Azriel Fanfic - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

Happy Birthday (Azriel)

A/n: Happy birthday @claireswritingcorner 💕🎉🎂🥳! This is for you!! Dear mutual, you've been so extremely supportive and it's an absolute honor to even be on the same planet as you. You're so sweet and light up my days with your amazing stories and posts. Keep being you and take care of yoursef! Thanks for being so awesome, you deserve the best of birthdays. From one of your moots and a forever loyal fans.

Credit and thanks to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the birthday dividers!

wc: 1500

masterlist

You awoke to soft kisses on your brow. Tender lips move south until the same kisses were being pressed to your collarbone and neck. You let out a soft breath, almost a whimper.

"Happy Birthday, love," your mates deep, husky voice drags you from any remaining grogginess. However, the moment you open your eyes a shining bright light penetrates and you close them again, groaning. "Hey, wakey wakey Y/n. No going back to sleep," Azriel murmurs into the shell of your ear.

You sigh and open your eyes again but now a veined, black wing blocks the light. You make a sound of contentment and send your thanks down the bond. Suddenly, the weight of your mate disappears and the sunlight comes rushing back.

"Azzzzzz..." you whine sadly.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, "I'll be right back love."

As he leaves, you slowly sit up. With a quick glance at the clock you mumble a few choice words and jump out of bed. It's past 11:00am and you've missed training with Cass. Your weekly meeting with Rhys is in less than five minutes.

"Crap, crap, crap," you chant under your breath as you run around looking for half-decent clothes.

"Y/n!" Your mates' alarmed voice rings through the room. "What in the world are you doing!?"

You glance up to see a bare chested Azriel holding a platter of very good looking pancakes.

"I missed my meeting with Rhys and Cass is gonna kill me since I missed training! Why didn't you wake me!?" You curse, still trying to find a training boot from wherever Azriel threw it last night. "Az, do ya know wh-"

"Y/n," Azriel cuts you off, "It's your birthday. It's the day we celebrate you! I already talked to my brothers and they were willing to cancel any daily or weekly things that you usually participate in today."

You skid to a stop just as you spot your other boot, "Rhysand agreed to cancel our weekly gossip sessions!?" You ask, offended and incredulous.

Azriel rolls his eyes. "Get back on the bed and next time, let me join in on the gossip," he grumbles cheekily.

You smirk. "Ooooo, poor Azzie boy is sad he got left out! Think we were gossiping about you? That big wingspan of yours?" you question smugly.

He scowls, a soft pout forming despite his best efforts to frown. His shadows slide up your body, taking hold of your wrists and ankles and dragging you back to the bed.

You frown at them. "Hey! I thought you guys were always on my side in these petty situations!"

Azriel grins when you are dragged to sit against the headboard. "First of all, I am not 'sad to get left out' and second, the shadows are mad you didn't let them help with gossiping. They love drama."

He sets the platter of pancakes on your lap and you look down to see 'Happy Birthday Y/n!' written in chocolate syrup.

"No utensils?" you furrow your brows, looking again at the tray to make sure you saw correctly.

Your mate shakes his head, ripping off a piece of pancake and offering it to you. You smile as an idea pops into your head. You eagerly take his fingers into your mouth.

The sweet taste of pancakes fulls your mouth and you swirl your tongue over his fingers to get all the crumbs. "Mmmm," you moan seductively.

Azriel quickly retracts his fingers as pink climbs up his neck. He grabs more pancake and offers it to you again. Again you take his fingers into your mouth, tongue swirling around his fingers. You barely taste the pancakes, all you feel is heat spreading through your body. Again you let out an intoxicating noise as Azriel pulls his fingers from your lips.

"Stop that, I wanna actually celebrate your birthday! Not be stuck in bed all day," he hisses through gritted teeth.

You turn your mouth down and raise a brow in fake confusion as you look down to see what you're doing to him. "Stop what?" you ask too sweetly.

He all but growls in your face. "You keep that up and we won't be leaving this room."

"Oh?" you purr suggestively. You lean back, stretching your arms and back and succeeding in making your night shirt rise up to reveal your stomach.

Azriel practically whimpers at the sight, his eyes turning molten with lust.

A smirk grows on your face and you hide the mischievous glint in your eyes as you got to grab some more pancake. You rip off a piece and meet his eyes, extending your fingers to his mouth.

Azriel oh so slowly leans forward and sucks the pancake from your fingers.

"It's good, is it not?" You ask. "You're a very good cook Azzie."

He nods in agreement, jaw clenching tight.

You peck his cheek delicately but now, you're no longer teasing. "Thank you Az. I love you," you say lovingly.

The desire in Azriel's hazel eyes dims for a moment, replaced by pure love. "I love you too, my mate," he whispers.

Azriel beams at you, shadows dancing as he breathes out, "Happy Birthday, love."

A/n: The following are a few glimpses into the day of the readers birthday and how it was celebrated.

You smile at your mate from across the picnic blanket. He'd set up a whole picnic and made the food, even made the blanket for you. Often times you thought you didn't deserve him but right now you just reveled in his love.

Azriel was currently talking about how much he wanted to visit the summer court to see if his wings could get a tan. You highly doubted his wings could get tanned, considering they were black, but you let him talk for as long as he wanted. You'd found out he was quite the talker after you'd got to know him, it's just he didn't get a chance to talk.

You grab your mates hand tug him towards you so that you can lie down and put your head in his lap. He pauses speaking and asks, "Love, are you alright?"

You smile and grab his hand. "I'm great Az. I just like hearing you talk, it makes me feel safe," you reassure.

"Ok... so um... Cassian wanted me to get drunk with him and go to the autumn court to see how mad we could make..." Azriel continues.

You don't really hear the rest of his words, too busy studying his stunning his features. His eyes looked more green today, like the color of ferns. His hair was windswept from flying you around the city earlier and his lips were quirked into a one-sided smile.

"I love you Az..." you interrupt, just because you wanted to say it.

Azriel smiles down at you and pokes your nose. "I love you too, crazy mate. Now shut up and let me talk."

"So Azriel ended up holding his pee for hours because Rhys's father wouldn't stop questioning him about his shadows! It was hilarious! He was crossing his legs like-"

"I'm glad you found my embarrassment entertaining, Cassian," Az grumbles, hiding his face in your chest.

"Thanks brother," Cassian sends Az a wink and continues, "He looked like he was aroused by Rhys's dad! After the meeting we had to fly back to Windhaven and Azriel couldn't find the time before to pee so he peed on the flight back! I bet the plants got watered that day!"

Mor spills wine from her nose as Cassian finishes. "How come you never told me this!" She accuses, pointing a finger at Cassian and Rhys.

Rhys shrugs elegantly, putting an arm around his mate and kissing the top of her head. "Just thought we'd save it till the right time to embarrass poor Az."

You are holding back laughter as you imagine everything Cassian just told you. Az is still hiding his face and now his wings spread out to encompass the both of you.

"It was not funny," Azriel mumbles, looking up at you.

You can't hold back your laughter anymore. Azriel's face is tomato red and his ears and neck are tinged maroon.

"Stoppppp..." he whines, again hiding his face.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, "You're just so beautiful!"

"Am not! I'm literally the color of Cassian's siphons!"

You roll your eyes and kiss him on the cheek. "You'll be fine. I'm sure we'll all forget about it soon."

"No we won't, girl," hisses Amren. "This is something I will hold over your bats' head forever!"

Azriel groans into your chest.

"Y/n."

You turn to see Azriel on one knee in front of you, holding open a box with a sparkling ring.

"Az! Wha-"

"Shush... will you marry me?" He asks gently.

You blink, you hadn't expected to be married, considering that neither of you had any human background. Marrying wasn't uncommon among the Fae, it just wasn't something common for mated couples.

Then again... calling Az, 'Husband', did have a nice ring to it. No pun intended.

You smile at him, offering him a hand.

"Of course, I'll marry you Az."

A/n: I forgot if Fae marry... correct if I'm wrong please. If you made it all the way here, I thank you.

sorry for like, not writing.

ANYWAYSS! HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAIRE MY POOKIE!

taglist: @thelov3lybookworm @profound-imagination @stargirl1714 @hieragalbatorixdottir

march 2024 : madison’s recs

march seemed like such a long month for me yet i feel like i did not achieve my tumble grind i promised you guys last month 😭 april will be my month for real! thank you again to all of these beautiful authors!! i kiss the ground you all walk on🙏

acotar

— azriel

simple needs @surielstea

shattered @azrielwingspan

when you need distraction to survive @mrs-azriel

in my eyes @prythianpages

another love @utterlyotterlyx

baby, mine @thisblogisaboutabook

ends of the earth @parkerslatte

a healers touch @bat-boys

shadows of the heart @highladyandromeda

your name on my body @imaginesmai

— eris vanserra

precious secret @writeroutoftime

pjo

— clarisse la rue

the fall of rome @ampitrit3

inescapable @ampitrit3

happy wife happy life @m0nsterqzzz

you belong with me @queer-little-demigod

— luke castellan

cowboy like me @sycamoregirlsworld

the wizarding world

— theodore nott

i miss you, i’m sorry @angelfic

don’t leave me…please @angelfic

til it’s gone @obsessedwithceleste

tgm

— bradley bradshaw

i will follow you into the dark @kyber-crystal

marvel

— frank castle

a house in nebraska 2 @frankcastlescumslut

divider credit @cafekitsune 💖

the court (3)

hi guys! part 3 is finally here and i apologize for the delay and also that it is so short :(. i've had some problems these days, but today i could finally finish this part and finally bring it to you guys! i hope you like it and see you next time! <3

summary: you and Azriel had to start making peace with the reality you were to live from now on... pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +2k warnings: bad words and mentions of captivity

part 1: the cliff

part 2: the house

part 4: the routine

You felt strange. The last few days had passed too quickly since you had been dragged out of the tiny cell where you lived, if you could call it living. You hadn't thought you would be unlucky enough to see the high lord of the Night Court again, but that last day on the mountain, his face was almost the last one you saw.

The memory made you shudder, an uneasiness coursing through your body that tried to counteract the calm coming from the other side of the bond. Azriel was silent, which you had noticed was quite common for him. Mor was at his side, sending you a reassuring smile that did little to calm your nerves. You didn't know how Azriel was coping with it all so well when you felt like you were going to explode.

The scene could almost be funny.

Tarquin, your High Lord, was at a safe distance, sharing a lethal gaze with Azriel through the masses of air. Mor was a few steps ahead, holding her hard stare for everyone else.

Only one was missing… the High Lord of the Night Court.

Your parents were not there, because they were over the border with the Day Court, which is why there were also envoys and representatives from Helion. You would only have to run a couple of meters to reach your Court, to return home.

Azriel at your side sighed and you couldn't help but send him a sidelong glance. It was impossible for you to decipher his expression, so you couldn't tell if the separation hurt him as much as it did you. It was never your intention to separate from him as soon as you met, in fact, you spent many nights imagining and dreaming that your mate would appear and take you far away from that mountain. But Azriel was basically the right hand of the reason you had ended up captured, you didn't know how things worked like that and you didn't want to make any more trouble. Going home was what you wanted and maybe what would work for everyone.

Barely a little over a minute would've passed when Tarquin spoke.

“Y/N,” he addressed you and you turned your gaze from your mate to your high lord. “You are home. Please come.”

You looked at his outstretched hand feeling a hand wrap around your throat and the warmth of Azriel's wings cover you from the not at all cold winds of Court Day. You passed saliva carefully, sending a glance to your partner, who kept his jaw tense and his gaze fixed on your High Lord.

You took a step forward and felt those shadows, which you knew were part of Azriel, swirl about your feet as you walked.

The Court Day was not cold, but the moment you separated from Azriel you began to feel chilled.

Clasping your hands in front of you, you walked towards your High Lord, quickening your pace each time you felt further away from the members of the Night Court who now kept their gaze fixed on your neck. As you reached Tarquin's side, you caught sight of Azriel again and for a second he couldn't hide the pitiful expression on his face. He watched you for just the tiniest of seconds, which felt eternal, when he hardened his gaze again to look at Tarquin.

“Where is he?” your High Lord spoke again, when he was sure you were behind him and in the custody of his warriors.

“He's coming,” Mor spoke, shifting her pace on her feet to the side of a stiff Azriel.

“Good,” Tarquin nodded. “I suppose we can wait a while.”

He turned and you had to look away from Azriel as he raised one of his hands in the direction of the border.

“You're free to go home. Your parents are waiting.”

Out of the corner of your eye you barely noticed Azriel move, but you might as well have imagined it because Tarquin was obstructing most of your view. You could barely give your mate a glance, savoring the feeling of the bond once more, trying to send something that wasn't fear or panic or sadness before you left, which you knew was what you had felt these past few days because you had no strength to control the flow of emotions that traveled through that; no strength to put up a wall around you. It was a habit, during your days of captivity you always hoped that someday the High Lord of the Night Court could easily see through you.

You noticed a slight nod of his head and that was enough. You turned on your feet to walk ahead of the soldiers, though your body begged you to turn back and take refuge in your mate, though his shadows still swirled at your feet no matter the distance, leaving him alone. You didn't want him to be alone, but you didn't know how to ask them not to follow you.

But when you were close to the border and spotted the silhouettes of your parents, any thought vanished from your head. Anything other than that you were home, that you were able to return, that you could see your parents again. There was no better feeling than that at that moment.

-

“What?”

Your mother stood in front of you, a cup of her amazing hot chocolate in her hands and her eyes red from spending so many hours crying over your return. They were in the living room, the cozy, homey atmosphere beginning to finally mend the cracks you didn't even know existed in unreachable parts of your soul and head. It was an indescribable peace, but not complete and of course you knew why.

“You can't go back there, Y/N,” your father mimicked your mother's gesture, leaning forward slightly as if they wanted to come closer and wrap their arms around you and never let you leave the house again. You understood their fear, but now you were living a new reality.

“I'm not saying I'm going to leave now or tomorrow. But I will, someday, eventually,” you calmly explained to them. “He's my mate.”

“I don't want that,” your father shook his head and a small amount of pain flooded your chest. During that time you tried hard to keep your emotions from running through the bond for Azriel's sake. Now that surely he and the others must be at the High Lord's house, the last thing you wanted was to worry him.

“Dad, Azriel had nothing to do with what happened.”

He said nothing in response, sinking into the armchair next to your mother who maintained a slightly more neutral expression.

“You speak well of someone who is a mortal enemy of our Court,” her icy voice cut through the silence. The air felt heavier.

You looked at her again, her stone-like expression waiting for you on the other side. “I thought you having worked for the High Lord would understand that you would do anything for his protection.”

Your mother twisted her mouth, crossing her arms over her chest. When she turned her head, your father sent you a reproachful look.

“You know that's a touchy subject for your mother.”

“So is your treating my partner like a criminal,” you frowned at them.

“But he's not innocent,” your mother sentenced, even without turning to look at you.

“Azriel did everything in his power with the knowledge he had- now he's supposed to be omniscient?”

“Whatever conclusion we come to, I don't want you to go back to that court.”

“Dad!”

“The High Lord of the Night Court held you captive for almost fifty years! Are we supposed to be happy that you want to go back?”

“But I found him. My mate… Azriel.”

“Y/N, I hope you understand that this is a very serious situation. And the best decision you can make is not over there,” your mother stood up, seeking to end the conversation at that moment. The euphoria of the welcome had worn off.

“Are you asking me to leave my mate?”

The silence was deafening. Your parents barely glanced sideways at you, still with their expressions twitching.

“What the fuck? What's next, are you going to ask me to reject the bond?” you exclaimed through the pain in your chest. The shadow of helplessness running across your eyes.

“Of course not, sweetheart. Just… do you understand what these years were like for us?”

“Do you understand what they were for me? I was the one who went through it and I'm willing to go back for him,” you looked at your father, exasperated. The last thing you expected from that meeting was for them to end up having a discussion like that. Whatever the High Lord of the Night Court decided to do would never have anything to do with what Azriel could never do. You knew down to your bones that if he had known earlier things would be very different.

“I don't know, Y/N…”

“I'm not going to ask for your permission for this,” you stood up, preparing to go back to your room. Your mother still looked angry and your father frustrated. “I'll stay for a while, but I'm not abandoning Azriel.”

“How long did it take and did he have to find you until you were about to die?”

“That has nothing to do with him and you know it,” you slurred the words, angry. With that feeling throbbing in your chest, you left the living room on your way to your room. At some point you felt a breeze rush through your chest, reminding you of your mate's feeling of bodily warmth.

-

Tarquin's office had never felt so stifling. Azriel had become so used to feeling all your emotions through the bond that now that he felt nothing from the other side he felt too anxious. He knew that whatever Rhysand and Tarquin were talking about was important, too much, and that he should be as vigilant as Mor was, but his head kept coming back to you. He was too worried that he couldn't know how you were doing. He didn't know how he would survive the next few days.

Somehow they had managed to have a diplomatic conversation. Azriel heard a few things at the beginning about the derogatory and venomous remarks of the high lords until they came in to touch on the subject of prisoners and the fight over fifty years ago. Mor was doing her mediating role excellently and knew that they had come to an agreement at some point. That was all he knew.

“However, regardless of what we agree,” Azriel observed Tarquin after feeling his gaze, “whether or not to go back will be up to her.”

“I know,” he averted his gaze, feeling Rhysand turn to watch him. Tarquin stood behind his desk, serious and unyielding as always, but patient… for some reason, understanding.

Azriel felt his chest compress, the all-too-familiar emptiness welcoming his grief, even though it had barely been a couple of days since he had met his mate. It seemed like he had barely begun to live since the day he saw you. So many new emotions and so many inexplicable voids. He couldn't even feel her anymore and that… it could drive him crazy. How would they live from end to end as if nothing? As if it all meant nothing? As if being away from her wouldn't rob him of air?

“You'll see each other again. That's for sure-”

“Don't fucking talk to me,” the Shadowsinger shot up from the chair, Mor barely wincing at the sound.

Tarquin watched curiously between faces and Azriel cursed not being able to hold his tongue every time Rhysand addressed him. He didn't regret it, because he wanted Rhysand to be able to feel a quarter of what you came to feel under his captivity for so many years, though sometimes his head wandered to find excuses for his actions or lack thereof, because this was his friend for centuries, his brother for as long as he could remember, but he also knew he should be mindful of who he was speaking in front of. They weren't supposed to give way to the other high lords of Prythian suspecting in the slightest what the new events had generated in their Inner Circle, that it was something that could shake the foundations of the Court, but Azriel couldn't contain that rage that moved unbridled in his chest and he wasn't about to downplay it when it came to his mate; it was not a trivial matter.

“Az,” Cassian had approached him that morning before leaving, when the Shadowsinger had been standing in front of the entrance to the Town House waiting for the others to arrive to leave for Summer Court; waiting for you, specifically. Azriel had barely glanced sideways at him, easily noticing his slumped shoulders and the low note in his voice. “I know you don't want to talk about it, but you should try to work things out with Rhys. Or at least try to-”

“Should I?” Azriel turned his head, his eyes piercing the barrier of vulnerability in Cassian's gaze. The Shadowsinger was trying, but every time someone mentioned his mate hostility was born within him. He didn't want anyone to go near her or talk about her, or even breathe around her. They didn't deserve it. They couldn't, after everything that had happened. “I wonder what you'd like to hear from me if it was about Nesta.”

Whatever gibberish was going to come out of his friend's mouth died the moment he heard his mate's name. Azriel barely noticed how his body tensed, considering himself satisfied, as some of his shadows stirred around him and then parted from him.

“I will handle this situation as I see fit, Cassian. I don't need your advice or opinions. None of you have the right to come and tell me what I should do,” Azriel spoke between his teeth, trying to maintain his composure, even though anger burned his throat. He was rejoicing in the fact that his shadows had warned him that you were on your way and some of them had stayed with you to accompany you.

“I didn't mean to sound that way, Az, I didn't-”

“This is a situation that concerns only Rhysand, myself and my mate,” Azriel cut him off, turning his body to look at his brother. “If you want to keep things peaceful between us, I beg you to stay out of it.”

Azriel could barely notice the change in Cassian's face, from shock and stupefaction to a kind of nostalgic understanding. Reality weighed heavy on his shoulders, but there was some sort of understanding behind the regret reflected in his expression. Cassian knew that he would've acted the same way Azriel did if Nesta had been in her place and that as much as he wanted to try to keep things stable in his home, the decision was not his to make alone. The situation depended on Rhysand's repentance, Azriel's capacity for acceptance and your willingness to forgive.

“Should I be worried?” Tarquin spoke, snapping Azriel out of the incessant whispering in his head. He turned to look at him, frowning, flicking his gaze between him and Rhysand.

“No,” he replied before Mor could, earning a glare from his friends.

Tarquin didn't look convinced, Azriel couldn't convince anyone by speaking with so much pent-up anger, but the subject wasn't broached again. And, a couple of hours later, they were back at the Town House.

-

tag: @isa1b2h3 @naturakaashi @anuttellaa

the routine (4)

heeeey guys. this is a short one but i wanted to share something with you, since it's been a while! it's getting harder to write, but i found some peace of mind today so i wanted to give you this. hope u like this! love u all and hopefully see u next time. i promise it's gonna get better, just give me some time :(.

summary: trying to settle into life after what happened has proven to be just as difficult for both you and Azriel… pairing: azriel x fem!reader words: 1.5k warnings: still just angst.

part 1: the cliff

part 2: the house

part 3: the court

There was something bittersweet hanging around your house since that argument with your parents. It had been a week since you had returned and, sadly, things didn't feel as good as they used to. You didn't expect you all to be exactly the same either, you and your parents had been through specific times that wouldn't allow them to ever be the same again, especially when they were so reluctant for you to return to the Night Court. Even you didn't know if you would be completely ready to do so in the near future.

One good thing was that, during those days, you had learned to manage your emotions to keep them from running strongly through the bond you shared with Azriel so as not to overwhelm him. Perhaps it was the only thing that had distracted you during that time from rethinking what had happened, even more than your parents' attempts at conversation.

There was also the matter of the shadows. You knew they were Azriel's, you thought they belonged to him, but some of them were constantly accompanying you, and they got scares out of your father from time to time.

Going back to your parents was supposed to bring you peace, but you felt calmer every time you looked at the tattoo running down your arm and the promise Azriel had made to you with crystallized eyes.

“I hear your thoughts all the way over here, you know?”

You lifted your head, blinking faster. The wind caressed your cheeks and moved your loose hair, for a moment forgetting where you were. Shadows gathered around your feet.

“I'm sorry, did you say something?”

Alya had a posture with her arms up, sending you a curious look. Your childhood friend barely needed to hear the tones in your voice to know when you were lying, but she seemed to want to let it go that time. The people around you didn't seem to know how to deal with the conversations when word got out that you were back, but Alya had a talent for knowing when to touch on topics and when not to.

“Several things,” her body moved toward the fruit baskets, taking the last basket in her arms and starting to walk in the opposite direction. “My brother got married.”

“Really?”

“And he has children.”

“Really?”

“Twins.”

You let out a laugh, remembering Alya's rebellious older brother. Your visits to her house were always accompanied by the constant whining and fighting between Trav and his parents because he didn't want to start a family in the near or distant future. He was so insistent about it, even though it was the only thing his parents wanted. According to Alya's accounts, it was impossible for him not to start imagining that future when he met his mate.

“What about you?”

“Ah, no, please, no. There is nothing interesting to tell about my life. I assure you that Mrs. Taylors had a more exciting life for the past few years than I have,” Alya and you arrived at her mother's fruit stand, where she dropped the last basket of goods you had helped her move all morning. You marched beside her, detailing the look of nonchalance she was trying so hard to maintain.

“It couldn't have just not happened. It was… too many years,” despite the boastfulness with which you wanted to carry the conversation, your voice reached to cut off finishing the sentence. Alya turned to look at you, her worried eyes analyzing your face before grabbing your wrist and walking away from the fruit stand.

“You know you don't have to pretend around me, right?”

Alya closed the door to her house behind her. Her family had gotten a very homey house right in the heart of the city's commerce and they kept their very well kept stall right in front of it. Every corner of the place felt like a home because of the great dedication and love her whole family put into it. Even when her brother was missing, it seemed that the house had not lost any strength or presence.

Maybe that's why you felt a wave of longing and nostalgia hit your body, leaving you more vulnerable than you had been the last few days.

“Living with my parents hasn't been so great,” you began, lowering your gaze with a frown. Alya had moved into the kitchen and you had happily settled down on the counter right in front of the stove. Your hands in front of you on the white ceramic were moving nervously, interlocking and clattering your nails on the hard material. “After so long I thought that… I thought that nothing would change when I came back. I thought we'd be even closer together than before, I even thought we'd sleep together. I spent so many nights… alone and so cold. I couldn't bear the thought of going back and having to go through that kind of torturous loneliness again.”

Alya moved in front of you, setting aside the tea brewing to clasp her hands in yours, still twitching in nervousness and anxiety. Her expression was no longer one of dread as she noticed shadows moving around you.

“Is it because of him?”

You nodded, and acknowledging it once again was no less painful.

“It's illogical, I think,” Alya rested her arms on the ceramic, frowning slightly. The warmth of her hands, even though it wasn't a bit chilly in her house, brought you just enough coziness to try to soothe your heart. It reminded you of that moment at the border of Court Day next to Azriel. “After so long without seeing you, why not take advantage of the indefinite time you'll be with them? They stress too much about something that could happen in two decades, even.”

“I've tried to tell them, but I don't think they'll be happy until I tell them I'm not coming back.”

“What about him?” Alya cocked her head to one side, and at your confused look added, “He wouldn't be willing to come?”

“What? No. I couldn't even suggest it to him,” you shook your head as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Why not?”

“His whole life is in that court, Alya. Asking him to give it all up for me just because I wouldn't be willing to do it for him, wouldn't that be too selfish?”

“You must keep in mind that you've been through special circumstances. If he really feels a quarter of the bond love, then he won't mind giving up everything for you.”

“I don't want to talk about this anymore. The tea is going to dry up.”

Alya shifted letting out a gasp of surprise.

“Fine. But you have to keep in mind that it's not just about you now. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to make decisions for him or stop making them because it's not just your feelings you have to be careful with.”

-

Azriel still didn't understand how Mor had convinced Tarquin and Rhysand to meet for that reunion on the day you finally returned home, but he was immensely grateful that she had been able to negotiate the terms down to the last instance. The same thing he would've done.

“Are you ever going to see him again?”

“Not as long as I live.”

The aforesaid appeared at the training camp when Azriel was taking some time away from the crowd of people living in the Town House. He would never have believed that he would rather strain his body until he passed out just so he wouldn't have to meet Rhysand's or Cassian's face at every corner. The blood in his veins burned as if it had poison in it, one step away from starting to spit in their directions as if they were the only ones to blame for everything that had happened.

As if he needed to find a culprit for your departure.

But there was no one to blame. It had been your decision. And every day since then Azriel's sentence became significantly larger and more tedious to carry. The worst part was not even knowing when that ordeal would end. Living with that bitterness in his heart and that emptiness in his soul, he didn't believe there could ever be peace in his relationship with his brothers. No one in the house overlooked that.

"She's fine," Mor changed the subject abruptly, knowing exactly how to appease the flame of his anger.

Azriel nearly melted with his forehead against the punching bag. His shoulders slumped in momentary relaxation, the only relaxation he'd allowed himself to have since you'd left.

“You saw her?”

“Yes, she was spending time with her friends. She was smiling. Laughing. She looked happy.”

Azriel had to fight the whine that wanted to escape his lips. He shook his head in assent, trying to keep the emotions at bay, sending a silent thank you through the masses of air. He felt his heart squeezed inside his chest. Every day was a constant uncertainty because he couldn't even feel her anymore…

Mor had to travel weekly to Summer because one of the terms of their agreement with Tarquin required it and for the last three weeks all Azriel had been waiting for was news about you, to know that you were well, that you looked well, that you were really happy there, at home… away from him.

“You know that doesn't imply that she wants to forget you, right?”

The mere implication made his head fall back on the sack. Azriel tried to nod, feeling the words and his own emotions choking him. His body would become an inert object at some point, that much he knew, because he couldn't spend too long living like this. He couldn't even imagine it, if he was just beginning the period that could last for years, even centuries for all he knew.

“I know…” his voice came out choked, almost mistaken for a sigh. “I know.”

He repeated again to himself.

Azriel dreaded knowing how things were going to be from now on.

-

taglist: @isa1b2h3 @naturakaashi @anuttellaa @tele86 @amysangel @fxckmiup @inloveallthetime @fightmedraco @railingsofsorrow @fandomarchiveilyd

tis the damn season

a season of sadness wanted to come to an end. 'tis the damn season and you thought maybe you could go home and live with your mate the way it was meant to be…

pairing: azriel x f!reader

wc: +3.5k

warnings: pure angst, cuss words and slight (or light? soft?) unprotected (wrap it up) smut. no happy ending, sorry

note: hi guys! :)- i wrote and published this one some time ago, but i deleted it because it was poorly received and that disappointed me a bit. but now that i was able to read it again, i feel it's a good job and that should be enough for me. i hope you guys like it :). see u next time!

Azriel was your mate. You had known for a couple of months. He knew it long before that, too. The bond snapped first for him, but he never tried to get close to you. You didn't know if it was out of fear or if he never agreed with what was chosen for the two of you by the Cauldron. 

Likewise, you never had time to ask. The battle against the King of Hybern almost cost you your life. You didn't know what things had been done outside of your consciousness to keep you alive, you didn't know what boundaries Rhysand had crossed to bring you back to life, and you never wanted to ask either. You never asked anything, living in that ignorance gave you a sense of peace you didn't want to get rid of. 

But things were never the same after that. From the day you woke up, everything felt different. During that time, you didn't allow yourself much time to delve into what the recent bond between you and Azriel meant, and he always agreed to give you your time. 

However, one day, out of nowhere, it all became too overwhelming. And you decided to run away.

You never said anything to anyone, and you closed the door so Azriel couldn't feel you. You knew it must've been painful for everyone, especially your mate, but being with all of them after everything that had happened was unbearable. You lived under a constant reminder of suffering, violence and blood. You couldn't stop seeing your hands full of blood every time you closed your eyes, guilty for the lives they had taken as if you had had any right to do so, but having to know daily that it was all justified. Velaris and the permanence of the rest of Prythian justified it.

So, you went far away, to the other side of the world, to the east. To the Continent. 

And life was not easy at all. You knew Azriel wasn't having a good time. After a while, the wall you both had built around the bond was beginning to crack and his emotions were seeping through those tiny cracks. You could sometimes feel his sadness, his pain… his anger. After a couple of minutes of heartbreaking grief, the pangs of anger would appear. You could tell what he was going through and, selflessly, you tried to think that your decision was for the best. 

Rhysand wrote to you almost daily. Paper with his handwriting constantly appeared around you and, although you never answered him, he always made it a point to let you know everything that was going on in Velaris. 

The first few days were the hardest. 

There was a heavy snowfall on the Continent when you arrived, something that had never been more than a welcome, tearing at your skin. The cold was so deadly and the gales so lethal that you couldn't leave the apartment you were renting for a whole week. Apparently, at that time, that was normal. The cold that fogged up the windows, that froze your limbs, and that made all signs of life disappear. 

Where are you? Azriel is very worried

Please, answer me 

Y/N 

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU???? 

Cassian and Azriel are flying over Velaris. Can you just tell me, please? 

Y/N, we are very worried. Please.

Please.

You had a lot of tugging on your bond from Azriel. You could feel his desperation even through the walls of silence. Those were difficult days. The cold days were not comforting at all. 

However, as the months passed, with the cultural difference and the harshness of reality outside of the family you had known for as long as you had memories, so many hundreds of years ago, you gave in to Rhysand's wishes to return to Velaris on the night of the Starfall.

And that night… well, you hadn't told anyone you were going. 

But as you expected, Azriel was the first to know you were there. 

You heard the flutter of his wings before you saw him, towering in the moonlight against the dim lighting in the city in anticipation of the biggest celebration of the year. He stumbled as he fell, being one of the few times you had seen him unable to control his strength, staggering with his feet and hands to get to a safe distance from you. His breathing was rapid, almost erratic and his eyes were bright, crystallized. The stirring movement in your chest brought tears to your eyes. 

Azriel was there in front of you from the moment he had the slight feeling, because he knew the bond wasn't wrong. And his gaze reflected everything. Everything he wanted to say and everything he preferred to keep silent. You had never felt so strongly the need to be close to him; you hadn't even accepted the bond, but you felt as if you had just done it. His eyes roamed the features of your face, his expression contracting as if he was slowly processing that you were really there in front of him. 

You saw him raise one of his hands, the hands that had so often held you in the darkness and through the sadness. If you focused really well, you could almost notice how his body trembled at the closeness, with anticipation, just as your body shuddered at his presence. 

The effects of the bond were powerful. But that hadn't been what made you fall in love with him. 

Azriel took a tentative step forward, reaching out his hands as if in a trance, seeking to touch you to make sure it was really you in front of him and not some kind of hallucination. Your voice stopped him on his feet. 

“Hello, Azriel,” you could barely speak, that suffocating feeling of being close tightening your throat. His eyes moved quickly back to yours and watered once more, his breathing quickening again. You didn't know what you had awakened in him just by speaking to him once more after so long without seeing him, but it must've been the same thing that ignited in your body when he spoke. 

“Y/N,” he elongated your name, like a plea or a prayer, you weren't sure. Electricity coursed through your body in a matter of seconds and you felt your feet move before you could stop them. The emotion rising in your chest matched your mate's expression, nostalgic because it had been so many months since you had last been so close and yet more pained and suffering because you had been the reason all that pain now surrounded you both. 

You stopped just inches away from him, your hands itching with the need to touch him, to feel him close, to once again have that warmth that would warm and thaw your soul. His huge, beautiful wings were taut behind him, being that all his attention was focused on your every move. You saw him hold his breath as you approached, struggling hard to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” you whispered the question, the air stealing your confidence, perhaps feeling a little silly and embarrassed about it. Suddenly, you felt too small under his gaze. 

“Okay?” the change in his voice was hardly imperceptible, sending shivers throughout your body, the panic of fear making its way into your chest, the bond tightening as if both ends were being pulled at the same time. “You left for a year without telling anyone. We went months without knowing if you were okay. I couldn't… I couldn't… feel you.” 

His voice became shaky, each word brimming with a tinge of suppressed anger. 

“Do you think I'm anything close to okay?” 

Yes, it was a stupid question. The knot in your chest grew rapidly, the back of your throat burning with pent-up tears. 

“I can't even enjoy the relief of seeing you now because… I'm so angry.” 

“I know…” you barely mumbled, lowering your head. How could you look him in the eye? Why did you think you had the right to go back as if nothing had happened? It was clear that things weren't going to be like they were before. You weren't sure about the others, but it seemed you had taken some of Azriel with you by disappearing like that. Proud you weren't of your actions, but you didn't know how to explain to his shattered features and cheeks wet with tears that, at that moment, you believed it was the right thing to do. 

The tears in his eyes prompted your own and you sobbed unable to contain the feeling. You tried to regain your composure, because you had no right to show such sadness when you had created it all. But Azriel was faster and you didn't even manage to put your hands under your eyes when his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. His wings also surrounded you and, although you had hardly noticed it because of the darkness, you felt his shadows dance around your feet. 

The warmth of his body was automatically welcome. How many times had you imagined that scene in your cold bed on the Continent, all alone and devastated from time to time, with memories invading your mind. Not many times did you regret your decision, except when you thought of Azriel. 

He sobbed too, his hands tightening on your arms, as if he was afraid to let you go again. He probably was. 

“I don't understand what made you think you'd be better off away from us… away from me, but I'm sorry.” 

His words surprised you, but a flood of feelings greeted you from the other end of the bond as Azriel let go and you couldn't think too hard. Crying swirled in the back of your throat. The level of pain and sadness that your mate was handling and had hidden from you for so long was so uncontainable that you almost doubled over, leaning over Azriel's body as you felt it rushing through you. 

“I thought you needed space. I know what happened with Hybern was too much for you and I didn't want to overwhelm you. But if I had known that decision would've made you decide you'd be better off away from me…” Azriel gulped, his voice full of feeling breaking off between words. “If I had known I promise you it would've been different.” 

You couldn't believe Azriel was telling you that. And the feelings coming from his end through the bond confirmed it to you. Azriel felt guilty about your departure. From moment one, when the panic and fear dissipated, Azriel never stopped feeling that it had been his responsibility that you decided to leave. And he couldn't have been more wrong. You loved him, had loved him long before the bond appeared, but the things that happened after Hybern, that affected you, had nothing to do with him. 

“Azriel…” 

“I'm supposed to be your mate. I'm supposed to support you, help you when you're down. I don't understand how I could fail at that. I'm sorry,” his voice was muffled as he spoke with his face hidden in your neck. At no time did he let go of you and his wings kept you warm. At that moment, that was home. 

“I promise it's not your fault,” you managed to speak, your face pressed against his chest. 

“I was supposed to be with you, accompanying you, but I-” 

“Azriel, you didn't do anything wrong,” you fought against his tight grip so you could look him in the eyes and the tears running down his cheeks broke your heart once again. 

“Then why did you leave?” 

You didn't have an answer for that and Azriel realized it when your lips pursed. He sighed, as best he could, and drew you back into his arms. Maybe he didn't need an answer at that moment, just having you by his side was more than enough. 

With the others it wasn't much easier. 

Rhysand and Feyre almost wept at your feet. Cassian, on the other hand, didn't hide it and deliberately filled your shoulder with tears and saliva. Mor lifted you into the air and almost didn't let you escape when Azriel started begging her to let you go already. Everyone cried. Possibly even Feyre's sisters shed a tear or two. 

You felt calm for a while. Complete, as if you were back in that house, in that home, before Amarantha and Hybern destroyed everything for you. 

But things couldn't be perfect. After the Starfall, you began to feel that anxiety again. Azriel could only tell by your body language, because you still kept your end of the bond completely closed to him and he couldn't feel the swirl of emotions coursing through your body. You had barely had time to get used to the familiarity of the situation when all the memories came flooding back. Perhaps you had blocked them out during your absence living on the Continent, you weren't sure, but the cries of war began to haunt you from the back of your mind. 

Azriel's shadows were also restless and that was another way he could tell something was going on. He was almost glued to your side all night, watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stepped away to talk to some friends. He never let you out of his sight. You knew where this behavior was coming from, but it never occurred to you to comment on it at any time. 

So, by that time, Azriel knew what was going on and you were sure you couldn't escape him. When he approached you and extended his hand in silent invitation, with the sound of conversations and drinks in the back of your head, you almost didn't hesitate to take it. His darkness enveloped you and, within seconds, you appeared in your room at the Town House. The party was now an imperceptible murmur. 

“Would you like to rest?” Azriel spoke, after spending several seconds standing facing each other. One of his hands ran over your face barely perfunctorily, but the warm sensation ignited too many things in your body. He arranged the strands of your hair that hid your face behind your ears with delicate, almost invisible movements. 

You only moved your head in response, up and down, under his watchful gaze. 

He almost crawled away, moving to your old bed that didn't have the same sheets as when you left. In fact, when you took a quick glance around the room, it looked too neat considering the amount of time that, presumably, no one used it. 

You shrunk at the thought of Azriel coming in regularly to clean it. 

With crystallized eyes you watched him move the comforter to make way for the clean white sheets waiting to be used once again after so long. 

Azriel turned to look at you, expectant. You didn't know if he was waiting for you to move to lie down or to ask him to leave so you could change into comfortable pajamas, but you did neither. Not when the emotions in your chest moved you, when they were more uncontainable now that you shared your mate's. Not when he opened up to you in such a vulnerable way, when he let you know that which for so long he kept to himself. Not when he gave you to understand that he was always waiting for you, even though it hurt him terribly that you had decided to spend all that time alone. 

So, for some reason, whether it was feelings or rationality, you approached him. You let yourself be carried away by nostalgia, by the silent desires of your heart, and you approached your mate with long strides. 

His expression went from neutral to confused as you got closer and you only remembered seeing it turn to surprise when you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him. 

It was rough and awkward at first, because your mate was completely transfixed for a few seconds. Maybe out of anxiety you counted ten. But, whether he was born from the same place as you or not, Azriel melted under your touch and as soon as he came to his senses he was kissing you back. It was just the kiss of an unaccepted bond, of a separated couple who held too many melancholy memories in their chests to bear on their own. 

Azriel wrapped his strong arms around your waist and bent his head to kiss you more deeply. You could feel the desperation and desire hovering tentatively in his demeanor, but he held back to give you a sweet, soft kiss; a kiss that said welcome, a kiss that urged you to stay by your side and never be separated from him again, a kiss that made you wonder why you had left in the first place. 

The softness of his movements were a direct contrast to your own. You cradled his face tightly, moving your lips over his as if second nature. Then you circled his neck, pressing him against you as if somehow you could hold him that much closer. You wanted him closer. 

But Azriel broke away, breathing in and out between gasps, and looked up at you with dark, glowing eyes. 

“Do you want this?” 

His hands on your skin burned. 

“Yes,” you answered quickly and tried to move closer again to kiss him, but he broke away again. 

“And are you going to stay after this?” 

Your eyes met his worried expression, thinly disguised. Ever since he'd opened his end of the bond for you, shedding any obstacle on his part that wouldn't allow him to feel you, everything you'd seen from him had been genuine. So you knew that concern was genuine and the mere conception generated pain in your heart. 

“I will stay,” you assured him, forcing your lips into a tight smile. 

Azriel studied your face trying to convince himself of your words, for he was an expert at knowing your body language, and you had no idea what he saw that convinced him and led him to pounce on your mouth once more. 

When the lightness settled into the bond, you were thankful you had never lowered your wall. Guilt suffocated you. 

But you kissed him back and followed your heart's desires, if only for one night. 

Azriel moved his hands along every curve of your body before removing your dress. If you hadn't stopped his movements, he would've surely ripped it off. His eyes followed every part his hands had explored and then his lips were on every inch of skin. Against the soft mattress and with your wrists held by his hands, you could only sigh and moan slightly at the way he explored your body. And yes, Azriel took his time. 

Before long there wasn't a single cloth separating the two of you and your mate simply couldn't keep his hands and lips still. Not that he wanted to, either. You moved your hands along his back, trying to avoid his wings, and moving your lips down his neck when he would let you because it seemed like all he wanted to do was eat you up with kisses. 

It wasn't long before he had you panting against him, with the sound of bodies colliding being the only thing your head could process at that moment. The tingling that coursed through your body was like no other you had ever felt; the wonders Azriel was doing with your body were unparalleled. He was panting too and every time he met your eyes it seemed to you that they were darker than the last time, but he never stopped holding you at any moment, never stopped hugging you as if his whole life depended on it. Maybe it did. 

The feel of his body against yours was indescribable, the movement and rhythm almost unbearable. You had never felt pleasure even remotely close to what he was making you feel at that moment. 

“Azriel…” you moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly, burying your nails as if it were your only stability. 

He cursed between gasps, increasing the pace and the force with which he held your waist. 

You were never going to get to touch the sky like you did that night, that much was clear. Even though your head was split in two, you looked into his eyes as you went through the most shattering, sweeping orgasm you'd ever had, reveling in the sounds that came from his mouth as he followed you to paradise. 

You thought it was going to be hard afterwards, but you fell asleep almost instantly. 

When you opened your eyes again, your mate's arms and legs were wrapped around your body and one of his wings was covering your nakedness and keeping you warm. You were facing him, chest to chest, and just looking at his peaceful sleeping face made you want to cry. Life was here, next to him, why couldn't you accept that? 

Getting out of bed without waking him up was quite a battle. Not as much as it was to sit at the foot of the bed, watching him rest, completely unaware of what would await him when he woke up. This time you were being selfish, you knew it, it was too cruel. But in your head there was nothing but disaster, pain disguised as stability. You couldn't have a good life with Azriel now and you didn't know if you could bear to see him to tell him after you promised to stay. You shouldn't have told him that, but how could you tell him otherwise? Maybe if he woke up at that moment you would stay… maybe that's why you sat there for so long. 

But finally you left, just like last time, in the middle of the silence, with his shadows following your feet and trying to keep you company. You felt a deja-vu as you stood in front of the door, thinking about how on both occasions you were thinking about what would happen if someone showed up to stop you. 

It didn't, in either case, and you knew the next day the exact moment when Azriel realized you had done it once again. He didn't try to hide his pain, he didn't have to, you deserved to know how you had made him feel. 

On the ship, on the way to the Continent, you fell to your knees as his pain stole your breath. 

azriel masterlist

angst (a) fluff (f) smut (s) masterpost

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ one-shots

tis the damn season (a)

a season of sadness wanted to come to an end. 'tis the damn season and you thought maybe you could go home and live with your mate the way it was meant to be…

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ series

the cliff, 2, 3, 4 (a) (f) ongoing

you never thought that the road to your mate could bring so much suffering…

more to come...

masterpost

hey guys! welcome to my main masterlist! here are my works that i hope you enojy as much as i did when i wrote them! here you can find:

bucky barnes masterlist

azriel masterlist

jjk masterlist

bts masterlist

probably more to come...

To gain your trust...

SUMMARY: Going to the house of the wind to heal an injured fae is more strange than expected. *Warnings: Stalker!Azriel, OFC with name (I need my character to have a name, but you are free to use another one!), Healer!FC, Rhysand and Cassian are annoying; FC is confused and mentions a slight fake injury. That's it I think, but let me know if I missed something. A/N: Just a little fic I had on my mind. Let me know how I do because this is my first time writing something so long. Enjoy!

🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄

In the dawn court, everything was made of gold.

During dawn, the streets sparked and created a shine that would never be found anywhere else; the skin of the fae sparked just as gold did, as if they had glitter spread over their cheeks. The streets were filled with music that couldn't be found anywhere else, and there was so much wonder in the sky when the sun was setting. The sight was so beautiful it made her want to cry.

That's what Iris missed the most about home,

Well, that and not having to climb all these stupid stairs.

Usually, Madja was the one who came to the house of wind when a healer was needed (it was the house of the General and his mate, so they wouldn't allow a stranger in). The high Lord was usually the one who winnowed her or flew her in, but considering that the inner circle and Iris had no connection or relationship whatsoever, she had no one to ask for a ride.

So she suffered as she climbed, cursing the creator of the stairs as her legs shook and she questioned her existence. Why was she in the night court again and not in her beautiful court? Oh yes, because she wanted to learn from Madja.

Best and worst decision of her life, if she was being honest.

But still, she climbed the stairs wishing she had the ability to winnow, fly , or teleport or just...do something instead of climbing. Lady Nesta was strong, but she clearly was not.

When she finally reached the top of the stairs, a painful moan left her lips just as her knees gave out. She fell on the floor with a thud and stayed there wondering how she would survive going down. Perhaps she would jump from the side of the house, it seemed more productive.

"Not to interrupt your train of thought, but you are needed a bit closer to the sparring ring." A low voice mumbled behind her, causing her to jump startled and almost fall forward in fear.

Something cold wrapped itself around her waist as a yelp left her mouth; the thing around her waist pulled her back and away from the stairs. "BY THE MOTHER AND HER CAULDRON!" She shouted, being moved away against her will. Once she was a few feet away, the feeling around her waist disappeared, and she was left looking terrified while she clutched her bag close to her chest, eyes wide.

Her eyes turned to a male with long hair and a smug grin on his face, his eyes bright with contained laughter. "Hello, Iris." He acknowledged her.

Iris swallowed and gripped the bag tighter. "Lord Cassian." She mumbled softly, trying to put on a brave facade but failing due to her early near death.

Cassian smiled at her, a bit brighter. "You were too close to the stairs," he noted.

Iris felt herself blush in embarrassment. "Yes, thank you for saving me." He should have left her fall and saved herself from this moment.

Cassian chuckled softly and shook his head. "Your gratitude is misdirected, Iris. You should thank our shadow singer."

Iris's mind reeled. The shadow singer? Azriel?

Cassian seemed to notice her confusion, and he also seemed to enjoy it. "Azriel sent his shadows over when he noticed you; they are the ones you should thank."

Iris merely blinked at him, cursing in her mind at herself.

"Shall we? You are expected." His hand motioned for her to walk ahead, so she tightened her grip on her bag and started walking.

After a few seconds, she stopped in her tracks when she noticed Lord Rhysand and his shadow singer on the ground; Lord Rhysand was staring at the shadow singer with a smile as the winged male clutched his hand on his chest. When he heard her, he gave her a smile, his starlight eyes shining in amusement.

"Oh, Iris. You're here," He said happily, standing up. "We were waiting for you."

Iris frowned slightly at the High Lord, confused. Since when was he so happy to see her?

"High Lord." She mumbles with a nod, still confused at his happiness.

The High Lord smiled brighter and moved away, standing beside Cassian. "Our shadow singer seems to have broken his wrist, and we were wondering if you could, perhaps, give him a hand?"

For some reason, Cassian started laughing, and Rhysand chuckled darkly. Iris looked between both males, wondering what they were laughing about.

"Enough." The dark voice of the shadow singer snapped from the floor, clearly not amused at whatever his brothers were laughing at.

Iris turned her head to him, only to find his eyes on her, analytic. Her body tensed up, noticing how he caught the change of mood.

Her reaction was natural, of course. After she had arrived at the night court a year ago, she had expected to be welcomed by Madja only to have been winnowed into an interrogation cell in the Hewn city, the shadow singer staring at her coldly and asking her why she would go to the night court.

Iris had been confused and scared, but she had answered sincerely; her answer, however, had not pleased the inner circle, and she had been kept in the cell for two days, the same question being asked over and over and over again until her High Lord had gone to confirm her identity. Yes, she was a healer with exceptional healing magic. No, she was not a spy. Yes, he was sure. He had no reason to send a spy to the night court. No, he wasn't lying. Yes, they could look into his head. No, he had never seen her before.

After two days, she was released from her prison and taken by Thesan, who took her to a suite in the Sidra and taught her how to use mind shields to protect herself from the daemati. Afterward, Thesan walked her to Madja's house, only to announce that the shadow singer would trail her for a few days.

Seeing him reminded her of the awful ten months of having eyes on her back, and she didn't like the feeling of being there again.

"Shadow singer." She mumbled coldly.

"Iris." He said, tilting his head, shadows like waves around him.

She wanted to bash his head to the floor.

But she would heal his wrist first.

She got on her knees, placing her bag beside them. "May I see your hand?" The question left her mouth sharply, angrily, but the shadow singer listened and stretched his hand towards her so she could inspect it.

Once she saw his wrist, her frown deepened. Turning to the High Lord, she spoke, "My apologies, High Lord, but what am I meant to heal?"

The High Lord's grin widened. "His wrist, of course."

Iris wanted to smack him. "His wrist seems perfectly fine." the words left her calmly. She had dealt with complex patients back home and would do it here too.

"Is it? I could have sworn it was broken. Isn't that right, brother?" The question was directed to Cassian, who only grinned wider and nodded.

"Yes it was. Horrible thing to see."

"He seems to be fine now," Iris stated, turning her gaze back to his hand.

"Oh, you should still check if it's okay. Bones, you know, no way of telling when they are broken." Iris was sure she had made a face when the High Lord made his comment. She had seen enough broken bones to know they had a tendency to made themselves painfully known.

Her ears catch a soft chuckle, which causes her to bring her eyes up to meet the shadow singer, noticing the slight grin on his lips. What was so funny now?; he noticed her look, and quickly erased the smirk, looking back down at his hand.

Counting mentally to ten, she grabbed his hand, noticing how he tensed up at the sudden touch; even the High Lord and his general had stopped chuckling behind them.

Carefully, she traced her fingers over his wrist, feeling the ridges of his scars but paying them no heed. Her magic wrapped itself warmly around his wrist, inspecting it and then retreating when she found nothing. Her hands let go of his softly.

"His wrist is not broken," Iris mumbled, turning to her bag. "Neither are the tendons. Are you in any pain?" Her words seemed to echo in the empty space, which made her nervous. Had she done something wrong?

"A bit." His voice came out slightly lower and raspier than usual as if a river were rushing through stones. For some reason, it caused a tingle in her spine.

She opened her bag and fumbled with some glass jars, finally pulling one after a few seconds. "Here, this should help." She turned back to the shadow singer, holding the jar out to him.

He eyed it, suspiciously. "What is it?"

"It's devil's claw, an anti-inflammatory," she grabbed another bottle. "And this is passionflower, to help with any pain. It seems your syphons did all the healing, but I will give you this just in case."

The shadow singer grabbed both bottles uncertainly. "Why not use your magic to heal me entirely?" He questioned, pocketing the jars.

Iris closed her bag. "I trust plants as much as I trust magic, if not more." He seemed curious about her explanation but nodded, not questioning her. Careful with his massive wings, he stood up and stretched his hand out to her.

"Allow me to help you."

Iris eyes his hand warily but decides to grab it. His hand was soft due to the scar tissue, warm as he helped her stand up; once she was up, she released his hand and turned to the High Lord and the general, both males looking at her with interest.

"Is there something else you require, High Lord?" She hoped he would say no. She wanted to go home and keep working on her herbal remedy.

"No, Iris. I am grateful for your help." The High Lord gave her a soft smile which was enough to send Iris over the border and make a run for it.

"In that case, I'll leave." With another nod, her feet took her to the stupid stairs.

"Iris." The shadow singer called out behind her, stopping her in her tracks. When she turned around, he was holding her bag on his hands. "You forget this."

Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment, staring at how the shadow singer made his way to her, her bag on his hands, his shadows pooling at his feet.

She cursed at him for being so handsome, then cursed at herself for thinking that. "Thank you." Her fingers wrapped themselves around the straps, taking them away from his hand.

The shadow singer eyed the stairs behind her. "Let me take you to your home." He offered, his hazel eyes going to hers, a strange brightness in them. Iris, however, felt sour at the reminder that he knew where he lived due to his stalking.

"I think I will brave the stairs, but thank you." Azriel arched an eyebrow, and the motion was so smooth that she stared at him in awe for a few seconds, her heart picking up speed.

"It's a lot of stars," he noted. "Allow me to do it, as repayment for helping me."

Iris wanted to say that she had only done her job, but considering how badly her legs were shaking and how -due to the climb, not to the shadow singer, of course- hot she was, she decided to accept.

"Alright then," she uttered, trying to put on a brave front. "I would appreciate it."

Azriel smirked at her and stretch his hand out for her to grab, his eyes a bit dark. "Shall we?"

For some reason, Iris felt it was a test but she couldn't comprehend why. Still, she didn't wanted to fail, so she grabbed his hand and nodded.

"Take me home, please."

And with a small, soft smile, shadows twisted themselves around her body. and a strong grasp on her hand, they winnowed away.

🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄🗡️🌄

After successfully -and awkwardly- dropping Iris at the front of her suite in the Sidra, Azriel went back to the house of wind where his brothers awaited for him with smiles on their faces.

"She gave you medicinal plants!" Cassian exclaimed as soon as he landed on the floor. "Isn't that the same as food offering?"

"If it were the case, then I'm afraid she's been accepting many." Rhysand laughed, a distant looked on his face. "Feyre is wondering is she can come for dinner tonight."

"No," Azriel answered for her. She wouldn't be near any of them any time soon.

"You wound me, brother." Rhysand purred. "We won't harm her."

"I'm aware, but she doesn't trust me just yet." He said shamefully.

"I wouldn't trust you either, if we are being honest." Cassian whispered, laughing at the look Azriel gave him. "You can't blame the poor girl for her behaviour, brother. You stalked her for almost all of her stay."

"I was doing my job." Azriel defended himself with no conviction.

"No, you were being an idiot." Rhysand declared. "Feyre and me asked you to watch her for a week, no more."

Azriel had to agree on that. They had only said a week but then he had just become so obsessed with her, her life, and how she was settling in. enjoying...once he realized what he was doing, he stopped but it seemed Iris still remembered.

"I'll fix it." Azriel smiled confidently.

"Oh, you will, brother," Cassian laughed. "I wonder how long it will take before your mate accepts you."

Tag list!: (Literally the shortest tag list ever but I love you for being part of it) @rcarbo1

Wanna be yours

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: When you fall alseep on his shoulder, Azriel does not know what to do, and everyone are being so damn loud

word count: 2.2K

warnings: this is pure fluff and azzie being utterly smitten and fussing shadows

a/n: hiii! this is the first fanfic i've written for acotar, i've fallen down the rabbit hole lately and made this blog. and i just had this idea and had to write it, thought i might as well post it. hopefully someone will enjoy it<3

Azriel thought he had learned how to master his cool mask. Beyond everything he had experienced as The Night Court’s spymaster, nothing had tested him more than his family – a bunch of busybodies who drove him insane most of the time. He had played the role of chaperone between Cassian and Nesta, had been the one to drag Cassian’s ass out of The Summer Court when he wrecked that building and, for the third year in a row now, he had to re-decorate after Cassian and Feyre decorated the living room drunk.

Actually, the more Azriel thought about it, Cassian was usually the one who tested his control and threatened to ruin his cool composure. 

And yet, despite years of practice, he forgot how to breathe when your head fell onto his shoulder. He had to force himself to remain nonchalant as your luscious scent overtook his senses. The river house was still loud and full of life, and the rowdy Winter Solstice party had not yet reached its peak. It was long past midnight and his family showed no signs of slowing down. The faelights above cast a golden light over their drunk faces as Mor continued to pour wine into all their glasses, declaring, “No one is allowed to go to bed until dawn!” 

Which was why, an hour ago, Azriel had found himself slipping away to the couch in the corner of the room. Varian had joined him shortly after, the two of them chatting quietly while watching everyone else continue their quest to get as drunk as possible. Azriel didn’t know if it had been wishful thinking, or just pure naivety, that had made him believe Winter Solstice would be calmer after Nyx was born, but he had been wrong. After Feyre and Rhys had put him to bed earlier -- Rhys had been the one to pull out the fancy bottles. 

While it warmed him to know that nothing had really changed, that his family was still the same after everything they had been through, Azriel was also the same; he still preferred to wake up the next day and remember what had happened the night before. 

Although, he doubted he would ever be able to forget anything that involved you. You had joined him and Varian in the corner a while ago, stumbling and falling next to him on the couch in a drunken mess. His shadows danced around you as you giggled to yourself, and Azriel thought that the sound of your laughter was the best Solstice gift he had ever received. 

The knitted gloves you had made and given to him earlier were a close second. 

“So your hands won’t get so dry from the cold,” you had told him shyly, your cheeks flushed, and his heart had nearly burst out of his chest. Two days prior you had spotted him coating his hands in a thick layer of the salve Madja made for him, his scarred skin tended to get tight and uncomfortable, and even worse so when the temperatures dropped and the air became crisp and dry. 

He most likely would not get the chance to wear them very often, the soft silky yarn was not made to withstand any fighting or training, and he could not bear the thought of ever losing or ruining them.

But it had still not stopped him from blushing as he opened the gift -- Cauldron, he blushed just thinking about them. The image of you rushing home and knitting him a pair of gloves after he told you how dry his hands became during winter... yeah, Azriel would never forget anything when it came to you.   

And when you sat so close, your body pressing tightly up against his, warm and inviting, there was just no way to overlook the emotions that sparked in his chest. Your words were slurred as you talked about an elderly female you had met at the market earlier that day.

Though, it did not matter that the story you were drunkenly telling him was so ridiculously incoherent, your soft voice still enthralled him. Because if you wanted to talk to him, well, he would listen to whatever you had to say. Always. 

But when your voice had faltered and your head fell to his shoulder, Azriel did not know what to do.

Varian was quick to join the others again when he noticed you leaning on him, leaving him alone with you in the corner. Despite Cassian’s and Rhys’s loud voices booming through the room, arguing about something that had happened during the snowball fight that morning, you had fallen asleep right there on his shoulder. Your lips set in a small pout and your dark lashes resting delicately against your cheeks. 

Azriel could not move, could still not breathe, in fear of waking you. A single shadow brushed against your cheek, soothing and gentle, and you let out a content sigh. It took everything not to wrap his arms and wings around you and winnow away; the urge to tuck you in under a heap of blankets and hold your body close overwhelmed him. 

And you were not even doing anything more than leaning on his shoulder. But it was all it took for Azriel to lose his cool completely. 

‘So beautiful’ his shadows whispered around him. It had been a year since you had first walked into the training ring, into his life, and the shadows had not stopped whispering about your beauty since. 

As you had introduced yourself as the new healer, employed specifically to help Madja with the Valkyries and their injuries from training, Azriel had struggled to restrain the shadows. He had never felt them be so curious before, swirling eagerly around him before darting off toward you. He had managed to call them back just before they reached you, but they had still caught your attention, and when he tried to apologize -- you had ignored him. 

Instead, you had focused on the fresh wound on his chest and scolded him for not having it looked at. He had been too stunned to say or do anything else. 

But the shadows had not lied; you were the most beautiful female he had ever seen. Your hair flowed around you in effortless waves, eyes shining with compassion, and you had not looked at him in fear or reluctance like most did. No, you had reprimanded him and forced him to sit down while you tended to his wound. 

You had owned his heart from that very first day, even if he had not told you that yet. 

“Feyre, look!” Cassian’s voice made him snap back into reality. “There’s your new painting!” Azriel glanced up only to discover that his family had turned their attention to the corner, looking at him and you with knowing smirks.

“Ohh yeah, I can see it,” Nesta mused and bit the inside of her cheek to stop the grin on her face from growing. “'The love-sick Spymaster and his dreamy Angel.'” 

Feyre could not stop her giggles even as she tried to end his suffering, “C’mon guys, don’t tease him. I think it’s sweet. They are taking things slow and at their own pace, leave them alone.” 

Azriel's face grew hotter, and yet, he remained as still as possible, afraid that any sudden movement would make you stir and wake up.

Though, he would have to agree; you were an angel. The kindest, most loving, and charmingly stubborn angel to exist in the world. In any world.  

“Sweet?” Amren rolled her eyes. “You need to grow a pair and tell her already, boy. We are all sick of watching you two dance around the fact that both of you want to devour each other whole. It’s nauseating.” 

Cassian let a loud howl thunder through the room but quickly smacked a hand over his mouth to stifle it as Azriel sent a icy glare in his direction. 

“Shut up,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low. He let his gaze fall to you again, hoping the annoying chatter had not disturbed you. “You are going to wake her.” 

“I think you just proved our point, Azzie,” Cassian sniggered and shared a mischievous look with Rhysand, no doubt contriving more ways to get under his skin.

And the only response Azriel could think of was, “Shut up.” 

Thankfully, they seemed to take some pity on him as they returned to whatever conversation had kept them busy earlier.

Or perhaps, they noticed how his shadows had moved across the room, swirling along the walls in annoyance, ready to strike at any moment if anyone disturbed you. Azriel released a heavy sigh of exasperation, reminding himself that they were just a bunch of idiots and that he loved them dearly. 

“You know, your voice is far more comfortable to listen to than theirs,” you murmured suddenly, your voice full of sleep and still slightly slurred. Azriel couldn’t stop the shiver running down his spine, his shadows quickly drew themselves back and danced across your smooth skin, checking to see if you had been bothered or needed any assistance.

When he looked down your eyes were still closed, but a playful smile flickered across your face. 

Azriel’s mouth ran dry, “I’m sorry-- I tried to tell them.” 

“I know,” you told him and opened one eye to peek up at him, clearly amused. “I heard you.” You made no attempt to move away from him, and, for that reason, he did not attempt to move either. When you closed your eyes again he could’ve sworn you pressed yourself into his side a little bit closer and, Gods, had it always been so difficult to breathe? Azriel wasn’t sure anyone's presence had ever made him feel so utterly captivated. 

And, he just really, really, fucking adored you. 

Before he could think of a proper reply though, you spoke again, “We should do this more often. You make a good pillow.” 

When your lips twitched into a small smirk, Azriel knew you could hear how fast and hard his heart was beating, and his ears burned from his own awkwardness. So all he said was, “I think it’s time to get you to a real bed.” He shifted his body to get up, lifting his arm to wrap around you. “C’mon, I’ve got you,” he kept his voice low; only for you to hear. Your slender hand stopped him, pressing into his thigh dangerously high, forcing him to remain on the couch. 

“Noo,” you pouted. “Please don’t make me move yet... can’t we stay here like this for a couple more minutes?” It did not help his poor racing heart slow down. “...Or maybe even an hour?” 

And how could he deny you that when you looked at him with those beautiful eyes? How could he ever deny you anything? 

“Fine... here,” he mumbled and reached for an actual pillow, placing it in his lap. “At least lay down so you won’t strain your neck.” 

The smile that broke out over your face; it needed to be Feyre’s new painting. Perhaps he would have to let her into his head, let his High Lady see your joyful eyes and glowing face, to make sure your smile could be captured forever for everyone to see. 

As you settled down, your head now resting in his lap, Azriel could not help himself. He let his hand fall to your head, threading his fingers through your soft hair. His shadows settled on his shoulders, peering down at you as well, and he could not focus on anything else. The world could be on fire and he would not have been able to tear his eyes away from you. 

“Azzie, stop looking like that.” 

You glanced up at him again, brows knitted together in a small frown, and Azriel couldn’t stop himself from laughing, “Stop looking like what?” 

There was a moment of silence, the hollering of his family a distant background noise, as your eyes met his. The sparkle in his chest became more intense, impossible to control, and even as you tried to look annoyed with him, the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth gave you away. 

Eventually you huffed and curled into him a little more, “... you’re lucky you're so beautiful.” 

And as you pulled his hand away from your hair and laced your smaller fingers through his, Azriel knew there was no turning back -- knew that there was no one else. 

He raised your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before whispering, “You are beautiful.” 

Azriel thought he had learned how to master his cool mask, but when a golden thread weaved itself between his soul and yours, Azriel realized he was more than willing to let his mask slip for you.

ps, english is not my native language, so if there was any spelling or grammar issues; sorry! Thank you for reading <3

Potions & Shadows (Part III)

Summary: An old neighbor of Feyre's is revealed to be not who they seemed when Feyre was a child. Leading to Feyre needing the once-village apothecaries' help. Inspired by Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

A/n: I LITERALLY could not stop writing this part. No joke, all I could think about at the gym was writing this. I seriously love Nesta and her character in the series and have always wanted to write about her. I hope you all enjoy!

part one, part two, part three, part IV

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of loss, more trauma dumping, healing!

Taglist: @cherry-cin, @sassybluebird, @aehllitas-blog

The House of Wind loomed before you, an imposing structure carved into the mountain, exuding an air of ancient power and mystery. The stone walls were cold and unyielding, reminiscent of the dungeons you had once frequented, but there was a certain warmth to the wooden accents that softened the overall austere appearance. Tall ceilings stretched above you, adorned with faelights that cast a gentle, magical glow throughout the vast space.

As Azriel guided you through the grand doorway, you could feel his presence behind you, a silent but reassuring shadow. The house was immense, its scale almost overwhelming. Natural light poured in through the large, curved windows, illuminating the interior with a serene, ethereal brightness. Outside, you could hear the ever-present rustling of the wind, a constant whisper that seemed to caress the edges of your awareness without ever breaching the sanctuary within.

As you moved further into the house, you couldn't help but marvel at the blend of the natural and the mystical, the way the architecture seamlessly integrated with the mountain, creating a haven that was both formidable and welcoming.

Feyre was the first to greet you, her arms wrapping around you in a warm hug as soon as you stepped inside. "I’m sorry I haven’t had time to visit since you arrived. Things have just been so busy with preparations and such," she said, offering you a small, apologetic smile. Feyre seemed to embody the essence of the fae effortlessly, her dress shimmering like it was woven from starlight, enhancing her natural grace and beauty.

Before you could respond, you saw Nesta making her way down the hallway towards you. Unlike Feyre, Nesta was the Archeron sister you were closest to. She had often sought your company, and you had come to appreciate her fierce spirit and unyielding strength. As she approached, it was evident that fae life suited her even more profoundly than it did Feyre. Nesta had always carried a regal presence, and now it was even more pronounced.

However, as she drew nearer, you couldn't help but notice the stark changes in her appearance. Dark circles framed her eyes, and her cheeks were hollow, hinting at self-neglect or something more troubling. The once bright and lively child you remembered now had a cold fire in her eyes, a guardedness that spoke of hidden pain and secrets. She resembled a drake, fiercely protecting something deep within.

A pang of guilt struck you. If only your wards had been stronger, perhaps the tragedies that had befallen them could have been prevented. The weight of those thoughts settled heavily on your shoulders as Nesta reached you. She gave you a nod, her expression guarded, but there was a flicker of recognition and relief in her eyes at seeing a familiar face.

"You're here," Nesta said simply, her voice lacking the warmth it once held but carrying a strength that hadn't wavered.

"Yes, I suppose I am,” you replied softly, searching her face for any sign of the sister you once knew so well. "It's good to see you, Nesta."

The three of you stood there, an unspoken understanding passing between you. Feyre, with her gentle grace; Nesta, with her steely resolve; and you, caught between the memories of the past and the uncertain future. Azriel’s presence at your back was a steadying force, a reminder that you weren’t alone, that you were being watched. 

Nesta finally spoke again, lifting her chin as she peered down at you. "So you’re not fully human. Your stories were true," she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief. As children, she and her sisters had listened to your tales, thinking them nothing more than fairy tales. Now, faced with the truth, the reality of your adventures seemed to dawn on her.

You analyzed Nesta as she stood before you, noticing how both she and Feyre towered over you. For children who had once been on the brink of starvation, their height was remarkable, a stark contrast to your own shorter stature. A slight bitterness flickered within you at the thought, but you quickly pushed it aside.

"Why would I tell you stories that weren’t true?" you replied, smiling at her. You saw the way she fought a smile, and it warmed your heart. Feyre watched the interaction with a look of mild shock, perhaps surprised by the rapport you shared with her sister. The dynamics between the sisters were complex and often strained, each one embodying a different personality.

"And Elain? Where is she?" you asked, hoping to see the gentle sister as well. Nesta's gaze hardened. "She’s different now, you could say the least." You simply nodded, understanding that there were likely painful changes and experiences that had affected Elain. You decided to leave it at that, hoping you might see her later that night.

As Feyre continued chatting with you, you both moved toward the dining room. The table was laden with various dishes, a feast that was both inviting and overwhelming. Nesta slowed her pace to walk beside you, glancing at you with softened eyes. Perhaps your presence brought a sense of normalcy to her, a reminder of simpler times before their lives had been irrevocably altered.

When you glanced behind you, Azriel was gone from sight. Perhaps he had other matters to attend to. A pang of disappointment hit you, a small ache at the absence of his steadying presence. A strange feeling that you have never felt before. 

As you reached the dining room, Feyre gestured for you to take a seat. "Please, make yourself at home," she said warmly. "We have plenty of food, and I hope you find something you like." Feyre went off to grab the others, though you could not sense the fae or scent them. You assumed you would be meeting Feyre’s mate this evening and the rest of the important members of the court. 

Nesta settled into a chair next to you, and you noticed a faint smile tugging at her lips. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Moments later, Elain made her way into the room, offering you a shy smile as a greeting. You weren’t the closest, but she would often come to you for seeds or advice on helping her plants. Elain had always been an ethereal beauty, but now she seemed like a haunted beauty, as if her mind was plagued with thoughts that nobody could understand, perhaps not even herself.

Nesta flashed Elain a worried glance before glancing at the doorway. That was when you noticed a large Illyrian male entering the room. It was as if the doorway was made specifically for him, his hulking size filling the entire archway as he made his way to take a seat across from Nesta. While Azriel was classically handsome, this Illyrian male seemed rougher but equally handsome, with a sun-kissed glow on his tan skin. You noticed Nesta stiffen in her chair, glancing away from him.

His booming voice broke the silence in the room. "You must be the new healer. I’m Cassian. It’s a pleasure to meet you." Your gaze met his. He was handsome, with the same golden eyes as Azriel, though Cassian’s had more specks of brown. As Azriel’s eyes revealed the predator behind them, so did Cassian’s. Your eyes shifted to the red siphons that matched Azriel’s blue siphons, an Illyrian tradition to control their magic.

"Pleasure to meet you as well, Cassian," you said softly, before noticing Azriel had entered behind him. Azriel dipped his head in greeting to you, a subtle yet reassuring gesture. You acknowledged him with a nod, feeling a sense of relief at his presence.

You noticed Elain’s gaze shift to Azriel, her posture stiffening and becoming more refined. There was an unmistakable tension in the air, a complex web of emotions and unspoken words binding everyone in the room. The dynamics between them were intricate, layered with history and unhealed wounds.

As Mor and another small fae entered the room, the atmosphere shifted slightly. The small fae didn’t seem completely fae, as if a darker presence lurked behind that delicate exterior. Mor greeted you with a warm smile and a hug, her bubbly nature unchanged since you last met her. 

"Good to see you again," Mor said brightly, her cheerfulness a welcome contrast to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

The small fae, whom you now had a name for was Amren, took a seat across from you. Her piercing gaze felt like it was analyzing your every move, reminiscent of a tiger ready to strike. She swirled a glass of blood in one hand, a clear indication that she was not truly fae. You caught her knowing look and the deadly smirk that played on her lips, a gesture that went unnoticed by everyone else at the table but you two.

Amren's smirk deepened slightly as she realized you understood her true nature. It was a silent acknowledgment, a mutual recognition of the other’s hidden depths. You held her gaze for a moment longer before turning your attention back to the table.

Feyre walked in with Rhysand, their hands clasped together as they entered the room. Rhysand's piercing violet gaze locked onto you, a reminder of the dangerous power he wielded. If anyone here posed a threat to your life, it was him. You sat in a room full of predators, their eyes revealing their true natures. A part of you wanted to sink into your chair, but you fought that feeling. If you had succumbed to fear every time it reared its head, you wouldn't have made it this far. Fear was fuel for growth after all. You kept your heartbeat calm even as every bone in your body urged you to leave. Perhaps this was the human part of you speaking. 

Feyre and Rhysand took their spots at the head of the table, and Rhysand gestured for everyone to begin eating. You felt a subtle pressure at the back of your mind, like claws scratching at the surface, but your shields held strong. You were aware that trust in this court had to be earned, and you wouldn’t expect anything less. You pretended not to notice the mental probing as you filled your plate, focusing on the idle chatter at the table.

The conversation flowed around you, a mix of light-hearted banter and more serious discussions. You listened attentively, trying to piece together the dynamics and relationships between the members of the Inner Circle. Feyre and Rhysand's connection was palpable, their bond a solid anchor for the group. Mates you thought, what an interesting concept. 

Nesta remained guarded, but there was a softness in her eyes when she glanced at you or Elain. Elain, still ethereal and haunted, seemed to sink into her chair as she stared at her plate. Cassian's boisterous presence added a layer of warmth to the gathering, his laughter and teasing lightening the mood. Mor’s cheerful demeanor and Amren’s enigmatic aura balanced each other out, creating an intriguing dynamic.

Azriel, though quiet, was a constant presence. His eyes frequently met yours, and a part of you hated this new emotion you felt every time you looked at him. Your heart wanted to leap from your chest at every glance, a sense of a tug, a longing to be closer. You watched his lips as he brought a glass of wine to them, the deep red liquid staining them the color of blood. You broke your stare away, as did he, with a subtle tug of his lips.

After dinner concluded, Nesta walked with you to the balcony. Feyre watched you both walk away, perhaps sensing that this was the comfort Nesta needed, someone familiar. Neither of you noticed the shadow that trailed behind you.

“Do they always look at you like that?” you murmured, leaning against the cool balcony railing as the wind rustled through your hair. Nesta joined you after shutting the door, her gaze cool and distant as she looked out over the city below, where the lights mirrored the twinkling stars above.

“Like I’m the cruel viper that I am?” Nesta snapped, her expression clearly signaling she wanted to drop the topic. But you pressed on, curious to see how she would respond.

You pursed your lips before continuing, "No, not like that. More like they’re waiting for you to strike, or maybe just trying to understand you."

Nesta let out a breathless laugh, her eyes narrowing slightly, an edge to her voice. “Understand me?” she echoed, her voice sharp. “I let my younger sister wander into the woods alone at fourteen. They see me as the villain in her story.”

You turned to face her fully, the city lights mixed with the starry night casting a soft glow on her features. “Perhaps they do, Nesta, but I think it’s because you make it so damn hard for anyone to get close. Even as a child, your words were sharp like a blade; you are strong like one too. I hate seeing you shrink under their gazes. Maybe it’s my lack of human emotion, but I don’t understand your guilt. You were a child too.”

Nesta’s eyes flashed with something raw, a mix of pain and defiance. "Maybe I was a child, but I was the oldest. I should have protected Feyre. Instead, I watched her struggle while I did nothing."

"Doing nothing can be a form of protection too," you said softly. "Sometimes, it's all we can do to survive. You can't change the past, but you can decide what to do now. Shrinking away helps no one, least of all you."

Nesta looked away, her jaw tightening. "It's not that simple."

"Of course it isn't," you agreed. "Life isn’t simple, especially an immortal one."

She was silent for a moment, the wind tugging at her hair. "And what about you? Why do you leave for years on end? Your eyes have always looked like you're lost in another world."

You sighed, leaning against the railing. "Let me give you some context. Elves don’t have human emotions—we lack the need to love, to be happy, to feel sad. I’m only half-elf, but I don’t experience emotions like my human side. So, I joined a guild to learn how to be human. That led me to buy a house in a human village, mimicking their emotions, hoping that one day I could learn to love.” Another sigh escaped your lips. “What I want you to understand, Nesta, is that being immortal is both a blessing and a curse. You have an eternity to be hard on yourself, but you also have that time to be kind to yourself as well."

You could tell that Nesta closed her walls once more. You read her too well, and she pushed you away. You were fine with that; you got your message across. It wasn’t until in a small voice she asked, “You can’t feel emotions?” her gaze shifting to you. You shook your head and with a laugh said,

“While we're out here speaking trauma, for eighty years, I locked myself away from any form of contact. Stories came about in villages nearby that a lone elf lives in the woods. It was true. For eighty years, I did not know what to do with myself. My mentor, who was human, had passed away from old age. As a child, I watched her grow wrinkles; when I turned nineteen, I stopped aging, but she continued.” You sucked in a breath before continuing,  “On her deathbed, she taught me a spell - to create a field of flowers. Her last request was on her grave; she wanted a field of wildflowers and apologized for only teaching me revenge magic. You see, she taught me how to be a weapon, how to suppress my mana, and made me into the mage I am today. When my mentor passed, the only thing I did was create a field of flowers and live by myself in the woods. I did not shed a tear or feel any sadness. Then one day, I woke up and did my usual routine, and a human found me in the woods. He said he needed a mage for a dungeon raid his party was going on, a simple request. That’s when I began to learn to be human.” You shifted your gaze to look at her.

Nesta listened intently, her expression unreadable. “So, you spent eighty years alone in the woods, without feeling anything?”

“Exactly,” you confirmed. “It was a strange existence, to say the least. But it taught me a lot about myself and the world. And it’s what eventually led me here, to this moment, standing on this balcony with you.”

Nesta nodded slowly, processing your words. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. To live for so long without feeling anything.”

“It wasn’t easy,” you admitted. “But it made me who I am today. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, Nesta spoke again, her voice soft.

“Thank you for sharing that with me.”

You gave her a small smile. “Thank you for listening. It’s not often I get to talk about my past. One of my biggest fears is that I would be forgotten from the world.”

She nodded, a hint of understanding in her eyes. “We all have our demons to face, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. “And immortality is a long time to face them head-on.”

As you stood there together, the night air cool and calm around you, you felt a sense of connection with Nesta. It was a small step, but an important one. You reached over and on your tip toes, pat her on top of the head. 

“I will always carry you in my memories Nesta, even if nobody else will. Just remember that I will carry your memory.” You murmured in a soft voice. That trailing shadow slithered away into the dark abyss to report the newfound knowledge. 

“I hope you get to learn how to love, Y/n. Perhaps I will too” Nesta said as she walked away back into the House of Wind with you trailing behind. 

Azriel greeted you with a gentle hand extended, his voice soft as he inquired, "We have a meeting tomorrow. Is it alright if I escort you back?" Though he felt a pang of guilt for eavesdropping on your conversation with Nesta, it granted him a deeper understanding of you. You, a three-hundred-year-old who had never experienced love, mirrored his own plight in a way. While Azriel knew how to love, it was a sentiment never reciprocated.

Why did he always find himself lost in such thoughts around you?

As the members of the inner circle bid you farewell, Nesta remained silent but gave you a knowing glance. Azriel then lifted you into his arms, igniting a flurry of sensations that made your heart race. You silently prayed that he wouldn't notice the warmth flooding your body under his touch, or the thunderous rhythm of your heart. Azriel was grateful for your lack of fae senses, unaware of his attraction towards you, and the yearning to draw closer to you.

With a powerful beat of his wings, he took flight with you cradled in his arms, disappearing into the night sky. His wings stretched wide, their flapping a symphony against the backdrop of darkness. His shadows danced around you, their caresses like silk, and their whispers of praise enveloped you. They dubbed you a pretty little mage, prompting a blush to grace your cheeks.

Azriel's internal conflict surged as he carried you through the night sky. His thoughts swirled with a mixture of guilt, desire, and uncertainty. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was treading on thin ice, dangerously close to crossing boundaries that should never be breached.

Every beat of his wings seemed to echo the rapid pace of his heart as he held you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his. He couldn't help but wonder why he always found himself tangled in such thoughts around you. Was it because you were unlike anyone he had ever met? Or perhaps because there was a vulnerability in you that resonated with his own?

As he glanced down at you, he couldn't help but notice the faint blush on your cheeks, a sight that sent a jolt of something indescribable through him. He had to remind himself to maintain a facade of composure, to keep his emotions in check, even as every fiber of his being longed to delve deeper into the connection he felt with you.

The whispers of his shadows only added to the turmoil within him, their words a constant reminder of the forbidden desires that threatened to consume him. But despite it all, he couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you, the magnetic attraction that seemed to defy reason and logic.

As he soared through the night with you in his arms, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what this pull to you was. Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: he couldn't shake the feeling that you were destined to change everything.