m4tthewmurd0ck - Tumblr blog

m4tthewmurd0ck · 18 days

Text

cassian is literally right next to me, i’m telling you right now this is 111009% facts and he is very smart!!! ugh this is perfect. the fluff 😍😍😍

me after reading this because he is the sweetest man and deserves all the love and praise in the world:

but also “i’m about to write the most gut wrenching pieces ever” jsbsisndfjdbdfjdbfj me showing up to this app ready to cry:

Words of Affirmation

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: Even the Lord of Bloodshed gets insecure sometimes. As his mate, you always know the right words to say.

Warnings: established relationship fluff :)

Word Count: 2.3k

just a quick sweet fluffy piece to make up for all my angst. dedicated to the one and only @sarawritestories

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian would never admit it, but the assumptions of his intelligence bothered him. He was always a brute, a mindless warrior, a soldier— nothing more. He knew, deep down, that his brothers rivaled him in all matters of the mind. They were more collected, more capable with familial matters and court affairs. Simply put, they were smarter.

And he had accepted that— at least, he told himself he had. After all, he was talented where it mattered. He was a good male, a good friend, a good brother, a good commander— and amazing in bed. So truly, it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did when his meeting with Eris went sour.

Cassian entered the room with heavy steps, a frown on his face as he began to peel off his coat, each movement slow and heavy with frustration. A part of him hoped that he could shed more than just the layer of clothing, hoped that coming home would rid him of the insecurity that had threaded itself through his ribs.

You observed him quietly, taking in the way his muscles tensed and released with each motion, the subtle clenching of his jaw, the deep exhale. He hadn’t looked at you yet, hadn’t made his classic entrance. On most days, Cass would return home with a huge grin, door thrown wide open as he bellowed out your name with a burning heart.

But he was quiet today. And you knew exactly why– you could feel it through the bond. Cassian was sad.

Your footsteps were quiet against the wood floors as you slowly walked towards him.

“Things didn’t go well?”

Your voice was soft and gentle and the sound of it sent a ripple of relief through his body. Still, he felt heavy. Tired. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he finally discarded his coat onto a nearby chair. “I don’t know how Rhysand does it.”

“Does what?”

“This whole diplomacy thing, even Azriel. I just… I couldn’t. I'm too stupid for it. Just an idiot.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a heaviness settling on the glowing bond in your chest. You wanted to console him, to fight and kill whatever it was that was unsettling him so deeply. But the thing that was causing Cassian pain wasn’t anything you could fight yourself. It was his own mind, the insecurities he was too afraid to acknowledge.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he waved you off with a frustrated gesture.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, his tone heavy with defeat, “I’m just whining. I’ll get over it.”

You frowned, letting out a small breath.

“No, don’t say that,” you said gently, taking a step closer to him. “You’re allowed to be frustrated. But you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed.

“I’m not?”

You took in the sight of your mate for a moment, took in his long hair and brown eyes, took in the stubble on his jaw and the way he let out a small breath. You extended your hand to him, voice low as you murmured, “C’mere, honey.”

He hesitated for a moment before he gently took your hand and closed the distance between you, large arms wrapping around your waist as he looked down at you.

“You are a big ole’ dummy,” you teased lightly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you put your hands around his neck. You felt Cassian melt into your touch ever so slightly, eyes shuttering closed as a small hum left his lips. “But you are brilliant. Like really fucking smart.”

Cassian’s eyes opened to meet yours, somewhat narrowed in skepticality. You rubbed the nape of his neck with your thumbs.

“I mean, you’re a war general. You’ve commanded hundreds of soldiers, have won countless battles– wars, even. You couldn’t get away with those things as an idiot.”

Cassian grumbled, but you caught the hint of a smile dancing in his stormy eyes, felt the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. A wry chuckle bubbled up from deep within him as he shook his head, his lips quirking up in a brief smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that one, we have Beron and Tam-”

You rolled your eyes.

“Would you just let me compliment you?” You interrupted with a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows raised as you looked at him.

A soft chuckle escaped him. “My bad.”

“You are so incredibly smart,” you repeated earnestly, slightly pulling him down and urging him to place his forehead against yours.

He stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze heavy as he searched for something in your eyes. He seemed to find it as he gave you a small smile. “You really think so?”

You pulled yourself back gently, dropping your hands from his neck to take his in your own. Then, you gently guided one hand to your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch.

“Does it feel like I’m lying?” you asked softly.

Cassian’s expression softened as his gaze flickered to where your hand held his. You watched as a glow of warmth lit up his eyes.

“No,” he said quietly, “It does not.”

And then he was bringing his hands to hold your face, leaning in to kiss you tenderly, his lips a gentle caress against yours.

He wasn’t sure if he believed it yet, if he was comfortable enough with considering himself to be smart, let alone brilliant. But you, his beautiful mate, the love of his life— you thought he was smart, you thought he was brilliant.

And truly, that's all that mattered to him.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn’t that he was insecure about his looks, no, that wasn't it.

Cassian knew he was attractive, knew that he was hot and ruggedly handsome. He knew from the looks that he got from females and males alike, from the scent changes that he caused, and the lovers he had bedded.

But sometimes, when standing next to Rhysand and Azriel, Cassian would catch himself wondering if he was rough around the edges in ways that his brothers were smoother, more appealing. After all, they were the two more classically pretty males, the more softly attractive and very often audibly complimented.

And then there was him, the rough warrior.

Attractive, yes, but pretty? Elegant? Those were never words used to describe him.

There was a soft glow in your room tonight, gentle shadows casted across the bed from flickering fae light. Cassian let out a deep sigh as he prepared to climb into bed, his muscles aching and head heavy as he shed the remenands of his day.

You watched him with a tender gaze as you lay on the bed. The faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of your lips as your eyes traced the lines of his face. Cass caught your gaze with his own, a warm hearty brown that made your heart flutter.

A playful smirk tugged at his lips as he noticed your lingering stare. "You like what you see, sweetheart?"

You grinned, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you tilted your head. "Always.”

With a grin of his own, Cassian began to crawl towards you. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he closed the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Admiring how absolutely handsome I am?” he said, “How Incredibly sexy?"

You let out a small laugh as he reached your face, his body hovering over yours. With a gentle hand, you pushed back his tousled hair, your touch feather-light against his skin. A soft sigh escaped him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the warmth of your touch. His lips wore a content smile.

"So beautiful," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you traced the contours of his face with your fingertips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyebrows knitting together as his eyes scanned your face. You ran your finger along the crease that they created. "Beautiful?"

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Yes, beautiful. Maybe I don't tell you enough."

He chuckled softly as he leaned into your touch, heart swelling with warmth at your words. There was a new flutter in his chest that he didn’t recognize. For a moment, Cassian felt shy— he wasn’t quite sure why. But he laughed it off all the same.

"That's a word reserved for you, sweetheart."

You shook your head, your fingers trailing down his cheek to cup his face in your hands. "My beautiful mate,” you whispered, "My handsome, gorgeous, incredibly sexy, and beautiful mate."

For the first time in a while, Cass was stunned, unable to respond as quickly as he was used to. Your words held a certain reverence to them, a sincerity that made him melt into your touch— made him melt into your voice itself. Before you, Cassian never knew himself as something gentle, as something capable of softness and sensitivity. But here he was before you, in all of his warrior glory, feeling like a child with a playground crush. And there you were, staring at him like he was the most exquisite thing you’d ever laid eyes on. So when words failed him, Cassian did the only thing he saw fit.

He leaned in to kiss you tenderly, bringing his lips to yours softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him in closer, feeling his warmth against you as he smiled into the kiss. From deep within your chest, you felt a glow— a deep, ethereal, and overwhelming glow.

Beautiful, his mind echoed, beautiful.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You let out a soft sigh as you settled onto the couch with Cassian, pushing yourself further into his warm chest as he wrapped an arm around you. You’d spent the night at the River House, drinking more wine than you could handle and eating almost all of Elain's sweet desserts. There was a smile on your face as your eyes closed, your hearing quickly tuning into the heartbeat of your mate below you.

You frowned when the sound began to quicken, echoing like a drum in your ears. You pushed yourself up, slightly turning your body and placing a hand on Cassian's chest. When you looked up at him, his face was scrunched, his gaze distant as if lost in contemplation.

Cassian wore a specific face when he was troubled, furrowed brows and a downturn of his lips. He wore it was he was sad or frustrated, when he had thoughts that plagued him at night. The face before you was a troubled one, indeed. But it was less rough than the others he bore, more vulnerable.

You slightly tapped against him with your palm. Cassian blinked at the sensation, then he slowly looked down to meet your eyes with his own. You let your chin fall gently on his chest.

“What's wrong?”

Cassian managed a smile, shaking his head as he brought his hand to run over your hair. “Nothing.”

You frowned. “Tell me.”

For a moment, Cassian’s thoughts traveled again. Mor’s laugh echoed in his mind, wine glass in hand as she pointed at him. You have the subtlety of a war horn. You’re so loud I can hear you across Prythian. I don’t know how Y/n handles it all the time.

"Am I too loud?"

His voice came out rushed, drenched in a tinge of what you could only describe as worry— even doubt.

A flicker of surprise passed through your features. “What?”

He let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Mor said something tonight, it just got me thinking.”

“Mor says a lot of things. Especially when she's drunk.”

“I know.” He nodded in agreement, tongue running across his teeth before he let out another sigh. “But she had a point tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”

He took a moment to take you in, to trace the features of your face with his eyes. Absentmindedly, he ran his hands through your hair.

“Maybe I am too loud.”

Cassian's voice was defeated now, lips naturally falling into a frown. The crease between his eyebrows was still there as he peered down at you, hand still caressing your head.

You stared at him for a moment before you responded. "You're so loud."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Cassian's face. But before the thought could spread through his mind, a soft smile graced your features. You gave his chest a small kiss. “But I love it. So very much.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up, a sense of release evident in his features as his lips curved into a smile. The crease between his eyebrows faded. "Really?"

"Absolutely," you affirmed, your voice filled with a sincerity that made his heart flutter. "My world would be too quiet without you."

Cassian’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently swiping loose strands away from your forehead. “Yeah?”

You nodded against him, chin still resting on his chest. “I hear everything I love in your voice.”

He smiled, the bond deep within him singing as he stared at you. He felt you tug at it, felt a roll of warmth run through his body— something gentle, something loving. And for a minute, Cassian could have cried at the sensation, could have cried at the way you looked at him, at how happy he felt.

With his heart swelling, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice filled with a depth of emotion that he couldn’t quite express in words. He hoped that you could sense it, that you would hear those words and know everything he was trying to say— that you would understand just how much you meant to him, how your love filled him with a sense of peace and belonging he never knew he needed.

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, feeling his now steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know,” you said, “You practically scream it from the heavens.”

Cassian let out a deep laugh, the sound reverberating through his chest. You felt his body move from under you, felt as the sound caressed you like a pair of warm hands.

As his laughter subsided, Cassian pulled you closer to him. “I’ll keep shouting it so you’ll always hear it,” he whispered.

A warmth spread through you at his words, a feeling of love so strong it was tangible through that sacred tie that connected you.

“And I’ll keep listening.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

me not writing angst?? (i’m about to write the most gut wrenching pieces ever) unheard of. but we love a sweet established relationship <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

#cassian x reader #like yes please break my heart #reading recs

923 notes · View notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 19 days

Text

so this is the first thing i read today, okay 😭

But now you’re gone. You don’t love him anymore.

me trying to communicate from the grave:

When the Heart is Still Longing

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel thought you were the one. Now, he can’t move on.

Warnings: heavy angst yall thats literally all it is

Word Count: 2.9k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

He still smells you.

It’s all over his room; on his sheets, in his bathroom, on his clothes— even his daggers smell like you. They smell like cool breezes and your hand around his waist, the sound of your laughter and the wind underneath his wings. They smell of your tea, the one you always brew for his return, serve to him in a warm cup with soft eyes and a tender smile. They smell like you. Amber. Earth. Flower. Home.

It’s not over. Azriel refuses to let it be. Not when his clothes still smell like you.

You’re coming back. He waits for you at night, listening for your footsteps— because it's not over. He refuses to let it be. He doesn’t want to admit it, can’t bring himself to fully stomach the thought. He tries to think of a life for himself, a future without you. But no image comes to mind. He can’t fathom the idea– a life without you isn’t his. There is no living without you. Azriel only exists.

So he thinks of you, still. He thinks of your fingertips dancing on his skin and the way it sets his insides ablaze. He thinks of the burning need to feel your lips against his, to feel your skin against him. He thinks of your breathing, of your bare back against his chest, the warmth of your bodies, the way you’d shiver under his touch.

He thinks of you. And he’s not ready to give up. Not ready to let you go. It's still summertime. Nyx is still 2. And you haven’t left him.

There's a soft knock at the door. Azriel stills. A moment of silence. He hopes they go away.

“Azriel?”

It’s Feyre they’ve sent this time. Her voice is soft, controlled, the same voice she uses to soothe Nyx when he's fussy or Rhysand when he’s beyond reason.

“We’re going to visit Y/n,” She says, “Would you like to come?”

No, he thinks. Because it’s Tuesday. You always come over on Tuesdays. He doesn’t need to go to you.

So Azriel closes his eyes. He sits in the embrace of denial for a bit longer. It is warm and comfortable and he’s not quite ready to leave.

Because It’s not over.

Azriel refuses to let it be.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It used to be that there was only one emotion Azriel knew like the back of his hand.

It ate at him like a beast starved for centuries, sat heavy on his stomach, blinded him in his rage.

He wasn’t born angry, no, he was born in the afternoon. The air was brisk and the sun was setting by the time his mother held him. He cried for minutes, cried until he smelt her, until he opened his eyes.

The anger he held wasn’t always his.

He’d picked up pieces as he grew up, borrowed the parts of his mother she tried to shield him from, absorbed the fights of the families nearby. He collected it all like a pastime, like stones he’d hold in his pocket, save for a collection to admire later. Except every stone burned with the scorn of who he had stolen it from. And Azriel quickly learned what that molten really was.

And then he was fed it, introduced to its existence by the two males who towered over him, who listened to his crying as if it were a lullaby to their ears.

And when he grew up, Azriel’s anger began to define him— defined him for centuries.

Until he met you.

And suddenly being angry didn’t seem to have a point. His anger no longer fed him, it no longer kept him warm.

You were all the things he had dreamed of, the picture of a life he’d seen in that basement. You were the days he once had to convince himself were coming. You were kind; a sunlight he’d never experienced, a sort of life that even his shadows began to crave.

And you loved him back.

So Azriel began to know a different emotion like the back of his hand.

This one was warm and gentle. It relaxed his muscles and made his heart sing. His shadows danced to the music it’d make and his wings would twitch in tune. And somehow it always managed to repeat one thing: Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.

For the years that you’d loved him, Azriel began to understand why poetry existed, began to understand what it meant. Poetry was the way he loved you. Poetry was all of the things he never thought he could be.

But now you’re gone. You don’t love him anymore.

And Azriel is angry again.

He's angry all the time. It radiates off him in waves, burns even his shadows as they try to reach him.

He doesn't recognize the emotion anymore, doesn’t know how to mold it like he once did. He’s forgotten his talent, forgotten the craft. He no longer knows how to morph it into a warming fire, no longer knows how to sharpen it like a knife.

Instead, it suffocates him, makes him claw at his skin like it is something he could shed.

He is angry at himself all of the time, every waking hour that he exists. Angry that he had let his duties get in the way, that he had forsaken you in a way he could never return from.

At times, his anger burns white-hot, fueled by a sense of injustice and a longing for things to have turned out differently. He curses fate for pulling you away, for tearing apart the bond you had built together— a bond that he was sure would be granted. It never was.

It's his fault. He knows this, deep down to his core. It is carved into his bones, written across his ribs. He is guilty. And his guilt— his guilt wears his anger like second skin, too.

He doesn’t want to admit that he is angry at you, too. Angry that you turned your back on him, angry that you’d pushed him away. He was far from you because of the distance that you’d chosen.

He knows he can’t blame you. He knows the anger isn't justified, not truly.

But there is so much of it now. There is anger where life is supposed to be.

And Azriel doesn’t quite know what to do with it, not when he can’t share it with you.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

This one is longer than his others.

His hand had begun to cramp while he was writing it. The handwriting is mainly scribbles, ink that bleeds through the page. There are small circles where his tears fell. He didn’t have enough time to grab another paper— he had begun to run out of his supply. He wrote you too many letters now, too many that he ended up throwing away.

He shoves the paper with an extended hand. The hand is trembling, a habit that started the minute he watched you walk out the door. His hands are as restless as he is. Almost every part of his body, really. He bounces his knee while he sits, his wings twitch when he breathes. There is not a moment of peace.

“Az,” Feyre says. Her eyes are sad and tired. Nyx has been having troubles recently. Feyre wants another child but they haven’t had any luck. Rhysand has been busy with court affairs. He fears he is just as weak of a leader as his father. Azriel hears it all. His shadows tell him everything— they hope that one day some news will get him out of bed. It doesn’t work. He never cares enough. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Feyre means what she says, Azriel doesn’t need his shadows to confirm this. But she takes the paper anyways, holds it in her hand like it might break if she’s not too careful.

“Please,” Azriel says, “Just tell her. Tell her that I’m sorry.”

Feyre stares at him, examines his face with her motherly gaze. She wonders if she should hug him, bring him into a warm embrace that he’s been devoid of for months. Or maybe, she should push him to do what he needs to do the most— go to you. Get his closure. Speak his peace. The paper in her hands aren’t his words. It will mean nothing to you. She's not sure it truly means anything to Azriel, either.

“You need to go to her.”

Azriel swallows. He looks down at his feet where his shadows sit, unmoving and on edge. For a second, he swears he sees a motion of nodding, a sense of agreement that they share. Go see her, they seem to whisper, go see her and tell her your truth.

He ignores them. He’s been doing a lot of that recently. He doesn’t seem to recognize how it's almost poetic, the way that he seems to repeat his mistakes. But his shadows aren’t you. Azriel did not create you— his mind could never have fathomed something so beautiful. Azriel’s shadows, however, those were all him. So they won’t leave him like you did— at least not yet. They belong to him in a way you never did.

“I can’t,” Azriel confesses, “You know that I can’t.”

Feyre does.

“Will you ever be able to?”

I hope, Azriel wants to reply, but he doesn’t. He prays to The Mother that he will never have to go see you because you will come home to him. He prays that the letters he writes to you are enough, that his words will somehow reach you, that you may still be in tune with the language that his heart speaks. It only speaks one language after all, and that language is your name.

The Mother isn’t cruel enough for that, Azriel tells himself. Surely, she will fix this all. He just needs to convince her, needs to find a way to right his wrongs, be a better male. Then you will come back to him, he says to himself, you will come back because he will be worth it. Until then, however, Azriel will apologize. He will apologize and ask to start over. And he will do it through Feyre, the only one who is willing to take his letters to you.

“Just tell her that I’m sorry.”

And he leaves back to his room.

That night, Azriel can’t sleep.

Before you, he was used to sleepless nights.

He’d toss and turn, stare at the ceiling and picture a life where he was better. His shadows would call and sing, attempt to lure sleep into their grasp, attempt to feed it to Azriel like his mother used to feed him soup. It never worked. Sleep feared him as much as his enemies did.

But then you came.

You’d run your hands through his hair, relieve years worth of tension from your touch alone. He’d fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat, fall asleep to the idea that he was no longer sleeping alone. Sleep no longer feared him when you were around. It loved you both, really.

You’re not warming his bed anymore. And he’s selfish for wishing that you were.

He found a new way to call sleep back to him. It is apprehensive since you’ve left. But Azriel has a certain medication that Madja created. He uses it often— can never sleep without it. Rhysand frowns when he buys it, asks him if he really needs it. Azriel always says nothing and goes to his room.

But the magic isn’t enough, not tonight.

And he finds himself doing what he tells himself he shouldn’t.

He calls for you, begs you to join him. He closes his eyes, stills his breath. Waits for you. And like clockwork, you’re there.

You crawl in next to him. Pull him to your chest. He lays on you, but it doesn’t feel right. You’re not as warm as he remembers. Your breaths aren’t syncing like they once did. You aren’t telling him about your day.

He begs you to let it be like it once was. For tonight. He feels your touch in his hair, fingers threading through it, massaging his scalp.

“You have to let me go, Az.”

Your voice is tender, a low whisper that alerts the hairs on his neck.

“I can’t,” he responds.

“You have to,” you say, “This isn’t healthy.”

Az shakes his head. He can’t. Not now, not ever. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that somehow the harder he presses, the slower time will go. He wishes for a way to take this moment and freeze it forever, find a way to become trapped in this memory and never have to leave.

“Just for tonight.” He asks– no, pleads. His voice is raspy, brought from the bottom of his throat. He doesn’t say much these days. “Please.”

“It’s up to you my love,” you say, “You know it is.”

He nods against you. He knows he shouldn’t do this. That he should live without you, learn how to sleep without you, without your hands in his hair, without your breathing syncing with his. But he can’t. He needs another night.

When he wakes up, you’re gone. The bed is cold. There is no sign of you, no lingering scent. His heart aches and burrows into itself. He will call for you again tonight, he knows it.

Just one more night, he thinks. I just need one more night.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The spaces that once held your laughter are now haunted by echoes of silence.

He doesn’t know how, but the lack of sound haunts him, laughs at him.

Azriel feels his heart ache, feels it burrow into itself. There is a hole where his heart is supposed to be, he's sure of it. Empty, open, and bleeding. He feels it like an open wound, searing him from the inside out. But the only remedy he knows is you.

And so he thinks of you, of your smile, of the sound of your laugh. He thinks of the last time he wrapped a strand of your hair around his finger, and the way that you’d kiss his hand while he did. Laying in his bed, his shadows circle him, nudge him, paw at him like a dog to an owner— they want to help. They wish to help. But the only way they can is by escaping and getting you. Except that they can’t. Not anymore.

He finds belongings of yours in his closet when he digs deep enough, clothing that had fallen to the floor, blended into the shadows. He wonders if they hid it from him, hid it to protect him. He finds them anyway. You were always messy about how you’d undress, throwing your garments wherever they could land. You’d laugh and say you’d pick it up later.

You never did.

And Azriel never minded.

Azriel sits and holds your shirt to his face, taking a deep inhale. And there it is, your scent, your presence, you. He holds it tight to his chest, gripping it like he fears it’ll be taken away— like you will materialize out of thin air to come and take the last remainders he has of you. So he holds it, guards it, protects it with his life.

He doesn’t realize he's crying until he senses the wetness in the cloth.

Stupid, stupid boy, he tells himself.

You never should have fallen in love.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It’s been months now.

Azriels soul is still heavy and he still believes there is a hole where his heart is supposed to be. It is shaped like you and no one can fit it.

But he can stomach it now— when Feyre talks about you. He can listen as she plans to see you. Feyre is pregnant now. She is full of life and laughs like it, too. Rhysand is overjoyed, but he is hesitant to show it around Azriel. But Azriel is better now, it seems, and so Rhys lets himself bathe in his joy more often than he used to.

Azriel is happy for them, truly, he’s at a point where he allows himself to be. He sits at family dinners, he flies at night, again.

Yet, the feeling in his chest is still the same. Azriel longs for you. He yearns to see you. To be near you. Sometimes he finds himself wondering where you are now, if you can still look at the moon the same time he does. He wonders if you can still hear his heartbeat, wonders if your favorite color is still blue.

One day, he tells himself, he will bring you flowers. He will apologize and update you on his life. He will tell you that he saw a rainbow the other day that glowed like you, that a child on the street told him his wings were cool.

But not today.

Because today he just can’t bring himself to visit your grave.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

this has been sittin in my drafts for a bit hehe

gotta love the 5 stages of grief (if u didn’t realize that’s what this was)

anyways time to go write some smut!!! mwuah!!

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

azriel tag list 🫶🏻: @thisiskaylin

#reading recs #azriel x reader #acotar #this is amazing

577 notes · View notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 21 days

Text

sitting here trying to figure out why so many can’t be tagged? it’s not just the ones with no profile pic or theme and a completely blank blog. some have all those things but no original posts, only rb’s so is that also it? i’m so confused. i wouldn’t think it’s a privacy settings thing if they all asked to be tagged

STEAL THE STARS

── Azriel x Fem!Reader

[ witch / fairy hybrid reader ]

For as long as you’ve known them, Rhysand and Cassian have treated you like a little sister. Despite all of the joking around, you know you can go to them for anything. Rhysand made it clear from the day you came to stay with them that if you wanted anything at all, you need only ask for it.

With a certain shadowsinger, it was different. Azriel seemed to always keep you at arms length. He’d be polite if you spoke to him, but he didn’t engage with you in the same way the rest of the inner circle did. You had no idea why, and used to spend hours wondering what you’d done wrong.

Eventually, you simply stopped trying. Azriel didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed your presence, until you were basically never there. By the time he realizes his true feelings, he may not get a chance to tell you. Because the moment he comes to his senses, Madja is telling them it may be too late to save you.

TAGLIST ── if you requested to be tagged and your name isn’t clickable, i wasn’t able to tag you! it might be a privacy settings issue. also UPDATE i have literally 0 self control so this will be more than 1 part. i kept going and going and realized i wasn’t even halfway done, and that i definitely needed to split it up.

#what is happening

419 notes · View notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 21 days

Note

Hi there! You had posted a summary for STEAL THE STARS and I was wondering if I could be added to the tag list?

hi! yes you absolutely can!!

#thank you for being interested in my writing 🥹#big forehead kiss for you #ask #lettersofwrittencollective

0 notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 21 days

Note

i hope you know it’s been a whole day and i’m still fuckin cracking up at this

like whenever i get a notif i have to find this response and fucking die at it bahahahah

me because my favorite acotar writer thinks i was funny

fr though your sassy az is my favorite!! happy i could make you laugh

#so many pics so little time #sassy azriel is the best azriel

5 notes · View notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 22 days

Text

us: *breathes*

az:

hahrnznejfksrkfjsh really though i loved this, it was perfect!! also do love when we annoy the shit out of him first

An Education in Malice

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, rough, angry, hate sex basically. sexual degradation (name calling), p in v penetration, sex in da woods, bickering and insults, inner circle slander

Word Count: 6.6k

a/n: i know technically we wouldnt be a princess... but we r a high lord family so were running with it for the sexual tension. also dedicated to my soulmate and the brilliant babe, @itsswritten who told me to write sumthin smutty like this. thank her 🫡

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched at the sound.

He’d almost forgotten how grating your voice was to his ears, how it made his body tense with an emotion he could never quite describe. He turned around slowly, taking you in where you stood leaning casually against a tree.

The dress you wore was reminiscent of autumn court elegance, fabric cascading around you in rich hues of crimson, gold, and amber, like the vibrant foliage of the season brought to life, sleeves like flickering flames. There was a sense of wrongness in seeing such an elegant form amidst the wild, your commanding presence even more striking than that of your other family members. If he didn't know who you were, he would have been tempted to describe you as something of unparalleled beauty, a vision amidst a forest of wilderness.

But Azriel knew who you were. He knew what you were.

He had noticed the similarities between you and your brothers quickly, from your mannerisms down to the curve of your lips. You and Eris shared the same snarky smirk– a smirk Az wanted to wipe clean off your faces. You were using it now, holding his gaze with the corners of your lips upturned and amused eyes.

“You look thrilled to see me,” you said.

Az did nothing to hide his disdain as he narrowed his eyes at you. “Where is your brother?”

“Busy,” you responded, absentmindedly running the tips of your fingers along the tree you leaned on. You took a moment to observe the bark before you turned to face Azriel again, a small taunting smile on your lips once more. “I’ll let him know you missed him.”

Azriel held your gaze for a moment, a tick in his jaw as he let out a short exhale. Then, he was turning around to leave, a clear dismissal. A small flicker of anger rose in your body. Quickly, you winnowed in front of him, your sudden appearance setting his shadows into a frenzied dance around him, coalescing into a swirling mass around his neck like a collar of live snakes ready to strike.

“Don’t be rude,” you said, “I’m here on Eris’ behalf. Give me information to report back to him.”

“Nothing to report,” Azriel said, voice flat. He stared at you for a moment, eyes scanning you. And then he was making another notion to leave, brushing past you with a small shove to your shoulder. You nearly laughed at the action, at how easy he was becoming to rile up— at how much your presence bothered him.

“You don’t want to stay and chat?” You said over your shoulder. A flutter of triumph spread in your chest when you heard his footsteps come to a halt. You turned to face him, his back still to you, shadows swirling around his body like black flames. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”

Azriel turned to face you, a small scowl on his beautiful features. “Not long enough.”

You laughed, the sound stroking his body in a way that sent shivers down his spine. You let out a sigh.

“I get bored in Autumn sometimes, you know?”

Briefly, something flickered in Azriel’s hazel eyes, but it faded faster than you could decipher what it meant or where it came from. He titled his head slightly, eyes taking you in fully.

“Not enough cruelty for you?”

“Something like that.”

You both held each other's stares, his icy gaze against your fiery one. He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his shoulders as if to straighten his already stiff posture. You didn’t miss the way his wings extended slightly from their tucked in position, just enough to stand as a warning, as a reminder of who he was— what he was.

“This is a waste of my time.”

Yet, Azriel made no move to leave— not this time.

“Because you have such important matters to return to?” You asked with a raised brow, “You said it yourself, nothing to report. So, are there some damsels in distress to be saved? Something to make you feel important?”

You made sure to pay extra attention to when you mocked his previous words, tone dropping slightly deeper to imitate his. Azriel’s eyes narrowed even more, a dark wave of evident anger washing through his face, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin.

You were playing with something dangerous, this you knew. But Azriel was so fun to rile up, so easy to. You understood, now, why your brother seemed to enjoy these meetings so much. You’d assumed Eris was some sort of masochist, somehow finding pleasure in the necessity of being allies with the Night Court, the same people who so commonly disregarded you and your family as evil and cruel— although, they were right to a certain extent. But perhaps Eris had found some sort of entertainment with this affair.

“Stop talking,” was Azriel’s only reply.

“Why?”

He took a step forward. You made sure to stay still, to hold his gaze as he peered down at you.

“Because you’re trying to get a rise out of me,” Azriel responded, his voice cool, “and it will not work.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “Play the unphased act all you’d like, we both know its bullshit.”

He said nothing in response, his eyes remaining locked on yours. Azriel’s stare was harder now, colder. A clear warning was written in his features, carved out between his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes: do not fuck with me.

But you welcomed the challenge. If he wasn’t going to admit it, you were more than willing to prove your point.

“You put my brother in a chokehold in a public meeting. You have no self-control. You’re just constantly one spark away from igniting.”

Azriel growled. “Your brother deserved it.”

You raised your brow in a small taunt.

“Because he called your precious Morrigan a slut?”

Whether Azriel wanted to admit it or not, you were very easily tearing at his resolve. He moved quickly, his hand naturally falling to the dagger at his hip. Shadows moved closer to you, but with a swift movement of your fingers, they were met with the spark of a small flame, quickly retracting back into their mass form near Azriel’s shoulders. You winnowed back to your original place, back against the rough tree bark.

“Careful, Shadowsinger,” you sneered, “You’re forgetting your manners.You didn’t even let me finish.”

Azriel wore a clear scowl now, brows furrowed as he held your gaze from afar, hand still on his weapon. There was something deadly about the way you made him feel, the intensity of those feelings far surpassing any hatred he held for your brothers– Eris, specifically. In truth, the more time Az spent near Lucien, the more he saw him as someone good– and the less similarities he seemed to bear with you, his conniving snake of a sister. You opened your mouth to taunt him once more.

“I don’t agree with my brother,” you said, “Hell, I admire Morrigan for her freedom. I do love a pretty dress. So, I would have called her something else… a liar, perhaps?”

Those words were all it took to light Azriel’s fuse.

Within a blink, he was in front of you, the cold steel of a dagger, Truth-Teller you presumed, pressed against your neck. His wings flared out angrily behind him. Shadows surged around you, a suffocating darkness descending like a shroud, swallowing the sunlight and leaving only a void of darkness. You stared into Azriel's eyes— cold, and angry.

"Shut up," he snarled.

For a moment, a sense of fear flickered deep in your stomach, but you swallowed it down, the flame diminishing before it could properly ignite. Even as his shadows threatened to consume you both whole, you refused to back down, meeting Azriel's gaze with a defiant stare of your own. And then, you grinned. A cruel, wicked gesture that made his blood boil.

“Nice to see you perform without an audience, too.”

Azriel's voice was laden with disdain as he responded, words dripping with venom. "You and your brother are exactly the same."

But instead of flinching at the accusation, you maintained your smirk, unfazed by the blade pressed against your neck. "Which brother? I have quite a few," you countered, your tone teasing, almost playful.

Azriel's grip tightened, images of your family conjuring in his mind. Az could barely remember the names of your other brothers, their features blurring into a blurry mess of fiery auburn and copper. Instead, his mind focused on you– the female before him, under his grip and his dagger, standing next to the two males he despised for different reasons.

“You can decide,” Azriel finally said, “they’re all equally terrible.”

“I’d say Lucien is a good male,” you laughed bitterly, “I’m willing to bet your sweet Elain would agree.”

A surge of fury rose within him, a deep primal instinct to lash out and silence your taunts once and for all. But even as he bristled with anger, he realized you were right.

He was constantly teetering on the edge, one step away from losing control. It had gotten worse recently, watching everyone around him find their place, their people; Elain growing closer to Lucien, his brothers spending time with their mates. Azriel was frustrated. He was angry. You’d done exactly what he told you wouldn’t happen– gotten a rise out of him. He hated it, hated you, hated himself even more.

Azriel took a deep breath, your heated gaze still on him, eyes narrowed, a small smirk on your lips that he filled him with a burning anger. It wasn’t as if he could kill you, no, he couldn’t even really hurt you. One mark on the Vanserra’s youngest and only daughter would be a mark for war. This was a battle Az couldn't win, indulging your provocations for the mere sake of your entertainment. He needed to calm down. Regain control.

The shadows around you began to recede and sunlight filtered back into the clearing as Azriel pushed you away with a snarl. You leaned your head back against the tree as you took a deep breath.

He studied you for a moment before saying, "You'd think someone as pretentious as you wouldn't need to rely on irritating someone for an ounce of attention."

There was a subtle shift in your demeanor—a swallowed response, a flicker of vulnerability. His gaze followed the movement down to the column of your throat.

“Pretentious?”

You gave a bitter laugh.

"Yes, pretentious. All of you Vanserras," Azriel retorted with a bitter edge, “Every single one.”

"That's ironic coming from you. You think we're pretentious?"

Azriel's gaze hardened. "Yes. Cruel, evil, and vile. You think you're better than all of us."

Your mouth widened as you scoffed. And then you let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Oh my Gods, does it ever get tiring?" you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wallowing in your own self-pity and then using it as a means to hate everyone outside of your incestuous little circle?"

"Do not speak of my family," Azriel snapped.

You smirked. “So you admit your family is incestuous?”

Azriel said nothing, a sudden realization that his anger, once again, had beat him to his rationality, somehow giving you another weapon to use against him. He clenched his jaw, feeling a simmering heat building in his stomach.

"You stand in front of me and pretend to be shocked when I call you for what you are?" he countered with a sneer, “Your family isn't quiet about their disdain for my family, for my kind, or for me."

You lifted your chin. “You don’t even like your own kind, Shadowsinger.”

There was another flare of his nostrils and you knew that you’d gotten him once again. Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, a sight lost to you as his shadows covered them. You continued as he stayed silent.

“I will admit, my family can be a bit narrow minded. Why would I hate you for the things you can’t control? Where's the fun in that?”

Again, Azriel remained silent. He knew if he made a move, if he said a word, it would likely be something he regretted, something that would come back to bite him in the ass.

"I don’t hate you because you’re from the Night Court, or an Illyrian, or a bastard, or whatever it is you tell yourself at night," you continued, your words like a dagger aimed at his pride. "I hate you because you are hot-headed and arrogant. You’ve held a grudge against Eris for something that wasn’t his fault and have utterly screwed Lucien to no end. Your little family is a disease.”

Azriel’s resolve was cracking. He didn’t have enough self-control for this, for you. He’d barely mustered up the diplomacy needed to meet with Eris.

“Stop talking,” he said through gritted teeth. He felt it again, the flicker of frustration that threatened to engulf him like an unattended flame.

You gave him a withering glare. “Or what, you’ll make me?”

Azriel blinked, his eyes scanning your body instinctively. There was something about the words you spoke, the way you had spoken them, that made his body shiver. A small jolt of electricity passed through his muscles. Unfortunately for him, you caught it as quick as it manifested. Your eyes widened as you let out a dry laugh, forming a small smirk on your lips.

“Oh my gods,” you said, taking a step closer, “I bet you’d like that, wouldn't you? Is that why you’re such an ass today?

Azriel’s wings twitched behind him. You gave him a mocking pout as you stared up at him.

“No one to torture, no sweet female to make love to? Poor, powerful, Spymaster.”

Azriel thought for a moment. He thought about the anger boiling in his body, how on edge he’d been, how every little thing had been setting him off. He thought about you, in front of him, a female he despised from previous meetings– loud-mouthed, vicious, and selfish. A female from a family he hated, a family that took things from his family, from him.

And then he began thinking of how great it would feel to show them how wrong they were about him. To prove to them that they weren’t better than him, that he was just as, if not more, powerful than their damned bloodline.

You had been right again. He was pent up. He hadn’t taken a lover recently, hadn’t fucked anyone since that one almost-night with Elain– where she’d been sweet, sensitive, and gentle. But even before, with the females who’d asked for it rough, told him they could handle it, he hadn’t indulged himself too far. He still respected them. They were still wide-eyed and kind, sweet to a certain extent. He didn’t want to hurt them. They were ladies. Azriel respected ladies.

“I said stop talking,” Azriel growled.

There was a tick in his jaw.

“And I said, make me.”

But you, you weren’t a lady. You weren’t sensitive, sweet, or kind. You were a viper. A snake with beautiful lips and a body he found incredibly inviting— not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. But standing in front of him, that defiant look in your eyes, the pride seeping off you, the smirk on your lips… Azriel felt hungry. He felt ravenous.

So, he thought for one more moment. And then he was taking a step forward, one that you matched with an equal stepback.

“Y/n,” Azriel drawled as he continued to take another step. You matched him again, moving back while you glared at him. “Are you not getting enough attention? Is that it?”

Your back hit the tree and you let out a small exhale as Azriel took a final step forward, inches away from you as he stared down with a dark gaze.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You bit out.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You attempted to regulate your breathing as his eyes drank you in, a clear and unashamed desire painted over his face.

“Do I look like a fucking mind-reader?”

Azriel gave a dry chuckle. You were unraveling before him, scrambling for control. “Such a vile mouth for a princess.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that why you came?” He brought a hand to your chin, roughly tilting your face up to look directly at him. “Do you want to be fucked, Y/n?”

The answer was yes, you did. There was a sickening sense of excitement that ran through your blood, a heat pooling between your thighs. But you wouldn’t admit it. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, weren’t about to prove him right. So instead you stayed quiet, pulling your face out of his hands and turning your cheek.

“I came for intel,” you said through gritted teeth, “in Eris’ place.”

Azriel gave another chuckle, something dark and humorous. His hand trailed to the side of your neck, pushing the hair off your shoulders to expose the line of your collarbone. You swallowed.

“Interesting,” he said. He leaned in, lips against your ear. “Then what is that desire I smell?”

You let out a sharp exhale as he leaned away. Taking a deep breath, you looked at him, biting the inside of your cheek at your body's betrayal. You needed to balance this.

“Maybe its you that needs a good fuck, Shadowsinger. Like I said, you seem real pent up. Noone quite scratching that itch?”

But Azriel no longer seemed angry at your words, instead, he seemed amused– hungry. He was quiet for a second too long, simply staring at you. A sense of irritation prickled at your skin.

“What?” You snapped.

“I can admit that,” Azriel said coolly, “if you can admit something to me.”

“What, are we trading secrets now? I wasn’t aware this was a children's sleepover.”

Azriel didn’t respond. You registered the movement of a dark shadow as it fled from his body, slowly sneaking around your collarbone. You attempted to hit it away, but it quickly slithered back to Azriel, running up his chest to curl around his ear. He smirked.

“When was the last time someone fucked you, Y/n?”

The air left your lungs as you let out a small gasp. You blinked. Quickly, you regained your composure.

“Excuse me?”

Azriel kept his smirk. “It must be hard getting anyone to touch you when you’re so sheltered by those males you call brothers.”

He reached out a hand to your bare collarbone, but you caught his wrist in your hand, allowing it to hover in your grip. His eyes slowly trailed up to your face, heavy-lidded and darkened with a sense of attention that made your stomach clench.

“What the hell are you getting at?” You sneered.

Azriel simply stared at you, the ghost of a smirk still plastered on his lips. His reactions had you gritting your teeth in anger and rubbing your thighs in anticipation at the same time— you hated it.

“Don’t ask questions you know the answers to.”

“You're pathetic,” you spat, “Save your games for a bitch who cares.”

But you still gripped his hand in yours, still felt the heat radiating off his skin. And you made no motion to move. No motion to let him pull back. Azriel didn’t fail to notice this, either.

“That snarky mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. But I bet that's why you use it, right?”

Your breathing was heavier now. Azriel’s gaze flickered to where you still gripped his wrist.

“You can fool everyone, Y/n,” he said, “But not me.”

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the way his voice sounded on your skin, shouldn’t have felt a breathlessness filling your body as he spoke to you. But you felt it. And it was a burning, hungry desire that made your chest tighten. This was what you wanted, it was what you needed.

Azriel was right. The bastard had read you like a book. Your family, your brothers, never let anyone near you for fear of embarrassment– fear of you bringing some sense of shame. But Azriel was right. You wanted it. You craved it. You wanted to forget who you were, to give up the control you always had to wield.

Before you could overthink it, you loosened your grip on Azriel’s hand and pulled it towards you, situating it on the side of your throat. You let out a small gasp when he quickly wrapped his fingers around the base of your neck.

And then he was pulling you into him with a deep and angry kiss. All teeth, tongue, and fire, mouths crashing together almost painfully, but neither of you stopped. With every movement of his mouth, of his tongue on yours, a dormant flame deep within you awoke.

A primal desire surged through Azriel’s veins like wildfire, the scent of you– of your want, of your desire– filling his senses in a way that had his cock throbbing. There was no room for rational thought, only the raw, unbridled passion that engulfed him in a fiery embrace. His hand found its way into your hair, fingers brushing along your scalp as he yanked your hair to expose your neck to him. His lips wandered to your exposed collarbone, giving a harsh suck to the skin near the column of your throat.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Shut up,” you responded, reaching your hands out to fumble with his leather clothes. Azriel pulled back slightly, grabbing your wandering hands in his. You let out a sound of protest as he ran sloppy kissing along your neck.

“Oh how i’d love to fuck that foul mouth of yours,” Azriel murmured against your skin, his mouth reaching your ear. “But we’re short on time.” He took your lobe in between his teeth and you let out a small groan.

“I bet all you’ll need is a few minutes– and that's being generous.”

Azriel’s hand gripped at your waist, traveling up your chest to roughly grab your breast through your dress.

“No wonder you’re so insufferable.” he said, his voice amused as he pulled back, his other hand tugged at your hair once more. “You haven’t been fucked properly.”

You snarled. "Fuck you."

Azriel grinned.

"Oh, princess, I will.”

And then he was pulling the front of your dress down, exposing your bare breasts before him, nipples peaked in the fresh air. You let out a gasp as a small faint ripping sound traveled to your ears. Before you had a chance to react, Azriel was spinning you around, pulling your back against his chest, one hand bracketing your throat as the other traveled down your stomach, grabbing at the fabric at your dress.

"But first, you're going to beg me for it,” he breathed into your ear, his voice so low you felt it more than you heard it. His words traveled straight to your core, leaving you dripping with want. Yet, you refused to let the words leave your lips. You gritted your teeth, bristled at the suggestion— pride and defiance warring within you.

“Like hell I will.”

Azriel made a sound of disapproval, his mouth still running along your ear, “No?” he asked, hand slowly trailing from your throat to your chest, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. “So you don’t want me to touch you?”

His hand fell over your breast, cupping it in his palm as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You watched as black tendrils of shadow danced around his forearm, meeting where his fingers tweaked your nipple. Their cool gentle touch sent a ripple of sensation through you and your head fell back against him as you let out a small whimper.

“Stop being a fucking tease.”

Azriel found that he loved the way you whimpered, loved the tinge of frustration in your voice as he touched you. Here you were, melting into his touch, attempting to avoid admitting in words what your body was showing in actions.

“I asked you to do something.”

He rolled your nipple between his fingers. You let out a deep exhale, pushing yourself back onto him, grinding into the evident bulge that pressed against you, the thin material of your dress doing nothing to disguise his hardened length.

“Just fuck me already,” you turned your head to catch his gaze, darkened and pupils blown with lust. “I know you want to.”

You covered his hand in yours, molding his hand into your touch, urging him to grab your breast again– harder, firmer.

The corners of his lips quirked up. “That doesn’t matter. Beg for it.”

Agonizingly slow, his hands roamed your trembling form, lighting flames of desire that you almost feared would consume you whole. Second by second, you felt yourself losing control. The heat of his touch seared through you, eroding the last crumbs of your resistance until all that remained was a burning need to be filled by him, to succumb to the primal urges coursing through your veins. You wanted him. You needed him.

“Please,” you whispered, the truth spilling from your lips in a voice so meek you barely recognized it as your own.

"Please what?"

With a trembling breath, you finally let go of the last shreds of your resistance, your voice coming out in a deep, frustrated plea. “Please fuck me.”

Azriel's lips curved into a predatory smirk.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and sultry as he pulled away from you. In one movement he was pulling your ass closer to him, forcing your body forward to brace yourself on the tree. In seconds you felt the cool air on your body as Azriel pushed your dress above your hips. Naturally, you felt your body bowing at the sensation. He let out a groan at the sight.

Then he was spreading your legs, baring you before him, glistening cunt on full display. His rough hands gripped your bare ass. He massaged it for a moment, but the motion was brief, and soon you felt a hard hand land on the fat of your cheek. You let out a small shriek, but it was followed by a low moan as he delivered another smack. Azriel smirked at the sound of it, at the sight of your ass reddening with his handprint.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You managed to grit out as you pushed your ass out further, “I’m growing bored.”

“Bored?” He ran finger through the wetness that pooled at your core. “Your cunt doesn’t seem to think so.”

You moaned at the feeling, pushing yourself back against his hand.

“Too stubborn to admit anything,” Azriel murmured, “But your body gives you away.”

Azriel took a step back, your body cold at the loss of contact as he freed himself from the confine of his leather pants, each movement filled with a primal urgency that would’ve made him unsettled— embarrassed even— if he had been in a more rational state of mind. But Azriel wasn’t being rational. All he could think about was you, and staring at your beautiful glistening cunt, all he wanted was to fuck you into oblivion, to let his frustrations out. To tame you like a wild animal— his most tantalizing challenge yet.

He settled himself behind you and stroked his cock along your folds, allowing it to glide against your core until both of you were slick with your desire. He teased you slowly as he moved up and down your entrance. You pushed against him, urging him inside, inviting him to take you.

Azriel only laughed darkly at the movements, and you whined in response, frustrated and irritated.

“Remember this the next time you insult me,” he said, “Remember how you were begging for me to fuck you.”

Half a breath later, he pushed himself inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. You exhaled in tandem, your cunt clenching him, pulsing around the stretch of him. He adjusted his angle and picked up the pace, sending pleasure rising in a wave that you couldn’t hold back, your mouth falling open as he began to take you harder.

You let your forehead fall against your hands, braced against the rough texture of the tree. You faintly felt the ridges under your palm, but there was no pain, no irritation that you knew you were bound to experience later. All you could truly feel was Azriel deep inside you, stretching you out and using you in a way you hadn’t experienced for a very long time. The lust Azriel felt, the experience of being with you, of claiming you as his, was no longer a desire, no longer a want. It was a need. An animalistic and primal need that he felt deep in his chest.

Azriel's movements were relentless, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure rippling through your body, clouding your mind in a haze of ecstasy and melting away all coherent thought. There were sounds emitted from your lips, this you knew, but they were incoherent whimpers, quiet murmurs whispered towards the ground as your forehead dug into your hands with every buck of Azriel’s hips.

“You had so much to say earlier, Y/n,” Azriel said, pulling out until he was barely inside you. He thrusted back in, resuming a hard and brutal pace.

“Why so quiet now?”

Thrust.

“Did you just need the attitude fucked out of you?”

Thrust.

"What will your brothers think?” he taunted, his grip on your hips bruising in its intensity, “Your father?”

Thrust.

“If only your family only knew what their precious princess was up to. Taking it from the likes of me, like some common pleasure hall whore."

The mention of your family sent a surge of burning shame coursing through your veins, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, flushing against your exposed skin. But amidst the suffocating shame, there was something else, something primal and insatiable that stirred within you—a hunger born of defiance, of indulging in a forbidden ecstasy. It filled you with a sense of exhilaration that bordered on madness.

Quickly, that spark of defiance ignited within you, mingling with the fiery hunger coursing through your veins, an urge to bite back at him. You craned your head to look over your shoulder, catching his eyes as you let out a moan, taking your lips in between your teeth.

"Do common whores get you this riled up?" you purred. There was a feigned innocence in your tone that made Azriel twitch inside you. His gaze burned into yours. "Do they make you this hungry?”

A part of you wanted the confirmation, wanted the triumphant feeling of knowing you could ruin him for everyone else— that you felt better than the females he had bedded, that you, the one he loathed so openly, were the only one to truly quench his thirst.

“Do they feel as good as me, Azriel?”

He let out a deep, guttural moan. The sound traveled through your body, lighting your skin on fire as you bucked back into his movements, meeting every roll of his hips.

“Say that again,” Azriel groaned.

When you gave no reply, he twisted your hair around one fist and gave it a tug, pulling your body up to him as before. His thrusts never staggered, not even as his hand traveled to wrap around your throat, matching the reddening print from his earlier grip. The other hand remained steady at your hip, gripping into the fabric of your dress and the exposed skin of your body.

“Say my name,” he growled and your cunt tightened at the sound, at the way he gripped your throat harder. You grasped at his arm with your hands, holding on to his skin as he bucked into you.

“No.”

Azriel growled, pulling out of you almost completely before he pushed back in a heavy, angry stroke. Your body arched in pleasure, a small whimper leaving your mouth instinctively.

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Fuck you.”

“I am,” Azriel said, “And your cunt is swallowing me whole, princess. Like it's made for me, like its been begging to be fucked.”

He released his grip from your throat, letting you fall forward as he placed his hand on the small of your back, arching your body for him as he pounded into you from behind. You fell forward, hands planted on the tree before you, fingers clawing at the bark like an animal in heat. Azriel watched as his cock disappeared into your cunt with every thrust, watched how your ass bounced back on him with every movement, how your tits moved with every roll of his hips. He fought not to finish from the sight alone.

You struggled to find your voice through the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind, that seemed to twist and tie your tongue to where you could only gasp incoherent words of ecstasy

“Oh, fuck. Azriel.”

Azriel drank in your sounds of pleasure like a male thirsted for centuries, the sound of his name on your tongue sending a wave of pleasure through his body.

“Are you going to cum, Y/n?”

You let yourself surrender to his touch as he continued to ravage you with ruthless abandon, his voice caressing you in ways you never knew a sound could do. You wanted him to go faster, harder, rougher; wanted him to fuck you with all his might, with all that anger you saw. As if he could read your mind, Azriel’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you.

“Fuuck, yeah, you are. I can feel this pretty little cunt clenching me.”

He continued his pace, fucking you with long thorough strokes that left you completely pinned between him and the rough bark of the tree. You felt him heavy against your back, breasts pressed against his hand as he moved between gripping them both roughly, holding onto them for leverage as he fucked you from behind.

"Look at you," he taunted, his grip tightening around you possessively. "So desperate, so needy. You're nothing but a pretty little slut, begging for release, aren’t you?"

Azriel continued, moving deeper and faster, pumping into you with snaps of his hips that had you writhing underneath him.

"And yet," you managed between breaths, gasps leaving your lips as he drove into you. "You’re the one pounding into me like a brute who can't get enough.”

With a low groan, Azriel's hand tightened around your breast, his grip possessive as he leaned in to bite at your shoulder with a hungry intensity. He was beginning to think that you’d surely be the death of him, that he had created something, some beast inside him, that refused to be satiated by anything other than you— and that was dangerous. But he didn’t think too much about it, not now, not as he felt your cunt massaging him from the inside, felt your walls clamping onto him in a way that set his body on fire, his cock throbbing.

Azriel railed you over and over, nothing slow or gentle about his movements. And with every thrust, you whined in ecstasy. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he kept pounding into you. He fell forward, grinding against you, pushing you further into the rough bark of the tree.

You could feel it, a deep pressure building in your stomach as his cock stretched you in the most delicious way. And you could feel him too, hot against your back, his deep breaths and the groans that reverberated through his body. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in your ears, muffling out the sound of your moans as your whole body tensed.

Then you felt it, a cool trail snaking up your legs. Dark tendrils of Azriel's shadows slithered through your thighs, caressing your skin with a tantalizing touch that made you clench at the sensation. You gasped as they coiled around your clit, winding you up with a feeling you’d never experienced before. With a loud moan, your orgasm rolled through you in a violent convulsion, white spots dancing at the edges of your vision.

Azriel hated to think it, hated to admit that the sound of you coming undone on his cock was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard, that feeling your cunt clench around him as the sound filled his ear was enough for him to unravel. With a choked moan, Azriel spilled into you, spurts of his seed coating your walls. You let out a final, breathy whine at the sensation of him spilling into you, feeling as it began to drip as Azriel slowly pulled out.

With a heavy breath, his gaze lingered on the glistening trail connecting the tip of cock to your cunt. The lust in his eyes faintly faded, and a moment of clarity washed over him as the reality of what he’d just done hit like a sudden, cold wave. He didn’t regret it, no, not at all. This was exactly the release Azriel had needed. In fact, a part of him nearly grinned at the realization, at the relief he now felt in his body. But the other part of him, the rational side afraid of disappointing his family, of fucking something up, awoke in a panic. What the fuck had he just done? And why was he so proud of it?

You slowly stood up, straightening yourself out as you turned to face him, face flushed and hair a tangled mess. There was a ghost of a smirk playing on your lips as you took them between your teeth and bit down. Your breasts were still exposed, nipples peaked and reddened marks from his rough grip. Azriel's eyes traveled down your form, swallowing hard as he took in the sight before him. He could smell the desire that filled the air around you both, could smell himself on you— the image of him plunging in and out of you still fresh in his mind.

The idea of it alone made his cock stir again. There was something intoxicating about this situation to him. The image of you returning home, covered in his marks, in his scent, in his seed. Eris smelling him on you, realizing that you’d not only fucked someone he despised, but sullied yourself with an illyrian– just as he’d told Mor. And you, you’d remember this. You’d remember him inside you, remember how you let him use you, fuck you like a common-court whore. And you’d have to live with that. Every insult you’d give him, everytime you sneered at him in the future, there would be a part of you that remembered falling apart on his cock as you begged him for more, for him to fuck you harder.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, your dress was perfectly restored, the fabric falling gracefully around your figure as your hair cascaded down your shoulders in silky, untouched, waves. You smoothed out the sleeves of your dress with a practiced gesture before turning your gaze back to Azriel, scanning him from head to toe. Your eyes lingered on his still-exposed cock, covered in the mixed fluids of your cunt and his seed. A smirk played at the corner of your lips as Azriel looked down, realization flickering in his eyes as he hastily pulled up his pants, stuffing himself back into them.

"Well, this was fun," you remarked casually– almost bored. Azriel resisted the urge to frown at the words, at the tone you used. "Catch you later, Shadowsinger."

Before he could respond, you were gone, leaving him standing alone in the forest, staring at the empty space before a tree.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

#i have hundreds of reaction pics #and i think i’ll start using them when i rb #reading recs #azriel x reader

1K notes · View notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 22 days

Note

this was me and I really do be forgetting to put my name at the bottom before I send habxkdjzfjsba but also YES!!! like do I NEED to get my heart ripped out and stomped on? no but I am very much looking forward to it!!!!

I’m not sure if requests are open, but if they are would you consider doing versions of A Place for Dying” for Az? And Rhys? I am but a whore for some angst 😭 I feel like how they handle it and react would be different from Cass as well. If requests are closed please feel free to ignore this!!

my requests are always like semi-open in the sense that i love ideas but i hyperfixiate so it depends (like i’ve been working on 2 requests for like a month 😭)

BUT YES YES!!! i was thinking about this the other day and i was like nah i don’t think ppl would want it. BUT YAY IM GLAD 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 they’d probably show completely diff stages of grief, like cass was 100% denial so it would be fun to explore az & rhys and even the vanserra bois for the complete 5 stages of grief

#hehe #i see u also like a good reaction pic #azriel x reader

7 notes · View notes

m4tthewmurd0ck · 27 days

Text

how dare you make me cry!!! i love this so much 😭😭

A Place for Dying

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: A mission with Cassian goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: major angst, mentions and depiction of gore, injury, battle, death.

Word Count: 2.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The rain lashed down in relentless torrents as the sounds of clashing steel filled the air.

You didn’t know where they came from or how they managed to sneak up on you and Cassian so swiftly— appearing as if conjured by the storm itself. Within seconds you were swarmed.

The male in front of you was unlike any you’ve faced before, eyes ablaze with an eerie light as he attacked. You parried his blows with all your skill, but the mud beneath your feet made your movements slow and predictable, and his skill was otherworldly— something far sinister than what you’d been trained to fight. From the corner of your eye, you could see Cassian locked in combat with two other males, hair matted and siphons glowing angrily as he moved.

And then a searing pain exploded in your abdomen.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you glanced down, watching in horror as a sword was drawn from your abdomen, coated in blood. You felt your own weapon slipping from your now lax grip as your hand found its way to your gaping wound. A faint scream echoed in your ears as you looked up, meeting the male's triumphant grin, his sword poised to deliver the final blow.

Within a seconds, there was a second figure before you as a flash of red glow and power surged.

But you weren’t paying attention as your legs gave way beneath you.

You felt yourself falling, the world spinning as a fuzzy darkness crawled into your eyesight. You blinked. Cassian was there, hands reaching out to catch you and pull you into him.

"Shit, shit," he cursed under his breath. "Shit."

"Cassian," you croaked. Your voice was barely a whisper against the roar of the storm, a painful groan that made his stomach clench. His gaze swept over the chaos around you, the soaked mud now scarcely decorated with the bodies of the fallen soldiers. He looked over briefly at the male that had stabbed you, now lying lifeless where Cassian had struck him.

"You're okay, you're good," Cassian said. He attempted to readjust himself, wrapping an arm around your torso as he pulled your other around his shoulders. His body groaned in response, searing pain igniting through his torn clothes.

"Cass, I can't—I can't.”

"Shhh," Cassian said. He took a deep breath as he began to walk forward, surveying his surroundings for the next possible move. "Don't speak. I got ya."

His shredded wings hung limp behind him, now sodden and stained with mud. You hung from him completely, unable to keep yourself up as your legs dragged behind you with every move. Cass clenched his teeth, his mind blurring out the pain of his own injuries to focus solely on you. Any wrong move could worsen your injuries. He needed to find a place to rest, to wait for Rhysand or Azriel.

Your grip tightened on your stomach, trying to staunch the flow of blood as Cassian's hand now covered yours.

"Cass," you rasped.

He kept moving, his body protesting with every step forward.

"Rhys and Az will be here, okay?" Cassian replied, his voice strained with the effort of masking his own fear. "Let me just get you somewhere safe."

"We don't have time."

Cassian shook his head, his feet dragging through the mud as he continued. Everywhere in his body screamed with pain, his senses overwhelmed by the taste of blood in the air and the relentless pounding of the rain. He could feel the weight of you pulling on him getting worse as you weakened, the strain growing in the tension of his muscles as he struggled to keep moving.

Through the hand that covered yours, Cassian could feel the blood seeping through your fingers. He fought to distract himself from the sight and sensation, focusing instead on the rhythm of his own breath, the steady beat of his heart. He needed to think.

He whispered silent prayers to whatever gods may be listening, willing you to hold on just a little while longer. But the taste of blood lingered in his mouth and every scream in his mind was met with empty silence. A deep sense of foreboding settled in his gut, a primal instinct that warned him that you might be vulnerable to yet another ambush. He also knew, deep down, that Rhys and Az wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

All he could do was wait, to get you settled somewhere so your body could begin to heal. That wouldn’t happen as long as he was dragging your body through mud and rain. With a determined mind, he steered you deeper into a grove of trees.

You reached a small clearing, the burden of the pouring rain now lessened by the canopy above you. Cassian leaned against a sturdy tree, carefully lowering you both down until you were cradled in his arms, your back pressed against his chest. You let out a choked sound of pain, eyes clenching as a wave of nausea ran through you.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Cassian’s voice was a gentle caress. If you had the energy to pay attention, you would have noticed the fear that settled in it, the utter desperation.

Cassian let out a deep breath, his jaw set in determination as he lifted his hand to help you raise your shaky one, guiding it to apply more pressure to your wound. He could feel it underneath his fingertips, see it even through your black leathers, the blood pouring from you still. A knot tightened in his stomach.

He felt your shallow breaths against his chest as your trembling form leaned back against him. You closed your eyes and let your head fall backwards onto his shoulder.

"It's bad, isn't it?" you whispered.

Cassian took another deep breath, his mind racing as he fought to keep his composure for your sake. "Nothing you haven't faced before."

A small laugh escaped your lips. For a moment, Cassian's gaze softened as the sound filled his ears, a sense of comfort rolling through his body in a slow wave.

"Just keep the pressure on it, alright?"

You gave a shaky nod. "Okay.”

Cassian took a moment to assess the situation. Without any materials to staunch the bleeding, all he could do was wait and try to keep you distracted from the pain. He looked down at you, taking in the sight of your matted hair, drenched in mud and blood, streaks of crimson mingling with the rainwater on your face. Despite it all, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Desperation clawed at him as he continued to plead with Rhys in his mind, willing his friend to come to your aid. But yet again, his cries were met with a deep, heavy silence. No response, no feeling of a message having been received. Cass wrapped himself around you even closer.

"It'll make a badass scar," he said.

Again, you managed a weak laugh, but it was cut short by a bubbling sound that sent a chill down Cassian's spine. He felt his stomach drop as he realized the source— blood gurgling from your throat, staining your perfect smile crimson.

With a trembling hand, Cassian cradled your head, pulling you closer to him, his own face hovering inches from yours in a desperate attempt to offer what little comfort he could. There was a painful pang in his chest as he felt your breaths becoming shallower. He gave you a gentle nudge.

"Hey, stay with me," he implored, voice laced with desperation. "Look at me.”

"I can't… I'm so tired," you replied weakly.

"Yes, you can," Cassian said. "I know it's hard, but you gotta keep those pretty eyes open, okay?"

"Cassian."

His name was a desperate plea, a sound of pure agony that fell from your lips.

"I know, I know," he murmured, his own voice choking. He cleared his throat. "But you gotta keep fighting, alright? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded faintly, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Okay."

"Good, good," Cassian said, his heart aching as he watched you struggle. "Let me see."

With great effort, you managed to tilt your head, your teary eyes meeting his. Cassian swallowed back his own tears, his voice trembling slightly as he whispered, "There they are."

Your brow furrowed in determination as you gathered the strength to speak, and you began, "Cass, I want you to know…"

But Cassian started shaking his head vehemently, his voice firm as he interrupted, "No, no."

"I should've told you sooner-”

Cassian's head continued to shake, his eyes pleading with you to stop. "Y/n, please.”

But you pressed on, the words tumbling from your lips despite his protests. "You need to know that I-"

"No," Cassian interrupted again, his voice desperate. "You can tell me when we get back. Don't say that."

"Cassian, please, let me-"

"No. You can tell me when we get back home," Cassian insisted once again, his eyes wide and desperate. "And then I can tell you I feel the same way. That I’ve felt the same way for centuries. And I can take you out on a real date. Do it all properly. Okay?"

You paused. After a moment, you quietly replied, "Okay."

Cassian leaned his head down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before resting his own against it. "Just a little longer," he whispered softly, “I promise.”

He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn’t be promising anything in your condition, that he should have let you speak. But Cassian refused. He refused because your words were those of a dying female, words of a confession that you’d release upon death. And you weren’t dying, not today. He refused.

So he focused on your body against him, playing another chaste kiss atop your head. He felt you shift slightly beneath him.

"Isn't that beautiful?"

Cassian frowned, pulling his eyes away from you to look at the view in front. Over the small clearing the setting sun shone through gaps within the trees. Cassian nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon for a moment before he looked down at you, gaze tender and unwavering. "Breathtaking," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Those words were only for you.

"So beautiful.”

But as Cassian continued to hold you close, a sense of unease began to gnaw at him. Where were Rhysand and Azriel? Who else was hurt? What could he do to help you?

His thoughts ran through his mind, clumping into large knots he couldn’t read. But then, Cassian’s heart stopped, a surge of panic flowing through his body as he tightened his grip on your hand.

You weren’t moving beneath him. No shallow breaths, no coughing.

"Y/n?" he whispered, his hand moving to cradle your face, angling it towards him. “No, no, no.”

His hand trembled as he brushed your cheek, searching desperately for any sign of life. But there was no response, no flutter of eyelids or rise and fall of breath. And then he saw it—your eyes closed, your features peaceful in repose, the ghost of a weak smile.

His eyesight began to grow blurry as tears filled his eyes once more, now freely falling as he took you in. Cassian let his forehead fall to rest against yours as he began to sob, the weight of grief crushing him in its wake.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The sun was gone by time Rhys and Azriel appeared, desperately running forward with bruised and bloodied faces. Rhys was the first to speak, his words tumbling out before he could fully take in the scene. "We came as fast as we could, there was an att—"

But his voice faltered the same second Az took a sharp inhale next to him.

Cassian sat before them, hair matted and wings limp around him, cradling your body in his hands. He brushed his thumb against your cheek, tears glistening in his eyes as he remained lost in his grief, not sparing his brothers a glance.

Without hesitation, Azriel's shadows swarmed around you, a protective cocoon enfolding your form. One shadow returned to him, and within seconds his expression dropped. He turned to Rhys with a shake of his head.

"I told her to stop," Cassian's voice trembled as he finally looked up, meeting their gazes. His face was still painted in blood and dirt, streaked by the rain and tears. There were bags under his eyes and a sense of despair they'd never seen before, not in the centuries he had existed. "I told her to wait until we got home to tell me."

He glanced down at you again, running a hand over your hair as he continued, "I didn't let her tell me she loved me." Each word hung heavy in the air, a tangible ache in his voice as he spoke.

Rhys stepped forward, clearing his throat as a deep sadness weighed in his stomach. "Cass—"

But Cassian shook his head, cutting him off. "I didn't get to tell her I love her."

Loved her, his mind reminded him. Loved her.

Rhys knelt down in front of him, exchanging a solemn glance with Azriel. He gave a nod with his head towards Cassian’s wings. It only took Azriel seconds to take in the state of them, torn and bloody, more of the membrane missing than what remained.

"We need to go home," Rhys said quietly, his hand resting on Cassian's shoulder. “You need Madja.”

But Cassian only shook his head as he pulled you closer.

"Just five more minutes," he pleaded, pressing his face to your head. He took a deep breath, his senses filled with the smell of dirt, sweat, and blood. But beneath it all, he caught a hint of you, of the smell he’d grown to love. A scent that felt like home.

He inhaled it deeply, savoring it and storing it away in his mind. He would never smell it again.

“Just five more minutes.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

me saying i need to get in the headspace of writing angst for one of my series parts and writing this teehee

also… isn’t it so sad when u realize they never ever kissed 😭(😋😋)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites

#cassian x reader #acotar #reading recs

548 notes · View notes