweet towards the end. Reader is in her feelings!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k +

TW: Drunkeness, reader being mean, some physical altercations

Your relationship with Lucien had always felt destined. Willing it to be woven by the threads of fate and bound by centuries of love and laughter. For over a hundred years, you and Lucien had built a life that straddled the boundary between the Autumn Court and the Night Court, which you called home. It was a life full of compromises and sacrifices, but every moment was a testament to the depth of your affection for each other.

But fate had a funny way of not being so destined. Elain Archeron stepped into the picture. Her very presence unraveling the future you had envisioned. When Lucien revealed that Elain was his mate the foundation of your world crumbled. This wasn’t just about losing a lover. It was about the rending of a bond you believed was unbreakable. Lucien’s voice trembled with conflict as he confessed the truth. His amber eyes reflecting a pain that echoed your own. He didn’t want to leave you, but the mating bond was not something either of you could fight. It was powerful, demanding, and absolute. It was destiny.

Amidst your heartbreak a more piercing pain emerged when you discovered that your friends—Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and even Nesta—had known about Elain and her bond with Lucien before you did. Half of the Inner Circle knew, and the other half was excluded. Amren, Mor, you and Azriel were the ones left in the dark. They had kept it a secret hoping to protect you from the inevitable heartache. Yet this revelation only deepened your sense of betrayal. How could they, the ones you considered family, keep you in the dark about something that would shatter your life?

The night you found out was an uncomfortable one. You weren't usually one for confrontation, but the rage that built up inside you was ready to explode. As you sat among Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta in the quiet, imposing space of the House of Wind the air felt thick with tension. They began to explain, voices low and fraught with anxiety. They each detailed how they had known about Elain and Lucien’s mate bond for months. Their words were meant to be comforting but were instead filled with reasons and justifications about protecting you from heartache, sparing your feelings until they absolutely had to share the truth.

Sitting across from them in the quietude of the House of Wind you couldn’t hold back the surge of anger and disappointment that welled up inside you. "How could you?" you demanded, your voice quivering not just with sorrow, but with indignation. "You all knew. For months, you knew, and not one of you thought to warn me?"

Rhysand had a somber expression. He was the first to respond. "We struggled with whether to tell you," he admitted. His usual confidence replaced by a hesitancy that did little to quell your growing resentment. "The last thing we wanted was to see you hurt."

"And yet, here I am. Hurt all the same," you shot back. The pain sharp in your voice. "Hurt and betrayed. You chose to protect me from heartache but instead you ensured it."

Feyre reached out with her hand tentative and unsure. "We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought it might not happen. That maybe the bond wouldn’t take hold right away and..."

"And what?" you interrupted ripping your hand away from her touch. "That I’d what? Be spared the pain? Look at me, Feyre. Do I look spared to you?" Your voice was sharp. Sharper than you’d ever spoken to any of them before.

Cassian who was usually the one to lighten the mood sat unusually quiet. His usual bravado nowhere in sight. Nesta had her jaw set, her eyes revealing a turmoil that mirrored your own. It was a rare glimpse into her often-guarded emotions.

"It was never about doubting your strength," Cassian finally said, his voice low. "It was about giving you happiness for as long as we could."

"Happiness built on a lie?" you asked. The irony was bitter on your tongue. "Is that what our friendship is about? Lies?"

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Each of them struggled with their choices, now clearly regretting the pain those choices had caused. It was evident in their downcast eyes and the slump of their shoulders. It was a shared burden yet unequally felt.

"I'm not just some fragile piece of glass," you continued. Your anger only fueled by their silence. "I deserved to know, to make my own choices. To prepare, or... to say goodbye on my own terms."

The conversation that followed was a painful unraveling of trust and intent. As they each tried to explain, to justify, you realized that this wound would take time to heal. Perhaps what stung the most was the realization that their intentions had robbed you of your agency. Leaving you to a mere spectator in your own life. They spoke of protection. Of sparing you pain. Each explanation threading through the air with the weight of unspoken truths now laid bare. Their voices blended into a cacophony of excuses, each one fueling the fire of your anger and hurt further.

Rhysand’s voice held a note of desperation as he tried once more to explain, "We only wanted—"

"Would you just shut up! All of you!" you erupted cutting him off mid-sentence. Your voice, resolute, sliced through the room. "I don't want to hear it. Nothing you can do or say will make this right.” The room went deathly silent. The gravity of your words hanging heavily between you. Their faces were etched with regret and shock at your outburst. It was a stark reminder of the deep rift that had formed within your group.

You stood abruptly. The chair scraping sharply against the floor. "I can’t be here," you stated flatly. Your voice colder now, resolved. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, each step echoing your departure.

You needed space. Needed air to breathe away from the stifling atmosphere of justifications and apologies. You decided to go to Mor’s place. She too hadn’t known about Elain and Lucien. She hadn’t been part of the deceit that had upended your world. As you left the House of Wind the open sky above seemed to offer the first breath of true freedom since the revelation had shattered your peace.

The walk to Mor’s was quiet. The streets of Velaris holding a serene calm that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you. Reaching her house, you knocked briskly, and she opened the door with a surprised, yet immediately concerned expression.

"Can I stay here for a bit?" you asked without preamble. The weariness in your voice more pronounced now that you were away from the others.

"Of course," Mor responded instantly before stepping aside to let you in. Her eyes searching yours for the pain she was quick to sense. "Whatever you need."

As you stepped into the refuge Mor offered you felt a slight unclenching in your chest. A small relief in the acceptance of a friend untouched by the deceit that had marred your trust in others. You hoped to find the space to heal. To gather the scattered pieces of your heart and perhaps, in time, to forgive. But for now, you simply needed the quiet understanding of someone who had been kept in the dark as much as you had.

Compounding your agony was the necessity to leave the Autumn Court where you had spent half your time with Lucien. You had to come home completely now, full-time to the Night Court. Each step away from the Autumn lands was a reminder of the isolation waiting for you back home. Away from the life and love you had known. The Night Court felt more oppressive than ever. It was supposed to be your sanctuary but now it only served as a cage. It was trapping you with your memories and your pain.

Despite the profound sense of betrayal and the sharp sting of heartache that pervaded your days you chose to stay because Velaris was still home. It was here among the winding streets, the starlit skies, and the vibrant buzz of the Night Court that you had grown, loved, and dreamed. Leaving would mean abandoning not just the place but the fragments of yourself that still clung to the hopes and dreams you’d nurtured here. The thought of leaving Azriel, the one constant who understood your pain without needing words, whose silent strength had become your sanctuary, felt like severing the last thread of stability you possessed. In the depths of your turmoil, Velaris, with all its darkness and lights, remained a place where healing seemed possible. Where the pieces of your broken heart might someday mend.

You withdrew into yourself. Your nights consumed by reckless escapades and endless drinking. You shunned daylight, avoided responsibilities, and ignored the worried glances of your friends. Azriel, who had always been a silent sentinel in your life watched from afar. His shadowed gaze filled with concern that you were too lost in your grief to notice.

This spiral of despair drew you deeper into the depths of the Night Court where you sought oblivion in the bottom of a glass. You hoped and prayed it might wash away the ache in your soul. Your heart felt like a hollow shell, beaten, and bruised by betrayal and loss. You had to wonder if you’d ever find your way back to the light.

As the days bled into nights your world narrowed to the dim corners of taverns and the bitter burn of liquor. Training sessions were skipped, duties neglected. Each glass raised was an attempt to erase the sting of wasted years. You had given a century of your life to Lucien, woven dreams and plans tightly around a love you believed was mutual. Only to find it undone by a destiny that held no space for you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your love had been a placeholder until his true mate appeared.

You felt like a fool, a pawn in the grand scheme of their secrets and politics. This revelation forced you into isolation. You could hardly stand to look at the people that left you in the dark. Let alone speak to them. Only Mor and Azriel became your solace. Mor who had also been kept out of the loop shared in your feelings of betrayal understanding the deep cut of being excluded by those you loved. Azriel, too, had been kept in the dark, his complicated feelings for Elain used against him to justify the secrecy. You found it cruel. A manipulation of his unspoken affections that only deepened your trust in him, knowing that he, too, had been a victim of their concealments.

Azriel watched over you with a quiet intensity. His shadows whispering of your pain in ways words never could. He knew the depth of your heartbreak having borne his own silent loves and losses. From the shadowed corners of the room, he observed your self-destructive spiral with a growing sense of desperation. There was an understanding in his eyes, a shared recognition of love unreturned that made him reach out to you despite your withdrawal.

Your interactions with Azriel became the few moments of genuine connection in your days. He didn’t push you to speak or to return to the life you’d left behind. Instead, he simply shared your space. Offering you a silent solidarity. His presence was your calm. And in his eyes you found the empathy you’d been denied by so many others. Yet, even this comfort was tinged with the bitter knowledge that it was borne from shared pain. Something created from the fragments of your broken hearts.

On one particularly rough evening, feeling the dull ache of wine coursing through your veins, you sought the familiarity of the library. It was a place that once offered solace, but now it felt like navigating an once beloved yet distant landscape.

Staggering slightly, you found yourself pushing open the heavy door of the library. The scent of old books and ink momentarily grounding you. Inside Mor was tucked into her favorite nook surrounded by a mountain of scrolls and books. Her presence immediately brought a smile to your face and without hesitation you blurted out, "Mor! My girl, let's go to Rita's." Your voice wavered with a mixture of forced cheerfulness and palpable pain betraying your already intoxicated state.

As you made this impromptu invitation you were acutely aware of Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel gathered in a solemn cluster near the grand oak table that dominated the room. Their conversation was likely heavy with undisclosed burdens. They paused abruptly as they noticed your entrance. The library usually a sanctuary of whispered lore and hushed dialogues felt oppressively silent as their eyes fixed on you.

With a deliberate effort to mask your pain with a veneer of cheerfulness you ignored Rhys and Cassian completely. Instead directing your gaze to where Azriel stood, his figure cloaked in customary shadows. "Hi, Shadowsinger!" you exclaimed. Your tone lighter than your heart felt. It was easier to pretend. To keep up the facade of resilience than to acknowledge the jagged pieces of your heart.

Mor quickly stood, catching the tail end of your forced merriment. Her eyes flickered with a mix of concern and understanding. She exchanged a look with the others. Her expression pleading for them to somehow mend the chasm that had opened between you all. But when she saw you purposefully ignoring Rhys and Cassian, her shoulders slumped in resignation. Recognizing the depth of your pain and your current incapacity for forgiveness.

She packed up her belongings. Her movements deliberate. "You're going one way or another, aren't you?" she asked you. Her voice was filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. It wasn't a question, but a statement. A knowing of the inevitable path the night would take.

"Yes. I need to not think… just for a little while," you replied. Your own smile faltering as the false cheer began to crumble under the weight of your true feelings.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance with a mix of frustration and regret marring their features. They understood that their attempts at reconciliation would be futile this evening. Azriel stood silent and observant. He met your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. He nodded slightly. A promise that he would keep you safe even if from a distance.

Even as you grappled with your feelings of betrayal and heartache Azriel had already found it within himself to forgive Rhys and Cass for keeping the truth from both of you. His capacity for understanding their motives. Flawed as they were by their protective instincts, allowed him to see past the pain they had inadvertently caused. Azriel recognized that their actions stemmed from a deep-seated desire to shield both him and you from the inevitable pain of Lucien’s bond with Elain.

You, however, found forgiveness not so easily granted. Your feelings of betrayal were compounded by the thought that your closest friends had decided your fate without your input.  Treating you more like a fragile object to be protected rather than a person capable of facing harsh truths. While Azriel had moved towards reconciliation you remained rightfully stubborn wrestling with a wound too fresh to close

With Mor in tow, you left the library. The heavy silence settling back among the shelves after your departure. Azriel followed discreetly. A shadow among shadows. His concern a tangible cloak around him as he watched you attempt to drown your sorrows under the guise of revelry at Rita’s. The night stretched before you. It was filled with the echoes of what could have been and the sharp sting of what was now your reality.

At Rita’s the ambiance had devolved into a haze for you. Each drink an attempt to erase the sharp edges of your reality. The buzz of the crowd and the clink of glasses were a distant backdrop to the storm raging inside you. As you reached for another glass your movements were sluggish and unfocused. A stranger slipped beside you, his smile too eager, his intentions unclear. He offered you a drink with a slick insistence that made your skin crawl even through the fog of alcohol.

The moment your fingers grazed the cool surface of the glass Azriel materialized at your side. His movements were a blur. The glass knocked from your grasp and shattering against the hard floor with a resounding crash that sliced through the bar's cacophony. "Enough, Y/N," his voice cut through your stunned silence, low and laced with an urgency that tightened his features.

"Why?!" The word tore from your throat, raw and loud, fueled by the sharp bite of alcohol and a torrent of pain you no longer had the strength to contain. "Why do you care? Just let me drown it all out, Az! Let me forget!" Your words were a mix of accusation and desperation spilling out in a reckless cascade.

Pain flickered across Azriel's face His eyes darkening with concern. "It’s not safe, Y/N. That drink. That male was trying to drug you. I can't—I won't let that happen,” he insisted. His voice firm despite the chaos around you.

Rebellion surged within you, potent and bitter. "Don't do this to me, Azzy!" The nickname was usually a term of endearment but now sounded like a rebuke, heavy with your anguish. "You can't save me from this. Let me have this!"

Your attempt to pull away was futile against his strength. Azriel’s eyes scanned the crowd one last time giving more a quick nod, his decision made in the span of a heartbeat when she nodded back. With no other choice as you continued to struggle against him he wrapped his arm securely around your waist and winnowed you both away, the world dissolving into shadows. You reappeared on a deserted hillside just outside the city. The sharp, cold air was a slap against your heated skin. The stark silence a jarring contrast to the noise of Rita’s.

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself, Y/N. I just can’t,” Azriel implored, his voice thick with emotion as he steadied your staggering form.

"Destroy myself?!" you screamed back. The frustration and hurt boiling over. Your hands balled into fists. Your entire body tense with pent-up emotion. "My life is already destroyed, Azriel! I've lost everything. My love, my dreams, my worth! What's there left to destroy?"

In your anguish you lashed out physically, pushing against Azriel's chest with all the force of your despair. He staggered slightly but didn't push back. He of all people understood your need to vent the storm of emotions inside you.

“You haven’t lost everything,” he tried to reassure you but even he knew where your head was at. You weren’t going to listen to him.

"I have!" Your voice broke, raw and quivering with the intensity of your pain. "For a century, I loved him, Az. A century! And for what? To be discarded when his real mate shows up? What does that make me? Just a placeholder? I'm worthless, Az. If he couldn't even love me, who will?"

"No, Y/N, that's not true—" Azriel began but you cut him off again. Your hands pushing against his shoulders trying futilely to move the immovable.

"No, you don't get it!" Tears streamed down your face blurring your vision as you swung a punch. Your fist connecting weakly with his chest. He absorbed the blow with practiced ease. His expression pained more by your words than the physical contact. "Everyone has someone… Feyre has Rhys, Elain has Lucien now... and me? I'm alone. Utterly alone. Who could love someone so... so replaceable?" Your words tumbled out as a cascade of hurt and insecurity forgetting in your pain that Azriel himself had known the sting of unreciprocated feelings.

Azriel caught your wrists gently, stopping your strikes. His gaze intense, a mix of pain and resolve flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, listen to me," he implored. His tone firm yet tender. "I understand more than you know. I've felt that loneliness. That fear of being unloved and replaceable. But you, Y/N, you are not replaceable to me. You’re invaluable. You’re loved deeply by those who truly know you, even if you can't see it right now."

Your resistance faltered with tears spilling over as his words washed over you revealing his own vulnerabilities. You sagged against him, your energy spent, your sobs muffled against his chest. Azriel didn’t just offer comfort. He shared your grief, understanding it from his own unspoken heartaches.

"Because you mean everything to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. A confession laden with the weight of his own once-hidden feelings. "And I refuse to let you believe you're anything less than that." In his embrace you felt a sliver of solace pierce the veil of your despair. Perhaps you weren't as alone as you had believed. In the quiet of the night with Azriel, you dared to hope that your heart could find a way to mend.

As your sobs quieted into weary, shuddering breaths on the hillside, Azriel recognized the depth of your exhaustion and despair. With a care born of years spent navigating the shadows, he scooped you up into his arms. His strength a quiet reassurance in the enveloping darkness. You were too lost in your own misery to protest. Your body limp against his chest as he winnowed you both back to the sanctuary of his room.

Once inside Azriel carried you straight to the bathroom. The soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows across the walls. Setting you down with the utmost care he turned on the tap letting cool water fill the basin. With a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual stoicism, he soaked a soft cloth, wringing it out gently before turning to you.

"You're safe here, Y/N," he murmured. His voice low and soothing as he began to dab at your face. Each gentle touch wiped away streaks of makeup and tears revealing the raw vulnerability beneath. His hands were steady and careful. Moving with a respect that honored your brokenness without making you feel more fragile.

Seeing you so shattered, so utterly surrendered to your grief, stirred a protective tenderness in him. After he had cleaned your face he helped you out of your clothes and into his own. Each movement was respectful and patient. His eyes averted to give you privacy even in your despondent state. He chose a soft shirt and loose pants. Clothes that would comfort rather than constrict. When you were dressed he guided you to his bed with his arm around your waist both a support and a shield. The world seemed to quiet as he tucked you under the covers.

You lay there, a small, fragile form in the vastness of his bed with your eyes staring blankly at the shadowed ceiling. Azriel hesitated, watching you with a mix of concern and a poignant ache to ease your pain. Unable to bear the distance, he lay down beside you. His body a careful line of warmth at your side.

As you lay next to Azriel his presence enveloped you in a tenderness you hadn't fully seen before. The night around you was quiet, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside and your own unsteady breaths. Azriel's room was usually a place of solitude and shadows. It felt different now. Warmer, filled with a quiet strength and a palpable gentleness that radiated from him.

"Let it all out, Y/N," he whispered next to you. His voice was a soft command in the darkness, soothing and deep. His hand found yours under the blankets, his fingers intertwining with yours. You felt a sob rise again. The emotions overwhelming.

He didn't shush you or tell you to be strong. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter. His grip a lifeline in the turmoil you felt. His presence was a vow of steadfastness. A promise not spoken but felt deeply.

Lying beside him, you realized you had never seen Azriel so openly gentle and caring. His usual reserve and cool demeanor were replaced by an earnest tenderness. It was as if the night had peeled back a layer of his persona revealing the depth of his empathy and the true extent of his kindness. This wasn't the Spy Master known to most. The one that was cold and calculating, always in the background. This was Azriel as only someone he truly cared for might see him. His kindness wasn't just an act of comfort. It was a testament to his genuine concern for you. To love you when you felt most unlovable. To be there in every low and hold you through every shadow.

"I'm not going anywhere," Azriel continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are loved, deeply. Even when it feels like you're alone. You are important to me. More than you could possibly know."

With Azriel's words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that you might one day feel whole again. His kindness, his unwavering support reminded you that even in your most broken moments you were not alone.

Azriel didn't rush you or demand that you compose yourself. Instead, he simply held your hand throughout letting the quiet solidarity of his presence anchor you back from the tempest of your grief. As the emotional exhaustion of the day's events caught up with you, your eyelids grew heavy with the weight of sleep tugging them down.

With Azriel's fingers interlaced with yours and his calm breathing next to you, a profound fatigue began to blanket your senses. It was the kind of tiredness that came from having wept thoroughly and being in the presence of someone who demanded nothing of you but to be yourself. Slowly, the room around you seemed to fade away as you drifted into sleep. The echoes of your turmoil quieting into silence under the protective watch of the Shadowsinger.

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains you stirred, slowly emerging from the restless grasp of sleep. Your body felt heavy. Each movement laden with the remnants of last night’s despair. As you shifted, trying to orient yourself, you realized you were entangled with Azriel. His arms loosely draped around you, his body a protective barrier against the chill of the morning.

Opening your eyes fully, you met his gaze—alert, intense, yet filled with a softness that was reserved only for moments like this. He had been watching you. His eyes tracing the lines of worry and sadness that had settled on your face even in sleep.

The memory of last night's breakdown. The raw pain, the tears, the desperate words, rushed back in vivid clarity. You were suddenly mortified. The intensity of your vulnerability making you feel exposed and small. You tried to pull away, intending to escape the intimacy and your own mortification. But Azriel’s arms tightened instead, gently but firmly keeping you in place. You faced him, cheeks burning, and your words stumbled out in a flustered rush.

"Az, I... I'm just so—sorry," you stammered as if the words tripping over each other. "For hitting you, and—everything. I wasn’t... I shouldn’t have..."

He was quiet for a moment. His gaze steady and understanding. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and calm, cutting through your babble of apologies with effortless precision. "No apologies," he said simply. His eyes locked on yours conveying depth beyond words. "It’s okay."

"But I lost control, and I—," you tried again. Your voice a tangled whisper of regret and embarrassment.

Azriel gently shushed you with a slight shake of his head. "You needed to let out," His tone left no room for argument. "I’m here. That’s what matters."

Your attempts to articulate the mess of emotions felt cumbersome and inadequate compared to his succinct reassurance. You swallowed hard. Your next breath shaky as you tried to reconcile the kindness in his actions with the turmoil you felt inside. The warmth of his embrace, the quiet strength in his few words, slowly coaxed the walls around your heart to lower. His acceptance was simple and unwavering. It granted you the space to be vulnerable without the burden of judgment.

"You're here," you spoke softly. A statement rather than a question. You allowed yourself to lean back against him, finding a measure of peace in the security his presence offered. In the quiet that followed his steady breathing became a reassuring rhythm in the soft light of dawn, anchoring you amidst the remnants of last night’s storm.

As you settled deeper into Azriel's embrace, comforted by the warmth of his body and the protective enclosure of his wings around you profound sense of security enveloped you. His wings isolated you from the chaos of the world and allowed the weight of your troubles to recede momentarily.

Within this intimate cocoon Azriel's hands gently soothed you, tracing calming patterns along your back and occasionally running his fingers through your hair easing away the knots of both stress and sadness. This gentle touch, combined with the protective embrace of his wings, invited a deeper relaxation and a fleeting peace.

"You're safe here," Azriel whispered. His voice a soft rumble that was both reassuring and grounding. "You will always be safe with me."

His words were simple yet deeply meaningful. They comforted you, encouraging a slow, steadying breath as each word seemed to ease a little more of your turmoil. Surrounded by his presence the room no longer felt like just a physical space but a sanctuary against all your fears and uncertainties.

As Azriel offered a rare comfort his mind was awash with thoughts and feelings for you. He had always admired your strength, your grace, and the kindness that seemed to illuminate your every action. Even when you were with Lucien he had noticed how your presence could soften the hardest of hearts and brighten the darkest corners. His feelings had been kept hidden. A secret shadowed beneath his stoic exterior as you had seemed unreachably intertwined with someone else.

Azriel's interest in Elain initially served as a safe distraction from confronting the deeper, more intense feelings he had for you. Now with the situation having changed and the possibility of being more than just friends emerging. He realized that his feelings for Elain had been a way to guard his heart against the more daunting prospect of a deeper connection with you. Recognizing this, Azriel was determined to be patient. He understood the importance of timing and your need to heal. He knew that any possibility of exploring something deeper with you would require careful consideration and respect for your emotional state. Thus, he was prepared to wait. He would offer his support and presence as you navigated your path to recovery, hoping that when you were ready, he might have a chance to express his true feelings.

In this quiet moment as dawn's light began to seep through the curtains, Azriel made a promise to himself for you. He would be there for you not just as a protector or a friend, but as someone who loved you deeply. Even if that love must remain unspoken for now. He would help you heal, support you in finding yourself again, and offer his love silently, unwaveringly, during the times you found it hardest to love yourself.

"Whatever comes next, I'm here. We'll face it together," he murmured. His voice a soft echo in the quiet room. This promise was not just a commitment to support you through your healing but a silent acknowledgment of his hopes for the future. A future where, when you were ready, he might share his heart openly with you. For now, though Azriel would be your steadfast shadow, a silent guard to you with a love profound yet patient. Waiting for the moment when your heart could welcome the depth of his.

As the morning stretched lazily into afternoon, the quietude of Azriel's room was punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of you resting against him. The previous turmoil had ebbed away leaving a calm that hadn't been felt in a long while. In this peaceful interlude you slipped back into a deep, restorative sleep, cradled by the warmth of Azriel and the secure embrace of his wings.

While you slept Azriel carefully extricated himself to prepare a simple yet thoughtful meal. He moved quietly, his shadows flitting about, almost as if they were checking on you. Ensuring that your slumber was undisturbed. He returned with a plate bearing a light lunch.

As the soft light of the afternoon filtered through the curtains you slowly awoke from the deep, restful sleep. You had been vaguely aware, even in slumber, of their comforting presence. Something that went beyond Azriel's physical proximity. It was his shadows, those silent watchers that typically hovered at the fringes, manifesting his will, and echoing his moods.

These shadows which normally adhered to Azriel’s strict commands with unwavering discipline, had over time, subtly changed their behavior around you. It started with small gestures—shifting slightly to cloak you in warmth when a cool draft swept through the room, or playfully fluttering around when your spirits were low, trying to elicit a smile. Gradually they had begun to act almost independently when it came to you. They were drawn to your innate warmth and light. The same qualities that Azriel himself cherished deeply in you.

As you stirred awake, stretching and yawning, the shadows seemed to mimic the morning’s embrace. Azriel watched from beside you with a slight smile playing on his lips as his shadows caressed your arms and legs. They were reluctant to withdraw their gentle touch even as you became more alert. He made a subtle gesture, a silent command for them to give you some space, expecting immediate compliance as always.

To his surprise and slight amusement, the shadows hesitated. They lingered around you. Their formless caresses a tender contradiction to their usual stark obedience. When you noticed their reluctance to leave you couldn’t help but to giggle. The shadows seemed to flutter with a visible delight, moving closer as if encouraged by your laughter.

"It’s okay, Az," you said. Smiling at the unusual scene. "I don't mind them, really. I actually quite like them."

At your words the shadows almost appeared to swoon, swirling around you with what could only be described as affectionate enthusiasm. Azriel watched this with a raised eyebrow and an ever-widening smile, clearly amused by their outright defiance when it came to you.

"They're not usually this defiant... or affectionate," Azriel remarked. His voice tinged with both bemusement and a hint of pride. "Seems they've taken quite a liking to you."

You watched the shadows swirl around with a playful grace. Their cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Smiling, you responded, "The feeling's mutual." At your words, one of the shadows playfully swooped up mimicking a kiss on your cheek.

The whimsical gesture drew another giggle from you, a sound so light and joyful that it seemed to brighten the entire room. Azriel watched you with a deep warmth filling his heart as your laughter echoed softly. The sound so rarely heard in your despair was so full of life and free from the burdens you had been carrying, It was a melody he hadn't realized he'd been longing to hear. It reminded him of the resilience and beauty within you, qualities he had always admired now shimmering through even in your laughter.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he watched you interact with his shadows. The corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine delight. It was rare for him to see his shadows disobey but in this instance he found the situation endearing rather than concerning. The shadows, so attuned to his deepest feelings perhaps recognized the special place you held in his heart and chose to express their fondness in the only way they knew how.

As you continued to enjoy the playful affection from the shadows, Azriel leaned back, content to observe the bond forming between you and parts of his own essence. This moment, light-hearted and filled with laughter marked a significant turn in your relationship. It showed not only his own deepening feelings but also the unique acceptance of his shadows, making you a cherished presence in both his world and theirs.

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