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Latest Posts by ania-swissweet

If It All Fell

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Warnings: Angst, PINING, injury, references to nonconsensual situations

a/n: This series is in progress :) Thank you all for reading!!! ♡

Part 1 ♡

Part 2 ☆

Part 3 ✶

Part 4☼

Part 5 ☁

Part 6 ♡

Part 7 ☆

Part 8 ✶

Part 9☼

Part 10 ☁

Part 11 ♡

Part 12

Part 13

Hi tumblr people!

Tlou s2e2 hit so hard it teleported me back to high school. I started drawing again (which after traumatic expierience with art school is a big win for me yay!)

I know this doesn’t even resemble Pedro (somehow it reminds me more of Joel from the games. How? I don’t have the slightest idea 😂). Should I add more moths or leave it with only white? It will be a diptych with Ellie with fern and moths. The whitest part is made in Posca markers. I tried to save it by adding more in soft pastel to mute it a little but well… let’s just say I went with the flow and here we are. What should I change? What can I add? Pls be gentle 🫣 also I’m adding my reference (Photoshoot from Esquire April 2023)

i will not ask you why you were creeping (in some sad way i already know)

this is part three to this azriel and his best friend fic :)

azriel x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: mentions of bad family dynamics and childhood trauma, mentions of canon typical violence

summary: starfall has passed, but the revelations of the night keep her anxious and a little embarrassed. there's nothing like having a best friend to ease all your worries - until he goes on a mission, that is

a/n: here it is finally!! I hope you enjoy it and make sure to let me know what you think :) all feedback is welcome! if you want to be added to the taglist let me know here

“Oh, he did not say that!”

“I swear to the Mother, Az! And he looked so pompous too!” a rare laugh bubbled out of the shadowsinger’s lips. He was sitting up over the navy blue covers of his bed, almost doubled over, his stomach hurting from laughter.

“I cannot believe you kept this story from me for a full week” she giggled in response.

The pair of best friends were currently locked inside Azriel’s bedchambers, after she came running into his room about an hour earlier with one groaned out in exasperation explanation - “Cassian and Nesta,” she had practically growled out while throwing herself head first into his pillows “again! It’s the fifth time this week!”

The cause for her visit in his chambers may have been out of a need to escape the sounds that the mated pair made, but Azriel welcomed her with open arms and a big smile, as always. That was one thing about her best friend - there was always some form of smile on his face, each time he saw her.

It was special, that he reserved those moments for her only - and their other family members too - sweet, even.

“You got any other recent stories from your studio for me?” Azriel asked with a quirked eyebrow as he settled back against his bed, biting on one of the freshly baked cookies she had brought with her.

“Not really, you know. Starfall season is over so there’s not that many customers now” she had opened up a dressmaker studio a few decades earlier, despite Azriel’s insistence that she did not have to work, that Rhysand had enough money to support her.

But she had wanted to work.

She never had the chance to before and even though it initially came as another piece of defiance against her parents - she had a need for many of those when she first fled her hometown - it quickly became a great passion of hers.

Dresses were one of the few things from her old life that she did really love, despite how poorly she used to make them for the first few years. She’s pretty sure Rhysand had spent more money to keep it open than the shop actually made. He would never admit it to her though. Now, however, she was one of the most renowned dressmakers in Velaris.

She still pictured her parents' faces if they found out she was a working female now. This was one of the few things they couldn’t bring her down about.

Yes, it was outrageous that a highborn female like her chose to work - with her hands too - but she was successful at what she did. They could insult her about it all they liked, but they couldn’t take her skills away from her.

Sometimes it felt like a sole proof that she could do well in life without them, without their money and prospects and marriage and the golden cage she had spent her youth in.

Sometimes it felt like a lifeline to hold onto, when anxiety and guilt wrecked her guts.

She was still, so, so embarrassed about starfall. She woke up the morning after already dreading seeing Azriel again after he saw her fall apart like that.

Despite it not being the first time. Despite it likely not being the last time either.

But he acted as though nothing had happened - took her out to breakfast before helping her tidy up the studio for opening in a few days.

She knew that the good weeks now were like sunlight before the storm. She could feel the unease already brewing deep inside her. The two months mark would be here soon and- she didn’t even want to think about the mess that would follow.

Azriel knew. Of course he did.

He acted calmly, though, maybe so she could anchor herself to him, try and mirror his behaviour. He made sure she knew he was there for her, offering more long flights over the Velaris skyline than usual or bringing her new fruit flavoured pastries from a bakery down the street to her studio.

Only he could act like that and make it not feel like pity.

She didn’t know how to express gratitude, so she resolved to baking. Example: the cookies they were both currently snacking on.

She had just finished hers and now she lay flat on her stomach, playing with the shadows curling around her fingers.

“They’re so cute” Azriel visibly stopped in his tracks, the hand holding his cookie up to his mouth freezing

“Excuse me?” she glanced up at him

“Your shadows. They’re cute” her eyes momentarily gained focus after sensing Az’s startled reaction, a hint of sharp amusement awakening in them. He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, his shadows just about tripled in quantity. Curling and brushing around her whole body, twining around her fingers and lifting individual strands of her hair into the air.

Her eyes widened and she let out a giggle.

“Stop this. Right now.”

“I’m not even doing anything!”

“You know exactly what you’re doing” she burst out laughing at that, genuine joy shining off her eyes

“I’m not doing shit, it’s them!” and Azriel was shaking his head, nothing but fondness in his eyes as he looked at her, laying there in his sheets and blankets, catered to by his shadows. Something akin to a string pulled at his rib.

Eventually, Azriel spoke “Fine” he shrugged his shoulders and brought the cookie back up to his mouth to bite. t was intimate to see him so at ease. Laying in bed, posture and body fully relaxed shadows leisurely curling around the entirety of the room. It was vulnerable how safe they both were in each other’s presence.

“Fine?”

“You’re their favorite. Can’t argue with that” he said between chews.

She gasped, quirking up, legs bent and kicking in the air. “You really think so?” Azriel laughed softly.

“Of course I do”

She pursed her lips, and poked her cheek with her tongue in contemplation. Finally, she huffed “You’re making me blush so we’re changing the subject,” he was shaking his head again, smiling softly at her, arms bent behind his head, resting against the headboard.

“Any missions this week?”

“Yeah. One in the continent. Tomorrow” a bit of loaded silence followed, and then

“What? Really?” his eyes softened when he noticed how she visibly deflated. She stopped kicking her legs, the fingers playing with his shadows stilling their movement too.

“I just found out today, sweetheart. But it should only last one day”

“Yeah, okay then” she moved up the bed to sit next to him, moonlight reflecting against her nightgown “Promise you’ll be careful?”

Azriel could swear something even the Mother herself could not explain was happening to his heart.

His fingers clenched and unclenched as he fought the urge to do something. Gods, he was barely able to breathe when the sweet scent of her shampoo hit his nose and there she was kneeling next to him like it was nothing.

Green eyes wide, hopeful and waiting looking up at him and golden-brown curls cascading down her shoulders and over her breasts.

She was in his bed, covered in his scent, shadows and blankets, clad in nothing but a nightgown after bringing him godsdamned cookies to eat.

How was he expected to function properly?

Her full lips parted when he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Of course I promise, angel,” Azriel replied with a raspy voice. And with that, the night went on.

After a while, her movements started to become slower, sluggish even. Sleepy girl.

“Tired?” she only nodded.

He sometimes wondered whether the reason behind how often she became sleepy when next to him was because she felt safe.

Mother, he hoped it was.

The alternative was far more daunting and sent a spike of alarm through his mind - was she overworking herself at the studio? No, surely his shadows would have informed him of that.

“Want me to walk you to your room?” his heart clenched awaiting her response, before immediately warming up when she said:

“What, you won't let me sleep here? No sympathetic cuddle for your best friend?” her smile was sheepish as she already lowered herself onto the pillow he usually slept on.

Azriel chuckled, laying down next to her, bringing the covers and a wing to keep her ever chilly body warm.

“All the cuddles my best friend wants, she gets”

“Wake up,” there was a voice disturbing her sleep. Azriel’s voice. “Sweetheart. Wake up”

“Leave me alone”

A chuckle escaped Azriel’s lips as he crouched in front of his bed. He let her sleep in when he sneaked out of bed earlier to get ready for his mission.

Partially because he had wanted to let her sleep in, and partially because she turned into a demon whenever someone tried to wake her up.

“Come on, angel,” he brushed a hand down her hair. She was laying on her side, facing him, features relaxed.

A familiar feeling warmed his chest to see her like that. And he hated that he had to leave, that he couldn’t get under the covers next to her and-. He has work to do.

Azriel tried again in a soft, warm tone “Open your eyes”

The groan she let out was bordering on growling “Seriously Azriel if you don’t-”

“I have to go”

A bit of silence ensued, her brow furrowed and then she was groaning again, turning onto her back. “Your mission wouldn’t get ruined if you slept for an extra hour, for Mother’s sake”

He didn’t say anything, waiting for her to open her eyes.

After a few seconds she scooted closer to him, but stayed on the bed. She draped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, barely awake.

Sleepy, grumpy girl.

The movement made him sway and spread out his wings to balance himself. Absent-mindedly, he buried his nose in her hair.

“Be careful. And come back to me quickly, alright?”

“Alright. I promise”

She slowly raised herself up onto her elbows, eyes lidded, still half asleep, movements slow. “M’ sorry if I was mean”

“You were actually quite nice. For your standards”

“Hmph”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be back for dinner” before his sentence was out, she had already laid back on the bed and snuggled her face into his pillow.

“M-” she yawned, eyes drifting close “Mkay”

After sparing one lengthy glance at her soundly sleeping form in his sheets, Azriel was out the door to meet Rhysand who would give him some final instructions.

He would also give him shit for making him wait for the extra fifteen minutes that the spymaster spent trying to coax his best friend awake.

He wouldn’t pay it any mind.

The day at the studio was incredibly boring, as she had expected. The post-starfall lull came every year without fail.

At one point she had considered closing shop for the day, but working seemed to be good on her mind.

Working meant she didn’t worry about her parents, and about Azriel. Who hadn’t even told her what his mission was about. Or where exactly it was.

Was it because she had talked over him so much that he hadn’t even had the chance? Gods, she hoped not. And she hoped he wasn’t offended she fell asleep on him mid-conversation, again.

It kept happening and she wanted to stay awake for longer to spend more time with him, the Mother knew she did, but her eyes always closed on their own accord. Which was especially strange considering that for most of her youth, she had huge trouble with sleep.

Whether it was waking up in terror in the dead of night, or being unable to fall asleep at all - she had dreaded almost every nightfall back in her family estate. Even though it was the only time she could ever really be herself - unjudged and unguarded.

She shook her head - those years were well past her.

Well, she hoped so, at least.

The day passed quickly - she spent it starting up on some projects that she may or may not finish just in time for spring to arrive.

Except for when a few customers came in, the quiet of the shop had been filled with her soft humming. And a little bit of talking to herself.

Well, not entirely to herself. She spoke to the shadow that Azriel always left with her when he left on missions. Or the shadow stayed behind on its own whim, as her best friend never mentioned leaving it with her.

Either way, with Azriel away, it was the sole subject of her babbling. Up until afternoon, that is, when Elain Archeron came into the shop.

She was alerted with the presence of a new customer, courtesy of the bell hanging over the door.

“Just a second! I’ll be right there!” she squealed out from the backroom. She hadn’t expected any more customers today, especially so near closing.

“Oh, it’s alright!” came a soft voice from the main room of the shop “Take your time”

“Oh, hi Elain!” she said walking to greet her friend “What brings you here?”

“I was just running some errands and wanted to check up on you” if even Elain of all people resorted to this gentle handling and coddling her, then she didn’t even want to imagine what would go down on dinner tonight.

They all still talked about starfall, then.

She appreciated the worry, she really did, but frankly there was nothing for them to do. And she couldn’t ask a High Lord to send out a letter telling her father to frankly, fuck off. Even though he probably would, if it came to it. But she did not want to let someone else handle her life for her, ever again.

She would be fine. Even if dismissing the whole situation probably didn't prove that she could, in fact, fix all of her problems on her own.

The female must have noticed her lack of response and opened her mouth to say something, but she was quickly cut off “I’m fine, Elain, really” she told her friend with a tight lipped smile.

“Are you sure?” something about the look in the middle Archeron sister’s eyes told her she didn’t entirely believe her. Elain gripped both of her hands in hers and continued on “Because if you’re not-”

“I’m alright, really” she assured

“Well, if you say so” the female dipped her head sheepishly, words slow and unsure.

“Can we change the subject, please?” she walked toward the counter near the back of the studio “I have these new projects here, maybe you could take a look…”

The two females ended up taking more than just one look at the projects, as they were now, well over an hour later, sitting on the wooden floor of the shop, papers scattered around them.

Elain gasped as she looked at the time, saying she was supposed to meet with Lucien in a few minutes. She left quickly after complimenting her unfinished works.

She stood up from the floor, wiping her hands on the skirts of her dress. She had a bit of time for a general clean up before Cassian came to fly her to the house for family dinner.

She sighed out through her nose and fixed the ribbon holding half of her hair up. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she would say that she’d much rather hide in her bedroom all night than deal with more coddling from her family.

Maybe it was some long-ago built in shame for expressing vulnerability. She was supposed to sit pretty, quiet and pliant. What was scary was how sometimes, when she fell apart or was especially exhausted - that was a form she craved taking.

But she was alright now and it was ridiculous for her to require this much attention from the people around her.

As she went on with tidying up the studio, her mind wandered over to Azriel. She worried for him, as she always did, but she knew how experienced and seasoned he was. The mission wasn’t anything for him to even bat an eye over, she was sure.

And anyway, he was probably already on his way home.

Azriel did not yet appear to be on his way home. Her stomach churned as she squirmed in Cassian’s arms.

“What do you mean ‘he hasn’t reported to Rhys yet?’” she looked up at him, and wide eyes demanding explanation

“I’m sure he’s alright, seriously. I did not mean to worry you” Cassian replied with a light voice as he soared over the city. When she didn’t reply he looked down to find her still staring at him sternly, jaw clenched and eyes squinted. Uneasy in his arms. “If I knew this would be how you’d react, I’d never would have told you”

“Well that’s comforting, Cassian.” he bristled a bit, eyes softening at her worry.

“He probably just got held up somewhere. This has happened before, remember?” Cassian tried to reason “He usually comes home late”

“But he always reports it, no?”

Cassian sighed, adjusting his grip on her.

“I’m just worried, Cass”

“I know. But he’s fine, I’m sure of it”

Her worry had not eased one bit in the next half hour.

After immediately taking notice of Azriel’s absence at dinner, unease started to creep up her chest. It was possibly a bit unreasonable to get overly worried, this soon. This wasn’t the first time he was late from a mission.

But why hasn’t he reported back?

Everyone else at the table seemed to think exactly the same way Cassian did - that everything was fine. But she had a bad feeling about this.

She swore she could feel worry and anxiety in her chest as though someone had tied a string to her rib and actively pulled it. But with some more convincing from the inner circle, she chose to dismiss the worry for a little while.

If he didn’t get back when they were done eating, that’s when she would seriously start worrying.

“So, I heard you and Azriel are going on a trip to Summer Court soon?” Feyre asked in a light tone, a fair try at deflecting the conversation.

“What? Summer?” Cassian gasped at hearing the question. He looked at her, eyes wide with betrayal. “You guys know I can’t go!”

Nesta chuckled, patting her mate’s arm.

“You’ll live, big guy”

“Well,” she looked at Cassian, and smiled sheepishly “that’s because Az and I were planning on going alone”

Cassian just sat there, mouth hanging open, staring at her in disbelief. Nesta was fighting her smirk; Feyre, Elain and their respective mates were chuckling, while Mor was outright laughing in Cassian’s face.

“And you all knew about this?”

Silence, broken by a few giggles, engulfed the dining room of the House of Wind.

“Traitors” Cassian huffed, slumping back in his chair with his arms crossed.

And for a moment, a comforting lightness came over her. Her friends were all laughing, the evening was peaceful and Azriel surely would be home safe and sound soon.

That feeling lasted all but about ten seconds before a sharp voice cut through it like a knife.

“Well, it’s good to know you and Azriel will be gallivanting around another court while we will be left to deal with your family, once they come here” Amren spoke smoothly from her chair at the other end of the table, eyes sharp and focused.

The room was casted in a heavy silence.

Before she could open her mouth to say something, Rhysand was already shaking his head in disapproval. Violet eyes held warning in them as he spoke to the female. “I think that’s enough, Amren”

She scoffed. “What, you make a show of breaking down over this on Starfall and now Azriel is taking you away to have a vacation just when things will get dirty here?”

“I-” she stammered. A doe closed into a corner. “We haven’t decided on when we’re going-”

“Like that’s the issue here” there was a hint of disdain in Amren’s voice as she replied, before bringing her wine glass to her lips.

She looked down at her like she was a bug under her shoe.

This was strange, even for Amren - yes, they were never close friends, but their relationship was also never outright hostile like this. “What exactly is it that you’re planning to do when your father does come here, eventually?”

She didn’t say anything. Shame, so distinct that she could actually feel it cutting into her chest, burned her as she looked around the room.

Wide eyes confused the glances the rest of the inner circles were exchanging as hostile against her, when in reality they were meant against Amren. She felt her breathing become shallow, and more shame licked at her.

Stupid, foolish girl.

“That’s enough.” Rhysand said with finality, at which Amren smirked but sat back and looked away. Nesta glared at her.

She should be fine. She shouldn’t need this defense, all this coddling. She hated that about the matter of her parents so much - the subject left her feeling so defenseless.

Any thought of them was like twisting a knife that had been stabbed through her for her whole life.

The worst thing was that deep down, she knew Amren was right.

She had no plan, no idea what to do, and did in fact hope that her summer court vacation would overlap with her family’s visit. If you could even call it a visit.

The word invasion crossed her mind.

Gods, what a mess this was. She was.

And most of all, she felt stupid for wishing Azriel was here. She shouldn’t need anyone. She usually didn’t need anyone.

She shook her head, not wanting to ruin the evening for herself more. There were things to worry about, now that they were halfway through eating and Azriel was still not here.

With a picked up heart rate and shaky hands, she went on eating her meal. She didn’t look up from her plate once, so she didn’t see the worried glances her friends were exchanging.

Not like it would’ve been better on her mind if she had.

She has been pacing her best friend’s bedroom for half an hour now.

He should be here. Something is wrong, for sure.

More and more nightmarish scenarios passed through her mind as she ran her hands through her hair for the thousandth time.

Just when she was about to step out of the room to find Rhys or Cassian and Nesta, the door opened.

She stopped dead in her tracks as she watched the shadowsinger stumble into his bedroom. Her eyes zeroed in on the hand he was clutching at his stomach. Red stained his fingers.

Her breathing went in and out in short gasps and she didn’t notice the surprise on Azriel’s face when he saw her there.

Her presence alone was enough reason for happiness for Azriel to forget the pain shooting through his abdomen.

The sight of her, however, was not.

Her usually composed hairstyle was a mess, and when she moved to stabilize him when he stumbled in her direction, he noticed the bit through the skin on her fingertips. The look on her face didn’t help either.

She was scared. Worried.

“Are you alright?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, again, and then with a furrowed brow looked down at his abdomen, and then back to his face.

“You’re hurt” her voice was strained, heavy

“I’ll be fine” he went to go inside his room, and she caught him when he almost fell “Just need to-” he gasped “Lay down”

“No, Az, you need help,” she directed him into the bathroom instead and led him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Here, I’ll get Rhys to call Madja”

“No”

She gave him a stern look. Sweet, caring girl. “Azriel.”

“I can patch myself up,” he laid back against the wall “No healers. And I’ll be fine s’long as you’re here, angel. Been thinking about you all day” he said with closed eyes.

Gods, he must be delirious from the bloodlost, she thought.

If he won’t see Madja she’ll have to heal him herself. A bunch of shadows handed her a medic kit.

Time was a blur as she set everything out and went to start stopping the bleeding and healing the cut. She knelt before Azriel, movements quick, but precise. Her brow was furrowed with concentration, but worry, too.

Why hadn’t he let anyone know that he was hurt? What has happened?

Azriel hissed in pain as she disinfected the already healing wound. He would be fine, she exhaled in relief.

“Sorry,” she grimaced, looking up at him. “I’m almost done”

Azriel looked down at her through lidded eyes, a small smile donning his lips.

After a moment, when he still wouldn’t look away, she continued on her work with pink-tinted cheeks. Azriel’s stupid smile widened.

He could get stabbed everyday if it meant she would take care of him.

Soon, she was done and helped him to bed.

With assistance from his shadows, she had managed to change him into sleeping clothes. The wound was almost healed already, but she still bandaged it up, just in case.

She exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. Gods, she knew something was wrong. Still, something inside her eased at having him back at her side, even if hurt. At least this way she could personally make sure he would be taken care of.

And she had to admit to herself, as selfish as it was, she was eternally glad to have him here after that cauldron damned dinner. A feeling of safety came back to her chest like a puzzle piece being set in place.

Now that he wasn’t actively losing blood, Azriel could think a little straighter. He sat against his pillows as she fluffed them up for him, brow still furrowed with worry. He lifted a finger to smooth the lines of her forehead.

“You should be better soon, Az. How do you feel?” she gripped his forearm in her hand. Her wide eyes bored into his hazel ones.

“I’m alright”

She let out a sigh in relief that he was at least feeling better. “I’ll tell Cassian that you won’t come to training and I’ll go to Madja for some tonics for you first thing in the morning. I also read somewhere that-”

“Sweetheart” he interrupted her gently “I’m alright, really. No need to do any of those things”

“No, Az, you’re not training tomorrow morning. No way” he straightened up a little when he saw the seriousness in her eyes. The worry, the stress. Gods, she must have really worked herself up over this.

“Alright, okay. I’m not training tomorrow” he murmured gently, reaching up to tuck away a strand of her hair that fell out of the meddled up hairstyle.

She breathed out, nodding.

Sweet girl.

There was an aspect of vulnerability to their relationship that made it quite different from any other ones in their lives.

For example, Azriel was the only one who knew the true details of her past. Of why she acted the way she did when the subject came up, and he knew how to handle her when she got soft and sensitive about it too. And she let him. Only him.

It went the other way around as well.

She knew everything about his childhood and why now so often he kept to the corners and the shadows.

Why he sometimes felt as if he should not touch her with his bare hands. And she knew how to coax out his soft side, too. In fact, after a while it started coming out around her against his own will. And after a while, he started to love it, how safe he felt around her.

But there were corners of his mind that Azriel was still too wary to let even her into. Corners that he visited in his nightmares and in his darkest moments, but ones that somehow felt all too powerful over him.

That’s why when a heavy silence encapsulated Azriel’s darkened bedroom, when the air became heavy and both their breathing shallow, when the pair realized just how close they are to each other and she looked at him wide eyed, so expectantly, as if something groundbreaking were about to happen, lips already opening for him- He pulled away.

That was why he started some meaningless conversation, trying to ignore the way her face fell when he sat back, further away from her.

That was why he hated himself a little more than on his worst days as he told her minor details of the beginning of his mission, eyes not missing the water lining her eyes.

He swore, his shadows had never scolded him as much in his entire life as in that moment. And they were right to.

The conversation went on until Azriel succumbed to the tiredness of being wounded and fell asleep. She watched his breathing even out, and then stared at him for a little while more.

Then, she debated going back to her room to sleep, but quickly rejected that idea. What if something happened to his wound while he was asleep? No, she should stay. But it also felt wrong to lay next to him after he-

No, she must have misinterpreted the situation. Azriel would never try to-

Right?

She tried to dismiss the thoughts from her mind.

Gods, what was wrong with her?

She laid down in an armchair she had dragged to the side of his bed. Her best friend was hurt, and here she was thinking about kissing him. About how she wanted to but-. This is not the time and place.

Sleep wouldn’t claim her for a long time, so she resorted to sitting there and counting her best friend’s breaths. After a while, their steady rhythm pulled her eyelids to close.

The room was still dark when Azriel opened his eyes. Moonlight streamed in through the opened curtains.

Azriel hissed as he turned around. A sharp pain pulled at this stomach and he looked down to see bandages wrapped around his torso. The wound must not have fully healed yet.

His eyes took in his surroundings and the first thing he noticed was that the armchair pulled up to his bedside.

And the person in it.

With a furrowed brow Azriel took in his best friend, still dressed in her work dress, curled in the chair in a position that must have been uncomfortable to fall asleep in.

What was she doing? Why hadn’t she laid down next to him? Possibilities passed through his mind, and finally he landed on the most probable one - that she wanted to watch him while he slept without disturbing him.

He shook his head as he started getting up. Selfless girl.

Too selfless for her own good, if it meant she would have to deal with back or neck pain in the morning.

But her care was a sweet feeling that even after decades of knowing her felt strange to Azriel. Any other member of his family would’ve known he could patch himself up and not worry themselves into madness about one singular stab wound that was nothing new for him.

Because he would’ve been fine. He had no doubt that if something actually life threatening were to happen to him, his family would take care of him.

It was a sweet, strange feeling that she would care over things he discarded as insignificant. That anyone would ever enjoy taking care of him, and willingly take time out of their day to do so.

He breathed out through his nose as he reached down to scoop her into his arms.

He hoped she wouldn’t wake, if only because she would scold him from carrying her when wounded.

And as he laid her on his bed, he thought about how there was one part of her he would probably never understand.

That unfiltered, unprecedented care she had for him. He knew he reciprocated it, that it went both ways, but somehow her care towards him seemed greater.

Maybe it was because he was harder to love. There were many more ugly sides to him that she frankly lacked.

Maybe because sometimes when he touched her he could feel that ugliness actually seep into her skin.

By the Mother, if he were any less of a selfish male he would’ve stopped this a long time ago. But neither did he have the honour to make her aware of his darkness, as cheap as that may sound, nor did he have the guts to make her his fully.

He couldn’t bear to taint her. Not as he looked at her face pressed into his pillow. Not as he thought about how soft her skin was under his fingertips. And certainly not as he thought about the endless streams of tears she let out as she seeked comfort and safety in him because of how badly she was treated by the people meant to love her.

She entrusted herself to him and he was to ruin her with himself, now?

He ran a hand through her hair as he felt his own hatred for himself run deeper and deeper.

Sometimes, in his worst nightmares, he saw something horrible happening to her. Such a tragic incident would make her his match. In his worst nightmares, she always knew that it was all his fault, and still decided to stay. Putting herself on a clear path to destruction, for him.

And, truth be told, he didn’t know what to make of it. What to do. This was one of the only areas in his life, where Azriel felt stuck.

He was hers, for eternity and he has known that for a very long time. But there was a part of him that couldn’t let her do that to herself. That couldn’t let her accept the curse of loving him.

Could he protect her from himself? Did he want to?

He used to think that he could accept this, whatever they had. Whatever form of friendship or relationship she would offer, he would grab handfuls of.

Now, however, he knew there was a problem that made his chest tighten, heart rate pick up and scarred hands clench and unclench when in close distance to her.

The impatience that grew simmering hot in Azriel, waiting to spill over.

taglist: @blonde-bansheee @k-homosapien @azysmate @brekkershadowsinger

if you want to be added, let me know here

collision course

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: A hasty escape and a wayward storm results in Azriel crossing paths with you. Over the centuries that follow, you meet again and again, gently tucked away in a corner of the world only you two are privy to. But as wars loom and time begins to erode the once carefree interactions, it seems inevitable that the tentative sanctuary built will collapse... and it's unclear if either one of you will come out on the other side.

Series Overview/Warnings: Angst, pining, fighting/injuries, slow-burn, some of the og timeline may be tweaked to better suit the story

Status: On-going

part one — genesis

Masterlist

Requests - Closed

send them via my ask me anything! button

I'm only writing for Azriel right now

I generally don't write explicit content, so I recommend sending those requests elsewhere :)

submitting a request is not a guarantee it will be written/written quickly

~ ~ ~

Azriel

Fics

anything for you

Fae menstrual cycles are notoriously terrible to endure, but yours seem to be especially torturous. Mor normally helps you through your cycles, but when yours comes early and Mor is away, a certain Shadowsinger steps in to help.

never doubt

You thought the worst part of your week would be trekking through the grotesque bogs of the Dawn Court alongside a Shadowsinger that had royally pissed you off. If only. At least the worst situations can sometimes bring about the best revelations.

you're safe

After enduring weeks of torture in the Illyrian Steppes, you are left staring at the pieces of who you were before. You should be healing, but instead your anxiety and fear sink further in with every day that passes. You tell no one of your struggles, of your sleepless nights and lingering scars, until Azriel finds you alone in the library at an ungodly hour of night, and everything comes pouring out.

was it really a mistake?

Drinks at Cassian's birthday party land you in Azriel's arms, which then lands you in his bed. Your poor heart doesn't know what to think.

pure love

You were in love with Azriel. It was inevitable, really. Who could blame you for falling for the kind and gentle male? OR A series of moments that show your blooming love for Azriel, who was too busy cultivating his own love for you to notice.

thorns and toxins

Azriel knew something was off the moment you walked into the training room. You brushed him off, and ended up sending the poor male into a tailspin after you collapsed while sparring.

you make it better ~ part 2

Life as Nesta Archeron's friend had never been smooth-sailing, but you never would have thought it would land you in the fae lands, in a fae body, surrounded by unfamiliar...everything. You're struggling to adapt to your new life while dealing with the loss of your human one, but there is one fae male that makes it all just a little bit easier.

smothered flames ~ part 2

You were the Vanserras' best kept secret. That is, until you followed Eris to the Night Court, and you ended up finding more than you bargained for.

home

Leaving your family, leaving Azriel, for two whole months following Amarantha's reign of terror was harder than you anticipated. Azriel and you cling to each other upon your return.

lay your hand in mine

You never wanted to be a spy. You never wanted to work for the High Lord of Night. You never wanted to be trained by the male that faeries whispered horror stories about. Then again, those were just stories, and that very male might be your salvation.

thawed hearts

You had been a member of Rhys's court for decades, but no one knew where you really came from, or what your true heritage was. A trip to Illyria brings long-kept secrets to the light, and Azriel is there to help you in the aftermath.

love heals

Your first solo mission goes terribly wrong after you failed to heed Azriel's warnings. That doesn't stop him from saving you, and it certainly doesn't stop him from caring for you in the aftermath. You're convinced you don't deserve him, but that doesn't stop you from wanting him.

blush

You really like making Azriel blush.

bound by fear / bound by love

You spent three decades suffering under the cruel thumb of your father. When you finally escaped, finally started to build your own life, the last thing you ever wanted was to find a mate.

then

You were falling in love with the mate you never wanted, and he was waiting patiently to catch you.

Series

my heart has wings (complete)

You and Azriel long for the love your family members have found. That longing can easily turn into an isolating loneliness, so what if you rely on each other to numb that sickly feeling? What if your chance at love has been by your side for nearly a century?

Blurbs

put this on

It's miserably hot out, and you made the mistake of trying to train. Your attempt to cool off leads to a bit of an awkward encounter with your friends, and a very jealous mate.

Are We Still Friends?

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.

Warnings: some wine sipping, gossiping, angst, miscommunication, friend fighting, jealousy (but no one realizes), az being defensive and blind

Word Count: 5k

(Completed) Series Masterlist | Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“It’s not that I don’t like her.”

The words tasted as false as they were, and you grimaced the moment they slipped out, already bracing for the look Mor would throw your way. True to form, she didn’t disappoint, her expression halfway between amusement and exasperation.

A defeated sigh escaped as you accepted the glass of wine she offered, watching as she filled her own nearly to the brim.

“You’re better than me, then,” she hummed, settling back onto the couch across from you. “Because I don’t like her.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t like many people nowadays.”

She shrugged, casual as ever, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “True. I’m not exactly lining up for any peace medals, am I?”

You chuckled softly, leaning back in your chair. “I just… have this odd feeling about her, you know?”

Mor tilted her head, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Oh, I know. She drags Az around on a leash.”

You were tempted to say something about the irony in her words—remind her, in a loving manner, that she might've been guilty of that once upon a time, too. But you decided against it. She wasn't wrong.

You swirled the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid move in slow, mesmerizing circles. The feeling wasn’t new; it had been there since the first time you’d met her. Azriel’s new girlfriend Selene was perfectly fine—charming, even. But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Like a faint hum in the background of a quiet room, just irritating enough to notice but not enough to prove anything was wrong.

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

You glanced up, finding Mor’s bright brown eyes sharp and focused on you, the lazy humor of a moment ago gone.

“I doubt he’ll listen,” you admitted, resting the bottom of your glass on your thigh. “He didn’t listen to you.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

Mor raised a brow like she wanted to argue, but she only sighed in response. “He’s been so weird about his love life. Gwyn didn’t work out. Elain’s probably the happiest out of all of us. Maybe he’s treading lightly.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though you weren’t convinced.

Azriel had changed in small, almost imperceptible ways since everything had settled—since everyone had paired off and fallen in love. Everyone except you. And him.

You were fine with your situation, content in the quiet steadiness of your life. Azriel wasn’t. You knew it. He knew it, though he’d never admit it. So much of his self-worth was tangled up in whether he believed himself worthy of love. And the absence of it—of a solid, undeniable love in his life, of a partner, of a potential bond—seemed to weigh on him. To him, it wasn’t just an empty space; it was a failure.

You’d almost go as far as to say he’d become desperate, living in the shadows and watching his brothers experience loves so profound they might as well have been plucked from stories meant to inspire poets and dreamers.

Mating bonds were rare. You reminded yourself of that often. Your family was just an anomaly, their luck skewed impossibly high. But logic wasn’t enough to soothe Azriel, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him from chasing it. He was obsessive. Stubborn.

Nothing you said or did could change his perspective.

Mor’s voice pulled you out of your head again. “Speak of the devil,” she sang out. “Hi, Elain.”

Your gaze snapped up to the doorway, finding Elain standing just beyond the archway. She looked like a spooked deer, frozen in place with that polite smile you’d come to recognize as her default around company she hadn’t fully warmed up to yet.

“We were just talking about Azriel’s unfortunate romantic history,” Mor said smoothly. You glanced at Elain for her reaction.

It had taken time for that particular history to fade. Maybe it was appropriate to joke about now, but you personally would’ve waited a few more years before bringing it up so flippantly. Mor, however, had little patience for such niceties.

Elain’s expression didn’t shift beyond a faint flicker in her eyes, and you realized how much her composure had improved over the years. Then again, it had been a while since she and Lucien had found each other for good—long enough for their bond to solidify and for them to leave for the Day Court after their mating ceremony.

A twinge of jealousy sparked in you before you brushed it aside.

“We’re just gossiping in general. Want to join us?” you asked, gesturing to the chair beside you. Plush and inviting, it mirrored the one you sat on. “Unless Lucien is waiting for you upstairs?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed crimson. 

“Lucien’s still with Feyre, catching up,” she said, stepping further into the room. “What are you drinking?”

Mor reached for the bottle on the table, plucking it up and turning it in her hand to read the label.

“Something good and expensive,” she replied, with a half-hearted air of indulgence, before tilting her head at Elain with a faint grin.

“It’s from Rhys’s rather gluttonous collection,” you said, sensing Elain’s hesitation. “It won’t be missed at all.”

She smiled at that. “I’d love some.”

“There are a lot of glasses in that cabinet,” you said, pointing to the wood door with ornate carvings. “Grab whichever one you’d like.”

Mor sat up straighter, scooting herself back into the pillows behind her. You hummed, impressed, at her ability to hold both her full wine glass and the bottle without so much as a wobble.

You hadn’t spent much time with Elain one-on-one. Emissary duties had kept you busy during the years the Archeron sisters had adjusted to their new lives. But you liked Elain, from what you’d seen. She had a kind heart. She also had a sharp humor that surfaced at the oddest moments, usually when she and Lucien were whispering in corners, conspiratorial before seamlessly rejoining whatever social event they were at like they’d never left.

Elain returned and sat down with her chosen glass—a delicate crystal piece that gleamed in the soft light. Mor went to fill it instantly. 

“Can I ask why you were discussing Azriel’s romantic life?” Elain asked. Her voice was smooth, certain. No hesitation.

It didn’t faze her anymore, you realized—being such a strange, pivotal turning point in Azriel’s past experiences. She’d made peace with it, the way immortality seemed to demand. Time softened the edges of even the messiest situations, turning them into stories you could recount with startling detachment. Almost humorous, really.

Because how else could you explain being casual about the fact that your best friend had almost allowed his pride—and arrogance—and, somehow simultaneously, his insecurity—to lead him into a blood duel over Elain’s affections? A blood duel.

But now, it was just… something to write off. A distant memory, softened by the years and Lucien’s easy confidence. Lucien was better than you. You would’ve held that grudge against Azriel for many more years—long enough to make it a point of pride. But then again, Lucien had won everything he wanted in the end. He had the girl, the bond, the certainty that whatever lingering rivalry Azriel might feel was entirely one-sided.

It wasn’t important enough for Lucien to waste any more energy on.

You exchanged a glance with Mor, who arched a brow, clearly just as amused by Elain’s openness.

“Y/n doesn’t like his new girlfriend,” Mor said.

Your mouth fell open. “You don’t either.”

“True,” Mor agreed easily. She looked to Elain. “We don’t like her.”

“For clarification,” you said firmly, “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mor laughed, sipping her wine with an amused grin.

Your face fell flat. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied breezily. “But if you get a bad feeling about someone, that’s usually dislike.”

You resisted the urge to scowl, already turning over the guilt in your mind. You didn’t want to be that person—the kind who dismissed another female off the bat. Maybe your gut was wrong this time. Maybe her smile had reached her eyes, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice. Maybe her tone hadn’t been as assessing as you remembered, and you were projecting. You wanted to like her. You wanted to be happy for Azriel.

But he didn’t seem happy. He seemed distracted. Busy. Not himself.

And not the kind of busy you’d seen before—the methodical, obsessive focus he funneled into work or training. This was different, scattered in a way you couldn’t quite pin down. It had made sense in the beginning, when things were new and exciting, but now it was starting to feel uncomfortable. He’d started missing things—small things at first, like sparring sessions or those late-night conversations you, Mor, and him would have when you couldn’t sleep. Then came the bigger things. He’d stopped being able to review external court updates with you, even when those meetings were critical for your diplomatic roles.

Azriel had always been the one you could count on. Out of everyone, you considered him your closest friend—even more than Mor, though you’d never admit it out loud. But now it seemed like every time you made plans, Selene needed him more.

And then there was how fast it was all moving. Too fast. At a recent family dinner, she’d casually mentioned that she and Azriel could move in together—offhand, like it was the most obvious next step. Something about leaving the townhouse behind, creating a space with décor that matched her aesthetic. Azriel had just stayed quiet, looked at her like she’d just proposed the most brilliant idea in existence.

You noticed he did that. The way he looked at her. The way he’d looked at Elain and Gwyn back when they were seeing each other. It weirded you out—that tendency to put the people he saw as romantic interests on a pedestal, as though they were flawless. As though they were something he didn’t deserve.

You knew where it came from. That deep-rooted insecurity that even centuries hadn’t managed to erase. He didn’t see it, the way he wore himself down trying to prove his worth to people who, for the most part, had already accepted him. But you saw it. You always had.

And it made it harder to like Selene. To trust her intentions. Maybe that was unfair, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was just taking—taking all the parts of Azriel that used to be all of yours to share, and twisting them into something else. Something that didn’t include his family.

Still, you wanted to try. To let go of the gnawing irritation in your chest and convince yourself it didn’t matter. If she made him happy—truly happy—then none of it should matter. You were adamant on ensuring that you didn’t turn into the stereotypical overbearing female best friend.

Elain tapped her glass lightly. “Lucien doesn’t like her.”

You blinked back into reality. “Really?”

She nodded, a beat passing before she added, “To be honest, I’m not sure I do either.”

Mor leaned forward, grinning like she’d been handed a stack of gold. You almost wished Amren was here to bask in the moment. Amren didn’t like Azriel’s girlfriend, either. Maybe your family really was as unwelcoming as people claimed. Or maybe Selene simply brought out another level of scrutiny. The thought of either option made you feel bad— gross. 

“Why?” Mor asked.

“She was dismissive toward Lucien. And,” Elain hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, “She seemed… entitled, I suppose. Especially with Azriel. Like she expected him to accommodate her every whim.”

You frowned, turning over her words. “I’m sure she was just nervous. We can be an intimidating group. Maybe she just needs time to settle in. We just want Az to be happy, right? So, if she makes him happy, then I’m absolutely fine with her.”

The silence that followed was thick. For a moment, you wondered if you’d said something wrong. Something weird.

“Are you?” Elain asked, her tone sincere.

“Are you?” Mor echoed at the same time, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shot Mor a glare, but she only raised her brows and sipped her wine again, infuriatingly unbothered. Exhaling, you willed yourself to meet Elain’s gaze.

“I am,” you said, trying for conviction. “Really.”

Elain pursed her lips. Her gaze shifted to Mor, lingering longer than you liked, and then back to you.

“Alright,” she hummed. “I guess I was wrong.”

You stilled. Elain reclined deeper into her seat, accepting a refill from Mor. Her wine glass remained only half-full compared to yours and Mor’s.

Curiosity burned. You leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “What do I mean about what?”

“You said you guess you were wrong. What does that mean?”

Mor’s gaze bored into the side of your face. Any second now, you were sure she’d make some quip about how bothered you were. But you weren’t bothered. Just curious.

Elain swirled her wine, watching the light catch the liquid. “I’m not sure. Things feel off. Like something’s coming. Az needs help with it, I think.”

You froze. “Off? Like—how?”

She hesitated, thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “But I feel it. In my chest. My visions sometimes do that. That’s why I asked.”

Well, that unsettled you. You glanced at Mor, whose amused grin had fallen into something more contemplative.

It seemed you might need to have a conversation with Azriel after all.

“I don’t like that,” you admitted, your nose crinkling. 

“I think I heard him get back earlier. Go talk to him,” Mor said, her tone gentler now, though a hint of mischief lingered in her eyes. You didn’t read too much into that. Mor’s eyes tended to be expressive. She also tended to be mischievous when her blood was primarily red wine. 

“Okay,” you said. “Maybe just to check in.”

Elain nodded. “Just to check in,” she echoed, almost reassuring.

“Have fun,” Mor added, her grin returning just enough to be annoying, but not enough to distract you from the unease curling in your chest.

You didn’t respond, instead taking another slow sip of your drink. The glass clinked softly as you set it down on the table before you made your way upstairs.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Mor turned to Elain. “Did you really feel something that unsettling?”

Elain let out a laugh. “No,” she said lightly. “I completely made that up. But she doesn’t need to know that.”

Mor’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. Seconds later, her head tilted back in a laugh just as vibrant as it was unapologetic.

“Genius,” she declared, raising her glass in mock salute.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The walk upstairs was quiet.

The townhome, in general, was quieter nowadays. Aside from the times others came to visit—like Lucien and Elain—only you and Azriel lived here full time.

When you reached Azriel’s bedroom door, your steps faltered for a moment. There was a hesitation in you that hadn't existed before. You raised your hand to knock, but the action felt more awkward than usual. It made you sad, momentarily, that you hesitated. You never second-guessed yourself with Azriel. You wanted to tread carefully in this new era of his life, though. You didn’t want to overstep, to become a nuisance. But whatever this was—whatever had unsettled Elain enough to mention it—you needed to know. Azriel had always been a constant for you, and if something felt “off,” you wanted to understand why.

Your knuckles rapped lightly on the door. “Az?” 

Inside, you heard the shuffle of movement, followed by his low, familiar voice. “Come in.”

You didn’t see Azriel immediately, but the smell of soap and the damp air told you that he recently showered. Shadows slithered across the floor, comfortable and excited, exploring the familiar confines of his room.

You greeted the tendrils as you usually did, letting them brush against your legs as you flopped onto his bed. The bed, like everything else in his room, was simple: plain black sheets, no extravagant pillows, just the bare necessities. It used to drive you mad, the emptiness of it all.  But what was in his room spoke volumes—— bare walls except for a dagger mount on one side, a small uncluttered desk with a well-worn sharpening stone. 

Azriel exiting the bathroom pulled your attention, your eyes settling on him as he rubbed his wet hair thoroughly with a towel. He shook his head slightly, wet curls bouncing onto his forehead, and met your gaze. His eyes flicked to where you lay, scanning your body. He nodded toward your feet.

“C’mon,” he almost whined. “No shoes on the bed.”

You looked down at yourself, grimacing as you realized that your shoes were, indeed, on his clean comforter. A simple set of house slippers, so nothing entirely too dirty, but it had completely slipped your mind. Very comfortable shoes, you noted, maybe you’d get Feyre a pair as a solstice gift.

“Oh whoops,” you said with an apologetic smile. “My bad, clean freak.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the quirk of his lips anyways.

For a moment, the old sense of comfort settled over you. But then, a thought crept in—the thought that maybe you shouldn’t lie on his bed like this anymore. It had been fine before, but now… now it felt different. He had someone else in his life. It wasn’t weird, exactly, but it was a little inappropriate.

You sat up straighter.

“Did you and Mor grow tired of rehashing the same centuries old gossip?” He teased.

You snorted, watching as his shadows flitted above his shoulders. They were amused, laughing in their own way. “Never,” you responded, pushing yourself off his bed. You were drawn to the otherside of his room, to the simple dresser against the wall. “Elain joined us this time.”

Your back was to him, but you had a feeling that the momentary silence, the stillness that you felt, was a knee-jerk reaction from Azriel—something reminiscent of embarrassment, shame, or guilt at her name. But all he responded was, “Oh?”

“I like her,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I kinda wish I spent more time with her…”

You paused, your words trailing off quietly as you took in the small details before you. 

Azriel’s dresser had always been the one surface he decorated, not because he cared for decoration, but because it was the only surface large enough to hold anything. Over the years, it had become a quiet testament to the things that mattered to him: a mix of Solstice and birthday gifts, trinkets you’d both collected on missions and trips. You liked seeing what had changed, what had been added. It gave you a glimpse into where Azriel had been, who had been with him. 

Lately, there had been more—more trinkets, more oddities that stood in stark contrast to the weapons displayed elsewhere, the ones mostly hidden away in his closet. A macaroni necklace from Nyx. A horribly made clay version of him you’d created during a drunken pottery night with Feyre, Mor, and Amren.

But now, the dresser was foreign. The once familiar surface had been wiped clean, replaced by delicate perfume bottles, jewelry that looked too fine to be his, and a candle that smelled—oddly—like the puke of a flower faerie. Some of it was new. Most of it was hers.

Azriel’s presence had vanished from his own furniture entirely.

“Huh.”

“What?” Azriel asked.

You glanced over your shoulder. “I see you’ve decorated more.”

Azriel tilted his head, and a few of his shadows slithered down his body, crossing the room to pool around your ankles. “I guess,” he said. “Selene said my room needed more life.”

You leaned forward, brushing your fingers along the ceramic jewelry dish, the cool surface sending a strange chill through your skin. The shadows flickered over your hand, almost as if they were inspecting it too. They moved with purpose, then slowly obscured it, hiding it from view.

You frowned, confused.

Azriel, still silent, was rifling through his closet. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you as he moved, but he said nothing. The shadows returned to his side as you turned to look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked, trying to break the silence.

Now, Azriel barely spared you a glance.

“Yeah. Meeting Selene,” he replied simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Azriel turned his head and properly held your gaze. “Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded with a casual wave of your hand, but Elain’s words echoed in your mind. You cleared your throat. “Well, actually, no. I was hoping I could talk to you.”

He frowned, standing up straighter, his wings flexing with the motion. “Is it something serious?”

You paused, carefully filtering through your words. “No, just something that’s been on my mind.”

Azriel studied you, doubt flickering in his hazel eyes. It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was reading you too easily. He probably didn’t believe you, not entirely—but he nodded anyway. His lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “Raincheck then?”

You mirrored his smile, though it felt thin. “Yeah, sure. We can talk tomorrow, once we’re back from the Hewn City.”

Azriel stilled. The way his gaze dropped to the floor and lingered felt like a guilty dog, an animal caught in an act forbidden. “Shit,” he said, his tone cautious. “I can’t go.”

You blinked, the words taking a moment to settle. “Seriously? Az, Rhys is expecting an update.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere enough. It didn’t matter. “But you can handle it on your own, you know this.” 

“Are you serious?” you said, the hurt slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t want to deal with Keir alone.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to Rhys, but Selene’s been wanting to—”

“Never mind,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You forced a smile. “Have fun tonight. And tomorrow.”

Azriel scanned your face. After another moment of silence, he sighed.

“Okay, what is it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You clearly have something on your mind. Tell me.”

You hesitated, holding his gaze. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Selene.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened instantly. He looked away, his tongue running across his teeth as he shook his head. “Not you too. Don’t be like this.”

Your frown deepened, offended by the immediate shift in tone. “Be like what? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

He met your eyes again, his stare almost challenging. “We both know what you’re going to say.”

“Do we?”

“First Mor, then Nesta, and now you.” His voice was sharp, but not loud. “Should I be concerned that the females in my life are so quick to rally against my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms to mirror his pose. “Well, yeah, Az. Maybe you should be.”

He rolled his eyes, the shadows at his feet flickering with the motion. “Fine. What do you want to tell me, then?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue. Azriel had always been good at looking through you, unraveling thoughts you hadn’t fully formed yet. And now, under the weight of his sharp gaze, you felt exposed.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Something flickered in his expression, quick and fleeting—too fast for you to decipher. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt unreadable, like he’d drawn a curtain between himself and you. “Really?” he asked, his tone tight, almost incredulous.

You faltered, a small thread of doubt weaving its way through your resolve. Was he happy? Would he even tell you if he wasn’t?

“Yes, really,” you replied, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “You’ve been distant lately. Running around at her beck and call. None of us know her. I want to understand what’s going on with you. I want to understand her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, his gaze hardening.

“I want to make sure this is the kind of relationship you want,” you finished, quieter now.

The room fell into silence, heavy and still. Azriel watched you as if he was turning your words over and over in his mind. You waited, unsure of what to expect—if anything at all.

“I wouldn’t be in a relationship I didn’t want. Can we drop it, please.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What a strange, dismissive answer. It bothered you— bothered you more than anything he’d ever told you before. 

“Az, I just don’t want you to change who you are for someone. You don’t need to cater to her every whim.”

His expression darkened, shadows curling tighter around his boots. “I’m her boyfriend. I do what she asks.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the scoff that slipped out. Azriel had never been so clipped with you. “That’s not the definition of a boyfriend. That’s the definition of a bitch.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings flaring in irritation. “Excuse me?”  His voice cut through the room. “Do you really think I’m some incompetent love-sick loser?”

“I think you stop seeing flaws in the people you love.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you’d anticipated. A small part of you wondered if “love” was the word Azriel would use to describe his feelings for her. Another part worried that he didn’t correct you.

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he snapped. “I can clearly see that you’re being unfair. Quick to judge, much like Mor. That’s a flaw.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, “You know what I meant. The people you’re infatuated with—”

“Where is this sudden concern coming from?” he interrupted, his shadows now beginning to curl between you like restless mediators, unsure where to settle. “Are you trying to cause issues?”

Something ran hot through your body.

“Seriously? I’m talking to you about this because I care. Because Elain had some cryptic feeling about you—”

“Elain is involved in this conversation, too?” His voice dripped with frustration now. “Gods, Y/n, should I send word for Gwyn while we’re at it? Get her opinion?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You took an authoritative step forward.  “I’ve never judged you. I’ve always tried to support you and your messy love life, no matter how complicated. Don’t you trust me, Azriel? As a friend?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows flickering uncertainly, still deciding whether to retreat or rise.

You gestured around the room. “Look at this place. You’ve erased all traces of your family—of you, of us. Where did you even put—”

“Oh, gods.” Azriel’s voice broke through, and for a moment, you thought he might crumble. His wings folded, and his hand dragged across his face, the weight of his exhaustion sinking in. “She was right.”

You froze. “What?”

Azriel met your gaze, his eyes hesitant for a heartbeat before turning sharp. “About you. Selene said you were jealous. That you had feelings for me.”

The words hit like a slap, and your world tilted on its axis. “What?” you asked again, your voice breaking on the word. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he had misspoken.

“I told her she was wrong. But now…” He let the sentence hang in the air, searching your face for something that maybe wasn’t even there.

“Now, what?” Your voice rose, tinged with anger. “You think I’m here because I’m jealous? Because I have some… crush on you?”

His wings flared slightly at your tone, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t know. It’s just—why else would you care so much about this?”

Your stomach twisted, a deep, cold ache settling there. “Why else?” you repeated, the words bitter on your tongue. “Because I care about you, Azriel. Because you’ve been my friend for centuries. Are you seriously confused about this?” 

For a moment, Azriel’s expression faltered, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “I didn’t ask you to care about my love life.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snapped, stepping closer. “That’s what friends do. But you’re standing there, letting her perception of me—someone who doesn’t even know me—warp your judgment. You’ve known me longer than that. Or at least, I thought you did. And the fact that you’d entertain this—” You stopped, shaking your head. “It’s insulting.”

Azriel said nothing. He just stood there, shadows now curling tighter around him. 

You had no idea how this conversation had gotten away from you, no idea how it turned into this—where this defensiveness, this anger, had come from. This wasn’t Azriel. Loyal, overly so. Impulsive. Protective. 

Or maybe it was. Maybe that loyalty was directed at someone else now—someone who clearly saw you as something threatening. You’d never been on the other side of Azriel before. Never thought you’d see the day. The realization hit like a slap to the face, leaving you shocked, stunned, a pit opening in your stomach that felt too deep to climb out of.

“You know what? Forget it.” You stepped back, the fight draining out of you all at once.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Really? That’s it?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your lips curving into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so bitter. “Yeah,” you said, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

You turned for the door, hand on the handle, but paused. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and pointed, a petty jab that felt equal parts satisfying and hollow. “Make sure to lock this door when you leave—I’d hate to accidentally stumble back in and throw myself at you.”

Azriel stiffened, his wings snapping taut behind him. For a brief second, you thought he might say something, anything. But he didn’t.

You closed the door behind you with a heavy thud.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: no one tell them they probs have feelings for each other bc they’ll probably fight you (also elains moment is so self indulgent bc i would totally be making shit up based off my powers. like yeah actually you can’t be mean to be :/ powers are saying you’ll die if you are)

Part Two

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azriel tag list 🫶🏻:@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits @honethatty12

Anything for You

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: descriptions of menstrual cycles and menstrual blood, discussion of the loss of a parent

word count: 5.2k

synopsis: Fae menstrual cycles are notoriously terrible to endure, but yours seem to be especially torturous. Mor normally helps you through your cycles, but when yours comes early and Mor is away, a certain Shadowsinger steps in to help.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

You were convinced your cycle was a curse that spawned from the depths of hell. Every fae female endured painful and taxing cycles, but yours was vicious. It had been since the very first time you bled, and every cycle since for the last 20 years was laced with the same crippling agony. The same pain that had you heaving into your toilet now. 

You were a healer, for Mother’s sake, and even you could not find a remedy to alleviate the pain that accompanied fae cycles. When you were young, your mother would do her best to soothe you. She would create potent sleep tonics to lull you to sleep through the pain, but even those would last only a few hours before the pain shredded through the momentary peace. She never told you what she put in those tonics, and she never gave them to patients, and you had not yet been able to replicate it since she passed. 

When she passed five years ago, the pain of your grief only compounded with the pain of suffering through your cycle for the first time alone. The agony was unbearable, and it was the first and only time you had passed out from the pain. Before you had to suffer through another dreadful cycle on your own, you blessedly met the Inner Circle of the Night Court.

~ Five Years Ago ~

The drink you had been nursing for the last hour swirled around in the bottom of the crystal glass. You frowned at the dark liquid, having lost your taste for it tonight. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway, but tonight was your mother’s birthday, and Rita had begged you to stop by tonight to pour you a drink in honor of her beloved friend.

You were grateful for Rita. You knew she kept tabs on you, if her weekly visits to your tonic shop down the street were any indication, and you appreciated her worrying about you. It was nice to know that at least one person still did. Although, you couldn’t bring yourself to down the rest of the free drink. You were sandwiched between two drunk males at the bar, one nearly passed out and the other contributing to the deafening chatter of the crowded room. 

You were just about to stand up and leave when the splintering of wood and a heavy thud shook the room. You followed the gazes of everyone else to where two winged males were hefting another male up from the floor covered in the wood shards from a table.

You couldn’t make out what they were saying to the sneering male over the murmur of the bar, but it was clear he was belligerently drunk. You noticed a blonde female standing nearby, speaking softly to a visibly terrified female. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. Your gaze then snapped back to the two winged males, and the glowing red and blue siphons adorning their wrists made their identities suddenly dawn on you. Your eyes snagged on the blood smeared across the red siphoned one’s wing, and they widened at the sight of a large slice through the delicate membrane.

The one with blue siphons and shadows swirling around him yanked the snarling male toward him, and the two of them suddenly disappeared. The injured male and female, who you now recognized as the Night Court’s general and the Morrigan, ignored the gazes of the bar as they made their way to the back exit. You watched Rita intercept them to share a few quick words, and then they were gone.

You didn’t know what compelled you to follow them out the back door just a minute later. Perhaps it was because you were innately nosey, or maybe it was the healer instinct in you pushing you to help someone in pain. It was likely the desire to dull the throbbing pain of missing your Mother by involving yourself in a potentially precarious situation.

The wooden door to the bar shut slowly behind you as the cool night air kissed your warm skin. You took in a small breath, savoring the freedom of the fresh air, before fairly loud voices at the end of the alley pulled your attention.

Morrigan and the general were standing together, seemingly arguing. “He was clearly violating her!” the male yelled.

“I know that, Cassian!” the female hissed. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have done anything. I’m saying you should have deescalated the situation before he stabbed you and you threw him through a damn table!”

“I’m sorry!” He threw his hands up. He looked like he might have said more, but suddenly the second winged male, the Shadowsinger, appeared next to them from the shadows.

A beat of silence passed before the returned male said, “I assume she’s reaming you for acting like an impulsive brute?”

Wasn’t he right by the general’s side when that male was kicked through the table? You thought it was strange how casual the three of them were interacting with each other, even if they were arguing.

“Fuck you, Az,” the general grumbled.

The shadowsinger asked, his voice softer, “Are you alright?”

“No, he’s not alright,” Morrigan cut in, waving her hand toward his wing. “His wing has a damn gash in the middle of it.”

The general ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “We’re going to have to call Madja.”

“Are you happy now, Cas? Your bar fight–”

“Mor,” the shadowsinger cut her off quietly, and she quickly halted her verbal lashing.

A larged winged body was suddenly a foot away from you, and you yelped at the sudden intimidating presence. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice cold and hard.

You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I–I’m Y/N. I don’t mean any harm. I followed you out here.” You glanced toward the two still at the end of the alley, now staring at you, as you spoke quickly to try to calm the menacing male in front of you. “I followed you out here to see if you needed any help. I’m a healer, and I saw your wing, but then when I came out here you were arguing and I–I froze.”

The shadowsinger seemed to believe you, taking a step back from your tense and wide-eyed form before dismissing you, “We don’t need your assistance.”

You bit your lip and glanced at the wounded male down the alley, agony slowly creeping through his resolve held up by the adrenaline coursing through him. “I know Illyrian wings are…delicate,” you swallowed. “But really, I can help. My mother–she was Illyrian.”

The shadowsinger glowered at you. “We would know if there was an Illyrian in Velaris.”

You shook your head slightly, holding his inscrutable stare. “Her wings were clipped,” you said softly, before adding, “if you can call it that. She was a teenager. Some boys in her camp ambushed her, took her wings.” You looked at him earnestly. “I don’t know how she made it to Velaris. She never told me. But she was a healer, and she taught me about caring for Illyrian wings. She always said it was important to be familiar with my,” you hesitated, glancing between the two full-blooded Illyrian males, “my culture.”

“Az,” Morrigan called, snapping his attention to where she stood with her arm now around the general’s middle. “I don’t know if we can wait on Madja. His wing, it’s already healing.”

His face was stoic when he turned back to you, but his eyes held a sense of urgency beneath his cool assessing gaze. “You know how to properly heal him?”

You nodded.

With a slight twitch of his jaw, he nodded toward the general. “Then help him.” Then, as an afterthought, “Please.”

You nodded again, gathering your remaining courage to stand up straight. “Take him to my shop. It’s just a few buildings down.”

~ Present ~

Since that night, the Inner Circle started to visit you for various tonics and treatments. Madja had vouched for you, telling them that many of the tonics she used in her clinic came from your store. You bonded quickly with the group, and even became friendly with Amren when she decided to visit your shop herself. Eventually, they invited you into their fold, hoping you could use the Court’s resources to further your tonic development and research.

You moved into the House of Wind. Cas, Az, Mor, and even Amren became your new family. Not long after you moved in, Mor had found you writhing in bed on the morning of your cycle, and for every one since then she was there to help you through it. Today, though, Mor was away in the Winter Court, and it looked like you would have to fend for yourself this time.

Your cycle was early. You tracked it religiously, given its severity, and you knew you had to prepare for it to take you down for at least a couple of days. You were always prepared. This time, though, with it nearly three weeks ahead of schedule, you had nothing you needed to get through this. No linens, no pain relief tonics, no sleep tonics (not that they did much), nothing. Worse yet, you were supposed to meet with Feyre today for lunch.

You loved your High Lady, but you still feared upsetting her, or worse yet, upsetting the High Lord by proxy. Rhys had been nothing but kind and welcoming to you since he returned to Velaris. Feyre, of course, knew no different. However, you were still hyper aware of how you had altered the tight dynamic Rhys expected to return to, and you were terrified of disappointing him or making him regret keeping you within his fold. The last thing you needed was to stand your friend, your High Lady, his mate up for lunch.

The mere thought of the pastries served at the patisserie you were meant to be at in an hour sent you hurdling over the toilet basin again, heaving as pain radiated from your abdomen. Breathing heavily, your vision swam as a ripple of pain so intense spread through you that you swore you felt it in your teeth. You slowly laid your body down on the cool tile, curling up in a ball. Tears leaked from your eyes as your vision grew hazier until eventually they closed on their own accord, darkness engulfing you.

~

“Y/N,” a deep voice drawled. The voice was muffled, and you were confused where it was coming from. “Y/N,” the voice said again, this time much clearer, and you felt heat seeping into your skin. “Please, wake up!”

Brightness flooded your vision and you took in a small gasp as you reoriented to your surroundings. You squinted at the figure above you as they muttered, “Thank the Mother.”

“Azriel?”

His thumb brushed your cheek. “Yeah. Yeah it’s me.”

You winced as pain sliced through your abdomen, rolling onto your back. Azriel shifted to give you space to do so, but your side brushed his knee he had on the ground.

“Hey,” Azriel said softly, his hand now on your clammy arm. An uncomfortable layer of sweat coated your skin that only added to your misery. “Did you hit your head?”

You furrowed your brow. “What? No.”

“Then why did you pass out on the bathroom floor?”

Mortification seeped through the daze that lingered. “I—” You swallowed and glanced down at your body, still clothed in only a nightgown. A bloody nightgown now, since you’ve been laying here for who knows how long without any linens. Your face flushed. “My cycle started,” you told him meekly. “The pain—it was too much, I guess.”

His face softened and he brushed a gentle hand over your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He reached to pick you up, but you jerked away, mortification flooding you. “No.”

He frowned, hurt flashing through his eyes. “What? Why?”

You shook your head, looking away. Tears stung your eyes. “I’m fine, Azriel.” You weakly pushed yourself up, bracing a hand on the toilet. You quickly hunched over as pain gripped you. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re in pain,” he argued. “Let me help you.”

Your stomach twisted and a tear ran down your cheek. You weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the absolute humiliation you felt right now from Azriel seeing you like this.

“Hey,” he said softly, warmth suffusing his normally cool voice. He gently brushed away the tear rolling down your cheek. A shadow curled through your hair that was now damp at your nape. “Can I run you a bath?”

You gazed at the blood on your gown and cringed at the sight. Your hyper awareness of it coating the skin of your legs only amplified your repulsion and discomfort. Finally, you nodded reluctantly but avoided his eyes.

You expected him to get up to start the bath, but instead he lifted your chin to make you face him. His eyes were so soft, so warm, when he said, “It’s just blood.” His hand shifted to cup your face. “It’s just me. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I’ll leave if you really want me to. I can see if Feyre can stop by after—”

Your eyes widened. “Oh gods,” you gasped. “Feyre. I was supposed to meet her for lunch. What time is it?”

Azriel shushed you. “It’s okay. You missed lunch, but it’s okay. Feyre was worried about you, but she had an art class to teach, so she asked me to check on you. Clearly, she was right to be worried.”

“I can’t believe I stood her up—”

“You passed out in the bathroom from pain, Y/N,” he cut you off. “Feyre would never hold that against you. Neither would Rhys,” he added, knowing you far too well.

Water suddenly started filling the tub behind you. Azriel smiled softly. “I guess the House beat me to it.”

He stood up, and then reached down to pull you up by your underarms. You shakily stood in front of him, hands crossing over your abdomen. Your knees started to buckle under the intensity of the pain, but Azriel quickly stabilized you by your waist. You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath, in far too much pain to keep protesting his help you desperately needed. Help you desperately wanted. “Azriel,” you whimpered, nothing else coming out.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he reassured. “Do you need help getting in the bath?”

Resigned, you nodded. “I don’t think I can do this,” you whispered.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Let’s get you in the bath then. First, we need to get this gown off you.” His thumb gently brushed your hip, and his shadows mimed his gentle touch across your cheeks and neck. “Can I?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek and nodded. He swiftly pulled the gown up and over your head, and while he turned to toss the gown in your hamper, you slid your ruined underwear off. You stepped toward the bath, but you embarrassingly tripped over your own feet. Azriel was there instantly, swiftly resting a hand on the middle of your bare back and another under your arm. “Easy,” he murmured, gently guiding you to step into the tub, stabilizing you as you sank down beneath the sudsy water.

You leaned back in the tub, Azriel releasing you. “I hate that you’re seeing me like this,” you admitted quietly.

Azriel frowned as he kneeled next to you outside the tub. “Why?”

“I hate how weak I am right now. It’s humiliating, Az. I shouldn’t need your help. I should be able to take care of myself.”

“How is me helping you any different from letting Mor help you?” he asked, seriously. 

Well, you weren’t in love with Mor, for starters.

“Mor doesn’t judge you, you know that. I’m not judging you either. I would never think less of you for this,” he told you. “I want to help you. I want to be here with you. So please, let me.”

You stared into his eyes for a brief moment, absorbing the genuine care and concern shining through the normally cool and guarded male. Here was this massive winged Illyrian warrior, adorned in armor and powerful siphons, with shadows swirling around him and a dagger strapped to his side that sent most scrambling, sitting beside you at your weakest most vulnerable state. You felt nothing but safe in that moment, and the thought made you close your eyes to hide the glossy sheen quickly forming over them. 

You wanted Azriel with you. You wanted him to take care of you. You were embarrassed, yes, vulnerable and exposed, but you knew in your bones that there was no one else on the planet who would care for you as well as Azriel.

With your eyes still closed, you asked him quietly, “Will you please help me wash my hair?”

A beat passed, then Azriel said, “Of course I will.”

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his soft ones. Then you yelped as something fell and splashed into the tub, getting water on Azriel. You winced as you leaned forward to scoop it out, finding a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. 

“You can tell the House was Made by Nesta,” Azriel muttered until his breath. You couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped you, earning a shy grin from Azriel.

He took the bottles from you and sat them on the floor. He slid off some of the armor on his arms, including the siphons, leaving just the one in the center of his chest. You watched him pour a handful of shampoo into the palm of his tan, scarred hand. 

You closed your eyes again as he started gently massaging the shampoo into your scalp, building a soothing lather. His large hands and surprisingly nimble fingers scrubbed every inch of your scalp, and you thought you might melt when he paid special attention to the nape of your neck. When he was done, he filled a small bowl you kept on your sink with water, then slowly poured it over your head to rinse the soap from your hair. 

He pulled a cloth from the stack of towels beside the tub, but he paused his motions after dipping it in the soapy water. Before he could even ask, you nodded your head and murmured, “Please.”

Azriel gently washed your arm and then the next. He ran the cloth over your collarbone, barely brushing the tops of your breasts, but you were too exhausted and numb with resounding pain to think much of it, and Azriel’s touch and gaze remained nothing but respectful. A warm hand on your shoulder gently coaxed you to lean forward so he could reach your back.

A shiver racked your body as he brushed over your spine, and simultaneously another sharp pain pierced your abdomen. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes from the juxtaposition of sensations you were feeling. Azriel brushed a tear away with his thumb not covered in soap. “Doing okay?” he asked softly.

More tears leaked from your eyes. “It hurts so bad, Az,” you choked out.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said sincerely, as he finished washing your back. “I wish I could do something.”

“You are, Az.” You placed your hand over his on your shoulder, meeting his eyes briefly before he looked away. “I’ve only spent a cycle alone once and,” you swallowed the ache that formed in your chest, “And it was horrible. You just being here—it means everything. Let alone you taking care of me.”

He didn’t say anything, but he brushed small strokes against the skin of your shoulder before pulling the cloth away from your back. You took the cloth from him and said, “I can finish up.”

He nodded, and for a moment he looked unsure what to do before you said, “Az?” His gaze snapped back to yours. Your cheeks heated irrationally. “I don’t have any linens for…” You looked down at the water before going back to him. “And I don’t have any tonics.”

His eyes widened at the last sentence. “You haven’t even taken a tonic?”

You shook your head. “I’m normally more prepared than this, but this time it was so early,” you told him, embarrassed. 

“Why didn’t you ask someone to get you one? Ask me?” he asked, clearly exasperated. “Mother above, Y/N. I know Mor is usually the one who helps you, but any of us would do anything for you.”

You looked away as he sighed and brushed a hand over your hair. “I’ll get you what you need,” he murmured. “Are you okay here for a few minutes?”

You nodded. “I promise not to pass out and drown in the bathtub.”

“That’s not even funny,” he grumbled as he stood up. He put his siphons back on his wrist and said, “I’ll be right back.” He spared one more hesitant glance at you before exiting the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

You quickly washed yourself, then leaned back against the tub to wait for Azriel to return. You thought about getting out, but the pain radiating to your thighs and the remaining lightheadedness made you think better of it. A lingering shadow swooped over your collarbone, as if agreeing with your decision. You shut your eyes, practicing some of the breathing techniques Nesta had shared with you from their Valkyrie training to distract you. 

The door creaked open and Azriel’s voice said, “If you fell asleep in the tub, so help me.”

You peaked at him through hooded eyes before fully opening them. A teasing smile adorned his face, and he held a bottle and some linen cloth pads in his hands. He sat the linens on the counter and opened the bottle, handing it to you. “Drink this.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. He left the bathroom again briefly before returning with a new gown and underwear. “Are you ready to get out?”

“Yeah,” you said, licking your lips of any residual bitterness from the tonic.

Azriel reached for a towel and held it up for you. “I have some food and water for you in the room to wash the tonic down,” he said. You shakily stood up in the tub and he swiftly wrapped you in the towel. He held you by your arm as you stepped out, and guided you over to the counter where your clothes were.

He grabbed the underwear that already had a pad in it. “Here.” He knelt down in front of you, holding the underwear out for you. “Hang on to me and step in these.”

You did as he said, and he swiftly pulled them up your legs. He followed suit with the nightgown, letting the towel drop only after it covered you. He then used your comb on your counter to detangle your wet hair, patting it dry with your towel. 

You wanted to kiss this male for how sweet he was. He presented himself as cold, stoic, and dangerous, but he was the kindest male you had ever met. The gentleness in his touch was a paradox to the career and reputation he had.

He picked you up without warning, cradling you in his arms. “Let’s get you in bed.”

He moved swiftly through your room, setting you on the bed with clean sheets. He handed you a glass of water, telling you to drink before handing you a berry scone. “You think you can stomach this?”

You nodded, not entirely convinced you could, but you were starving. Azriel sat beside you on the bed quietly while you ate your scone. You took a few more sips of water before setting it back on the nightstand. Azriel reached for another tonic bottle on the table, handing it to you. “This is a sleep tonic,” he told you. “Madja said they don’t usually work for your cycle? But I thought it was worth trying, if you want.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Az.” You drank the tonic, this one thankfully sweeter than the first one. “When I was younger, my mom always gave me a sleep tonic that instantly put me to sleep.” You smiled, nostalgia hitting you. Azriel listened intently. “I have no idea how she made it. I’ve never been able to successfully recreate it. I wish she wrote her recipes down, so I had more than just the memories of things she told me,” you said softly.

You laid down, head resting on your pillow as you faced Az. His eyes roved over you, uncertainty flickering in them. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Trepidation laced your voice as you started, “Can you just—” you swallowed hard and shook your head. “Nevermind,” you whispered, smiling half-heartedly. “I’m fine. Thank you, Az.”

Azriel frowned, and he smoothed a gentle hand over your damp hair. The motion had his cool cedar scent wafting over you, and you closed your eyes in a brief indulgence. “Y/N,” he murmured, hazel eyes glimmering with resolution as they met yours, “Tell me what you need. You say it, and it’s yours.”

Your heart skipped a beat. A few beats passed as you grappled for the courage to make your request. “Can you please just lay with me?” you asked, voice cracking under the weight of so many different emotions flooding your system.

Nearly imperceptibly, Azriel’s eyes widened. If you didn’t know him so well, you would have never noticed the shift in his breathing, the twitch of his wings. All signs that Azriel, the Shadowsinger, was nervous. You had feared rejection, but suddenly you were hit with the new fear that you had made him uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you rushed out. “I should never—you don’t have to—”

“Hey,” he rested a warm hand on the duvet covering your thigh. “Of course I will.” He stood up from the bed and moved to the couch that rested under your window, slipping off his boots. “Just let me take some of this off first.”

You shifted to face him fully, watching silently as he removed his heavy leathers from his torso, leaving his chest and arms bare with his shadows slowly snaking across him. He removed his belt and thigh holsters, then he started unlacing his pants before he paused and met your gaze. You blushed at being caught in your ogling, but Azriel didn’t seem to mind. “Is this okay? I can go get some clean clothes from my room. I just—I know you like your bed clean, and I didn’t want to climb in with these dirty leathers.”

“It’s fine, Az,” you assured him, smiling softly. 

He nodded and slipped his pants off, leaving him in his underwear. Your breath caught at the sight of his tanned, muscled thighs, and the blush on your cheeks intensified with the impure thoughts pushing to the front of your mind. A new wave of pain quickly dissolved any thoughts of debauchery, and your wince and sharp inhale had Azriel taking quick strides to your bed.

He climbed in under the covers, the warmth radiating from his body immediately seeping into your cool, damp skin. He moved around until he was on his side, facing you, and his wings sprawled out behind him. A few tendrils of shadow flitted over to you, grazing your neck and cheeks. You grinned despite the pain you were still in.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured, and you swore his cheeks were tinged pink. “Do they bother you?”

“Not at all,” you told him honestly. “They’re…comforting, really.”

His eyes softened, and he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. The pad of his thumb grazed the exposed skin of your collarbone, and you couldn’t help the goosebumps that appeared across your flesh. “Come here,” Azriel said softly, gently nudging you toward him.

You both shimmied closer to each other until you were fully pressed against his tattooed chest, cheek meeting the warm skin of his pectoral. You curled your arms up in between you both, letting his body fully cocoon yours as his arms wrapped around you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Growing up, my mother would always hold me. Whenever I was hurting. Whether it was because of my cycle, or if I was scared, or heartbroken,” your voice cracked as you continued, “She would always lay with me and just hold me.” You sniffed, and a tear rolled down your cheek as Azriel’s embrace tightened. “I miss her so much, Az,” you sobbed.

“I know, sweetheart,” he cooed and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. “You can always tell me about her. Anytime you want.”

You nodded into his chest, not ready to speak.

“I wish I could have met her,” he told you quietly. “She would be so proud of you, though, I know it. Imagine if she knew you followed the High Lord’s general out of a bar and demanded to heal his wings.”

You scoffed, but it sounded more like a choke. “I did not demand anything.” 

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was smiling. “True, you were too polite to do such a thing.”

“Were?”

He laughed. “But we all knew you weren’t going to let Cassian leave without you at least looking at him. Most people run the other direction when they see us, but not you.” His wing settled over the two of you softly, the added warmth and pressure a welcome comfort. “I’m so glad Cas got in that fight.”

“I am too.”

You shifted slightly so you could see the wing hovering over you. You met Azriel’s warm and watchful hazel eyes as you hesitantly reached for the delicate membrane. You paused before touching him, meeting his curious gaze, and when he didn’t stop you, you lightly brushed your fingertips across the smooth and leathery membrane. Azriel shuddered, and you quickly retracted your hand.

“Sorry,” you rushed out, your cheeks and ears hot. “I’m sorry. They’re just so beautiful. I forget how delicate and sensitive they are.”

“Sensitive, being the key word,” Az choked out.

“Sorry,” you murmured, looking away sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” he assured, pulling you tight against him again. “I don’t mind you touching them. Truly. Like I said, they’re just sensitive.”

He jostled you around a bit as he readjusted, holding you tight against him with his wing still offering an extra layer of protection. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep, yeah?” His soft, near melodic voice made you aware of your eyes starting to droop with every passing second. “I’ll stay right here,” he promised.

“Okay,” you weakly rasped as you unabashedly nuzzled against him. “Thank you, Az.”

“Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispered as his cheek rested against the top of your head. “Anything.”

This is the money Marge. Reblog for good fortune

i saw this:

and thought it would be fun to actually work that out. so

Google Docs

DOCTOR WHO IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

Sheet1 the myth makers,1200 bc the romans,64 the fires of pompeii,23-24 august 79 the eaters of light,2nd century,1st doctor the pandorica

^^^ every doctor who episode in chronological order

(pls let me know if theres any mistakes! i got most of the info from the tardis wiki so idk if its 100% accurate)

btw!!! the episodes are ordered by where they go FIRST in the episode :) (PLEASE STOP TELLING ME TO PUT UNEARTHLY CHILD FIRST THEYRE IN 1963 FIRS TPLEASEEEEEYEGEHFEHFYUFHGEUYS)

The Lie of Windhaven | Azriel x reader [Part 2]

The Lie of Windhaven [Masterlist] here!

Summary: Azriel has dragged her into a mess she now has to do her best to survive. People show their true colours, and others drop a name.

A/N: I did iiiit!! And we can all thank @bellaskhakhiskirt for the extra encouragement that had me finish this tonight haha. Thank you guys so so much for all your sweet comments on part 1!! I got a bit overwhelmed replying to everything, so just know that I read them all (sometimes multiple times a day) and they make me so happy! 🥹🫶

Word count: 4222

Warnings: language, canon typical violence and ✨misogyny✨, brief description of SA and physical abuse

-

Previously:

“I have the right to demand her hand,” Azriel said, and her brows twitched closer together at his choice of words.

“I beg your pardon?”

The right?

Devlon swivelled around, furious that Azriel hadn’t yet dropped the discussion.

Elas scoffed. “Oh yeah? And what right is that?”

Azriel’s eyes met hers then, and the determination she saw reflected within them had her heart drop to her stomach. She knew in that moment what he was planning to do, the lies he planned to weave.

“No,” she breathed again just as Azriel opened his mouth to doom them both.

“She’s my mate.”

And just like that, every head within hearing distance turned to look at her.

-

A beat of silence.

“No,” Devlon declared. “Absolutely not.”

Azriel held her gaze for a moment longer, as though willing her to play along, but she felt her insides boil with anger as he turned back to look at Devlon, his expression as collected as ever.

“Are you questioning the Cauldron?”

She knew what he was doing. The mating bond was held above all else—untouchable by any rules or previous alliances. If Azriel officially claimed her as his mate, no other male in the camp would dare touch her, and no engagement, betrothal or marriage would stand.

A fine plan in theory, only there was one problem.

It was a lie.

And to impersonate a mating bond …

Devlon had killed for far less.

The warlord’s attention still lay on her and she could see every last bit of his hatred burn bright as day in the black pits of his eyes.

“There’s no way she’s your mate,” Elas said, a deep crease between his brows as he, too, continued to look at her as though the answer would be found on her face. “She would not have accepted my proposal if she was.”

“She did not know,” Azriel said. “The bond only snapped in place for me when I saw her in the dining hall last night. It caught me off guard.”

“She cannot possibly be your mate,” Devlon said, his voice low and menacing, his eyes boring into hers.

“She is standing right here.”

Silence fell at her words. Silence so all-consuming, one could have heard a twig snap in the forest bordering on the camp’s north side.

Y/N regretted her words almost instantly, the look in Devlon’s eyes cold enough to kill, but part of her eased when she felt a presence in her back, tall enough to cast a long shadow. She didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Cassian. She could tell from Azriel’s lack of a reaction.

She hadn’t even noticed him rounding the courtyard from where he’d stood on the opposite end, but she was thankful for his presence, shielding her not only from some of the stares but also from Devlon’s immediate wrath.

“You want to be part of this conversation?” Devlon growled through barely parted teeth. “Fine. Be part of it. Come here, now.”

She did her best to maintain the slippery grip on her composure as she bridged the last remaining steps setting her apart from the three men. Cassian remained where he was, and she felt the distance grow like she was swimming further away from a safe shore and straight into shark infested waters.

Devlon never took his eyes off her, and when she stood close enough to their little group, she felt like she was shrinking beneath his calculating gaze.

“Did you know of this supposed bond?”

Her teeth clenched briefly, and in her mind, she cursed Azriel for dragging her—dragging them both into this situation.

“No, my lord.”

“And you accepted Elas’ proposal earlier today?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He hummed. “And this new … revelation,” he stated with a quick glance at Azriel. “You do not share the shadowsinger’s sentiments? You do not feel a mating bond?”

Her mouth clapped shut. What was she supposed to say to that? Of course she didn’t feel a bond. She didn’t feel it because it did not exist, but admitting to it would cost Azriel big time.

They wouldn’t kill him—he was too precious for that—but they’d punish him by punishing everyone he loved. And they’d start with Cassian.

He was powerful too, sure—powerful enough to receive seven Siphons of his own. But they didn’t adorn his armour yet, and he was neither a shadowsinger nor a future High Lord, which left him unprotected amongst his brothers.

“As of right now,” she began, her eyes flickering to Azriel for only a second. “No, my lord.”

“It did not yet snap in place for her,” Azriel said, and for the first time, a note of tension crept into his words. “Which means she cannot yet feel it. Surely, you’re aware of the technicalities, Devlon?”

“Don’t condescend to me, boy,” Devlon snapped. “I will have you whipped no matter how many shadows you wield.”

Silence settled once again, and after a long, tense pause, Devlon straightened his back, crossing his arms behind it.

“I want proof.”

Azriel remained quiet.

It was Elas who spoke next.

“You cannot mean to entertain this nonsense, my lord,” he said, his voice hard as he stared Azriel down. “She has agreed to marry me. I have her friends to bear witness.”

“Be that as it may, another has laid claim to her,” Devlon said, his mouth twisted as though every word tasted bitter on his tongue. “The mating bond must be honoured, no matter how … unfortunate a match. You will wait to wed her until I have something to either prove or disprove the existence of this bond.”

“What do you mean, proof?” Y/N said, hesitance in her words. “How would one go about proving a mating bond?”

The smile Devlon gave was cruel, and before she knew it, his hand had shot forward to wrap tightly around her arm, dragging her close enough for his breath to hit her face with the words he spoke next.

“It would do you good to remember your place, girl. You address me properly or I will have you stripped bare for a good lashing,” he growled low enough for his words to hum through her very bones. “Proof means proof. If this godsforsaken bond was real, you’d know how to prove it. For starters, our dear shadowsinger over here would feel everything you felt.” His eyes flickered to Azriel, though his grip remained bruising on her arm. “Perhaps we should test the theory right now?”

A blade flashed in his hand—one she hadn’t noticed him draw from the sheath by his hip.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticked. “Cutting her will prove nothing.”

“Maybe not,” Devlon said, straightening where he stood, though his hand remained where it was. “But slitting her throat will do wonders to rid us of this little disturbance.”

“I leave for three days, and you start threatening to slit people’s throats, Devlon?” a new voice drawled, sounding almost bored.

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the side, and a wave of relief crashed over her at the sight of Rhysand standing next to Cassian. If there was one person who’d manage to get them all out of this unscathed, it was Rhys.

His wings were out, hands buried in the pockets of his pants, head tilted as he took in the scene before him. “I take it your news have not been received well, Azriel?”

The relief she felt dropped to her stomach like a stone.

Azriel remained silent, his attention resting on her.

“You knew of this?” Devlon’s eyes were ablaze as he stared at Rhys.

“Well, of course,” Rhysand said, sighing softly through his nose. “What part of ‘I can see into people’s minds’ has you baffled?”

A quiet snort sounded from the remaining crowd of onlookers, and Devlon’s face twisted with rage.

“I’m warning you now, boy,” he growled. “You might be the High Lord’s son, but he’s given me permission to treat you as I would any other soldier, so you watch your—”

“Fascinating,” Rhys drawled, picking a piece of lint from the cuff of his leathers. “But be that as it may, I can attest to the validity of this bond.”

She would throttle him.

Her eyes flickered back to Azriel and the calm gaze he kept on her.

She would throttle them both.

There was not the slightest hint of a doubt that somehow Azriel had managed to get Rhys on board with this moronic plan. Which meant that not only had he endangered her, but he’d also endangered his friends. Because if Rhys knew, she was willing to bet what little money she had that Cassian knew as well.

“He’s the shadowsinger’s friend,” Elas spat, features taut. “Of course he would say that.”

Devlon finally let go of her arm, though it was only so he could lift his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I want you all out of my sight.” He growled.

“But, my lord, I—”

“Now,” Devlon snapped, shooting Elas a look that had his mouth clap shut at once. “You will not wed her until I say so. I require proof I can trust.”

It was Azriel who spoke next. “And what would adequate proof entail if the word of a daemati does not suffice?”

Devlon looked at him for a long while then. As though contemplating whether to cut out his tongue for daring to speak.

“I shall have a high priestess give her assessment.”

Once again, the blood ran cold in her veins.

No one in the entirety of Prythian knew bonds quite as well as the priestesses did. They would be able to sniff out a lie from a mile away.

“I will send for one first thing tomorrow morning and until she arrives, neither one of you is to wed this one.” His mouth twisted with distaste as he threw her a last withering look before turning to address every Illyrian within earshot. “Now, if I have to repeat myself one more time, I will have you all running lapses until the sun rises tomorrow morning. Get out of my sight!”

Y/N had just turned to catch the wide eyes of Lissa and Malina, her heart pounding, when another hand found her arm. This time, however, it was with the gentle grip of long fingers curling around the back of her elbow.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” Cassian muttered in her ear, and before she knew it, her feet were rushing to catch up with his long strides as he headed straight for the hut at the edge of the camp she knew belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

-

Her eyes were ablaze as Azriel stepped through the door of the hut, her fists clenched by her sides. Cassian stood at the small kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim.

Her mouth opened and Azriel knew what to expect.

“How dare you,” she breathed, and his jaw clenched at her tone. “How dare you ruin this for me. He was my one choice, Azriel. My one option.”

“He was not—”

“He was!” she snapped, her voice gaining in volume, her brows pinched in rage. “And even if he wasn’t, he was who I chose. You took away my choice and in doing so you practically guaranteed my death. I never would have thought you to be so cruel.”

“Cruel?” Azriel gaped at her. “I am doing this to help you.”

“I never asked you to!” Her voice began to wobble now, her eyes growing glassy, though her cheeks remained dry. “In fact, I explicitly recall telling you that we were over.”

“So you expected me to sit back and watch him turn you into an empty shell? A womb to be filled?” Azriel’s voice was of calm disbelief, his mask carefully locked in place to hide the burning anger that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Well, now you get to watch Devlon slit my throat once the priestess tells him that this bond is a load of bullshit, so thank you for that.” She laughed without an ounce of joy. “I hope you’re happy with that outcome.”

“He won’t kill you.”

“He will. In case you didn’t notice, he almost killed me today.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You are not my knight in shining armour just because I let you fuck me a couple times, Azriel,” she spat, the fury now bright as day in the depths of her eyes, and Azriel swallowed at the impact of her words.

Silence settled—silence thick enough it threatened to drown him—and as he stared at her, he could see it all. He saw the deeply rooted fear in her eyes, the anger he’d caused, the desperation in the face of a bleak future, and he took a step back.

“I know,” he spoke quietly.

“Do you?” She stared at him. “Because I don’t think you do, or you wouldn’t have gone and invented a fucking mating bond.”

When Azriel remained quiet, she rubbed angrily at the tear that had escaped her left eye to trail down her cheek at last.

“I need to go,” she muttered, walking around him in an arch as big as the room allowed to head for the door. “I need to speak to Elas. I need to apologise.”

Every part of him screamed to stop her from leaving. He didn’t want her anywhere near Elas and his rage, but he’d done enough for one day. She wouldn’t allow him to touch her right now, wouldn’t listen to his requests, and so he stepped aside and suppressed a flinch as the door fell closed behind her.

A few silent moments ticked by, and when Cassian spoke, his words rang loudly through the silent hut, though his tone was uncommonly gentle.

“Did you think this through, brother?”

A joyless smile twisted the corners of Azriel’s lips. “What do you think?”

-

“Elas, please,” she said, rushing to catch up with the Illyrian’s long strides as he headed for the hut he shared with three other warriors. “I swear I didn’t know Azriel was going to do that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, I—”

The Illyrian scoffed. “A mating bond, apparently.”

“I didn’t know,” she repeated and hated the way her voice sounded as she did so. No part of her wanted to beg Elas for forgiveness when it was Azriel who’d dragged her into this mess.

She stumbled to a halt when Elas swung around, his eyes ablaze as he loomed over her.

“You didn’t know? Interesting,” he drawled in a tone so unmatching of the fury in his face. “But you are aware that you’ve been fucking him, yes?”

“I—” she broke off, her brows twitching closer together. “We had a … fling, yes. But it was over before I accepted your proposal.”

He stared at her, unblinking, and when her skin began to crawl, she curled her hands into fist by her sides, willing herself not to cower.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It’s obvious that you didn’t think.” His voice dropped to a hum now, his upper lip curling in distaste. “Don’t assume for one second that I would have asked for your hand if I’d known that—”

“That what?” she hissed, her teeth clenched as she took a step closer, her anger getting the better of her. “That I have a sex life? May I ask how many people you’ve slept with, Elas?”

He moved before she could react, and his knuckles where sharp as he slapped her across the face with the back of his hand.

She gasped with the impact, her head swivelling to the side, her feet stumbling where she stood, the world around her suddenly swaying. He was on her then, gripping her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze before she could even think to collect herself, and her hand instinctively shot up to wrap around his wrist for stability. 

His nose was mere inches from hers, his next words a quiet hiss.

“That I’d be marrying a whore.” She felt his breath on her face, her jaw aching beneath the hard grip of his hand. But she held his gaze with quiet defiance. “I allowed you to keep your wings intact because I thought you knew where your priorities lie. I thought we had an agreement. We could have been good together. We could have been content.”

He took a deep breath through his nose and for a brief moment, she wondered whether he could smell the fear she so desperately tried to suppress.

“I shall still wed you once this nonsense is dealt with, but do not expect a marriage from me. You’ll do for carrying my offspring, but I have no desire to give a good life to another’s fuck toy.”

She felt her throat clog up, doing everything to will back the tears that threatened to shoot to her eyes.

“I was wrong about you,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “You’re just like the others. And I’d rather die than marry you.”

Elas hummed, and when the corners of his lips curled into a little smirk, her heart sank further.

“I’m guessing your chances of dying are pretty good once Devlon has proof that this bond is a scam—which we both know it is,” he said, the words almost sensual as they rolled off his tongue. “But either way, I staked my claim. I have your word, and I have witnesses to prove it. So in the unlikely event of your survival, you shall belong to me.” Lifting the hand he didn’t keep wrapped around her aching jaw, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, the gesture almost gentle. “And what fun I’ll have humiliating you as you have humiliated me.”

His eyes moved to her lips then and she could feel her bottom lip begin to wobble with the harshness of his words and the future they promised.

She noted the way he exhaled through his nose in a quiet scoff, and next thing she knew, horror coursed through her veins as he lowered his mouth to hers.

His fingers pressed deep into her skin, his grip crushing on the bones of her jaw, preventing her from backing away. And when his mouth covered hers and he pried her lips open for his tongue to lick deep into her mouth, she gave a choked sob.

She pulled on his wrist, her hands hitting his shoulders in an attempt to shove him off her, but she was too weak. She was powerless, as she’d never been allowed to train. And suddenly she realised why Illyrian males were so keen on keeping their women defenceless.

There was nothing gentle in Elas’ kiss; none of the passion she’d felt heating her blood whenever Azriel had kissed her. Elas was demanding—harsh in the way he claimed her mouth and unrelenting in his hold on her jaw.

He tilted her head back, forcing himself closer to her and his tongue deeper into her mouth. His teeth scraped harshly against her lips, and when he finally pulled back, she felt the sting of split skin.

The breath was tearing in and out of her lungs now, and immediately, she clenched her teeth hard enough to hear her jaw give a crunching groan.

Elas hummed again, tilting his head with an eyebrow raised in mockery. “Yes, you’ll certainly do.”

When he finally, finally let go of her, it was with a shove that had her falter where she stood.

Her eyes were burning now. But she wouldn’t cry. Not here, not in front of him.

Elas turned around, and as he headed towards his hut, he threw snide words over his shoulder.

“It’ll be interesting to find out what it is that has the shadowsinger so wrapped up that he’ll risk losing his life over a cunt.”

She stared after him, unable to move as she let his words sink in.

It was ironic, really. In his attempt to spare her from a future he thought as bad as it would get, Azriel had only managed to guarantee her a fate much worse.

It dawned on her then. That she’d spent the rest of her life in agony. She’d spent the rest of her immortal existence utterly miserable. At Elas’ mercy—assaulted, disrespected, alone. All he’d done just then had been a glimpse into the future that awaited her.

A sob tore through her—one she could neither stop nor muffle—and just when she was about to crumble entirely right then and there in the middle of the camp, gentle hands found her arm.

“Not here,” Malina spoke quietly. “Don’t let them see.”

A gentle tug on her arm had Y/N stumble along her friend’s side, until a familiar, dusty scent filled her nostrils.

The supply hut.

Perfect.

Her eyes flickered to the table she’d sat on last night and suddenly she felt the urge to laugh in the face of all the things that had gone wrong in less than twenty-four hours. It would have been hysterical, had it not been so … final.

It was Lissa who brushed loose hair from her face. Her big, round eyes were filled with concern, and at the wetness on her cheeks, Y/N realised that she hadn’t been laughing after all.

“He’s going to make my life a living hell,” she heard herself say, her voice hoarse, her tone dull. Despite the tears streaming down her face, she felt numb. Like her mind had been disconnected from her body.

“We saw,” Lissa spoke quietly, brushing her fingers through her friend’s hair in a soothing manner. “I never would have thought him to be so … vicious.”

Y/N scoffed weakly. Because hadn’t she known him to be a vicious fighter? She realised then that it had been naïve of her to assume he’d be any different when it came to his wife.

“You won’t end up with him,” Malina stated, and she sounded almost sure enough to be convincing. Almost.

“Please stop,” Y/N spoke softly. “I can’t take this irrational confidence from you too. It is futile.”

“Only if your bond to Azriel can be disproven, and the Cauldron never miss—”

“The bond does not exist.” A wave of exhaustion crashed into her as she lowered herself to the edge of the wooden table, lifting her palms to press the heels of her hands over her eyes. Her head was throbbing. She wanted to lie down. “Azriel made it up.”

Silence fell over the dusty little cabin. And it seemed to stretch on forever.

She didn’t want to lift her head, didn’t want to see the horror on her friends’ faces as they realised the true extent of her predicament.

“We’ll have to fake it, then.”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Lissa who’d spoken the words.

“You cannot fake a mating bond,” Y/N muttered.

“Oh, sure you can,” Malina said, and when Y/N lifted her gaze, she shrugged. “Or Azriel would not have attempted it. He’s smart, darling. Smarter than all of us. And he’s obviously trying to help you, so I’d suggest you follow his lead.”

“He went behind my back,” Y/N said, her forehead creasing. “And he ruined every plan I made for myself. For my life.”

“You despised those plans.”

“That doesn’t matter, he—”

“It does matter.” Malina sighed as she propped a hand on her hip. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. But I’m thinking you need to consider your current situation and set your priorities accordingly.”

Y/N lifted a brow. “What?”

“What I’m saying is you need to focus on getting through this first. You can be angry with Azriel later. What’s done is done. There’s no going back so you might as well go with it to try and save yourself instead of wasting time on holding a pointless grudge.”

“She’s right,” Lissa said tentatively, smoothing a warm palm down the length of Y/N’s back as she sank to the table next to her. “She could have said it a little nicer, but she’s right.”

Malina snorted.

“And besides, you only need to convince one person, how hard can that be?” Malina waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’ve always been convinced the priestesses fake it anyway.”

“There are only twelve, right?” Lissa asked.

“Yes, and Devlon sent for one he can trust to be impartial.” Malina scoffed. “You can say what you want about him but when it comes to the mating bond, he really doesn’t fuck around. He’ll have her flown in and all.”

That caught Y/N’s attention. Having a priestess flown in meant that she was too far to winnow.

“She doesn’t reside in the Night Court?.”

Malina tilted her head, a glint in her eyes. “You’re trying to steal his prized shadowsinger, of course he’s going to get someone that couldn’t have been bribed by Azriel or his brothers.”

Y/N lifted a brow at her friend. “You heard him say all that?”

“Oh, yeah,” Malina said, and a smirk stretched over her face. “You’d be surprised what they let you hear when they think you’re of next to no use to anyone.”

Y/N sighed through her nose and let her face sink back into her open palms, wincing at the tenderness of her jaw. She could feel the slight swelling of her cheekbone, a smudge of blood landing on her hand where she held it pressed to her lip.

Lissa’s interest seemed piqued at Malina’s words. “I thought most of the priestesses lived in the Night Court,” she said, curiosity in her tone. “Where is he flying her in from?”

“I forgot.” Malina waved her hand again. “Some super spiritual priestess temple. I heard him say that she’s their newest member. Ianthe, I think her name was.”

-

Taglist Part I:

@byyalady @tele86 @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @justrepostandlove @starriestarlight @tele86 @waytoomanyteenagefeels @ryekoo @azriel-shadowsingerr @amygdtjhddzvb @ohhellotherebumblebee @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @astarlitsoul @amysangel @fxckmiup @ruler-of-hades @whitewolfsbitch @threespacemonkeys @mell-bell @sillysillygoose444 @quiettuba @itsswritten @brujitafantomatico @badpvn @justrepostandlove @of-outerspace @bakananya @iamjimintrash @starseedsamurai @balsalmic-vinegar @secretlyhers @the-spine-of-the-world @lees-chaotic-brain @helloevilmuffins @cinnamonmelody @jediknightjana @acourtof-wingspan @nxgh1 @aactuaaltraash @marigold-morelli @thatsassyhufflepuff @darlingbravebelle @anxious-study @thisisew @that-one-little-soybean @brieflyclassymortal @isa1b2h3 @julesofvolterra @prettylittlewrites @i-am-infinite @thecraziestcrayon @spellbinding-snoozles

Skyfall | Azriel x reader [Masterlist]

Summary: Azriel's mate falls from the sky, badly injured and refusing to speak of who she is.

A/N: I don't know what it is with me and fics where an Illyrian reader somehow suffers drastic injuries to the wings, but here we go again.

Idk how many parts this series will have yet, but let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. ✨

Warnings: talk of and description of injuries and violence, eventual SMUT (18+), please check each chapter for specific warnings

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Read [Part 1] here!

Part 2 (coming soon)

-

last updated: march 2024

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

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Complete Series! { ao3 link }

✵ indicates smut! 25-29 have some spice however, just not a full on smut scene :)

77.5k words total :)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 16.5 - Bonus

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27 ✵

Part 28

Part 29

Thank you everyone to came on the journey! And welcome to all the new readers, I hope you enjoy!

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

My ACOTAR Writing Masterlist

I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship

Unwavering Presence Chapter 12

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Cassian and Y/N both have a nightmare and look for comfort within each other. Spending a week out in pure bliss of cooking, meeting with a sweet Illyrian girl and snuggling in bed the couple hit a snag in the road.

Content Warning: Nightmares that depict murder, Asphyxiation, mention of wing clipping and scars. Weaponizing trauma against a victim and cliffhanger

Word Count:4.6K words

Banner used by @saradika

A/N: the last few sneak peeks I posted about are not in here but will be in the next one, I'm so sorry this took so long I was in a funk I couldn't shake! Though I'm not sorry for the cliffhanger.

ACOTAR MASTERLST

My arms were pinned above my head with Xavier’s hand gripping both of my wrists tightly. I writhed under him as he pawed at me. “Dolls, don’t move this much.” With his free hand he gripped my neck and forced his tongue down my throat as he pressed his length against me. Tears warmed my cheeks as my moan of agony was swallowed up by his mouth. “Shhh. It’s alright, it’ll be over soon.” He whispered over my lips as he slanted them down over mine again and I began to squirm. Xavier released the grip of my neck, his leather clad finger touching down my naked body. Until he reached my clit, and I gasped causing him to slither his tongue into my locking me tightly into place as he began to play with me like a toy.

I kept my eyes open as his disheveled blond hair fell forward from his face and tickled my collarbone. He moaned in my mouth as he slid a digit inside me, and I tried kicking my legs. Only the sharp sting of his hand against my core caused me to pause. “Stay still or I will get the spreader bar.” His blue eyes bore into mine with a seriousness that chilled my blood. “Do you understand?”

I steadied a breath, “Yes sir.”

He smiled, kissing me again, the feeling of his mouth on mine made me feel dirty and made me want to shrink into myself. Having enough I bit down on his bottom lip hard. He released me and I rose to my feet and tried to flee. His hand gripped my hair and I screamed, “No!” As Xavier yanked me back and forced me to my knees. “Get off me!” I shrieked.

“Let’s fix that mouth of yours, shall we?” He pressed the tip of his cock against my lips, the precum coating them, He released my hair only to pinch my nose. It didn’t take very long for my lungs to cry out for air, and I opened my mouth. Before he could do anything, a growl emulated from the corner, “Do not touch her.” Cassian’s voice grounded out. His siphons were the only thing I could distinguish as my vision was beginning to go out of focus.

Cassian had come for me, and when I turned to see him, silver glimmered in the illumination of the moonlight, and I screamed but it was too late. Graysen had taken the steel and sliced Cassian’s wings. “Cassian!” I cried out as the assault to his beautiful wings continued. I reached out for him only for Xavier to loop his arm around my waist. “Cassian!” He groaned on the floor, blood pooling underneath him. As I made another attempt to reach out to him. To have my fingertips reach his. “Please wake up, please wake up, Cassian.” I sobbed.

Bolting awake sweat raced down my back and face as I took in my surroundings, realizing I was in my room in the cabin and not in human lands. A little voice in the back of my mind kept saying:

Find him. Find him. Find him.

Rising from my bed I padded my way to the door to go find the General of the Night Courts Armies.

Cassian’s POV

 Screams erupted all around me as my brothers and I raided the camp in search of my mother. Her screams flooded the camp, and I locked eyes with Rhysand and with a dip of his chin I bolted to the sound of her screams. My lungs were burning as I pushed myself to run faster thought my mother's screams were still so far from me. The night breeze pierced my skin as I pushed forward as the outline of the camp came into view.

As I entered the threshold of the camp another bloodcurdling scream rang through the camp, no one stirred, no one came to her aid. Weaving through the makeshift cabins the silhouette of male and a kneeling female caught the corner of my gaze. I changed course and headed in the direction where my mother’s beautiful face came into view. Terror consumed her features as tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry, my sweet boy.” Her voice cracked and Cassian collapsed to his knees. Mother pulled his face close to hers, “Look at how you’ve grown, Sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” She connected her forehead to mine, and I shut my eyes and took in her scent of snow and wildflowers.

“Cassian.” The voice caused my eyes to shoot open, and no longer was my mother’s eyes looking back at me but the familiar hues of Y/N. “Cass.” Her voice was shaky, and her fear was palpable.

I felt arms loop around mine and angrily yanking me back from the youngest Archeron sister, “No! Get off me!”  I thrashed as the two Illyrians pulled me away and the male that was behind Y/N lifted his battle Axe. My siphons roared to life and red power blasted from my body. The two warriors release me and I bolt toward, Y/N as the Axe slices through her neck.

I fall to my knees as the assassin drops the axe, “Long live the queen.” The male murmured barely falling to my ears as the gruesome scene laid bare in front of me.

I could feel the presence of my brothers as they approached and my tears turned into sobs as I lifted the body close to mine, Ignoring the fact her head was not attached and sobbed.

I bolted awake, sweat coating my skin and along my hair line. Pulling my hair up in a bun I sat at the edge of my bed trying to catch my breath. It took a few minutes before I took in my surroundings and realized that I was in the Cabin. Y/N’s room was right next to mine and just needing her in my arms I stood up and headed to find her.

Opening my door, I stepped out to find Y/N emerging from her room. Her face met mine and I could see the tear-soaked cheeks and her gaze met mine. “Hey.” She said tucking her bottom lip between her lips.

“Hey, you.” I gave her a small smile; I rubbed the back of my neck. “I was actually coming to find you.

“Oh?” She gave me a small tilt of her lips upward. “I was coming to find you too.”

Something warmed my chest at her words, and I held out my hand, “Come on, Princess.”

Y/N hesitated, then in a flash she slapped my hand away and wrapped her arms around my waist. Pressing her face into my chest. I heard her release a soft sigh as I coiled my arms around her. “I had a terrible dream.” She murmured.

I pressed my chin to the top of her head taking the scent in. She was here, she was alive, she was in my arms. “Me too,” my hand slides up her back and runs through her hair.

She sniffled and my body went rigid, “Graysen chopped your wings.” She whispered. She pulled back to look at them, her gaze was assessing, and I stilled as I realized she was checking for injuries.

I stroked my thumb against her cheek grabbing her attention, her eyes filled with worry.  “I’m okay, Princess, I flexed my wings so she can see they are uninjured. “My wings are perfectly fine.”

Y/N nodded, “What about you? You said you also had a nightmare,” Her voice a soft whisper and she gripped my hand, her soft fingers a stark contrast my calloused ones.

“I’m alright.” Her brows furrowed causing a little indent on her forehead. I leaned down pressing my lips where that crease resided and pulled away. Satisfaction bloomed in me as her face relaxed slightly, the wrinkles disappeared. I took her hand in my own and I quietly led her back to my room.

“Cassian What are you doing?” She questioned me as I opened my door.

“You have ruined my sleep schedule, Princess. If it’s alright with you, I would like you in my bed.”  Her cheeks tinted with the lightest shade of pink though panic enraptured her eyes, as if she was going back to a memory with Xavier. I tugged her hand lightly, “Hey no,” I leaned down to meet her eye level as my free hand gripped the back of her neck. “Come back to me, Sweetheart.” She blinked once… twice and there she was, my girl.  “I just want to hold you while we sleep.  Your presence comforts me.”  I chewed on the inside of my cheek at the admission.

Y/N gave me one of her toothy grins, one that could make me fall to my knees. “I’d like that. I sleep better when you’re close.”

I pressed my lips to hers for a moment and then kissed the tip of her nose, “Let’s get you to bed.” I adjusted my hands to hold her back and under her knees and picked her up and held her close to my chest. She gripped her arms around my neck and her Jasmine scent immediately calmed me.  “You died.” I whispered as I kicked the door shut behind me and continued and made strides to the bed. I placed her down at the edge of the bed.

Crawling in next to her, she laid her back, her kind warm eyes never leaving mine. “I what?”

Lying on my side and wrapping my arm around her stomach pulling her close. I nuzzled my face in her neck, peppering it with soft featherlight kisses moving up to her jaw and pressing my forehead to the side of her face, “In my nightmare.” I murmur against her skin. “I watched you get slaughtered in my dream. It started off with me looking for my mother and when I found her, she morphed into you.” I could hear her heart begin to race and I tried to rub soothing circles against her clothed side to calm her. “I watched you die. I just…” I paused and released a sigh, pulling away from her. Laying on my back fanning out my wings holding my hand out and felt her soft hand slip into mine and my fingers curled around hers. “I just needed a reminder that you were ok, that you were alive.”

“Darling,” Y/N whispered shifting on the bed and could feel her facing me. “Look at me.” I refused, she pulled her hand away from mine and her cool delicate fingers found my cheek and she lightly pushed my face to meet hers and her eyes held nothing, but warmth and comfort and I could feel a tug at my chest. She sat back, adjusting the pillows against the headboard as she sat back. Her hand still touching my face she lightly tugged, “Come here, Cassian.”

The tone of her voice made me move, and I braced my arms on both sides of her hips, a few loose strands falling from my bun. She swiped them out of my face and then she patted her chest, “Lie down,” My body obeyed her command instantly my arms slid around and gripped her back. My ear pressed against her breast where her heart held a steady strong beat. She was showing me that she was alive. She tugged the bun from my hair, and it cascaded down in every direction. As if she could sense my need for her touch, she began running her fingers through my hair. “Feyre would do this for me when I had a bad dream. Especially when I left Xavier. This was the best thing she could come up with to calm me.”

“Remind me to get her flowers before we go home?” I grumbled, snuggling my head deeper into her chest. “This is nice.”

Y/N kisses the top of my head and begins to hum a soft tune, after a few moments the hums turned into words, and she began to softly sing in my ear. A lullaby I was unfamiliar with. Though I can’t focus on the words as her soft melodic tone seeped into my bones and wrapped around my soul. Her beautiful voice, her fingers massaging my scalp and her strong pulse ringing in my ear my eyes grow heavy. Before slumber can pull me under, I could have sworn she whispered, “It belongs to you anyway.” Then sleep consumed me.

I stirred the next morning to find my head pressed against a pillow.  I lifted my head up blinking away the sleep and found the side of the bed cold. Pans collapsing and clanging on the ground in the kitchen followed by a slew of curses had me sliding out of bed, tying my hair back and following the sound. Making sure to quiet my footsteps I leaned against the door frame leading into the kitchen. Y/N was grumbling picking up the scattered cook wearing her hair in a braid that looked disheveled. Her cheeks were flushed, and I couldn’t help but admire her plump ass as she bent over to put things away, fighting the urge to collide my hand against it with a sharp slap. As she stood, and grabbed something off the counter, I made my presence known, “What’s going on in here?”

Y/N must not have noticed I was here because she jumped and in doing so the contents of the bowl she was holding flew in the air and landing all over her. She turned to look at me and pushed out her bottom lip, “You ruined my surprise.” She mumbled, shaking her head to get the flour out of her hair; a plume of flour swirls around her.

I pushed off the doorframe and approached her as I fought the laughter from escaping my lips. I looked at the contents on the table and my chest heaved. “You were trying to make breakfast?”

The youngest Archeron sighed in defeat, “You were upset last night because of your dream, and you made breakfast for me when I was upset. I was trying to do the same.” She looked at the mess in the kitchen, “Clearly, its not working out and I woke you up in the process. I’m sorry.”

This time I do laugh, and she tucks her head down in embarrassment. I lift her face and wipe some of the flour off her face. “My sweet, Princess. You’re cute. How about this. You go get cleaned off. I will clean up here and we can cook together.

Her face lit up, “Really?” I nodded and she smiled, “I’ll be right back.” She bolts out of the room and called out, “I’ll bring you down a shirt.”

I chuckled and began cleaning up.

The smell of eggs wafted through the kitchen as Y/N whisked the mixture for pancakes and I fried our eggs. She was swaying her hips dancing to whatever melody was in her head, “Do you always do that?”

She turned continuing her little dance moves as she poured the batter onto the pan, “Do what?” Pulling away when she gets a few perfect circles on the pan.

“Dance when you’re doing something?” She looked up and the dancing stopped as she thought about it.

“I guess I never noticed before.” She placed the bowl down, and held out her hand, “May I have this dance, General?” She wiggled her eyebrows her hair neatly put up a Violet bow in her hair wearing her leathers.

I flipped the eggs and glanced at her from my periphery and her eyes shifted from playful to soft and pleading her lips pushed out in a pout. Knowing that I could deny her nothing I tucked in my wings and gripped her hand in mine and my other around her waist as her hand rested on my bicep. I began to sway with her in the kitchen, flexing my bicep muscle every now and then. “We might burn the food.” I pointed her out as spun her around and pulled her back into my arms.

“We might,” She hummed. She smiled, “But we’ll at least have some fun.”  

I rolled my eyes and tapped her butt. “I don’t like wasting food, back to the pancakes, Princess.”

She grumbled and crossed her arms but made her way back to the pancakes and flipped them. Y/N proceeded to swish her hips and as we finished making breakfast, I found myself moving my hips along with her and getting swept up by the invisible beat she was dancing to.

When we finished eating our breakfast, I pressed my lips in a tight line watching as the sun gleamed on Y.N as if the mother was praising her handy work in how beautiful she made her. My lips turned upward as she furiously scratched words into her journal. She was focused and I rubbed at my chest trying to ease the tightness there. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Y/N looked up from her journal and the sun glinted around her hair like a halo, “Sure. What’s up?”

“The other day when I had to leave because there was an incident that happened at the camp.” She tilted her head and I continued, “A little girl had her wings clipped. It’s a terrible tradition my people have when a girl has their first bleed. They take away their ability to fly, so they can focus on doing housework. It was one of the first thing that was banned when Rhys came into power, but the leaders of the camps still find work arounds.”

There was a tick in Y/N’s jaw, her eyes becoming glassy. She cleared her throat, “That’s horrific. We can discuss that later though, what’s the favor?” She shut the notebook and straightened her posture she reminded me of a solider waiting for orders.

“The little girl, Grace is her name, asked if I could bring you over to visit.” I smiled as her face shifted to one of shock. “She wanted to meet the human who saved her and her family.”

Y/N stood up and pressed a hand to her chest, “I would be honored. Can we go now?”

“Of course, Princess. Let’s get going.”

 We landed back into the camps and placed Y/N down and gripped her hand and walked her over to one of the cabins. She squeezed my hand and took a deep breath. Once we reached the front door Y/N knocked twice and waited as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “You, okay?”

She simply nodded and before she could speak the door opened and both of us had to look down to find Grace looking back up at us. “Hi Cassie! She ran up and hugged my legs. I pressed my hand on the back of her head, my grin growing wide.

“Hi, Little one.” I said and got down on a bended knee and held her tiny hands, “How are you feeling?”

Her eyes beamed, “I feel so strong, though my wings hurt when I stretch them. Will that ever go away?” I opened and shut my mouth unsure what to say but then Y/N cleared her throat and saw Grace realized there was another person with me. “It will pass, with time though every now and again it will throb. It will be more uncomfortable than painful.” She whispered and got down on her knee. “I’m Y/N, I heard your name is Grace.”

Grace lit up at the sound of her name, “Cassie, you kept your promise!”

I placed a hand on my chest in mock offense, “I’m sorry as your General I always keep my promises.”

Grace moved from my embrace and walked toward Y/N grabbing her hand and leading her inside the cabin and I followed behind the two girls. I was greeted by Grace’s mother, her brown hair pinned up, her wings tucked tightly, and she pressed a hand on my arm, “Thank you, General. She hasn’t stopped talking about being brave for her Cassie. Your kindness has made this whole situation easier for both of us.”

I held her hand gently in mind and gave it a squeeze, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t there sooner. I wish I could have prevented it.”

Grace’s mother provided a small, “It may not have been preventable, General.”

“Please call me, Cassian.”  I smiled.

“Diana,” She returned, “Go on Gracie. hasn’t stopped talking about you bring Y/N here.”

I walked deeper into the cabin in the common living space to see Gracie drawing and Y/N coloring alongside her. “Y/N where you hurt like I was?”

I stilled and watched as Y/N’s posture stiffened though she gave a smile, “Yes, a bad man hurt me. I have scars on my back because of it. But we do share one thing in common with each other.”

Grace eyes grew wide, “We do?”

Y/N nodded her body relaxing once more, “Cassian came to help us, when we needed him most.” Gracie looked over to where I was standing. Y/N’s gaze was burning the side of my face and when I met her stare she smiled.  

“He is like a knight in shining armor saving the princess!” Gracie squealed. “We were the princess!”

I smiled and walked into the room, “You sure are!” Grace ran up to me and leapt into my arms and I was quick to catch her.  “Cassie, are you going to marry Y/N?”

Y/N coughed the air becoming tight with uncomfortable silence. I cleared my throat, “I have to know, curious girl, why would you ask that?” I tickled her sides, and she began to giggle.

“Well, you saved her from the bad man, and you were holding her hand when you walked in. You clearly love her.”

I looked at the woman in question her cheeks were flushed but she said, “Well, Cassian is a good male, he will always help someone in need. As for him holding my hand he is aware that I get nervous and fidget, he was trying to bring me comfort.”

Grace furrowed her brow, “But you two must get married. I know you love each other.”

Y/N smiled, “Tell you what we can revisit marriage when we come and visit again.”

Grace gasped, “You want to come visit again?”

I flicked the child’s nose, “Of course we’re coming back, I have to check the bravest female in windhaven.”

Grace puffed out her chest in pride. “I won’t let you down, Cassie.”

I nodded, “You never could!”

“Would you two like to stay for dinner?”

Grace smiled, “Yes they would,” there was no room for argument, and we stayed for dinner.

The next week, Y/N and I fell into a routine, meals together, she would go in the study and write as I went to the camps. We still had not heard from Rhys so I had to assume that they were still in the Summer Court. When I get back Y/N and I would make dinner together and then she would get into one of my shirts and I would hold her close to my chest and we would simply fall asleep.

One day I left for Windhaven to discuss some plans with Devlon and enforcing that the females are aloud to train.

Devlon crossed his arms, “They will train after their chores, Is that simply not good enough?”

I snarled, “They deserve to have the choice to not do the chores if they don’t want to.”

Devlon snorted, “Says the male who is parading human trash around, and she follows you around like a little pup.”

I bared my teeth at him, “Mind your place, Lord. She is under the protection of your High Lord. Your just mad she bruised your pride.”

Devlon lifted his chin the sign of pure arrogance, “I could care less of an opinion of someone beneath me as a human whore, who is sleeping with a bastard born brute.”

I clenched my fist as my jaw ticked, “I will not tolerate your tone, step out of line again, and I will be personally mandating all your men doing the chores while the girls will train.” I took a step closer to him, “I hear you say one more thing about Y/N Archeron, I will not hesitate to sink your teeth in. Are we in an understanding.”

Devlon walked around me and made sure to collide with my soldier, “The females will train. Get out of my Camp, General,” He drawled out my title and left the tent.

Frustration pent up I followed him out and took to the skies to head back to the Cabin.

Once I reached the Cabin, I noticed the fae lights still on, I was later than I anticipated, but I walked in and kicked the snow off my boot and slammed the door behind me. The anger stirring in my gut was festering and I didn’t want my princess to be subjected to that. I stomped up to my room and slammed the door. I sat on the bed and pressed my palm against my eyes to try to relieve the pressure that had started to bloom in my head.

There was a soft knock on my door. “Cass? Are you okay?”

“Go away, Princess.” I murmured and pressed my palm deeper into my eyes. As the door opened.

I heard her footsteps growing near her and I pulled my hands away from my face and leveled a glare at her. She paused and retreated a step, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She spoke quietly, my eyes glazed to her hands where she was picking at her nails, she was nervous. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. I want to be alone.” I barked out. Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair.

When I looked back at her she looked stricken, as if I hit her.  She pressed “Cass, let me help.”

I snorted my rage boiling over as I rose to my feet, and she took an instinctive step back. I barely registered the fear in her eyes, “Tell me, Y/N, how could you help me. You can barely help yourself. Always hoping someone will save you; Rhys, Az, Feyre, are you that incompetent of taking care of yourself. That you resorted to sleeping with an abusive-“

I didn’t get the sentence out before her hand collided with my cheek. “You know I was coming to check if you were okay. I did not expect you to be a prick. I made dinner all by myself, so you came home to warm meal.” Guilt washed over me at her words, “Whenever you feel like acting like a grown adult; come join me.” She turned and headed for the door, “I don’t need a reminder about how low and insignificant I am.” She taps her head, “I hear those words repeatedly in my head, and yet Nesta had never failed to remind me of just how worthless, and beneath her I am.” Her voice cracked and it matched the ache in my heart, “I never thought you would stoop so low.”

Looking up at me I could see the hurt in her tender eyes. “Princess, Wait.” Her shutting the door; the solitary clicks of the door meeting its latch, was the only sound in the room.

For a moment I stared at the empty space where she had stood, then I crumpled to my knees. Tugging at my hair, my brain began to whirl, Hurt, Hurt, Hurt. You Hurt her. I had made her feel the same way she felt with Xavier and Nesta. “What. Have. I. Done?” I whispered as I curled in a ball my wings cocooning me, trying to block out the sobs I heard coming from the other room.

I am a monster.

To be continued...

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff @misskennygirl @whitewolfsbitch @highladyivy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @packsvlog @heyyhelloohii @parabatai-winchester @julesofvolterra @lilah-asteria @lyanna133 @mp-littlebit @nickishadow139 @milswrites @eve175

Of Oblivious Minds (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

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

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think ❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

~~

You were leaving today, and suddenly—with your bags at your feet and the air around you filled with stagnant silence—a few days seemed so juvenile. So… inconsequential in the grand scheme. 

You would leave, and when you returned everything would be the same. Azriel would still love another and you would still be left with the bleak realization that you had spent the last few centuries denying a love that you knew to be fruitless. 

Nothing would change if you were to be gone only a few measly days. 

But if you were to be gone a month? A year, even? 

Much of your work for Rhysand could be done from afar, especially with the library in Day Court. Helion wouldn’t mind; he’d asked you to consider an extended stay in the past. And maybe there could even be something there, something to take your mind off of your true home. 

The home that wasn’t Velaris. 

You saw him every time you closed your eyes. His rare smiles, his even rarer laughs; you saw the way his watchful eyes skated across every room you entered and reminisced on each twitch of his hands—the way you could feel it against your fingers when you grabbed for him in the busy streets of Velaris. 

Azriel was inescapable, even when you battled against your vision and attempted to drift to sleep. 

He was everywhere, everything. 

But he wouldn’t be in Day Court, and although that wouldn't stop your thoughts, it would be something. It would be distance. 

With a flick of your wrist, you sent your bags away to Day Court and heaved in an uncomfortably large breath. You knew he would do little to deny you, but you still needed to ask Rhys. He was your High Lord and employer, above all your friend, and you knew it would take a little persuading. 

Maybe tears. Yes, tears were very moving and equally as conjurable at the moment.

It only took one step before the knock on your door left you still. Your shoes made a dent in the carpet and you could hear him breathing on the other side of the ornately carved wood. You could always tell when it was Azriel. 

You shifted your weight from one knee to the next, gripping your skirts at the thigh. Azriel knocked again, this time in a faster pattern—more rushed. 

You bit into your lip. You hadn’t planned to see him again, not before you left. You would deal with the repercussions of such an act later on, but not now. Not when you had finally gotten your emotions under control for long enough to have a conversation with Rhys. 

It made sense to you now why you had repressed this for so long. 

The sound of your voice was startling. “Come in.” 

The door creaked, but the sound was overpowered by Azriel’s boot clicking against shining marble. The shadowsinger entered before his shadows, but the wisps followed close behind, quickly abandoning their master in favor of darting toward you. They twisted up your legs and elbows, rolling into your hair and dancing along your fingertips. 

Something like fear, love, crushing defeat tugged and tugged at your chest. 

“Azriel,” you greeted, aiming for a surprised tone and failing. “Have you come to see me off?” 

The spymaster didn’t smile. “Rhys sent me. He said you might have a message for him.” 

That cauldron-damned meddler. Of course he somehow knew about your reservations. You doubted he knew exactly what you had to say, but you had been dragging your feet all morning and were currently about an hour late for your own departure. 

And of course he had sent Azriel of all people. 

“Oh! Well, I suppose I could go and—” 

“Why is half of your vanity gone?” 

You blinked, startled by the words. If Azriel was anything, he was polite and never one to cut someone off. You went to search Azriel’s expression but found him zeroed in on the table pushed into the corner of your room. 

“What?” It was all you could think to formulate. 

But Azriel was quick to respond. “Almost all of your things are gone. Your perfumes and the pots of cream you keep on the side. You’ve only left the items you don’t use anymore.” 

“How do you know—” you cut yourself off this time, ignoring the glaring question that tried to blind you. “Azriel, I’m going away… to Day Court. You know this.”

But Azriel only shook his head, stalking over to the table and yanking the drawer open so harshly it shook the mirror. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he went to your closet, throwing open the door, shoulders rising and falling with more effort. 

“Azriel—” 

“You’ve packed too much.” He turned to you, some of his shadows returning to wind around his chest. “You’ve taken most of your clothes.” 

“You know I always overpack,” you laughed, but the laugh sounded fake, painful. 

You fought the urge to cower under Azriel’s scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he was on fire, as if he was aflame and filled with something that had been pent up for far too long. If someone, anyone, were to look inside of you, they would see the same thing. 

Which is why you needed to get far, far away from this situation. Away from him.

But the longer you looked back at him—the longer you tried to slap that easygoing smile on your face—the longer he stared back with the same steady intensity. 

“Is something the matter?” you tried. 

Azriel’s hand twitched. 

That feeling crept along the edges of your ribs once again. 

“Is something the matter?” he parroted, jaw so impossibly tight the words came out pinched. 

You finally looked away, playing with your fingers. “Yes?” 

He started laughing. But it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel light. It didn’t fill you with pride for eliciting such a sound from him, nor did it make you want to laugh in return. It made you feel dark; as Azriel laughed, you wanted to heave the sound back within the depths it flowed from. 

“There are several things that are the matter, y/n, but I’d say the most pressing is that you have been avoiding me for weeks. That every moment I’ve tried to spend with you has been promptly evaded and now you’re leaving and you had no intention of saying goodbye.” 

“I was going to—” 

“Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft yet so achingly desperate. “Don’t lie to me. Not right now.” 

The indent in the carpet was becoming permanent; you couldn’t seem to move. 

“I’ve been… I’ve been going through a hard time. Leaving seemed like it was the best for me. Just for a little while. Just until I could sort a few things out.” 

“For how long?” he asked, voice cracking along the precipice of the last word. 

You paused then, staring hard into his eyes. “A while.”

A shaky breath left the shadowsinger, his chest reflecting the sound. He ran a hand into his hair and tugged at the roots, an action you hadn’t seen him do in years. A sickening sort of pity ran through you—a sort of responsibility. 

Because Azriel was your friend, and he was going through something, too. You had no idea if his mate reciprocated his feelings. You found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t love Azriel, but the conversation you’d overheard last week gave nothing away. 

Maybe Azriel hadn’t told her yet because she didn’t love him. And maybe you were being a bad friend by not being there for him. 

Tossing your hurt to the side, you took a step forward. Azriel watched the movement, eyes flickering behind you to catch the previous imprint of your feet on the carpet. 

“I’m sorry,” you began, resolute. “I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me. And that you’ve been… having a hard time. I know I’m not leaving at the most opportune time, but you can write to me and I can help you.” 

Some of the brokenness on Azriel’s face morphed into confusion. “Help me?” 

“With your mate.” 

And it was as if Azriel had been shot. He physically recoiled, his right foot coming down to catch him as he fixed his imbalance. 

“I know you wanted to keep it private, but I overheard. Azriel—” You swallowed. Hard. “—It’s so wonderful that you’ve found your mate.” 

Something was set in motion, and Azriel was shaking his head. His gaze was fixed on you and his eyebrows were pushed together in a painful expression and he just kept shaking his head as your chest caved and it became hard to breathe. Something pulled from within and it felt like your heart was unraveling. 

Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it took from you just to acknowledge that he was destined for someone else? 

The shadowsinger seemed unaware of your inner turmoil, instead taking long steps across the room until he reached you. He leaned down, brought his hands up to your face, and he broke another piece of you as his forehead touched yours. 

He was whispering something, words so low even your fae ears couldn’t catch them, but you knew they were fast. Fast and incoherent and you weren’t even able to find their meaning in his expression because his eyes were squeezed so tightly. 

“Please, just notice. See it, angel, it’s there.” 

Your jaw quivered. He was so close to you. The few words you were able to make out were confusing. 

“My oblivious girl. Please.” 

“Azriel—” 

When he opened his eyes, the world fell off its axis. The fear in your chest—the feeling that had been unraveling you and leaving you weak—alighted. It pulled and pulled but this time it didn’t hurt. It no longer left splinters embedded in your ribs or took the breath from your lungs. 

As you looked up at Azriel, it was only soothing and warm and—

Mate. Azriel was your mate. 

You pushed back from him, stumbling and catching on the rug as you went toppling down to the floor. There was no pain from the fall; a numbness overtook your body where the warmth once flowed. 

“You’re my—Azriel, you—” 

There were no endings to the sentences you began. Azriel tried reaching a hand down, but when you wouldn’t take it he joined you on the floor. He sat with you between his legs, bringing you forward until your knees curled against his chest. And then he wrapped you in his arms and then his wings, taking calming breaths as yours ran rampant. 

“I am your mate,” he finished for you, so much more soothing than you had ever heard him speak.

“But Elain,” you gasped out, finding solace against his chest. You leaned your forehead against him and relished in the heat. 

“What of Elain?” Azriel asked, bringing a hand up against the back of your head. 

“You love Elain.” 

“I do not love Elain.” 

“And Mor?” 

“I do not love Mor, either.” 

You nodded against him. This would take longer for you to come to terms with later, but only simple answers were getting through to you now. And the bond—the bond—sang as you touched Azriel. The bond didn’t care if you were confused or hurt or disbelieving.

Your mind swam as a new influx of emotions filled you, but there was a distinction to them and you knew they weren’t your own. At first, it was hard to pick through them all; there were so many that they all blended together. There was an obvious tender love, but also a crippling fear that mingled with a darkness you couldn’t place. There was adoration and hopefulness and a sense of peace that lay at the bottom of all else. 

But you could tell this peace was new. It wasn’t as deeply ingrained as the others. 

Azriel leaned back, craning his neck down to catch your gaze. “Do you feel that?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “Those feelings have always belonged to you. All of them. I know there is not a lot of proof of that, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that, but they have always belonged to you.” 

“Have you always felt mine?” you asked, voice sounding unused. 

“Since I’ve felt the bond,” he nodded. 

“How long have you…” 

Azriel sighed, but it wasn’t out of irritation. The bond told you as much. “Months.” 

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Then why did you never—” 

Azriel shushed you as your voice cracked. He ran both hands behind your head and held you steady as his lips pressed to your forehead. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.” 

Throat still closed, words still choked, you replied, “That is idiotic.” 

This time, when Azriel laughed, you felt that pride spark up in your chest. “I know, angel. Gods, do I know that.” 

There was a brief pause, a respite to the revelations and emotions in the room. You counted your breaths as you pressed against Azriel, and he ran his hands up and down the length of your spine, chaste kisses pressed to your head as the minutes ticked by. 

“Don’t leave.” Azriel broke the silence. “Stay. Please.” 

When you didn’t answer, he kept talking. 

“You don’t have to love me. I know that is a lot to ask and there are still so many questions left unanswered. But, y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I couldn’t bear it if you left. It has been difficult to even function this past week with you avoiding me. If you were to leave—”

“I only avoided you because I thought it wasn’t me,” you interrupted, pulling back once again to meet his gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me and I couldn’t stand it, so I wanted to leave.”

A grim line set into Azriel’s mouth. The desperation returned to his eyes. “We have wasted so much time.” 

“I wouldn’t say wasted. Not when you were here. Not when I was still with you.” 

“Angel.” The word came out like a plea, and then his lips were on yours. His hands pressed you closer and his mouth was hot against yours and it was everything you’d spent three centuries ignoring. You loved him, gods did you love him, and in this kiss was every proof that he loved you. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, musing the already displaced strands. His wings quivered as you kissed him more, the action sending little pools of light into the bubble he had created. They felt warm against your eyelids, and when you pulled away to see the cause, Azriel moved his attention to your jaw, your cheek, your neck. 

“You are my mate,” he affirmed against your skin, low and gravelly. “Mine.” 

You pulled his head away, leaning your forehead against his own. “And you are mine.” 

“I love you,” he said. 

And you couldn’t say it back, not yet. Azriel seemed unperturbed by this and accepted your small smile as a reply, reciprocating it tenfold. His smile shone in the pockets of light created by his wings and his eyes no longer looked sad. It made you want to say it back.

When that guilt flooded you and your mouth parted, there was a tug at the bond instead. You gasped at the feeling, blinking up at Azriel with owlish eyes. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he admitted, smile softening as he ran scarred fingers along your cheeks. “Every time I felt your doubt or fear. I figured I could startle it out of you.” 

You rubbed at your chest. “It feels warm. And…” You couldn’t find the words.

“It feels good, angel. This bond was cold and it hurt, but it—it feels good. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

A breathy, awestruck laugh escaped you. “You know, I still have to go to Day for the weekend. It’s court-appointed.” 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Then I will come with you,” he grumbled, words muffled against your skin. 

“You cannot. But you can wait for me to return and I will come right back here.”

I wasn't watching episode's 8 and 9 while they aired so I watched it together before season finale. Did they just went from episode about war trauma to musical one. Also I know how my Spotify wrapped will look this year.

I wasn't watching episode's 8 and 9 while they aired so I watched it together before season finale. Did they just went from episode about war trauma to musical one. Also I know how my Spotify wrapped will look this year.

Spoilers for Stange New Worlds S02E01

I'm just wondering about Pike's reaction when someone told him what happend. You basically take 3 day's off to do some important shit and your crew steals your ship, (tbh he is probably not surprised about it) your first officer almost starts a war with Klingons (this seems to be a family trait for them), gets drunk, hires new chief science officer and hangover calls Admiral April in the meantime two of your subordinates who are essential personel take some green drug juice and almost freeze to death in space escaping Klingons and it's only on day one. I haven't written fanfiction since High school especially in English because it's not my first language but for this I may try 😅

The last three digits of your current follower count is the Dewey Decimal Classification subject on which you must immediately give a 15-minute presentation.

How would you do?

A fallen merman taking his last breaths, for some, the stuff of nightmares, for others, the stuff of dreams. Hauntingly beautiful scupture ‘And then I saw Colby on the Street and my fantasy died’ by  Cameron Stalheim.

Definitely the stuff of dreams for me. And I know who I’ll be dreaming of…

Me: *Removes my cat from my lap to do something else.*

My cat: Father is...evil? Father is unyielding? Father is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household.

LOKI - WANDA

“Illusions” | request by @mischiefinthedungeons

Animated posters ❀ MCU locations

controversial opinion

you are not better than fat people!

even REALLY fat people!

even fat people who don’t put a lot of time into their appearance!

even fat people who wear clothes you think are unflattering!

your appearance literally does not make you better than a fat person. you are not more fun to hang out with because you’re not fat. you are not funnier, smarter, or more interesting by virtue of not being fat. you aren’t harder working, you don’t have more self-control, you don’t have your life more together.

the only difference between you and fat people is that they have to put up with a lot of harassment, discrimination, exclusion, and other bullshit that you don’t even think about.

try not to add to it.

whether you loved the game or hated it the attention to symbolism and synergy and motif in the story are fucking outstanding. they really do be making you feel some type of way. so imma ramble about the ones i think are great

The guitar:

the biggest symbol of love i have ever seen, its what connects joel and ellie past their complicated relationship and the repeat of future days is a motif at its bloody finest.

but guitar is also a symbol of ellies love for dina take on me and ecstasy are both such intimate moments that elude into a deep care between the two. as well as dina being ellies “groupie” and following her to seattle until she says she cant do it again and ellie must come to her is *chef kiss*

the guitar at the end is broken with her fingers gone but despite it all the tune is still there. despite all joels done and all ellies done the love between father and daughter is still there. and she forgives him and “lets him go” to live her life (assumedly in jackson)

The coins

nice and simple abby and ellie are two sides of the same coin. they are very similar people inside. just at different points in their revenge cycle. abby gets revenge on joel and the guilt does something to her and its jot until she spare ellie (ahem breaks the cycle) that she is able to truly move on. whereas with ellie she is haunted by her actions in her quest for revenge but objectively is able to heal once she lets abby go and breaks the cycle

another parallel between ellie and abby that i loved is that ellie loves spcae and the stars while abby is afraid of heights. ellie is quick and fast and stealthy. where abby is upfront and stong. (also the use of the dolly zoom from whenever you looked down from a height as abby had me in genuine awe)

The knife

loosing the knife in the abby fight was literally a letting go of the past and is LITERALLY a symbol of how ellie is done fighting. and one that makes me feel very emotional

also the shot of levs black converse (ellies iconic style) in the beginning of the santa barbara scene is brilliant synergy with the first game. abby and lev are just like joel and ellie and it shows how in the time between they now have that parental love that joel and ellie had

The moth in the journals

i know gross and druckmann said something about how the tattoo is a symbol of searching for the light/finding hope which YES. but also in the journals you see the drawing become more scribbled and less detailed the more ellie looses herself. which i thought was cool its very indicative of her mental state when writing.

ellies songs in the journals also get less and less frequent throughout the game as ellie looses herself and get replaced with information, names adresses faces. and only cone back at the end of the game with that poem about if dina and jj would still love her for what she is now. (gristle and bone/would i poison them)

ALSO DINAS BRACELET

a sign of love and luck and protection

ellie takes it off when she goes to santa barbara she feels she has lost it she doesn’t deserve it in her journal her regret of leaving dina and jj is crystal fucking clear but it was something that she had to do to successfully move on and start to heal. in the empty house she wears it again this is a symbol of hope and shows that when she returns to jackson the love will be there waiting for her

ANYWAY I RAMBLED BUT I LOVE THIS GAME AND I LOVE ITS WRITING IT MAKES YOU FEEL EXACTLY HOW IT NEEDS YOU TO. AND PLEASE ADD IF YOU THINK I MISSED ANY

TLOU2 and the Stages of Grief

To begin, here’s a quick crash course into the 5 Stages of Grief. 

There are five stages of grief; Denial & Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Although these are the identified stages, they are not experienced the same for everyone. People experience them occurring in different orders, experience each stage to different degrees, and in some cases people don’t experience all of the stages. Often times people in real life experience these stages without full completion due to how quickly the world moves and the responsibilities that society has put on an individual. Throughout the whole process, our own feelings and thoughts of mortality is brought up. But there is a common thread in each of the stages and that is Hope. While you may have lost someone you are still alive and there is hope that you will continue to live, or in some cases just survive.

Now that we’ve covered some basics to the 5 Stages of Grief, let’s really get into it in regards to The Last of Us Part II. There will be spoilers ahead.

Keep reading

TLOU2 and the Stages of Grief

To begin, here’s a quick crash course into the 5 Stages of Grief. 

There are five stages of grief; Denial & Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Although these are the identified stages, they are not experienced the same for everyone. People experience them occurring in different orders, experience each stage to different degrees, and in some cases people don’t experience all of the stages. Often times people in real life experience these stages without full completion due to how quickly the world moves and the responsibilities that society has put on an individual. Throughout the whole process, our own feelings and thoughts of mortality is brought up. But there is a common thread in each of the stages and that is Hope. While you may have lost someone you are still alive and there is hope that you will continue to live, or in some cases just survive.

Now that we’ve covered some basics to the 5 Stages of Grief, let’s really get into it in regards to The Last of Us Part II. There will be spoilers ahead.

Keep reading