Pornstar Or OF AZ And It's Just Him Being A Pure Filthy Slut Who's Experienced As Hell X Virgin Reader

Apologises for the late reply, I went out with a friend and I just got back but it’s okay, we’ve finally found eachother again and I’m happy to see you back on my dashboard☺️☺️I’ve missed talking to you.

How have you been?? What have you been up to??❤️

This is an even later reply lol I do apologise!

All has been ok!! I was super unwell last week but much better now. I hope you’ve been okay my love! 🩷

Loving You (Loving Me)

SUMMARY: In the five centuries of his life, Azriel has never had someone take care of him the way that Y/N does, and he can't seem to stop those dark, unworthy thoughts from resurfacing.

WARNINGS: Mentions of feelings of unworthiness and loneliness. Azriel thinking he does not deserve to be loved the way he is :(

PAIRING: Azriel x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

MASTERLIST

At first, Azriel thought nothing of it.

The honeymoon phase, he told himself. It made sense, it was expected. His past lovers had all been the same during that time — always obsessed and seemingly in love.

Seemingly. 

But after a few months, they always started to change. They'd distance themselves first, take a while longer to reach out, to see him. Then, they'd get blunt and annoyed quickly with him. They wouldn't want him close, wouldn't shower him in affection. Wouldn't let him touch them. 

And then, eventually, they'd leave. Maybe on the odd occasion, they'd butter him up and get a little splurge on his account, or go to him just for their release. A few had cheated, some just left. Nothing for Azriel had ever lasted past a year and a half, and now it was  nearing the three-year mark and he was confused. 

Y/N was a lovely female. Kind, funny, smart, gorgeous. Azriel thought her kindness and wit was what attracted him to her in the first place, and in the three years he’d known her, he’d only started to love her more. 

It wasn’t like he thought deep down she was a horrible person, but Azriel had grown accustomed to how things typically worked in his relationships, and none of the above had yet occurred. 

That being said, for a good century he had sworn off any form of relationships that occurred past a one night stand. Azriel was tired of the heartache, the disappointment. He had never intended to fall in love with Y/N, had never intended to grow attached. 

But her smile was contagious, her laugh infectious. Her very presence started becoming enough to cast light on his dark days, the soothing tones of her voice disrupting the swirls of dark thoughts and coaxing him back to peace. 

She was his peace. And the worrying realisation of just how hard he’d fallen was beginning to cripple his soul and mind. 

His thoughts continued to spiral as he laid on his stomach with his face smushed into Y/N's pillow. She sat straddling his lower back, her bum on his and his shirt long gone as she massaged the tender knots out of his shoulders, taking extra care to mind his precious wings. 

That was another startling realisation to Az. Just how quickly he had allowed her close to him, to his wings that he had never let another lover touch before. 

Her hands on his skin coated him in familiar warmth; like a blanket of safety pushing to protect him from harm and negativity. She'd been doing it for thirty minutes now. Azriel had been watching the clock. And not once had she complained. 

He supposed it was due to how sick he’d been feeling the past few days. Migraines, sore muscles, and the occasional fleeting moments of nausea. He’d lost his appetite and strength pretty quickly and Y/N had been on the ball with it — at his feet with a sick bucket, coddling his head to her chest with a cold compress against his skin. 

She’d been in talks with Madja every few hours, double checking when Azriel could take his next dose of tonic to keep the fever at bay. She'd done it all and Azriel couldn’t quite understand it. 

From past experiences of being sick or recovering from battle, the only person to have ever taken proper care of him had been himself. And now, his lover was doing what nobody else ever had, and Azriel was confused.

It wasn’t that Y/N was an overwhelmingly kind and compassionate person, because she was. Her caring and nurturing behaviour was nothing out of the ordinary for her, but Azriel had never experienced such care from a romantic partner before. 

It was like Y/N had forgotten about the training, errands and the gruelling twelve-hour shift she’d just got home from, but Azriel hadn’t. 

"Come on, I'll do you." His words came out gruffly, muffled slightly by the pillow that restricted the fluid movements of his lips. He could feel Y/N shake her head from above him. She sunk the balls of her palms into the backs of his shoulders. 

"You need to relax and rest." She argued, hoping her reasoning would be enough for him not to ask again.

Azriel shook his head and shuffled beneath the weight of her body. Y/N lifted to her knees, allowing him to turn beneath her and onto his back. Azriel's eyes were bleary and sleepy as he blinked to gain his bearings. He stretched for her hips, hands finding them with ease. 

He admired her for a few moments then, dressed in a pair of panties and one of his old training t-shirts that she changed into the second she got home. There was a dotting of kohl smudged below her eyes and a couple of tiny blemishes that were starting to show through the worn, minimal makeup. 

He knew she'd had a long day, could tell the second she got in and pretended that she was okay for his sake. Her hair was tied back low on her neck, stray strands wildly framing her face. She looked tired, burnt out. Azriel just wanted to look after her. 

"Bad day?" He finally asked. 

Y/N blinked twice and shrugged, head rolling as her shoulders raised and her cheek met it. "Busy," she told him. "Nothing I'm not used to." 

Azriel squinted. 

He knew she was used to it — the long days with early starts and late finishes, the ones without a break in-between, where she didn’t get to eat, save for a few grapes she managed to steal every now and then. He knew she was used to the tiring work that came with owning her store, but that didn’t mean it was not exhausting her.

He squeezed her hips gently. "I know you're used to it, Angel. It doesn’t make it any easier, though."

She didn’t say anything. Her hands were back on his, encouraging them to sneak up her shirt to feel her skin. She was warm, soft. Y/N pouted down at him. "Want a kiss." She said, eyes glassy with affectionate need. 

Azriel copied her expression absentmindedly, reaching up to caress the side of her face. "I don’t want to get you sick, gorgeous. Why don't you let me run you a bath and you can relax?" He offered, hazel eyes gently caressing her and she let hers flitter closed for a moment, like she was pondering over her answer. 

She shook her head. 

"You're the sick one. I'm going to run you a bath, and then I'm going to make you some soup for your throat. Know it's still hurting you." 

Azriel didn’t say anything — knew that whatever he argued, she'd bite back better. His body sunk into the sheets, head in the pillow as a heavy huff of annoyance and adoration slipped from his mouth. 

When Y/N said she'd run him a bath, Azriel didn't expect it to be overflowing with bubbles or for every possible available surface to be littered in glowing candles. But the bathroom was decorated with such and Azriel was overcome with an overwhelming amount of adoration for his love. 

She let him take his time there, relaxing and soothing his muscles while she cooked up some magic for his throat. Getting out of the bath, Azriel most definitely did not expect to wander into the kitchen to see what he did. 

Y/N behind the stove, dishing up the soup with two fresh rolls from the bakery a mile from them. She set the faelights dim for him — knew they were hurting his head — and there were more candles around the living room. 

The coffee table was littered with them mostly, along with the book he was currently reading and Y/N’s crafts box. He noticed she got out her favourite blanket — the soft one that Azriel swore was made from angel wings. 

And he looked at her, starry-eyed and all, his shadows working in the same sense of lovestruck. She had a gentle smile on her lips when she noticed his presence and Azriel was fucked. 

He couldn’t stop the rush of emotion that consumed him. His eyes turned glassy, nose tingling and heart aching. Azriel thought he was easily the most loved male in the world and he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

He couldn’t help the single tear that slipped down his face but he wiped it before she noticed. Because Azriel never thought he would ever be deserving of the love she happily gave him. 

Azriel approached her, arms wrapping around the middle of his love and he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his shadows circling her in love and gratitude. "Thank you, for all of this. I love you so much." He rasped into her skin. 

He could feel her body warm against his touch, just as it always did when he told her how he loved her. She had never expected to hear it, but the first time he told her, she’d cried into his chest and swore to treasure their love forever. Azriel had cried then, too.

She smiled, reached down to hold her hand over his. "I love you, too. And you haven't got to thank me, this is just what you do when you love someone."

When you love someone. 

She shrugged her own words off like they were the most obvious thing she'd ever said, and perhaps they were, but Azriel couldn’t stop falling harder for her. 

He'd loved people before, he knew that. But now, looking back, he wondered if anyone had ever loved him before her. 

Azriel didn’t remember a time that a previous lover put him before themselves. Where they cared for him and put his needs first. Where they showered him with care and adoration just because. 

No one ever loved him as she did. 

The tears started to pool again as he pulled away and helped her carry their bowls and drinks to the couch. They sat close, dipping pieces of bread into the creamy soup Y/N prepared and chatting idly about the newest commission she had received today. 

Azriel was struggling to focus though when Y/N took a glance at the clock and carried their empty bowls back to the kitchen. He craned his neck across the back of the couch to see what she was doing, but her back was to him as she ran the sink tap and rummaged through the cupboard. 

What he did see was her shuffling back to the living room with a small glass of water and a curled open palm carrying three little white pills atop it. 

Y/N settled beside him, handing him the glass with a tired smile and offering him the pills. "Madja said these will help better with your head and throat." She curled into the sofa, her knees to her chest and close to Azriel's side. Y/N propped one arm against the back of the pillows and her fingers found the longer hairs at the nape of Azriel's neck, gently scratching through the soft locks. 

He watched her for a moment, completely dumbfounded and speechless if he was honest. 

Something like Y/N taking care of him when he was sick shouldn't have had him feeling so fucked and in love, but it did. He was teary-eyed because his love was taking care of him off her own back. Because she wasn’t complaining once or making anything about herself. 

Because she was loving him beyond the words of saying it. 

And he cried. 

Y/N was stunned at the sight, thought maybe he was about to sneeze, but his body started to tremble and shadows began to comfort him, and she realised what was going on. So, gently, she pried the glass and pills from his scarred hands and placed them blindly on the coffee table before reaching back for him. 

"Hey," she cooed. 

Her hands caressed the damp and flushed skin of his cheeks to bring Azriel's gaze to meet her reassuring one. "Why are you crying, Az?" Her words were asked in a light and airy voice, one that wasn’t serious as she chuckled softly, but he still knew she was concerned for him. 

He shook his head and pulled her into his side, laughing at himself too because, why was he crying? 

"I’ve just never had anyone look after me before. I’m incredibly lucky to have you, love. No one has ever loved me like you do before."

Her hand was sprawled across his gently heaving chest and she kissed his neck with a soft peck, offering a squeeze. His hand brushed comfortingly up and down her arm but neither of them really knew why he was the one trying to comfort her.

Y/N swallowed, reaching her right hand across her chest to find his hand that lingered over the front of her shoulder, and she interlaced their fingers, squeezing. "I wish I could show you how in love with you I am... no words can describe it." She admitted, bashfully. 

Azriel squeezed her hand, using his other to wipe his face and he laughed again, because he was so in love that it hurt. He never once imagined himself falling for someone like this only three years into knowing them. It hurt so fucking good because he knew this was it for him. She was it for him. Together against the world. Their future, their everything. 

And whether or not a mating bond snapped, his love for her would never change. Nothing could stop him from loving her the way he did. 

Because she saw him. His darkness, his light, his good and bad. She saw it all and still chose him, still loved him. Despite all that he was and everything he’d done.

He swallowed down the heaviness of that fact.

"I know, baby. It’s the same for me."

His raw voice sent a shiver through her spine and her own eyes were watering with salty drops of emotion. It hurt her, too. More so knowing nobody had ever treated him right, nobody had ever taken care of him and loved him like he always deserved. 

"I'm always gonna love you like this, Az. Always gonna put you before me. Put us before anything else. You're it for me, I hope I'm it for you, too."

He grinned, craned his neck to look down at her through hooded eyes. "You were it for me from the moment I laid eyes on you, Y/N. Nothing will ever change that. Mating bond or not. Nothing could ever keep me from you.”

She breathed shakily, tears slipping but she nodded her head. He didn’t get the chance to stop her before she was leaning up and smacking a kiss to his lips, eager and sweet. He didn’t pull away either, as selfish as it was. And his shadows circled them, inching their bodies closer and closer. 

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered against her lips. “Thank you for always choosing me, for loving me.” 

And her heart lurched. “Thank you for trusting me enough to.”

A/N: So this is an old fic from an old fandom, slightly rewritten and edited to fit Azriel's character. I have a few ideas for some ansgty pieces but you guys are yet to expereinece the full wrath of my angst fics and I'm worried you'll all hate me bc I don't like to add happy endings..... but we'll see!

Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog so others can read it too! 🤍

both of your c.ai bots are down :(((

i privated and made them public again so hopefully they’re back up x

I am SCREAMING over GITW5 I read it so many times you are so talented and I can't wait to read any and all future check-ins because this may be my favorite Az xreader series ever I love them so much

AHHHH this makes me so happy i am over the moon that you enjoyed it <3 i am very excited to write the last part and wrap it up!! i have some really exciting ideas i wanna get around to writing hehe

also besties I started crescent city today and there’s no way that actually happened to danika what

if anyone wants to be added to the tag list for smoke & light (plug!az) pls like or comment on this post besties. part 2 is 8.2k words long and scheduled for next week!!

Ghost in the Wind — Part Four

SUMMARY: Struggling to get a grip on your newfound power, Azriel is the only one your magic allows close. And there’s no stopping either of you when you spend the night alone together.

WARNINGS: grieving, mentions of death, swearing, kissing, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, shadow play (hehe)

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

Series Masterlist

Lucien Vanserra knew not to question his mate when she demanded they left for Velaris immediately. Two days of travelling. He had not asked questions—had not doubted his mate’s worry and vision, not even for a moment. 

Elain saw the blast before it occurred. She felt the earth quake beneath her feet, felt the soil and life around her stand still. A power had been awoken. A power so fierce it had shook the lands of even the Day Court. 

She had known of your presence in Prythian. Feyre had sent word to her, promised it had been nothing to worry about, that Nesta had taken you away from Rafe and that you were finally safe. 

Safe. 

That feeling in her stomach promised anything but safety. Two days of travelling. Two days of no rest. And despite her seering abilities, despite the far future she had already glimpsed, nothing could have prepared her for what greeted her arrival.

While Velaris remained as beautiful as ever, as busy and bustling as it had before she and Lucien left to travel just over a year ago…there was nothing but desolation in the air. Every breath was hard to inhale, every step on cobblestones and patchy soil a struggle to walk. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Those suspicions were confirmed the moment she stepped foot into the River House. An eerie silence settled as soon as she passed the threshold of her High Lord and Lady’s home. Lucien could sense it, too. The hairs on the back of his neck spiked the further he walked through the grand abode. 

Rhysand met them in the foyer, a grave and wanton look to his handsome features. Elain did not apologise as she pushed past him and made for her two sisters. Both stricken with tears and pure dread. Elain struggled to loose a breath, struggled to come to terms with the energy that invaded her. 

“I came as soon as I felt it.” 

Feyre met her gaze, eyes lined with grief. Elain took a step closer. “Where is she?”

Nesta sniffled, raised her head and kept her chin high. But Elain knew her sister, knew she was close to crumbling all over again. She could not speak, could not open her mouth in fear of what animalistic cry might break through. 

Feyre spoke instead. “She’s upstairs, Azriel will not leave her side.” 

Azriel, yes. Elain had seen those visions, too. 

A question rose on the tip of her tongue, one she never considered she’d ever have to ask. She felt Lucien’s presence as he neared, a comforting hand reaching to caress her arm in comfort. She melted into it, though unlike usual, he was not able to settle the dread in her chest. 

“Her heart stopped beating after the blast,” Rhysand spoke softly as he entered the room, reaching for his mate. “However, Madja believes her soul is still in her body. She thinks Y/N is still fighting, despite all else suggesting otherwise.” 

Elain blinked back her tears. It was never supposed to have gone this way. You were never supposed to have died. 

“Madja is looking into some remedies, into the history of your mothers bloodline. For now, all we can do is wait. She has taken samples of blood and hair from Nesta and Feyre, there are no magical markers that match with Y/N’s, though if you’re willing, we’d like to test yours, just to be safe.”

Elain allowed her head to dip in acceptance, though the movement was completely subconscious. This would not be the end of you. Could not be the end. Not after everything Elain had peeked in the future. 

Azriel had not left your side in two days. The moment the blast settled, he shot through the skies to reach you. He did not expect to find that stone mountain covered in soil and tulips.  He did not expect to find your cold, lifeless body collapsed above the rubble.

He had never felt such fear, such despair. And the moment you were laid in his bed, in his room at the River House, he had not left your side. Not for food, water or rest. Not for anything. 

He stayed when Madja came to assess you, when she took samples of your blood and hair, when she smoothed a salve over the marred skin of the crescent moon on your chest. He stayed when Mor came to brush your hair and paint your fingernails. He stayed when Nesta came to read to you, when Feyre laid beside you and prayed. 

He could not leave that room, could not leave your side. 

And when Madja had returned that morning, with a hopeful gleam in her eye that she may have found something to help, he still would not allow himself to hope. 

Fear crippled every ounce of his being. Fear of speaking his hopes into existence, that the mother could be cruel to deny him. So he kept his hope buried deep. So deep that his soul latched onto it and called out to you. 

The taste of your lips still lingered on his, your scent still wrapped around him. But Azriel could not bring himself to touch you, could not dare a feel of your cold skin. Your heart had stopped beating, your chest had stopped rising. 

But he would not allow the idea of your death to linger in his mind. He could feel you, somehow, somewhere. And deep in his soul, he begged for you to hold on, to use whatever power you had to come back.

A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door, Azriel did not need to turn to know it was Elain. Though he could not scent Lucien beside her. 

She moved like a gentle breeze, every step light and hesitant. He knew how hard it had been for everyone, for your cousins. He wanted to allow Elain a moment alone with you, as he wanted with the others, but just as before, his soul would not allow his leave. 

“Hello, Elain.”

His voice, so cold and distant. It had been a long time since he had addressed her in such a tone. She bowed her head in greeting and took a seat on the other side of your bed. He didn’t watch her, neither did his shadows. Both he and those wisps of darkness fixated on your unmoving body. 

Elain reached for your hand, a breath parting from her pink lips. “She’s cold.”

Azriel closed his eyes, tried to shut out the anguish he wanted to cry. He remained in silence, so did Elain. They sat unmoving, watching you. 

Until Elain spoke again. 

“I have seen a field of tulips. Where the air is fresh and the soil is rich.” Always speaking in cryptic words, nothing ever as simple as it should be. “I have seen what lay beyond the forest. There is a promise of something stronger than I have ever felt. Something soul-binding.” 

Elain did not look at Azriel as she spoke, she did not take her eyes away from you. Uncurling your hand, she placed three seeds in your palm and then curled it shut tight, her fist caressing yours. 

“Did you know that green tulips symbolise hope and rebirth?” She turned to him then, her face void of any emotion. “Brown tulips symbolise resilience and commitment.” Her eyes wandered to Azriel’s scarred hands that sat in his lap.

He watched the middle Archeron for a moment, his mind processing the words she spoke. He watched her gaze travel to your spare hand, the one that seemed to reach for him, palm open in invitation. 

His mind screamed not to touch you, not to hurt his heart like that. But his soul. His soul ached to feel you once more. 

Against his better judgement, he allowed a shaky hand to reach yours—skin cold and lifeless as he held you again. Azriel bit back a cry, willed the tears not to fall. His shadows followed their masters lead, snaking around your fingers and wrist and up your arms. 

Elain removed her hand, her eyes fixated on your fist of seeds. It was then that she opened your palm, and right before their eyes, the seeds bloomed into tulips. One green, one brown, one white. And your chest heaved its first breath in two days. 

Time stopped, Azriel froze. 

And your eyes blinked open. 

The air kissed your skin in a way you had never experienced before. The green of the grass was more vibrant than ever, the fluttering of a robin's wings like music to your ears. The river flowed softly, a hum of a sweet lullaby that soothed your soul. 

This is what it was supposed to feel like. The power, the magic. Was this how you were destined to live? To be one with the earth and feel its life beneath your feet? 

You felt their eyes on you from feet away, felt the way they itched to approach, to hold and soothe you. Elain had been the one to keep everyone back, to allow you a moment to breathe again. 

You felt no pain, no sorrow. 

They had followed you out of the River House and toward the embankment, allowed you a moment to let your magic flow. A sweet relief, to touch the soil and watch the buds of flora bloom. 

Though, you had no control. You did not wield your power to plant in the soil, you did not ask for lily pads to perch on the gentle waters surface. You had no control, but you would. You would find a way to harness it, to wield it. 

Another breath, your final moment alone. You turned to the others, to their hopeful faces and a smile began to stretch across your lips. 

Cassian was the first one to grin, the first one to step forward to join you. But his sudden movement startled something in your gut. And a root of sharp thorns shot from the soil and dared to pierce through Cassian’s brown skin. 

He jumped back, eyes wide and your lips parted in shock. You had not meant to do that, had no thought to hurt Cassian. Your magic acted on impulse, to protect you. 

He stepped back again, hands in the air in surrender. Rhysand watched with a tilted gaze, watched when the vine of thorns sunk back into the ground. 

So your magic would not allow others to approach you uninvited. Perhaps if you approached them instead. 

Your steps were slow, cautious. You held your breath in an attempt to hold down the power that begged to course through your veins. 

You dared another look at your friends. 

“It’s okay,” Mor smiled. “Take your time.” 

Another deep breath, another step. One foot in front of the other, your teeth gritting to keep the power at bay. Three feet away from them, you took another deep breath. This time to calm your racing heart. 

“I have no control over it.” 

Rhysand offered a gentle smile. “That’s to be expected. How do you feel?” 

Your eyes flittered between them all, lingering a moment too long on Azriel before you gazed at the world around you. A tilt upturned your lips. 

“I feel like I can finally breathe. I can feel everything in the soil. It’s like the trees are whispering to me, like the birds are singing.”

You looked back to Rhys, to Feyre. “How am I even alive?” 

Feyre dared a step closer, and you willed your power to understand she would not harm you. None of them would. 

“Madja is looking into it. For now, you need to take it easy. The smallest thing could make your power spiral or act out.” She looked between her family, returning her gaze to you. 

“Perhaps it would be best if only one of us remained by your side, for now. Maybe we can test to see who your magic doesn’t see as a threat.” 

“Well clearly I’m out of the picture,” Cassian mumbled, scuffing his feet against the grass. 

You considered Feyre’s suggestion, perhaps it would be the safest way for now. One step would be enough to see if your power responded, one step enough to create distance just in case. 

“Okay, yeah let’s do that.” 

Feyre took a step first, hesitant but with a gentle and excited smile. Her emotions were palpable, you could feel the relief that you were alive, the excitement of the prospect of you having a newfound strength. 

No one could ever take advantage of you again. 

But your power did not allow Feyre another step closer. It wrapped vines around her ankles, keeping her in place. She did not move, her calmness did not falter. You pinched your eyes shut, begged and pleaded for your magic to release her. 

And after a few moments, it did. 

Feyre returned to her previous position, and Rhysand cleared his throat as he took his turn. 

Your power did not allow him closer. It did not allow Mor, or Elain. Nor Lucien or Nesta. It left only Azriel. And your heart thudded wildly in your chest. 

You met his molten gaze, and you could feel the taste of his lips on yours again. Azriel did not move to begin with, he instead sent a lone shadow to reach you slowly. 

Your magic flickered, but it did not attack. When the shadow weaved through your hair, daisies sprouted in their wake. You didn’t notice Azriel step closer, did not notice until the toes of his boots were just a foot from you and you finally met his gaze again. 

Your breathing hitched, throat tightening. Something stirred in your gut, a simmering feeling of relief and comfort and something you felt far too often in your life. 

Shame. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hold it back if it’s too much.” 

You blinked, only now realising that you didn’t need to hold your power back. It was settled deep within you, no longer begging for a release. 

“I’m not.” You shook your head.

His gaze searched your face, shadows touching your hair. He trailed his eyes down your neck, to your chest where he fixated on that marred area of flesh for just a moment. Hazel eyes snapped back to yours. 

It was as though your beauty had been amplified tenfold. Your skin glowed, a lightness in your posture by no longer having such a heavy weight on your shoulders. And your eyes, your eyes gleamed with something he’d never seen before. 

Azriel’s chest tightened. 

He cleared his throat. “Madja is looking for something to help you learn control. The more we understand your magic, the easier it’ll be.” 

You nodded, did not dare to break his gaze. Azriel took another step closer. Just a shuffle of his feet. The toes of his shoes nearly touched yours. 

“Don’t be afraid of it,” he advised. “Your power is part of you. If you accept it as such, it’ll yield itself quicker.” 

Another nod. Another blink. 

A gentle breeze brushed past you, wafting his scent through your senses. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint and a gentle kiss of cinnamon. 

You breathed again. 

Madja had stopped by to check on you later that afternoon, taking another sample of your blood and hair and asking an abundance of questions you did your best to answer. Your magic had not let her get very close and when she’d pierced your skin with the needle, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep that power at bay. 

Even for just a few moments, it had exhausted you. 

Dinner had gone as well as it could. You’d sat at the furthest end of the table, Azriel close beside you but still allowing you some breathing space. 

You’d suggested it would be safer for Nyx not to attend, having no control over your power, you would not allow him to be in the same room as you. Not until you harnessed it more. 

Your magic flared up twice. Once when Lucien offered you a dish of potatoes. And again when Cassian laughed a little too loudly at something Rhys said. Vines had twisted their way around the legs of the table, creeping over the surface as they slithered to reach the Illyrian. 

Azriel placed a hand over yours, his eyes demanding your gaze. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly. And that power began to retreat. 

You offered Cassian an apologetic look, though you were certain the warrior was beginning to feel a little targeted. He’d brushed it off, waving a hand and stuffing another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. 

As the night drew to a close, that familiar feeling of discomfort began to bubble in your stomach. The thought of going back to the House of Wind deflated you, suffocated you. 

Away from nature, it no longer at the tips of your fingers. You did not want to be confined to the House in the mountains, despite how much it had begun to feel like a home. 

Azriel must have noticed as such, because he titled his head to catch your gaze. “Would you like to stay at the townhouse tonight?”

Your eyes widened marginally. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I don’t want to intrude in anyone else's home.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t be intruding. Ever.” There was no room for discussion in his tone. He pulled back slightly, shrugging a shoulder. “Besides, it’s usually empty. I stay there when Nesta and Cassian are…louder than usual.”

A snort slipped past your lips at the innuendo and Azriel had to ignore the way it warmed something in his chest. You’d grown to learn just how loud your cousin and her mate could be. Perhaps the townhouse would be a sweet reprieve from that, too. 

Azriel watched the couple quietly, clearing his throat. “Plus, they’ve been drinking,” his voice lowered to a soft whisper, “I can promise you a restless sleep at the House tonight.” 

Another breathy laugh slipped off your tongue and Azriel’s eyes twinkled at the sound. Perhaps it was selfish of him to try and convince you to stay at the townhouse. With him and only him. But your power would not let others get closer to you, and he wanted to offer at least one night of peace and comfort. 

Especially after all you’d endured. 

You bid your family goodnight from a distance, Mor blowing kisses to you across the table and Rhysand reminding you to reach out if anything feels wrong. 

The walk from the Riverhouse to the townhouse was a short one, though you enjoyed it nonetheless. Walking beside Azriel as the moon lit your way was nothing short of beautiful, and you did not miss the way his shadows intertwined with your fingers. 

“Nuala and Cerridwen have brought some of your things to the townhouse,” Azriel said softly beside you, a lone shadow whispering in his ear. 

You offered him a grateful smile, making a mental note to thank the twins whenever you next saw them. Azriel’s lip quirked. “They’ve run you a bubble bath, too.”

Your smile stretched to a grin. 

By the time you reached the townhouse, you could smell the lavender oils the twins had used for your bath. Azriel led you into the foyer and a sense of warmth surrounded you. 

The townhouse was beautiful. Portraits and trinkets hung on the walls, soft glows of gold and greens as the lamps reflected off the plants. Thick but worn rugs on the floor. You took a breath, your shoulders relaxing. 

This felt like home. 

Azriel closed the door behind you both and his shadows slinked up the stairs and out of sight. He pressed a very gentle hand to the small of your back. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.” 

He guided you with that same hand just above your coxis, up the stairs and to the left and down the hall. It was a large landing, three or four doors that you could see on this side of the townhouse. You wondered how many other rooms were on the other side of the stairs. 

You followed the lavender trail, stopping short outside a door and Azriel turned the knob and pushed it open. This room was much smaller than yours at the House, but Gods was it cosy. 

A four poster bed in the centre of the room, two slim dressers either side, a high-back armchair in the corner with a little bookcase beside it. And to the left of that, was an open door that led to a private bathing chamber. 

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled on your lips. Nor could you help the feeling of comfort that blanketed you. 

Azriel cleared his throat. “I’ll let you bathe and get settled. My room is just opposite yours if you need anything.” He pointed to the door behind you both. 

You thanked him, watched him disappear into his own room before you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom. 

The water soothed every muscle in your body, seeping into your pores and nourishing your skin. A fresh night slip had been left folded on the counter by the sink, a new bamboo toothbrush and a small basket filled with your favourite moisturisers, oils and balms. 

After an hour of scrubbing and soaking, you dried and dressed, applied your creams and combed through your hair. It had been a long time since you’d taken such care of yourself, since you felt relaxed enough to take your time. 

You could not shake how much this townhouse felt like home to you. 

Scrunching your wet hair softly with a cotton towel, you padded into your bedroom when a knock sounded on the door. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was, Azriel had already informed you it would just be the two of you at the townhouse tonight. 

“Come in,” you called over your shoulder. 

But nothing could have prepared Azriel for what he walked into. Your back to him, your tiny night slip barely passing your ass, your wet hair pulled over your shoulder as he took note of your shoulder blades. 

Such a simple thing should not have affected him the way it did. His shadows pinched the mugs of tea from his hands and floated them to a nightstand, returning to their masters shoulders just as you turned to greet them. 

Azriel was no longer wearing his leathers, now adored in a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark blue knitted sweater. It was unusual to see him in something other than black, in something so relaxed. 

But Gods, was he beautiful. His hair was slightly damp and mussed from his own bath. He cleared his throat, pointing to the nightstand. “I brought tea.” Azriel was nervous, you could sense it. Smell it. 

He stood in the centre of the room, large wings tucked close to his back. You almost frowned at the sight and the comment slipped before you could stop it. “Do you feel uncomfortable around me?”

Azriel’s own brows pinched at that. “No, of course not. Quite the opposite, actually.” He tilted his head, taking a slow step forward. “Why?” 

A familiar surge of magic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Not out of fear or anxiety, and it was not the same as before when it tried to protect you. No. This was different, this felt electric. Excited. 

You shrugged, jutting your chin to the dark membrane. “Your wings. They’re tight against your back.”

Azrie’s shoulders sagged slightly, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his full lips. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit he was uptight because your nipples were pearled and almost cutting through the very thin silk of your slip.

“You’re quite observant,” he noted, “I’m not uncomfortable around you, Y/N. I enjoy your company, your presence. I was trying to give you some space. This room isn’t very big, I didn’t want your power to feel suffocated.” 

Your head tilted at that. “You could never make me feel suffocated, Azriel. I enjoy your company and presence, too.”

His smile grew broader, a row of white teeth gleaming at you and you had no control when your face mirrored his. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight, at the way a sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wafted through the air. 

“You know that night…in the library?” Azriel did not need to ask to know which evening you were referring to. It took every ounce of self-control not to kiss you that night. Only for you to peck his lips in a hasty goodbye just two days later. 

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

Your brows furrowed just slightly. “You said you’d come to my room later so we could talk.” He nodded once more, his mind having already replayed every interaction he’d ever shared with you. 

“Can we do that now?” You fiddled with your fingers. “Talk, I mean. If you don’t have other commitments.”

Azriel would drop any prior engagements to spend the night with you. And by the way he gazed into your eyes, it was as though he was silently begging you to understand that. 

He did not need to speak or nod, for you only motioned to your bed and he got the hint. Azriel sat with his wings sprawled across the headboard.

He swallowed thickly, watching you tuck your legs beneath your body, the night slip doing very little to keep you covered. His mind would not stop racing, his shadows would not stop whispering. Dirty thoughts of what you were wearing beneath. If you were wearing anything at all. 

Azriel struggled to stifle his arousal. 

His shadows moved to reach you, caressing every inch of bare skin they could find. A giggle fell from your lips, warmth coating your flesh. 

Azriel could not help himself. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.”

Your grin grew, brows raising, eyes finally meeting his. “Only when I smile?” You teased, a newfound feeling of ease settling in every part of your body. 

He was pleasantly surprised by your response and dared lean a little closer. This was easy, talking with you. “You’re always beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

You had expected a teasing retort back, not something so sincere and…well…romantic. Your smile faded slightly, a breath stuck in your throat. You swallowed around it. “You have?” 

Azriel nodded. You took in a breath, allowing him to reach for you. His wings spread behind him, drooping just enough to show he did, indeed, feel relaxed around you. He reached for you, tucking hair behind your now pointed ear. 

Your soul began to hum, content and blissful under Azriel’s keen but gentle touch. No male had ever called you beautiful before. No male had ever looked at you the way he was. As though he was besotted, as though he had never seen anything so wonderful in his life before. 

“I had every intention of coming to you that night.” His voice was rough, his tone gentle. It scratched an itch somewhere deep in your core. “Had Rhys not sent me on that mission, I would’ve been there, I would have told you.”

“Told me what?” you breathed. 

He swallowed, his scarred hand cupping the soft skin of your jaw as his thumb smoothed over the apple of your cheek. It took everything in you to fight the fluttering of your eyes. 

“That no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. The moment you crossed that wall, you consumed every part of me.” 

Your breathing staggered, your core pulsed. 

“I know you’ve only been here a short time, but I can no longer pretend that I’m not drawn to you. That I don’t crave your touch.” Shadows slinked your skin again, curling at the nape of your neck and imitating a scratching at your scalp. 

Your lips parted, chest heaving. Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed at the scent that oozed from you. Sweet arousal consumed him, dared to drag him under. 

He loosed a breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

Your body felt like it was on fire, an excitement you had never once felt before. Your chest ached, your thighs trembled. And you knew if you parted your legs, you’d find a pool of wetness dribbling from your core.

No part of you felt guilty for it. No part of you tried to deny your body what it craved. Your soul sung to his, your body shifting closer. His hand on your face trailed down to caress your neck, lower to graze your collarbone, then lower again to skim over the marred flesh of your mark. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, a shaky breath sounding from you. You wanted him, needed him. That power surged in the pit of your stomach, desperate. You breathed deeply, the air thicker than before, and full of something you had never once scented. 

It was Azriel’s scent, only stronger. A raw and unfiltered scent that stirred the coil in your gut. Eyes fluttering open, they landed on his lap—on the girth that grew beneath the grey of his sweatpants. 

You swallowed thickly, chest heaving. You began to stir, hips shifting and brows knitted. “Az…” You were breathless, almost panting and his jaw clenched. 

“It’s okay,” he ground out. His fingers toyed with the thin strap of your slip, goosebumps erecting across your skin as his shadows caressed your arms and neck. Your head lulled to the side, eyes hooded. 

“Touch me,” you pleaded through a broken whisper. 

His jaw clenched again, his pupils blown and wings outstretched and tight. He did not move, did not look away. You reached for his wrist, daring to guide his hand over your full breast, over the perk of your nipple. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips. You had never felt arousal like it. Had never felt so needy that you’d resort to begging. Never had you expected to end up in such a state. You never had for Rafe. But this was Azriel. And everything about Azriel was intoxicating. 

With your hand over his, you encouraged him to grope you, to feel you. Azriel allowed you to guide him, would allow you to set the pace so long as you were comfortable and sure. So long as he made you feel good. 

The strap of your gown slipped down your arm, and you tugged the other down along with it. A low growl sounded from the back of Azriel’s throat. He was losing whatever control he had left. And you were desperate to see him snap. 

You shuffled closer on your knees, almost settling in his lap when you pulled his hand away from your breast and allowed the slip to fall past your chest, baring yourself to him. His eyes remained on yours, his chest rising and falling but you did not look away. 

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

But nothing about this felt wrong. No part of this felt like it wasn’t supposed to be. You did not feel unworthy beneath his gaze, you did not feel guilty for giving into your desires. 

Because the way Azriel looked at you, the way his gaze shifted to your chest, the way his eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled your arousal so deeply…you knew he wanted this just as badly as you did. 

With his eyes still closed, Aziel blindly reached for your hips and dragged you into his lap. A gasp escaped you, your legs parting to wrap around his waist and your soaked cunt sat over his throbbing cock. 

Your fingers tangled in his midnight hair, his head tilting as his breath ghosted your clavicle. Your nipples hardened, back arched. And he swiped his tongue over a pearled nub before suckling it into his warm mouth. 

You arched into him, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips against his. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, but he did not control you. He allowed you to move at your own pace, allowed you to decide how far you wanted this to go. 

You tugged at his hair, beckoning him to look at you. He pulled off your breast, eyes blown with a look of undeniable hunger. You stared at him for a moment, basked in his dark gaze and the feel of him pulsing beneath you. 

The weight of your position did not feel heavy, you did not want to stop. But you did not want to rush. You wanted to savour this—him. You wanted to take your time, wanted to understand how sex and intimacy was supposed to feel like. 

And Azriel could read as much in just your eyes alone. He leaned close, noses brushing as his lips ghosted yours. “I don’t need to use my cock to bring you pleasure,” he whispered, enveloping your lips in a searing kiss. 

Azriel’s hands travelled from your hips, up your waist and to your chest, kneading your breasts and pinching at your nipples. You hummed into his mouth, allowing his tongue to massage yours. 

“Let me show you how good it can be. How it’s supposed to feel.”

Your brain felt like it was overgrown in blooms, unable to do anything but nod and hand him the reins. Your magic grew excited, flora sprouting in your damp hair with every kiss he littered down your jaw and neck. 

“Turn around for me.” Azriel helped guide your body to how he wanted you, sat between his parted legs, your back to his chest and his lips breezing against the shell of your ear. 

“Good girl.” 

You were royally fucked. 

He let his hands travel down your covered stomach, fingers reaching for the soft skin of your thighs. You welcomed every touch, basked in the rough skin of his scarred hands. You could hardly breath, so pent up in anticipation. 

Azriel nipped at your ear. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?” 

A pathetic mewl sounded from your throat and you found yourself nodding obediently and spreading your thighs for him. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your thighs, down your legs and ankles and slithered back up again. A few rushed back to him, whispering their findings to their master. 

Dripping. Excited. Delicious. 

Azriel took a laboured breath to steady himself, his cock pressing into your ass. He let his hands grip your waist, fingers reaching the hem of your slip and bunching it in a strong fist.

He pulled it away, exposing your sopping heat and your head lulled back against his shoulder. “Can I touch you?” You nodded before he even finished his question, your legs spreading wider for him. 

Azriel snuck a hand between your thighs, cupping your sex as your arousal coated him. His deft fingers rubbed teasingly through your slick folds, spreading the wetness across your entire cunt. 

A shuddered breath escaped you. “Please.” 

With clenched teeth, Azriel appeased you, reaching up to your clit and pressing the pad of his middle finger against it. A gasp slipped from your mouth, his finger rubbing right circles on that puffy bud. 

Rafe had never once touched your clit. 

Your hips bucked into his hand and Azriel began to rub faster. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure built in your lower stomach, a feeling only you had been able to get yourself to, and even then never passed. 

Azriel could sense your need and replaced his finger with his thumb and reached lower. A single digit probed your fluttering hole, swirling in arousal before slowly sinking between your walls. 

You hummed in pleasure, eyes closing as he curled his finger against a spongy spot. Your hips rolled, chest heaving. You had never felt anything so exhilarating in your life. Azriel added a second finger, stretching your cunt deliciously. 

“Gods, Az…” you couldn’t find the words to describe what he was doing to you—how he was making you feel. He hummed, nuzzling his nose up your neck and latching his lips to your jaw; kissing and licking and biting. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Look how well you’re taking me.”

Azriel’s praise went to your head, your heart, your cunt. You could feel him everywhere. Shadows pinched at your nipples, Az’s hand working tirelessly against your core. Your hips rolled to meet his movements, your legs shook as he curled and scissored. 

You had never imagined it to feel this way. 

You rolled your head back, lips parted as you blindly searched for his. Azriel met you in a searing kiss, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth as you fought to meet his pace. 

Then the shaking started, and the small whimpers and moans turned to cries as you bucked against him. Azriel only kissed you harder, fucked you harder. The sound of his fingers pummeling your cunt were obscene, wet and loud and spurring you toward the edge. 

Your stomach pinched, coiled. A wave of uncontrollable pleasure and power coursed through your very being as you cried out into his mouth. Azriel did not relent his pace, did not offer a moment's reprieve. 

He worked you through it, pumping and pinching, sucking and biting. That tight rope in your abdomen snapped, your jaw slacking and eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Azriel watched as you came around his fingers, his own release coating his pants as you clenched around him and cried and thrashed. He had never seen anything so fucking beautiful before in his life. 

Your chest heaved, legs trembling. And a flurry of petals rained down on your bodies, clinging to the sheen of sweat on your skin. Azriel reluctantly removed his hand, guiding fingers to his mouth to finally reward himself with a taste. 

He regretted it the moment he did it. Because now he did not know how to live without that taste on his tongue for the rest of his life. His cock hardened again at the thought of tasting you properly. 

Azriel gazed down at you, fluttering lashes and flushed skin. You were catching your breath, unable to speak a coherent sentence. He leaned down to kiss your mouth slowly, your lips mirroring his. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you crave it once more. 

“You doing okay?” He asked gently. 

You hummed, chasing his lips when he tried to pull away. Azriel chuckled at your eagerness, he’d given you a taste and now you were hungry for more. 

“Not tonight,” he told you. 

You couldn’t help the frown, but Azriel planted a kiss to your brow and rested his forehead on yours. 

“I don’t want you to rush yourself into these things. You have consumed me, Y/N. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.” 

A tether tugged at your soul, so light you almost missed it. But your magic had responded, wrapping itself around that thin piece of string and humming in approval. 

“You have no idea how scared I was when we found you in the mountains,” he whispered solemnly. “I thought you were gone.” 

You strained your neck to look at him, at the silver that lined those molten honey eyes. Your hand reached for his face, fingers gently striking the stumbled skin of his cheek. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Different, now…yes. But this is who I’m supposed to be. I have to believe the Mother intended for it to be this way.”

He hummed, and that feeling tugged slightly once more—a little harder this time. Your gut, most likely, butterflies. 

“I won’t let you do something so foolish again.” 

Your head fell back against Azriel’s chest, his shadows working to cover your exposed body again before they tugged the blanket over you. 

And there, in his arms, you became someone else. Someone you were always fated to be. 

A/N: okay so I got slightly carried away with the teasing between Az and Y/N so it ended up a bit longer that the other parts BUT the next part is a very big one and potentially the last :(((( but even if it is, I have some ideas to do some check in fics with them in the future!

If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

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Okay so I literally can’t decide on a mask bestie 😭😭

its ok any mask is still a win LMAO

Ghost in the Wind — Part Two

SUMMARY: After gaining some clarity on your position in the court, Azriel takes you to see the city, but by the end of the day, he's left with more questions than he started with.

WARNINGS: brief mentions of depression, sexual abuse and loneliness,

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

In the three weeks that had passed, that familiar sinking feeling had begun to wedge its way deep into the pit of your stomach. You’d seen Nesta on a handful of occasions during that time. Mostly in passing, once when she dropped off more romance novels to your floor. 

Yes, floor. It seemed she didn’t want you sharing the level with her and Cassian, nor the level that you came to learn Azriel occupied just above you. 

It was suffocating you, the loneliness. The House appeared your only friend, and even that could only do so much to comfort and converse. You’d caught Cassian a few times in the mornings, when you were in the lounge reading by the fire, when he awoke to make breakfast and offered a terse nod just as Azriel did. 

Azriel. 

You hadn’t seen him at all since that night. Perhaps he was on a mission, perhaps not. It didn’t matter either way, he had no reason to see you, to seek you out. You weren’t friends, barely even acquaintances. You were a stranger living in his home. 

You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

But for how long? How long were you to be ignored, shunned as though you had a Godsforsaken plague? No, you needed to stop. You knew that wasn’t the case, no matter the nagging voice in the back of your head. 

Your gaze found your ring finger, the lack of the iron band making your stomach churn. You wondered what he was doing right now…looking for you? Or looking for another unfortunate soul he could force his body and mind upon? 

You shook your head, it wasn’t your problem anymore. And for once, you felt okay with being selfish. With putting yourself above him or a stranger. Though the thought still soured your mind. Hadn’t you been wishing all these years for someone to save you? No innocent soul deserved to endure the horrors you had by his hand. 

Just the thought of that endless pain had you standing abruptly from your position on your bed, wringing your fingers nervously. It was without proper thought that your feet carried you out of your room and down the hall, and you didn’t miss what felt like a gentle kiss of a breeze pushing you closer, encouraging you to go where you needed.

Though where you needed to go, you were unsure. You just needed to see someone, anyone. You couldn’t bear these thoughts any longer, couldn’t bear to feel like a prisoner anymore. 

You stopped dead in your tracks in the kitchen, noting Azriel sitting at the dining table with an apple in his hand. His eyes clocked yours, a brief flicker of surprise in his gaze. He pulled the fruit away from his parted lips. 

“Y/N,” he spoke, and his shadows skittered from his shoulders and slithered across the ground toward you. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

Your nostrils flared and it startled you. For years you’d been overcome with such sadness and heartache that you’d briefly forgotten what it had felt to feel anything else. Anger. That was what you felt now, a boiling rage that rooted in your gut—not at Azriel, not at Rafe or Nesta or anyone—no, you felt this anger at yourself for allowing your life to play the way it had, for allowing yourself to be so unseen and forgotten. 

I hadn’t seen you coming.

And you were so, so sick of it. 

“I’d like to see my cousin.” No please, no thank you, no desperate plea of an apology at the tip of your tongue that you had to shove down. No. You were done with being a ghost. With being nothing. 

Azriel quirked a brow, his shadows now resting on your own shoulders as they soothed your hair. He didn’t worry much about it, they often had a mind of their own around the people they sensed were calm and warm and familiar. 

But you weren’t familiar, and right now you weren’t calm and you weren’t warm. Now, you were angry, bubbling over with a whipping rage. His shadows weren’t with you out of comfort, his shadows were trying to calm you down. 

“Nesta is training with Cassian on the roof, I can get her for you—”

“No, not Nesta,” you cut him off. “Feyre, I want to speak with your High Lady and High Lord.”

Azriel’s heart would not stop racing, would not stop thumping so hard it threatened to tear through his chest. It wasn’t in fear, not at all. It was something entirely different, something so foreign he couldn’t understand, he couldn’t control. 

He didn’t dare take his eyes from you, from the way that previous anger dissipated into your usual aura of worry and grief. You were beautiful, more so in the Fae lands than in the mortal. As if the air in Prythian breathed new life into you, as if you’d always belonged here. 

Azriel remembered what you’d said. How everything felt clearer after stepping through that wall. He had suspicions, very far-fetched and precarious suspicions, but he kept them to himself and his shadows as he watched on. 

That icy rage crumbled to a simmering pot of exhaustion as Feyre and Rhysand strolled into the House of Wind, hand in hand. You hadn’t seen your youngest cousin in years, and motherhood—Faehood…it looked good on her. She was thriving and you could almost feel the love and security the High Lord oozed when he looked at her. 

“Y/N…” the High Lady breathed as she took you in. 

You looked much healthier than when she’d last seen you those few years ago. Your skin had begun to regain its colour, your body beginning to rebuild its strength. Those awful bruises had healed, but you still wore that same frightful look on your face. 

“Fey…” You struggled to find the words to say to her, where to start. You wanted nothing more than to hold her, to feel another’s embrace but you didn’t approach. You weren’t accustomed to how things worked here, that even though she was your cousin, she was also High Lady. 

Would it be improper to embrace her? Would Rhysand and Azriel pull you off her? See you as a threat for wanting to feel your cousin's familiar touch and love?

As though she’d read your thoughts, Feyre closed the distance between you both and took you into her arms. Your resolve began to crumble, all of those feelings of loneliness creeping up on you in full force.

You willed the tears back as much as you could, but Feyre held you close, cooing to you that it was alright, that you were safe and she was so glad to have you there. 

It took much of your strength to finally pull away and cast your eyes to her mate, to the High Lord. Rhysand watched with a polite smile, though there was a look in his eyes as he gazed at you…a look that suggested he understood. 

Understood everything that you had endured, every feeling and thought as if he’d also once experienced them, too. 

“I um…I wanted to thank you both for allowing Nesta to bring me here.”

Rhysand chuckled at that, soft and sultry. 

“Nobody allows Nesta to do anything. She does what she wants and we all have to accept it whether we like it or not.”

He spoke in a humorous tone, as if the words hadn’t struck a cord so deep in your stomach that it made you nauseous. 

Azriel tensed beside him, and Rhysand quickly caught on to just how poorly he worded himself. “We are delighted to have you here, Y/N. But I’m incredibly sorry for the circumstances it took to get you out.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes darting between him and Feyre. 

“I appreciate you allowing me a room at the House of Wind, but I don’t wish to overstay my welcome.”

A collective frown plastered on their faces, but you continued. “I don’t know very much about these lands, but I’m happy and willing to work for my keep and find my own place of residence.”

Feyre flinched as though you’d struck her. “What’s wrong? You don’t like the House?”

Your lips parted and eyes widened, worried you’d now offended her. “No! No, the House is wonderful, truly,” you reassured her. “I just don’t want to be a burden, you’ve all done so much for me, I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable having a stranger in their home.”

Your eyes briefly met Azriel’s hazel ones, something akin to sorrow and regret in those golden orbs. Rhysand then took a tentative step closer, a deep-set frown of worry on his brows. 

“Y/N, if you wish for your own residence, we will fund that for you. But you are no stranger. You are family, and family will always have a home here. If the House of Wind is too much, we have the townhouse you are welcome to, or we can find something else that’s more suited to you.”

There was no point in hiding the silver that lined your eyes, not when you knew the three of them could smell and sense your every emotion. Perhaps that was why a tear fell down Feyre’s rosy cheeks—perhaps she could feel your agony, your appreciation.

Perhaps they all could feel that you were so unused to this kindness, to being wanted. 

Rhysand reached for your hand then, his skin warm against yours and your eyes fluttered closed. Nothing about the action was intimate, but you were beginning to realise just how touch starved you were, and Rhys could feel that. 

“Nesta thought you might want some space and time to adjust.” He admitted quietly, his voice soothing as it coaxed you to open your eyes. A violet gaze full of care and promise. Promise of love and acceptance. 

Then, his voice grew lighter, full of teasing humour. “She also threatened to skin us alive if we allowed you to be alone in the presence of a male. We never intended to make you feel alone.” 

… all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. How foolish you had been to think you were a burden, that they hadn’t wanted you there. A watery chuckle left your lips as you opened your eyes and met Azriel’s gaze again. Sorrow. Guilt. That was why. 

You looked back to Rhysand just as something gentle stroked at your mind. It took you by surprise but his eyes never left yours, as though he was coaxing you to let him in, to let him feel your pain, to let him understand better. 

It scared you, the idea of anyone seeing your rawest thoughts and emotions. But his eyes, those violet eyes so familiar and warm in a way you could never begin to understand. So you let him in, let him feel everything you tried so hard to keep hidden away and locked up, and it caught the breath from his lungs, rendering him speechless. 

He swallowed thickly, eyes fluttering closed. And in a heartbeat, that pain and agony mellowed and faded until you felt nothing at all except pure relief. You didn’t know how he did it, how he forged his way through the dark forest of your mind and guided you through the other end.

There were no words to describe it. Nothing except at the end of that dark forest lay an open field of fresh soil and grass and trees and sunshine. A fresh start in mind and spirit, a place for you to plant new seeds. A place to hope. 

As quickly as he entered, he retreated. And he took that darkness with him—as much as he could. 

“I understand the pain you have endured in your life. For fifty years, I experienced something very similar. But that pain does not define you. The mind is a powerful thing, Y/N. As long as you believe in hope, you will always find it.”

He released your hand then, stepping back to Feyre’s side. 

“Tonight, we will have a family dinner at the House of Wind so you can meet the others. The House will always be a home to you, whether you chose to stay or find your own residence. But you needn’t do anything alone anymore. And if you’d like to work, we can find something for you, but for now…enjoy your freedom.”

A gentle tapping at your bedroom door broke your attention from your book. You blinked, waiting to see if you'd heard right, when a lone shadow slinked under your door as if to silently let you know who was on the other side. 

Placing your book to the side, you padded to the door and slowly opened it. Azriel stood a respectable distance away, allowing you space to breathe and he offered a gentle smile in greeting. 

“I was about to head into the city for some supplies…I was wondering if you’d like to join me. I’d have to fly you, of course, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Your heart thundered in your chest. Not at the aspect of being alone with him, but at the thought of finally exploring the city you watched from your balcony every night. 

You loosed a breath. “Am I allowed?” 

He frowned, a shadow reaching for your fingers in a way of reassurance. “Of course. Rhys meant what he said. You’re free to go anywhere you wish.”

You inhaled somewhat shakily, and found yourself nodding your head. 

Azriel took a moment then to take in your appearance. No doubt clothes that Nesta had sorted for you—a pair of simple black leggings and a thick grey knitted sweater. 

You noticed his eyes racking over your outfit and a warmth found its way to your cheeks. “Should I change?” 

His eyes met yours and he shook his head, his smile growing just slightly. “No, not unless you want to.” You nodded just as he added, “I think you look lovely.” 

A compliment. Gods when was the last time you’d received a compliment? There was no hiding the heat that painted your cheeks and neck, no hiding the way you averted his gaze and rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet. 

Ah, shoes. You needed shoes. 

“Just let me find something to put on my feet.”

You turned and left the door open, allowing Azriel a view of your bare room. He noted the lack of…well anything. Nothing on your walls, no nick-nacks or trinkets. Nothing but a satchel on your dresser and three books on the window seat. 

A moment now to compose himself, to regain his bearings. He didn't have to keep his distance anymore, didn't have to hide his growing intrigue and infatuation with you.

Infatuation. As if he were nothing more than a lap dog. Rhys had warned him as much—to not be how he had in the past. And it was easy this time to reassure his brother that it wasn't like that.

It wasn't a hungry desire that consumed him, no. It was something deeper than that, something inexplicably and irrevocably crippling.

But he had promised himself to be mindful of your past, your current state. He wanted to get to know you, an dire need and desire for you to get to know him, too.

His shadows threatened to follow but Azriel reigned them in, scolding silently that it was rude to enter uninvited. He and his tendrils of darkness waited at the threshold of your room, watching as you approached once more with a pair of flats on your feet. 

It was then that Azriel could sense your excitement. And that unfamiliar feeling found its way in his chest and stomach and soul again. 

You had never seen anything like Velaris before in your life. It was just as beautiful in the day as it was at night from the view of your bedroom. Azriel landed softly, mindful of you the entire flight down and as your feet hit the cobblestone path, you took a deep breath. 

The streets were wide, rows of shops and vendors and restaurants everywhere you looked. Bustling with life, fae of all varieties walked the streets of their home. Some blue, some pink, some green. 

It took you a few moments to take it all in—so overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of what you’d been missing in these twenty-six years of your life. Your hand was still wrapped around Azriel’s bicep as he tucked his wings in and began to guide you through the city streets. 

Too caught up in your surroundings, you missed the looks of passersby that lingered a little too long. The citizens of Velaris were not used to their Shadowsinger escorting a female so intimately through the city. Much less a mortal female.

But no one seemed to balk at that, no one appeared to have a problem with your presence. 

Azriel walked you through the streets, pointing out different places that he and the rest of the Inner Circle liked to frequent most. You were in awe, completely dumbfounded by the sheer beauty of it all. 

And when he guided you toward a merchant's cart full of crystals and rocks and stones, your excitement seemed to grow tenfold. 

“You like crystals?” Azriel asked, noticing the way your feet hurried a little faster to view the vendor. 

A brief smile coated your lips as your eyes trailed the pieces on display.

“My mother used to collect them. Secretly, of course—they were forbidden in the mortal lands, claimed to be used by the Fae and other…creatures. She said they harnessed healing properties. They were all I had left of her.”

It was the most Azriel had heard you speak at once, and he was not about to let you dwell on that for a single moment. He wanted to hear more. 

“Did you bring them with you?”

Your smile faded, fingers reaching out to trace over an uncut rose quartz. “No. After Rafe and I wed, he found them and he threw them into the river.”

You didn’t look at Azriel as you spoke, didn’t even know why you admitted such an agonizing memory outloud, but he didn’t press further. Though you were sure you could’ve heard a shadow of his hiss in disdain.

“This one is tigers eye.” You pointed to the smooth stone no larger than a silver coin. “My mother called it the Stone of Courage…and this one is black tourmaline, the Stone of Protection.”

Azriel watched you closely, watched your shoulders relax at the memory of your late mother. He scooped them into a scarred hand, nodding for the merchant’s attention and they were wrapped in parchment and handed over to you.

You blubbered, looking between the merchant and Azriel, to tell them both that you were simply admiring, that you had no money. But Azriel nodded a thanks and with a hand to the small of your back, he guided you further into the city.

“If you see something you like, put it on the House’s account and it will be taken care of. Rhys has more money than sense, he’d be offended if you didn’t spend it.”

The thought of spending the High Lord’s money was not one that sat well with you. Despite the kindness he’d shown earlier, the promise of you not being a burden…you didn’t want to take advantage anymore than you already had. 

You didn’t say anything, though. Not when you had a feeling Azriel would only try to convince you otherwise. 

You walked for another thirty minutes, your hand still around his arm but he didn’t protest, didn’t allow you to be separated from him as you walked through a busier crowd. 

And then you saw it. That beautiful winding river that sparkled like the deepest sapphire. It flowed through the city, loitered with ships and boats to import and export all sorts of goods. 

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Breathless. You were utterly awestruck. Yet Azriel couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from you. In his 500 years of life, he’d seen some incredibly gorgeous females, yet none as exquisite as you. 

There was nothing mortal about your beauty, about your aura. And the longer he was spending in your presence, the more he felt himself sinking under. 

And watching you now, so relaxed and at peace… 

He shouldn’t be feeling this. Not again. Not for you. And yet despite that, he found himself saying, “You haven’t even seen the Rainbow yet.”

You looked at him then, eyes glistening and cheeks warm. 

“What’s the Rainbow?”

Azriel smiled, wide and untamed and your heart stopped. “It’s what Velaris is known for. There’s a hundred galleries, supply stores, sculpture gardens…and anything in between.”

He felt like he was going to die. His heart would not stop pounding, his shadows would not stop skittering. The smile on your face grew, your eyes wild and alive. That unfamiliar feeling—he knew what that was now. 

Excitement. And not yours this time, but his own. Something he hadn’t felt since Rhys and Cassian taught him to fly as a young boy. 

“I’ll take you,” he found himself saying. “Whenever you want to go, I’ll take you.”

You looked back at the river then, hope in your eyes once more. For the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged. You could see yourself happy here, living and not just surviving. 

And Azriel, oh, Azriel wanted to watch every moment of your happiness. Because despite the horrors you’d been subjected to, despite the things Rhysand saw in your memories, the thoughts in your mind…you still held hope. 

You still longed to live another day. 

So he didn’t follow as your feet carried you across the river bank, didn’t say a word as you sat on the grass and let yourself feel and breathe and water that fresh field in your mind. 

He watched from afar, allowing you this moment. 

And as you stood and raised your hands from the soil and sauntered toward the rivers clearing, Azriel’s shadows began to quiver in that now recognisable way his chest had seized throughout the day, whispering to him.

A lonesome patch of brown and green tulips lay in your wake, as though you’d breathed life into the earth with nothing more than your mind and touch. 

He balked and the shadows whispered again.

So that night, after dinner with the Inner Circle, where you laughed and smiled and ate…Azriel found himself travelling across Velaris at a lightning speed toward the wall at the border of the Spring Court and mortal lands. 

And there, where the remnants of that creature barely remained, laid another solitude patch of tulips—brown and green. 

A/N: hehe, you're truly not prepared for what I have planned for this series hahahaha but I would love to hear your guys' thoughts and theories about where you think this series might be going!!

If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

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