On Wings Of Mist & Memories | JJK

On Wings of Mist & Memories | JJK

▻ On Wings of Mist & Memories ↳ DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!f.Reader ⤜ Exiled Royalty, High Fantasy AU ⤜ Enemies to Lovers | Angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 39,753 ⤜ Summary: You’re a Psion—disguised Field Scribe—of the Golden Kingdom of Bolas, attached to the Front Wing Infantry. After an ambush from the sky rips down the safe walls around you, you find yourself at the mercy of a brutal man, his dragon, and his shadows. ⚠️ Crass language, combat/violence, minor character deaths, talk of war, brief nudity (nonsexual, mostly), sexual references and feelings, flashback minor character death, mild sexual tension, suggestive inner thoughts, lots of sexual tension, crude banter, fingering, kissing, dirty talk, teasing, shadow penetration/sex (it's exactly what you're probably thinking it is: fun af), lots of praise, sexual pleading/begging, endearingly awkward sexual tension, shameless flirting, oral m. receiving, shadow clit play, nipple pinching/teasing, v. sex, mild cum play & eating, multiple orgasms, sad feelings/thoughts of the future, fighting, mild violence, implied minor character death, minor character terminal sickness that leads to off-page death, talk of forced bonds, heartache, pregnancy, off-page childbirth Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1: Shadowsword

Chapter 2: Oath Breaker

Chapter 3: Burnished Heart

Part of the Bangtan Writers HQ August 2023 “A Love Like War” Writing Event.

A special thank you to @hisunshiine @downbad4yoongi & @peachiilovesot7 for being the best betas!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Glossary/Map Mave - dragon rider who can wield magic, tethered to the soul of their dragon when they bond (death for both if one dies) Psion - infinite memory/recall Reaver - a dragon that can wield magic, tethered to the soul of the rider they bond (death for both if one dies) Noks - infantry soldiers, humanoids who can enter berserk/rage mode Rider - regular dragon rider, no magic, uses bows or scouts Brute - riderless dragon, usually wild and very dangerous Wielder - magic user, no dragon needed Signis - the designated/specific type of power someone wields Helnite - metal ore that can cut off magic from its user Golden Blight - incurable blood disease

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-08  ColorMePurplex2

this series is so sooooo beautiful!!! :(((

Forget Me Not | 7

You and Azriel begin again.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: References to past SA, finally some fluff, smut, p in v, dirty talk, oral, really just some lovey dirty scenes

a/n: This is it, we've reached the end of Forget Me Not! Thank you to everyone for supporting my first ACOTAR work on here. I'm currently writing another Az oneshot right now, so stay tuned if you liked my writing :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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Entering Azriel's bedroom felt different this time around. You had grown so accustomed to his absence in the past week that the feeling of him behind you sent shivers down your spine.

The room went from being cold and empty to warm and stifling. Your nerves were giddy under your skin, jumping with insecurity and excitement as the shadowsinger guided you to the middle of the space.

"It smells like you in here," he commented, voice soft and amused.

You tried not to feel embarrassed. "I missed you. I'm sorry if it was inappropriate or rude to intrude on your space. It helped me to be in here."

Azriel turned you around to face him, pulling you closer once more. His fingertips brushed the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes swept up to meet your own.

"You're my mate," he said gently, and you tracked the way his lips curved around the words. "I want you here. I want this entire space smelling of you in every way possible."

Your breath caught at his words, at the underlying tone and implication. Gods, you wanted to eat him alive. You wanted him to eat you alive.

"Azriel..." you whispered, your lips inching forward toward his own. His eyes dropped down to meet the movement, flicking back up to your own before being drawn to your mouth once again.

"We don't have to do anything tonight."

You knew that. You knew he would wait, would be patient as you navigated your newfound relationship with him and how it intertwined with your trauma. But you also knew that you felt so safe and warm and complete there in his arms, and you knew you wanted him.

"I know. But I want to."

He shuddered, and the hand flexed against your lower back tightened imperceptibly. "Are you sure?"

Looking at the male in front of you, at his kind hazel eyes, his soft pink lips waiting to claim you, his gentle touch so calm and undemanding, you were absolutely sure. You felt that thrum of love flow in your chest, and the reminder that it was going both ways made you melt further into him.

"Yes." You barely got the word out before you brought your lips to his.

He brought you into him gently, his hands summoning you to meet the rest of his body, like a wave rocking you softly in its rhythm until you laid smoothly against the warm shore. You curled into him instinctually, your hands making their way up his chest and onto his skin, feeling and grasping, grabbing at anything they could claim.

He made a small noise into your mouth, as if he couldn't help it, and your knees shook slightly at the reaction. He tasted like how it felt to drink water, and you felt so dehydrated, like you could drown in him and never quite have enough.

You pushed into him harder, but he kept his touch on you light, holding you but not using the strength you could feel in his muscles. Your tongue found the the opening to his mouth, and he let you in seamlessly, letting you guide the kiss, take what you needed.

Mor had always said that Azriel never had issues finding partners. There were rumors about the shadowsinger, about his highly-praised (and well above-average) attributes, his talents in the bedroom, and his wide range of sexual interests. But he wasn't taking that control he was so often associated with. He was allowing you to dominate, to take control, and to do what you wanted to him.

You wondered how often Azriel had given the reigns to someone else in the past, and your heart thumped with appreciation.

Your fingers found his leathers, trying to remove them from his torso as your tongue explored his own. His own scarred hands found your own to help, pulling back slightly to give your bottom lip a nip before pulling the fabric from his body.

You nearly groaned in impatience in the few seconds he was pulled away from you, but then you were able to freely roam his warm skin. He was smooth, and muscled, and scarred, and warm, and you could have licked up his torso if it wasn't for the way he immediately dove back into a kiss, his gentle hands cupping your face and strong forearms framing your neck.

There was more force behind his actions this time, but he kept you in control, allowing you to move the both of you back toward the bed, allowing your own hands to remove your nightgown from your body and letting it drop to the floor.

You pulled him on top of you in his blankets, giving him a kiss before pulling back. His gold green eyes were blazing in the darkness of the bedroom, the starlight shining through the window illuminating the light in them.

"Touch me," you begged him, fingers tangling in his hair.

His biceps cradled where your head laid, and you wanted to turn and kiss up the strong arms, to touch him everywhere you could. But you needed his hands on you, his mouth, his entire body.

"You don't need to beg. I'll do anything you want."

And then his lips were trailing along your jaw, skimming and nipping down your neck, sending your chin tipping back to give him more access. His tongue soothed where his teeth nipped, and his breath tickled your skin in all of the right, sensitive places.

Chills went down your spine as he moved lower, worshipping the skin over your collarbone, down your sternum, until he reached your breasts. His eyes met yours through dark lashes, and you nearly jerked your core up to meet his hips at the look he gave you.

Then his tongue was wrapping around your nipple, and you gasped. He teased and flicked and sucked and grasped, and you were writhing, gripping his hair and sucking in harsh breaths.

You had never felt so sensitive, so willing to unravel for a male before.

His free hand was stroking the rest of your skin lightly, his fingertips just barely meeting your body in teasing motions, sending goosebumps to the surface to meet him. By the time that hand skimmed over your other breast, you were ready to start begging again.

But Azriel was perceptive -- when it came to his surroundings and especially when it came to you -- so he didn't make you wait long nor beg. He changed his direction immediately to your other breast, allowing the cool air to tease the one he had worked while giving equal attention to the next.

You were becoming greedy yourself, your fingers skimming down his muscled back, searching for any part of him you could touch. His broad shoulders enveloped your form underneath him, and you loved it, loved him, loved feeling shielded by him. His dark wings were drawn tight along his back, as if he was focused on you and only you, not allowing any part of himself to relax or benefit quite yet. You wanted to touch them, make him lose his resolve-

His mouth moved lower, traveling along your stomach until he reached the band of your underwear, mouthing along the edge. His large fingers dwarfed the elastic, and your eyes nearly rolled back at the sight. But you couldn't do anything but nod when he looked to you for permission.

He gave your lower stomach one last kiss before pulling the underwear down your legs, his fingers trailing after the fabric as if he were tracing a painting, a piece of artwork he would need to commit to memory.

His lips kissed up your ankle, up your thigh, before landing on your hipbone, your leg resting over his shoulder lightly.

Then his hot breath met your core and your head was tilting back, the anticipation causing your body to shudder and your hips to buck. His strong forearm came down on your hips in response, holding you to the bed before placing his mouth on you.

And gods, did he feel good.

From the moment his tongue lightly traced up your core, you knew that he knew what he was doing.

He didn't dive into you haphazardly, not rough nor starved-- he moved with precision, teasing and flicking, and making you ache and ache and ache.

His free hand gripped the inside of one of your thighs, pushing your leg open slightly to give him more access. And when he moaned at the taste of you, you couldn't help but let out a small cry in response.

"I'd be the happiest male if I could spend the rest of my life between your legs."

He sounded absolutely devastated.

He kissed along your inner thighs once more, one finger stroking up you before circling your clit and moving back down again. Your breathing was heavy with his actions, trying to monitor where he was going, what he was doing, how he was pulling on every nerve ending in your body.

Then his middle finger was easing its way into your entrance, and you were gasping, back arching from the bed.

Your hands gripped the covers as his mouth found your clit again, the dual sensation nearly taking you to your release already. His finger moved inside of you, not necessarily searching but instead attempting to stretch you for him, get you ready if you were to move forward to anything more tonight. The thought nearly made you feral.

"Please-" you choked out. You didn't know what you were begging for, what you were trying to say, but you just needed more of him. All you would ever need for the rest of your life was him.

Another finger prodded at your entrance, and then he was stretching you further, his thick fingers moving and curling inside of you until you saw stars. It was as if the roof to the House of Wind had blown off and you could see the skies above you, Azriel's siphons gleaming behind your eyelids.

He didn't give as he guided you higher, fingers and tongue moving together with a rhythm you would worship him over later. The noises coming from you, the gasping, the whimpering, would have been embarrassing if you could have even heard any of it over the ringing in your ears, over the pure pleasure coursing through your veins.

When you tipped over the edge, Azriel kept himself attached to you, his one arm keeping you in place as you shook against the bed, your fingers gripping his hair and your eyes squeezing shut with the overwhelming pleasure.

It wasn't until your grip loosened on him that he pulled back, drawing his fingers from your core and bringing them up to his mouth. You could barely see him through the haze going through your mind, and the fact that he hadn't done the action as a display for you, but because he wanted to, felt the need to, had you nearly cumming again.

You attempted to catch your breath as he stood from his position, the strain at the front of his leathers nearly making your mouth water. You wanted more, needed more, needed your mate -- all of him.

Your limbs shook with exertion as you pulled yourself to your knees on the bed, reaching for his waistband. His hands caught your wrists, however, bringing them back down to your sides as he leaned down and placed a surprisingly heartfelt kiss on your forehead.

"Another time," he told you. "I just want you right now."

And you were not about to refuse him that.

You let him guide you back down onto the pillows, his hand ensuring one was under your head before letting you go and moving to remove his pants. The sight that greeted you was otherworldly.

You had heard rumors. But he was unreal.

And his slight smirk and posturing said he knew it.

You smiled at him before you could help it, gesturing for him to return to you. He was back on top of you before you could blink, and his mouth was on yours. You could feel as some of the control he always seemed to need took over for him, allowing him to curl his tongue against your own, to bite at your bottom lip, to grip your body just a little harder against his own.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" His voice was gravelly in your ear, and you preened against him, pressing your breasts against his chest.

"You, please, I want all of you. I've always wanted you."

He could have teased you for how desperate you sounded, the breathiness of your voice, the way you lifted your hips to meet his, to try to draw him in. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled his lips away from your own, allowing them to just barely brush before declaring his love for you.

He swallowed harshly before speaking the words again. "I love you."

You nodded, feeling emotions building in your chest, feeling that golden tie blazing bright. "I love you, Azriel."

And in that moment, not even yet physically connected, you knew you and him could get through anything together. You were willing to die for the male above you and he for you. While the past could not be ignored, your future together held hope and promise, and you would latch onto that with everything you had, gripping that golden thread with a vengeance.

"Show me," you told him, your eyes watering despite yourself.

And then his lips were on yours again, and the passion behind the kiss sent your head reeling. You felt the head of him press against you before a slight stretch stung between your legs. You gasped into his mouth at the feeling, at the weight of him moving inside of you, and he welcomed your reaction, peppering kisses over your cheeks as you adjusted.

He was large, but you loved it. Loved every inch of him inside of you. Loved the feeling of him filling you physically and emotionally, the golden thread growing brighter and brighter the further he entered you, the more he filled and touched every part of you.

And the feeling seemed to make its way through your entire body, fire lighting in your soul, igniting pleasure in your core that shot to your fingertips and toes.

You moaned when he finally seated himself all the way inside you, his hands coming up to cup your face and make sure you were okay. You couldn’t help the tears rolling silently down your cheeks, the overwhelming emotion that was building inside of you. You had loved this male for so long, and here he was, connected to you on a whole other level, loving you, and you could feel it coming from deep in his soul.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, kissing at your temple.

“Yes. I’m just happy.”

He swallowed hard at your words and soft smile, kissing you again before slowly pulling out of you and making his way back in. The movement sent sparks floating in your vision, and his answering grunt was enough to have you grasping at his shoulders.

His hands found your own, pulling them from around him and instead intertwining your fingers together with his, laying them gently by your head as he encased your body with his own. His wings spread above you two like a blanket, like the dark of night and his comforting shadows, and you held tightly onto him.

“I love you,” he told you again, as if he had been trying to hold the words back.

“My mate.” You smiled at him, and his pace picked up. His thrusts went from being slow and sensual to passionate and hard, and you brought your mouth to his shoulder to try to cover the loud noise that escaped you at the pleasure of him.

“You’re so perfect. Everything about you is absolutely unbelievable.”

But what you were feeling was even more so. Every inch of him, every rigid muscle, every texture of smooth and scarred skin, made you want to hold onto him and never let go. A bliss unlike any other followed each of his strokes into you, filling you with love and passion and sending blood rushing to your core.

You were absolutely drenched, his hips moving so easily in and out of the bracket of your legs, that you would have been embarrassed if not for the noises of pure male satisfaction coming from Azriel.

He was enjoying you as much as you were enjoying him, and the thought sent a wave of pride through you.

His thick length continued to spread you open with each thrust, and you don’t think you’d ever felt so satisfied and full. He was touching every part inside of you, from your entrance to your cervix to the bond singing in your chest, he was pushed up against your walls and throbbing.

You cried out as he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you, and one of his hands immediately broke from your own and came down to the peak of your thighs, fingers finding the bud and rubbing and circling until your toes were curling-

“I-I can’t…” you gasped out.

“I’ve got you,” Azriel cooed. “Let me see my mate fall apart. Let me take care of you.”

And you knew he would. He held you tightly, protectively covering you with his own body, his other arm looping around your waist to pull your hips closer to his own.

Then you were rising and falling, clenching so tightly around him you thought you might be causing him pain. But all you could focus on was the bliss shooting through your body, the shaking of your limbs, the white blinding your vision, and the gold gleaming in your chest.

By the Cauldron, you were trembling, your entire body overcome with pleasure, and Azriel guided you through it, speaking sweet words in your hair, hand still moving, hips still pumping.

“Gods, you feel so good,” he grunted out. “My perfect mate. My everything.”

Your mind was ringing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body relaxed and tingling and high up in the clouds. But you savored the moment still, your fingers brushing over the muscles in Azriel’s shoulders, feeling them move and tense under your touch, the obvious strength under his skin causing you to clench around him.

He cursed, spreading your legs further for him and dropping his forehead to rest against your own.

“Where do you want me?”

Everywhere. You wanted him inside you forever, you wanted him buried as far as he could go.

“Inside me. Please.”

His eyes squeezed shut at your words, a guttural moan leaving his throat. You already were imagining how the male above you would look completely unleashed, allowing his kinks and obsession with control to ravish you in the bedroom. Next time, you told yourself, you would break that leash he held on himself, and you would let him completely and utterly tear you to shreds.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

His rough tone had you bucking your hips to meet his, and then his hands were gripping your hips hard, his fingertips digging into the skin, holding you still and tight until it ached and bruised and you were keening into him.

Heat swelled inside of you as he emptied himself, and you let out a moan of your own at the feeling, both of your satisfied noises melding together to create a sound you would commit to memory.

He was panting and grunting and you could feel your wetness mixing with Azriel’s spend as it leaked its way out from inside of you and around your thighs. He pulsed and pulsed and you couldn’t help your body’s own reaction at the sensation as you clenched in return.

It was overwhelming and otherworldly and you would never get enough of it.

When he was finished, he nearly collapsed above you, catching himself with his strong hands, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked so beautiful. So relaxed and undone and glowing.

You loved him so incredibly much.

He didn’t remove himself from your body, only looked at you as if he couldn’t really believe you were there, that this wasn’t a dream.

You pushed yourself up slightly, lightly pressing a gentle kiss to his sharp jaw. He sighed at the action, closing his eyes and savoring it, and you immediately wanted to do it again.

He swallowed before meeting your eyes again. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You grasped him tighter. “Stay.”

He chuckled, and the unguarded, light sound had a smile breaking onto your face in return.

“We have all night together,” he reassured. “Let me do this right.”

His thumb stroked over your cheek, and you wanted to smile, to cry, to kiss him. But you let him do what he needed to feel like a good mate and caretaker. He planted one last soft kiss to your lips before gently removing himself from you. You inhaled sharply at the absence of him and at the feeling of his seed leaking from you, already missing the way he felt.

He glanced down to watch as he dripped down your core and thighs, eyes gleaming at the sight. He was then ripping himself away, as if watching any longer would prevent him from moving from your side, would cause him to dive down face-first into you once again.

You watched him walk to his bathroom, his muscular backside a sight against the moonlight shining in his room. You wanted to run after him, to tackle him to the bathroom floor and ride him again right there.

You controlled yourself, though, and waited for his return. He was gentle as he cleaned you up with a washcloth, covering you with a shirt of his own and placing a glass of water on his bedside table.

Once he joined you under the covers, you turned to face him, hand reaching out for him on instinct, and he welcomed the movement immediately. His arms pulled you close, and the connection felt so natural, as if the two of you had never not been in the others’ arms.

His wings, now relaxed with contentment, circled around the two of you, causing you to move closer to him.

“Rest,” he said finally, voice thick with exhaustion. “We can talk more in the morning.”

You nodded, tracing your fingers down his chest.

“You’ll be here?”

His bright eyes met your own, and your heart clenched as he repeated those words he had said months ago in your bedroom, when you hadn’t believed him for a second, when your body was the exact opposite as it was now, turned away from him and guarded.

“I’m not leaving,” he spoke softly. “Never again.”

And you believed him.

—————————

It was the best night of sleep you had gotten in awhile. You had never felt so safe and comforted than surrounded by Azriel, by his arms, his wings, his covers, and in his room. Everything that was him was all around you, and you basked in it.

When you both had awoken, the shadowsinger watched as you dressed with his heart in his eyes, and you gestured for him to do the same so the two of you could get some food and start your day.

What you hadn’t prepared for, was Cassian and Rhys sitting in the kitchen with smirks on their faces.

“Good morning,” Rhysand commented, his lips shaped into a shit-eating grin as he brought his mug to his mouth.

“Rhys,” Azriel greeted, his voice holding a low tone of warning.

Cassian looked over his shoulder at the two of you from where he was making his breakfast, scrunching his nose as if pretending to smell what you had been up to.

“You know,” he said nonchalantly, “I was right this whole time. I called you two being mates months ago.”

“Technically, Feyre guessed correctly first.” Rhys interrupted.

“We get it.” Azriel moved closer to Cassian’s side, snagging a piece of bacon from his plate. “I was an idiot.”

Rhys gave you a wink at Azriel’s words and you nearly blushed.

“Not anymore, it seems.”

Azriel gave the high lord a look, and Rhysand let out a laugh. “Alright, alright. Just come see me when you have a minute. We have to go over a few things with the Illyrian camps.”

Azriel nodded at his friend and the two shared a heartfelt look between them. You had always admired the trio’s friendship, the way they would lay their lives on the line for one another without question.

“Seriously though, I am happy for you both,” Rhys said, to which Cassian turned around and gave you a look of agreement. “But if either of you are idiots again, I’m kicking you out of Velaris.”

That sounded about right.

“Alright, out.” Azriel demanded, pushing his brothers out of the kitchen.

They bickered back and forth with one another to the door, and you couldn't help the smile that fought its way onto your face. This was your family, your friends, and your mate. This was your home.

When Azriel was back in the kitchen, he sighed at their antics, but you could tell he was endeared with his brothers.

He gave you a kiss on the top of your head before moving to the cabinets, pulling out some ingredients to make you breakfast. The sight of your mate cooking for you reminded you of the bond in your chest, the expectation there.

You two were mates, that much was obvious. You felt the golden presence in your chest, you could feel your partner within you should he allow it, but you hadn't technically accepted it yet -- accepted him yet.

And despite how much you loved him, you weren't ready to.

As if sensing the shift in your comfort, Azriel turned to look at you.

"You okay?" He asked, fingers setting the pieces of bread he had gotten out on the counter.

"Yeah, just thinking," you tried to give him a small smile.

"What about?"

His full attention was on you, and your nerves tingled under the weight of his gaze. You both were moving forward, and you didn't want to mess this up, didn't want to make you both take steps backward in your progress, but you also didn't want to be stupid. So much had happened in the past few months, and you wanted to be smart, confident, and sure in each of your decisions. You had so much taken away from you recently, you wanted for once to be able to plan and experience and allow for some natural growth.

"What if I told you I wanted to wait to accept the mating bond?"

Azriel's eyes softened, and you couldn't help the pang of guilt that shot through your chest at the thought of your words hurting him, making him doubt himself and how you felt about him.

"I'll wait however long you need," he told you, voice resolute.

"I want to be your mate. I am your mate," you clarified. "I just think we should give ourselves some time before a ceremony or something. We can go on dates, court a little bit, and I'd like to get to the point where I feel comfortable with us around Elain."

He flinched slightly at her name, at the reminder of what he had done to you, how he had been so focused on the middle-Archeron sister, she had smothered his thoughts of you.

The feelings made their way down the bond, and you knew this was another thing that would take some time. The two of you may be dealing with the repercussions of the past few months for a while, but time would help, and you both were ready to move forward with one another.

"It's okay," you told him gently.

He nodded, giving you a soft doubtful smile, but still he moved to your side and tilted your head up, pulling your lips to his own.

"I love you," he reminded you.

"And I, you."

His lips brushed against your own again, and you leaned in further, wanting to connect yourself further. He pulled back.

"When you want to accept the bond, I will give you whatever you want. A private ceremony, a party celebrated throughout all of Velaris, you name it. You just let me know when."

And you would. In the meantime, the two of you would go on dates, would talk more about your pasts and histories, would go back to sharing your interests and visiting that pastry shop you loved so much.

Azriel would make you feel wanted and loved, and you would make him feel like the kind-hearted hero he was. The two of you would hang around the rest of the inner circle side-by-side. Even when Elain was present and Azriel's guilt thudded through the bond, you would move forward. You felt nothing toward her on his end but regret, and you felt the love being pushed through the bond toward you instead.

It would take time and commitment, but you were ready with him by your side. And he reminded you every day that he was not leaving. The two of you were a package deal now -- hand-in-hand, together.

And a year later, when Azriel walked through the doors of the House of Wind to find you in the kitchen, slaving away at a recipe you had spoken of multiple times, nerves thrumming down the bond and your rosy cheeks showing your flustered state, his heart thumped in his chest.

You gave him a soft smile, your hair messy with your efforts, and your outfit messed up from cooking. And he was so in love.

A bowl placed on the dining table, a candle lit, and a glass of wine poured.

Tears filled his eyes, because he never thought he would deserve this. Not a year ago, and not now.

But you only smiled at him, nodding with encouragement.

And then his tears were falling, his shadows swarming over you until you released contagious giggles, and he was scarfing down the food like a man starved for weeks.

If someone had told Azriel a year ago, that in the very same spot he nearly dropped to his knees at the opportunity to make the broken girl in front of him a mug of tea, he would be granted the blessing of her mating bond, he wouldn't have believed it.

But as the golden thread in his chest pulsed and shined and glimmered with love and renewed strength, he cried.

I'm yours, it spoke to him. And you are mine.

And forever will we be tied together.

a little mini series of my slytherin party boys

As a Trophy | Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel's mate reveals a heart-breaking part of her past.

A/N: I'm back friends! And with an Azriel fic this time! I've never posted anything even remotely acotar related, so I don't know if this will interest any of you, but I'm hoping it'll find its people lol. Please be aware that it's almost 1 a.m. right now, which means I'm very tired and this is not very well proofread. Also, they do the nasty twice in a row, because I wanted them to, and there's literally no other reason.

Word count: 5671

Warnings: smut right at the beginning, all the angst (it's a heavy one, people), talk of past SA (please tread carefully!), talk of canon typical violence and torture, but also some good old fluff towards the end

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Azriel watched in awe as her fingers curled into a tight fist and she twisted the sheets hard enough around her hand that he half expected the fabric to tear any second now. He loved when she got like this—eyes screwed shut, brow furrowed, jaw hanging open for the most melodic of sounds to freely brush past her lips. He'd die happily—right then, right there—if it meant he would get to revel in those sounds of hers for all eternity.

"That's it," he muttered, voice rough as he curled his own fingers into the pillow by her head, doing everything in his might to force down the rapidly rising pleasure burning its way through his every vein. It was always a fight when he was with her, always a challenge to hold off on his own release for long enough to make it good for her.

Azriel had had his fair share of romantic encounters, and he'd thought them all unique, all pleasurable in their own ways. That is, until he'd first lain with the one the Cauldron itself had deemed the one he was meant to love, to worship, to hold above everything he knew and was. All the ones that had come before had paled in comparison to her, paled into a mass of brief enjoyment he'd thought as good as it would get, and suddenly he'd found himself fighting to draw out her pleasure for as long as possible, when really, he was on the verge of forfeiting every last crumb of control at even the smallest of her touches.

It had been almost six months now. Six months since they had officially mated. One would think he'd get used to it, to her, at some point—that it would stop being so fucking good he couldn't think straight. But here he was, six months later, his every sense narrowed down to her, and his chest heaving as his hips ground into hers so hard he had to place a gentle hand on the top of her head to stop her from sliding further up the bed.

She wrapped her legs a little tighter around him, and he knew she was close. He could see it in the twitch of her right eyebrow, the tilt of her chin. He bent to catch her moans with his lips when it got physically painful to refrain from kissing her any longer, and when he licked into her mouth and found himself rewarded with a hand grazing the edge of his wing in the way she knew he liked, his thrusts got harder, faster, a little more desperate.

When she came, she gripped him tight enough to dig the tips of her nails into the skin of his shoulders, and he revelled in the flicker of pain. It was almost non-existent, and yet enough to finally tip him over the edge alongside her. He buried his face in her neck as he rode them both through their highs, and when she breathed his name right into the shell of his ear, he couldn't fight the deep groan that tore through his throat and broke with the last deep thrust.

It was only a short while later that he lay on his back and watched as her fingers traced the swirling lines of his tattoos. He could feel her glow on the other side of the thread connecting her soul to his own, and when he gave an affectionate tug, he watched her lips pull into a smile that had his heart stutter.

"I must say," she started with the voice that had come to narrate most of his dreams in the time since he'd first heard it. "That was some of your best work, shadowsinger."

He couldn't help the grin she somehow always managed to pull from him with minimum effort, and when he pinched her side, her surprised laugh shot straight into the depth of his chest.

"Do you have a Solstice gift for Cass yet?"

Azriel blinked at the sudden change of topic.

"Some of my best work, and it takes you exactly thirty seconds to mention another's name." Despite his words, he couldn't help the smile still resting on his face.

She watched him through lowered lashes, propping her chin on the back of her hand. "Do you want me to make it up to you?"

He ran a gentle palm down the side of her face, thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "What do you have in mind?"

She caught the tip of his thumb in between her teeth, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she pushed her body upright from where she lay cuddled to his side. The sheet fell away from her body, exposed skin enough to make Azriel's head swim all over again, and when she swung her leg across his hips, straddling him, he had to swallow multiple times.

His hands found her thighs when she began to slowly, teasingly glide against his body, hands running up his torso for her fingers to spread on his chest. Her weight on him was soothing, her eyes attentive, and when she pressed her hips to his a little harder, Azriel felt every bit of the heat he'd never get enough of. Within a few seconds, he had her pinned beneath him once again, wings flaring at the grin she gave him.

"For someone whose job is patience," she said, biting her lip when Azriel once again pierced the tender flesh between her legs. "You sure don't have a lot of it."

Azriel brushed his lips against hers in the most innocent of kisses, interlocking his fingers with those of her right hand. "Not when it comes to you, my love."

He sensed the flutter of her heart across the bond and felt his own heart swell in response.

"I love you," he muttered against her lips, breathing in her whimpered reactions to his slow, rhythmic thrusts. He knew she liked her second rounds slow, the third ones rough again. He knew she'd come much faster the fourth time, though five and six were usually harder to pull from her.

He'd gathered most of his information within the first few days of their post-mating frenzy, and he'd tucked it all into the corner of his brain that was reserved solely for her.

His hand found the side of her head, and he held his gaze glued to hers as he brushed his thumb over the curve of her cheek. Time seemed to stutter to a stop as he felt her love for him set the bond aglow, his own threatening to overwhelm him.

"I never thought I'd feel like this." His words were but a breath against the silence of the room, forehead lowering to press against hers. "I would lay the world before your feet, my love."

He felt her tighten around him once again, her moans heavenly as he followed her into pure bliss, and when he kissed her, he felt her hands pull him closer by his hair.

He looked into her eyes when he spoke and saw in them reflected the emotions which he could barely put into words himself. "I spent my life wishing for a love such as we have," he muttered, watching her skin crinkle in the corners of her eyes as she grinned.

"Someone's sappy tonight," she breathed.

"Always," he smiled in return, kissing her deeply. "I have known only fear, and hate, and lies for the better part of my life. You're the one that showed me what it meant to be entirely free. To know everything there is to know about a person and offer every piece of me in return. No secrets. No lies. No masquerade."

Azriel didn't miss the way a shadow flickered across her face, the hands in his hair coming to a slow stop in their gentle caress.

"Is everything all right?" He offered a self-deprecating smile. "I'm laying it on thick tonight, I'm sorry."

"No, no," she rushed to say, smiling a smile a little too wide to be fully convincing. "That's not it, I promise."

He kissed her again and then slid off her to prop his head up on his elbow, watching her for a moment.

"I can practically see the gears turn in your head," he teased in a gentle voice, though it grew more serious as he continued. "Was it something I said?"

A twinge of fear rushed through his veins at the thought, though she was quick to drown it out.

"No," she said, her tone sure, unwavering. She sat up, and Azriel followed her every movement with his eyes. He could tell the ease had left her muscles, her back tense as she sat facing the foot of the bed.

Silence stretched as he waited for her to speak, uncertain of what could have caused this sudden change in her demeanour. He reached out a hand to run his palm up her back, but when she all but flinched, he felt his every muscle freeze. She had never flinched away from his hands. Azriel sat up. Something was seriously wrong.

"Y/N, you're scaring me," he muttered. "Did I do something to make you uncomfortable? Please speak to me."

She must've heard his rapidly rising panic, or perhaps she'd felt it through the bond, though when she finally turned, Azriel's worry only grew further. Sorrow was etched into her features, a despair he had seldom seen on her—if ever.

"I haven't... there's something you don't know, Azriel."

He watched her speak with his own throat caught in a vice. A thousand thoughts ran lapses in his mind, a thousand possible scenarios.

"What do you mean?" he heard himself ask, hand once again reaching out to touch her, as though his body sought her proximity on its own accord.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you."

-

She felt tears burn behind her eyes as she watched a hundred emotions flicker across Azriel's face. She knew it was long overdue to tell him the truth, knew she'd waited far too long, and yet she couldn't bear the thought of having to watch his face when she revealed a part of herself she'd done her best to hide away. But worse than that, she couldn't bear the thought of feeling him on the other side of the bond once she spoke the words. She wouldn't survive to feel his love for her shift once he found out. And so, she squeezed his hand in a silent apology before blocking him out—something she'd never done before.

She watched his worry shift into outright alert as he sat up a little straighter.

"I have a confession," she said before he had a chance to speak, still holding on to his hand. "And I need you to hear me out, because you deserve to know who I am." He hesitated, but nodded, wariness etched into his every feature.

She took a deep breath.

"As you know, my mother was High Fae, my father Illyrian." She watched his brows twitch closer together, confusion at the direction her story took, before nodding once again. "I have my mother's ears of course, and you know I don't have any Illyrian features." He nodded again, and she felt his eyes on her throat when she swallowed thickly.

It took every inch of willpower she had to turn her back on him, twisting where she sat to face the foot of the bed. Before his eyes lay the smooth, unmarred plates of her back—she'd made sure of that—and yet she knew in that moment, that it began to dawn on him what it was she wanted to show him. She felt it in the involuntary tightening of his grip on her hand, his gentle inhales coming to a stop as he held his breath.

Scraping together what little courage she could muster, she slowly lifted the glamour she'd held in place for years now, and her eyes fluttered shut as the grip on her hand turned ever tighter, his breathing resuming with a sharp intake of breath, a choked sound that had her heart cramp in her chest.

She could feel her heart beat up to her throat, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to feel Azriel's reassuring presence on the other end of that strong, glowing bond between them, but she didn't dare look at him. She knew his eyes were glued to the two thick, long scars tracing her skin from just above her shoulder blades right down to the centre of her back. Perfectly symmetrical and shining in angry red bulges of scar-tissue, she'd revealed to him the secret she'd kept hidden from everyone she knew in Velaris.

A sudden calm overcame her at the lifted glamour. No—this wasn't calm. It was numbness. It was the same numbness she felt whenever she thought back to the cause of her loss, though she'd gotten great at suppressing most of it.

Silence stretched on for a while, Azriel as still as death behind her. She didn't dare turn around to look at him when she continued to speak.

"It's somewhat of a long story, but the short version is this," she began, barely recognising her own voice as she fixed her eyes on the opposite wall. "I grew up in my father's war camp." She swallowed thickly. "He wasn't a very nice man, nor was he a fair one. He angered a lot of the warriors he was supposed to train and one day three of them showed up at our door to seek their revenge after he'd ridiculed them in front of the entire camp. They were angry, and I was unlucky enough to open the door."

She closed her eyes at the memory of their faces—the faces that haunted her even decades later. Her voice was hollow as she continued, her fingers growing numb in the grip Azriel maintained, though it undoubtedly helped to ground her.

"They dragged me into the forest by the camp, and they ... took their time. I don't know how much time passed exactly, but it felt like hours. I won't go into detail, but ... well, when they were done, and I was half-dead, they pulled a knife and took my wings. As a trophy, they said." Silence stretched on, as she sorted through her memories. "I don't remember a whole lot after that. I think I passed out from the pain, but someone must've found me, because I woke up in the healer's hut."

She felt wetness gather on her cheeks—tears she hadn't even noticed break free from the corners of her eyes. She stared at the wall opposite her, unblinking.

"They healed me enough to walk, though for a long time my back hurt so bad I had to use a cane. My father," she hesitated. "My father has always hated that I inherited my mother's Fae ears. When I lost the one thing marking me as an Illyrian, too, he sent me away. He told me I didn't belong there anymore, that I wasn't a true Illyrian without my wings. I left a few nights after it happened, and I came to Velaris."

When she stopped talking, and silence remained all she heard, she reached out carefully across the bond, flinching back when she was met with nothing but ice. It took everything in her to turn around and face Azriel, and when she did, it took even more to not shy away. His shadows had gathered around him, his eyes unmoving, still fixed on where her back had been but a moment ago, and in that moment, he looked every bit the terrifying shadowsinger he was to the outside world.

She lifted a hand to his cheek, and as though awoken by the featherlight touch of her fingers, he shot up from his seat, letting go of the hand he had held all throughout her story. Her heart stuttered at the look in his eyes, though he didn't meet her gaze, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt as he went.

"Az," she muttered, half-heartedly reaching out for his hand, though he was too fast in crossing the room with a few wide steps and heading straight for the balcony door.

"Azriel," she tried again, hoping for a pleading note in her tone, though she could barely shake the hollowness that still held her in a tight grip.

He was gone before she could muster the courage to follow, and something within her shrivelled at the thought of his anger. She should have told him earlier, should've told him before their mating ceremony. He would have deserved to know his mate wasn't whole, especially as he was Illyrian himself.

As she stared at the open balcony doors, curtains wafting in a gentle breeze, she couldn't help but wonder if her confession had sunk the one person keeping her afloat.

-

Cassian watched with a wide grin as Nesta hid her own smile behind the rim of her glass. It was a rare sight, but his heart swelled at the sight of her joy, and he knew Feyre, Mor, and perhaps even Rhys, felt the same.

"I can't believe you kneed him in his private parts," Feyre giggled, while Mor just swirled her drink around in her glass.

"He deserved it."

"I'm sure he did, dear cousin," Rhys drawled, failing to fight a smirk of his own. "Though I must say—"

As Rhys broke off and his gaze moved to something behind Cassian's back, Cass turned to see what his brother was looking at.

Y/N stood barefoot at the bottom of the stairs, only clad in a nightgown, and hands hanging loose by her sides. It took but a single glance to realise something was off, and at the look on her face, Cassian felt himself grow alert.

"Y/N," Rhys furrowed his brow, noting the blank stare in her eyes. "Is everything all right?"

With the first tear to roll down her cheek, the air suddenly changed, and Cassian stood as Feyre shot up to check on their friend.

"What happened?", Cassian heard himself ask. He noted Azriel's absence when he thought them together in their shared room, and dread weighed down his insides in expectation of the worst. "Where's Azriel?"

He held his breath as he awaited her answer, and felt his friends do the same. Nesta was rigid at his side, Rhys as alert as Cassian himself, all while Feyre kept her arms slung around their brother's mate.

"Y/N," Mor spoke in gentle tones, rising from her seat now, too. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"He's... gone."

From one moment to the next, the room grew so quiet that only the howling winds broke through the silence, as they caressed the house's exterior.

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Mor asked, a note of panic mixing in with her worry.

"He left. Through the balcony door."

Cass shared a glance with Rhys, and he knew from the look in his eyes, that he was attempting to reach Azriel through the use of his powers. A moment passed—a moment Feyre used to get Y/N to take a seat on the couch—before Rhys gave the smallest shake of his head, and spoke directly into Cassian's mind.

Barriers up.

Cassian's eyes shot back to Y/N, who, even seated, stared straight ahead as though lost deep in thought. He softened his tone as he spoke to her. "Sweetheart, what happened?"

He watched her eyes snap to his, before they moved and latched on to Rhys, and he knew from the way his eyes grew distant, that she was sharing what had gone down between her and Azriel shortly before he had left.

They all flinched when Rhys slammed down his glass, and the table shook where it stood.

Rhys stood now, too, and it had been a long while since Cassian had seen his brother in such a struggle to maintain his composure.

"Rhys?" Feyre asked, eyes darting back and forth between her mate and her friend. "What is going on?" 

Rhysand's eyes grew filled with indescribable sadness, and as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, Cassian noticed her give a single tight nod. Before he knew it, he felt his vision grow cloudy with images shared by their High Lord, all accompanied by a few words spoken directly into his mind.

She allowed me to share.

Cassian recognised the bedroom immediately—dimly lit, and shared by two of his closest friends. He watched as she sat before Azriel, turning her back on him to reveal smooth skin. For a moment, he felt like an impostor in what obviously was a very intimate moment. But as she lifted a glamour he'd never known her to carry, Cassian felt nausea twist his stomach in a firm grip. An audible gasp ran through the air, and he knew Feyre, Mor, and Nesta must be bearing witness to the same images he saw, the same words he now heard through the muffled filter of Rhysand's mind.

...grew up in my father's war camp...

...they were angry...

...took their time...

...as a trophy, they said...

Cassian's nails dug painfully into the skin of his palms, and as the vision dissolved, he witnessed the varying shades of horror on each of his friends' faces. Feyre's cheeks were wet with tears, Mor had grown pale as the wall, and Nesta... Nesta looked every bit the mistress of death he'd always known her to be.

"He left right after I told him," Y/N said, her voice small, with words all but whispered into the silence, and he knew what she was thinking, knew from the look on her face where her mind had gone. "I don't know if he'll be back... but either way, I'm worried he'll do something reckless. I don't want him to get hurt." Unshed tears rose in her eyes, but her face remained as numb as it had been when she first appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "I know I should've told him before we officially mated, should've told all of you as well. You're... my family now. I'm sorry I've been dishonest."

As Cassian fixed his gaze on his brother's love, the woman who'd evidently gone through enough to bring even the strongest of all Illyrians to their knees, he didn't have to think twice about where Azriel had gone.

Rhys stepped forward, his face schooled back into the composed expression of a High Lord, though there was no denying the deep-seated sadness he still felt. "It was your story to tell when and how you saw fit. You do not owe anyone an apology." He held her gaze through his every word, and when she gave a weak nod, he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "I shall go and see if I can find him. Please do not worry. I'm sure he'll return unharmed."

He bowed deep before her, and then turned to stride towards the balcony to depart as Azriel had done. His wings appeared as he walked, and his gaze met Cassian in a silent question to follow.

Cassian turned to do so, though something held him back. He threw a glance at his weeping friend, and his heart ached for her—for all that she had endured.

He knew what it meant for an Illyrian to lose their wings—he'd gotten close enough himself to recognise the never-ending pain it must cause, especially when one sees themselves surrounded by Illyrians day and night.

He turned back to fully face Y/N, and as he did so, lowered himself to his knee before her. Seeking out one of her hands, he lifted her knuckles to his brow, before lowering them to his lips, and meeting her gaze once again.

"I am so sorry."

-

Inky blackness crept through every corner of the room, and despite her perfect view of the stars through the open balcony door—a view that had always calmed her into a dreamless sleep—she hadn't been able to find a moment of peace. Worry held her heart in an iron grip; worry that she'd waited too long to tell him, that she'd driven him away by her seeming lack of trust.

Only that it hadn't been a lack of trust that had caused her to withhold such a severe part of her past. It had been a wish for an untainted love—the wish to not only spare him of the knowledge, but to leave it behind entirely. To not have it impact the most important relationship of her life. She'd refused to grant those faces such power.

Azriel would look at her differently now. If he even was to come back, that is. Even if he didn't want to, he'd surely think her damaged. Incomplete. He'd mourn the joy it would have been to have a mate with wings of her own.

She couldn't help the pain in her chest as she thought of those wasted opportunities. She could've flown by his side, could've soared through the skies like she'd done countless times before, and witness the joy flying brought to his face, too.

Her breathing stopped as the unmistakable sound of the door interrupted her thoughts. She didn't move, didn't open her eyes. Why, she didn't know. Hadn't she waited desperately for him to return?

She lay perfectly still, and didn't dare reach across the bond, either. Perhaps he'd only come to pack some of his things. Perhaps he wanted to leave before she woke up. Perhaps it wasn't even Azriel, but Mor or Feyre checking in.

She failed to suppress a slight flinch as gentle fingers brushed across her cheek, and her heartbeat doubled in speed when she felt the uneven caress of the hands she'd recognise anywhere. She hadn't even heard him approach.

"I can hear your heartbeat, my love." His voice was but a whisper in the night, his breath kissing her skin, as he lowered himself to his knees beside the bed, hand never leaving her cheek. "I know you're awake."

When she finally opened her eyes, and saw his face illuminated by the dim faelight she'd kept on, she was met with the overwhelming love that always filled his gaze when he looked at her, and all of a sudden, she hated that she'd doubted him for even a second.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Azriel beat her to it, his tone soft in the silence.

"I shouldn't have left like that," he said, and his voice shook. "There are so many things I should have said. It breaks my heart that I left you here right after you lay all your trust in me, and I will regret it for the rest of my existence." He sought out her hand beneath the blanket, and kissed her palm, before placing it on his cheek. She was surprised to feel wetness there, a tear breaking free to roll down his cheek as he closed his eyes.

"You are so strong my love. Stronger than all of us. When I think of what they did—" His voice grew harsher, the last of his words spoken through gritted teeth.

"Don't," she breathed, gently brushing her thumb across his cheek. "Don't think about it. It's why I didn't tell you sooner, I—... I couldn't bear the thought of yet another weight on your shoulders."

His eyes flew open, gaze fixing on hers. "My shoulders?"

"Well, I—" she broke off, swallowed, and focussed on his lips to avoid his gaze. "I didn't want to burden you with the knowledge of a broken mate."

He took hold of the hand on his cheek.

"Look at me," he pleaded, voice gentle, thumb running across the back of her hand. When she lifted her gaze, she was met with enough emotion swimming in his eyes to fill her heart to the brim. "You are not, and will never be, broken. Nor a burden, for that matter." He stared at her for a moment, as though waiting for his words to sink in. "I have waited five hundred years for you, and I would gladly wait five hundred more if that was what it took to get to you. You are perfection. You are everything I've ever hoped for, and so much more. You are part of my soul, and I will not leave you alone in this. I will carry this with you. I will be your wings, my love. I will carry you wherever you want to go, and I will do so happily till the day I take my last breath. I will carry you to the end of our world if you wish it."

Her cheeks felt wet again, and her lips twisted into a watery smile. She didn't trust her voice right now, so instead of replying, she scooted over, motioning for Azriel to join her in bed. His fresh scent engulfed her as he pulled her to his chest and placed his chin on her head. He must've showered before he came here.

-

Only Y/N's deep breaths filled the silence around. It was a long while before she spoke again—so long, in fact, that Azriel had already thought her asleep. Her voice was quiet; barely more than a breath.

"Some mornings I wake up, and I don't remember ever having had wings of my own," she confided against his chest, and Azriel's heart gave an aching pull at the gut-wrenching sadness in her voice. "I start my day without the slightest bit of grief, and then I'm in the shower, or in the kitchen, or in the training ring, and it hits me. I've gotten so good at maintaining my glamour that sometimes I forget it's even there, and I have to lift it to remind myself that I didn't dream up those scars."

He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream, and reduce this house—this entire city to rubble. He wanted to burn down everything in his path until he found something that could take away her pain, something to undo everything she had endured.

"The only time it does slip," she continued, and Azriel watched her closely once he noticed the switch in her tone. She seemed... embarrassed almost. "Is when we... when I... well, when I come. I can feel them then, pressing into the mattress."

Azriel lifted a brow, wondering how he'd never noticed, and when she saw his expression, and felt his confusion through the bond, she cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze once again. "Whenever you see my back," she explained. "I'm focussing every last bit of concentration on keeping my glamour from slipping. It's why I never... why I can't—"

Realisation dawned, and Azriel remembered those few nights he'd asked her to get on her knees—the nights he'd held her hips in his hands and drove into her from behind. She'd never been able to come from that angle; had claimed it didn't feel as good as it did when they were face-to-face, and he'd stopped suggesting.

He ran a hand down his face, shame flooding his veins, shame that he'd never noticed that there was more to it than a preferred angle, when all of a sudden, she took his hand and pulled it away, revealing a spark of softness in her eye, a smile twisting the corners of her lips.

"I'm so sorry," he rasped. "If I'd known—"

"I know," she smiled. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You were so understanding, Azriel. I should've just been honest with you from the start."

As Azriel pressed a long kiss to her forehead, the room grew quiet yet again, and he could see the battle in her eyes, as her thoughts seemed to take a different route. All of a sudden, she seemed hesitant—careful even.

It wasn't long before she opened her mouth to ask the question he'd been dreading to answer ever since he stepped into the room.

"You tracked them down, didn't you?"

His heart ached at the look in her eyes—her voice small, wounded. He gave a single nod, searching her gaze for a hint of disapproval, of disappointment. He didn't dare speak, his every muscle tense.

She gave a shaking exhale and a nod of herself. "I thought so." A heartbeat of silence passed, before— "Did you kill them?"

Azriel's hand twitched at that—at the thought of going back and slitting their throats. It had taken everything in him not to do it, but he'd wanted her to have the chance of doing it herself. He didn't think she would want to do it, didn't even think he wanted her to do it, but still. The choice was hers.

"Not yet," Azriel mumbled.

She nodded again, seemingly lost in thought.

"They're in my dungeon," Azriel added hesitantly. "Well, two of them are. The third one died in the battle with Hybern. The lucky bastard."

She searched his face. "What did you do to them?"

-

Read Part Two here: Scars and All

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A Court of Shadows & Moonlight

A Court of Shadows & Moonlight | azriel x rhy's sister (OC)

Summary: Daughter of the Night Court's High Lord. Half Illyrian. Half High Fae. Rhysand's little sister. A Dreamer. Only few know her as Valeria and only one knows her truth. She is the moon, a lonely girl cratered by imperfections, and he is her night, the one who helps her shine bright.

-a story in which Azriel and Valeria are mates-

A/N: I am going through ACOTAR withdrawals after finishing ACOSF. Rhysand's sister is a character I think of a lot and I love Azriel so when I saw a theory/imagine of her and Azriel being mates, I couldn't help myself. This was originally just meant to be a collection of imagines but I decided to expand further on the love story between Val and Az. Below you can find “Val’s Early Life,” which consists of stories about her upbringing and early adulthood. It’s not necessary to read them to follow the story but it is a nice backstory and provides context as there is already somewhat of an established relationship between Val and Az. I made another masterlist for the actual story, which you can find below.

I made a playlist for this and you can find it here, if interested.

angst= ♥️ fluff = ☁︎ smut= ☪︎

*the ones that have no symbol are neutral or have subtle hints of angst/fluff and are put at the top of the imagine.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊Val's Early Life˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-> The Night she was born

-> The Night her powers came

-> The Night she met Cassian

-> The Night she met the shadowsinger ☁︎

-> The Night Azriel took his first flight ☁︎

-> The Night she made her first friend ☁︎

-> The Night she caught Cassian

-> The Night of their first solstice in Velaris ☁︎

-> The Night she asked about Love

-> The Night Azriel found out her secret ♥️

-> The Night she gets her heartbroken ♥️

-> The Night she met Noctis ☁︎

-> The Night of her 18th Birthday ♥️

-> The Night they join the Bloodrite ♥️

-> The Night they return from the Bloodrite ♥️

-> The Night she left Windhaven ♥️

-> The Night she made Azriel dance

-> The Night she made Azriel lose control ☪︎

-> The Night she played the violin for her father ♥️

-> The Night they all went to Rita’s ☪︎

-> The Night Mor was hurt ♥️

-> The Night the High Lord found out her secret ♥️

->The Night Azriel helped her heal ☁︎ ♥️

-> The Night she decided to join the Bloodrite

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊Val's & Az's story˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“And now I want you to know, Rhysand, that I love you. I want you to know … ” His lips trembled, and I brushed away the tear that escaped down his cheek. “I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. And I am honored—honored to be your mate.”

Thank you to all 10k of you who have joined me on this journey, I thought it no better celebration than to post this phenomenal Feysand art by the greatest @lulybot 🤍🤍🤍

It was near impossible to pick my favourite Feysand quote, what would yours be?

All characters belong to @sarahjmaas ✨