#azriel x cassian fight
Text
Our girl – Part 1
Azriel x Cassian x Reader angst
Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.
Word count: 5k
Super angsty IC dynamics, little bit of violence/blood. Injured reader.
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“It was my right!!” Your voice was shrill, breaking from the volume – but you couldn't care less.
“I understand that Y/N, but I have a duty to my court. And to you, to keep you safe.” Your Highlord was unmoved, professional and stoic, your anger washing over him like water against stone.
The thud of your heart was in your ears, the tips of them hot, and you were sure the rest of your family could hear it too. You tried to breath, to think, to let yourself see the logic in Rhys’s decision to let Azriel make the kill over you.
But it was all bullshit.
“He was mine to kill,” you seethed, your voice unrecognisable, an almost growl from the deep part of your throat that strained at you not to cry.
“Try to understand–”
“No!” you spat, marching up to the High Lord, your finger pointed at your chest. The rest of your family stiffened as you approached, untrusting of what you would do next. You could see Azriel’s shadows run down his frame, even though the male hadn't moved from his formal stance by the door. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, still unable to look you in the eye since the moment you had barged into the room. Feyre was biting the nail on her thumb, her face pained and distressed as she watched you march up to her mate. But it was Cassian who showed the least amount of trust, taking a step closer, ready to jump in if - or rather when he had to.
“She was my sister Rhysand, MY SISTER! Not yours, not anyone else's here. He took her in innocence, and his death was mine to mark.”
Rhysand’s brow clenched. “It had to be this way,” he offered softly.
You scoffed, running shaky hands through your hair as you paced backwards. “You expect me to believe that?” Sarcasm oozed from you as easily as the aggression. “I’ve only ever asked you for one thing Rhysand, one thing! Meryl’s murder was unjust, and you promised to train me to avenge her! You promised I would be the one to kill that male!”
Rhysand took a deep breath, his violet eyes pained, but his head remained high. “I’m sorry Y/N. It’s as I said, you’re not ready to execute a mission this big, and Alvar had intel on our court that we could not risk exposing.”
“I have worked my ass off for years for you Rhys. I have trained in hail, rain and shine, I’ve completed mission after mission with no complaint. I have fought for you, lied and stolen and killed for you. I have given my life to avenging Meryl, and you have the audacity to tell me I’m not ready?”
“I know it’s hard to hear. There’s no changing that you didn't have clearance.”
“From who?”
“Cassian and Azriel.”
And that was the last thing you heard before your heart broke in two.
The males you trusted most in this world, the two that had broken your walls, taught you to trust again, trained you and nurtured you, the very beings you loved most in this world,– had not only known of the task, but had been the ones to stop you from fulfilling your life’s mission?
They knew the depths of your reasoning for joining the Inner Circle, for training as a Velarian spy. They had known your one true desire to find Alvar Ashwood – Hybern’s lead assassin – and make him pay for the innocent life that he took.
You looked between the two of them now, your mouth agape as you tried to find the words, or even a sound that could come close enough to the anguish you felt. But no sound found you, even your shaking had stopped. Rhys was saying something, but his words were a world away, muffled and muted as heart-wrenching shock consumed you.
Cassian looked back at you with broken, pleading eyes. Azriel's head hung low in shame.
You would never forgive them for this.
“I-I.” You stopped yourself, gulping. You had nothing left to say. Nodding slowly, silent tears of realisation rolled down your cheeks. One thing was clear – there was no one left that you could trust.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt Y/N, truly. Please, take some time to rest, to process. We’ll discuss this further when you’re ready, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Rhys’s stance had softened at your tears, his palms open as he dared to try and slip through your mental shields to sooth you.
Gritting your teeth, you slammed your walls up as high as possible, shutting him out and throwing him from the outskirts of your mind. You whipped your head back to your High Lord, a snarl ready at your lips as you took another stride towards him.
Cassian jumped into action then, stopping you with two large hands on either of your shoulders, his back to his Rhys as he blocked your path.
“Hey, hey, how about we go talk about this outside, ok?”
“Get off me,” you spat, shaking off his hold as you tried to eye Rhys over his shoulder.
Feyre had joined her mate now, their arms linked as they stared at you with pure shock. Neither of them had anticipated just how deeply this decision would cut.
Giving up against Cassian’s hold, you looked between both of them, their figures becoming a blur as tears welled in your eyes. “How could you do this to me?” you broke, your face crumpling. “I trusted you, all of you!”
Cassian pulled you close to his chest as he walked you from the room. “Shh, its alright, c’mon, come with me.”
You had nothing left to give. No energy, no fight, certainly nothing that could resist Cassian’s strength as he dragged you from that room, weeping.
You weren't even sure how you made it to the gardens, but the bite cold of the night shocked you enough to push the General off of you.
Bending at your waist, you held yourself up by your knees, your breath shaky and uneven as you struggled to breath in between sobs. Bile rose in your mouth, and you were unsure if you were going to be sick.
“Shh, its alright Y/N. Just breath.” Cassian’s large hand framed and soothed your back.You wanted so badly to give in to him, to throw yourself at his chest and let him hold you while you cried. But no – he had betrayed you, just like the rest.
“D-don’t touch me,” you managed to gasp.
“Alright sweetheart, alright.”
“And don't call me that!” Having regained a steady breath, you straightened to look at him, disgust seeping from your expression as your eyes darted between his. “You knew?”
Cassian sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head slightly. “Yeah, I knew.”
“How could you not tell me?”
Another sigh from the General. “We knew you’d go after him if you found out.”
You blinked back at Cassian, biting your lip as you shook your head in disbelief.
“I know it might not make sense right now doll, but we did it for your own good.”
You shook your head faster, your frown deepening as you stepped further away from your once friend. “No, no no Cassian! No! There is no excuse!”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting Y/N, really, I am. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love, to need to avenge them.”
Your eyes narrowed. “That’s right Cass, you do. So where was our family to lie and deceive you all those months you spent slashing and killing to avenge your mother?”
Cassian’s eye softened as he took a deep breath. “You know that is the deepest regret of my life.”
“At least the decision was yours,” you spat, turning your heel for the gates at the back of the gardens.
Cassian was on your tail. “Please, Y/N. We did it out of care for your safety, try to understand.” You kept a stubborn chin forward, picking up your pace as you sought any kind of exit from this Gods-forsaken home that had once been your haven.
You had finally reached the gates, magic willing them to open on their own accord. You steered straight ahead – to the thick of the woods that bordered the house
“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.
You didn't answer the General. Before you, your destination lay clear.
“Y/N. The woods are dangerous.”
You scoffed, your pace and direction unchanged. A strong hand caught your wrist.
“Get off me Cassian,” you snarled.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I can't let you.”
“I said get off!”
Cassian snatched his hand back, a sharp breath drawn as he winced in pain. Your power – that unpredictable, uncontrollable current of energy now swarmed your skin like an electric coating. It was moments like this that your gift found you, unpredictable and dangerous, much like yourself. Surely part of the reason your family had decided you weren't good enough to find and kill Alvar on your own.
You had no room in your heart to care if you hurt Cassian. This was your window to flee, so you did, escaping him and heading to the depths of the woods.
————
The woods were crisp and dark, the usual brilliant array of stars hidden by tree tops. But you didn't care, your own discomfort numbed from the sheer rage that fuelled your every step.
Your breath was a smoky puff against the cold, twigs and branches crunching underneath the stomp of your boots while circular thoughts reeled in your mind, over and over again.
Rhysand had ordered Azriel to kill Alvar. Cassian and Azriel didn’t give you clearance and kept the mission a secret. Alvar was dead. You would never avenge your sister.
It was done. It was over. The last tether to your sister, buried forever. Everything you had worked for, the one motivation that kept you from falling apart at her death, that got you out of bed on those days when grief was an excruciating ache on your stomach – gone in an instant. And the people you loved the most were to blame.
Deep within your turmoil of thoughts, the shadows that slinked over your footprints went unnoticed, and the figure that flew overhead amiss.
The sound of a bubbling brook pricked your fae ears. You decided to follow it – perhaps a sip of cold water, or running your hands through a stream might calm the energy that still zapped at your skin.
Sure enough, not a short walk away was the brook. The water trickled down into a large pool, the tree tops cleared as moonlight danced in the reflection of the water. Under any other circumstance, you would have found this setting to be beautiful.
You bought shaking hands to cup at the stream, wincing as the cold stung at your power. But the liquid was quick to sooth you, and your spark began to fizzle as you bought your hand to your mouth, drinking intently.
After a few more sips, you sat back at the bank of the pool, closing your eyes as heavy breaths pushed through the ache in your chest. The sound of a small splash of water had you opening your eyes, and you jumped as unfeeling, black ones stared back at you from the centre of the pool.
A sickly pale face watched you unblinking, its figure still beneath the water from the nose down. Adrenaline was quick to fuel you to get the hell out of there, but you also knew better.
This was a kelpie. And it was too late to run.
The kelpie moved silently beneath the water, wading its way towards you. You took the few moments you had to scramble to your feet, patting yourself for anything to defend yourself with. Fuck – you hadn't a weapon on you.
Reaching the edge of the bank now, it stood on its long limbs, water trickling off its sickly figure, its own long black hair blending with the reeds that clung to its frame.
“Are you a royal?” it grinned, its pointed teeth yellow and rotted.
You forced a steady voice, calling on your power you so often stifled. “No,” was all you said, staring the creature down.
The kelpie ran an insidious tongue along its teeth, churning a nauseous feeling in your stomach. “Then why do you smell of it?”
You blinked – you hadn't realised you carried the scent of your family with you too. Perhaps a kelpie’s scent was more heightened?
“They are my family. Unrelated.” you explained, buying yourself more time for your power to gather. “They’ll fetch for me soon,” you lied.
The kelpie hissed and grinned at once, walking closer towards you. You took a few steps back, keeping your distance.
“You smell…,” the kelpie paused, its awful nostrils flaring against its face. “Delicious.”
“You best leave. They’ll kill you if you harm me,” you replied quickly, cursing yourself for the fear that you knew now tinged your scent. The kelpie caught it too, its grin growing wider.
“But I’m starrrrved,” it drawled, lowering its look to you. “I’m afraid I cannot contain myself, even if I tried.” A sickly chuckle racked through its chest.
You gulped, sizing up the creature in front of you. Ordinarily, you knew you could take down someone of his size. But you were without your weapons, and your power was unreliable at the best of times. If it took you in the water, you were sure as dead. Begging to the Gods, you clenched your fists, willing your power to find you in any shape or form.
“Any last words, non-royal?” it cackled, readying itself to attack.
You didn't have a chance to respond as shadows flooded around you, blue siphons glowing among them. The kelpie yelped and howled, and as the darkness cleared you saw its pale figure pinned to the ground.
“Are you alright?” Azriel was before you, his hands gripped at both your arms. Your eyes were wide with shock as you took him in. He had followed you?
The kelpie was deceivingly strong, and fought against his shadows, freeing itself quickly. It screeched as it lunged for you both, a darkened claw swinging for Azriel’s back. You shoved the Shadowsinger aside, the kelpie’s claws slashing across your arm as you yelped in pain. Blood began to pour from your new wound, and the kelpie hissed too, having being struck by your power on contact.
Azriel was on the kelpie in an instant, a blur shadows and muscle before you spotted the glint of truth teller. The next thing you heard was the kelpie’s final howl.
Its mouth agape, the kelpie bled black blood, crawling back to the depths of the pool, choosing to die in its element. Neither you or Azriel stopped it.
Azriel was panting, his breathing loud as the final sign of life from the kelpie bubbled to the surface of the water. You stayed still with shock.
Hazel eyes were before you now, scanning you over.
“Your arm,” Azriel said, touching you gingerly.
“I’m fine,” you said with a distant voice, your mind still with the hideous creature that attacked you. Your forearm was warm with your own blood as it gathered at your fingertips before dripping to the ground.
“Let’s get you to a healer.”
It was that instruction, that order, that snapped you out of your trance. You had heeded and trusted that voice for far too long. And in the end, it had betrayed you.
You snatched your arm away from Azriel, scowling as you met his eyes. “Do not tell me what to do.”
Azriel levelled a look at you. “This is not a regular wound, Y/N. You know a kelpie’s claw is laced with poison.”
You gritted your teeth, ignoring the burning sensation quickly spreading across your body, or the reel in your vision. How convenient that you so desperately needed his help.
“I’ll see to it myself,” you snapped, glaring deep into the Shadowsinger’s eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw, Azriel’s tell-sign of irritation. He was far less patient than his brothers.
You made to step around him, before a strong arm circled your waist, pulling you back. Too weak to fight him off, a scarred hand covered your mouth to mute your yell of protest. Instead a quick rush of air filled your lungs as the forest folded around you, quickly revealing an infirmary wing.
Shoving yourself from Azriel’s hold the moment you landed, you stumbled forward, finding balance by clinging to the edge of an empty cot. A set of healers rushed to you, grabbing your arms and holding you up.
“A kelpie’s claw,” Azriel said before either of them could ask the question, one of the healer’s dashing for the antidote. “Where is Madja?”
“She does not work nights,” the healer’s voice was loud in your ear as you clung to her, barely able to stand. A small groan escaped you, the fire from the kelpie’s poison burning through your veins, your mobility slowing with every second.
“Fetch for her, please,” Azriel instructed, taking your limp body from the healer and placing you in the cot. A vial was bought to your lips then, the contents inside giving off a putrid smell. You jerked your head stubbornly, but the vial was tipped further against your mouth.
“Drink,” Azriel ordered, his cold hand lacing through your hair and pushing at the back of your head. You had no chose, swallowing the liquid while you still could. The fire in your veins began to dull, and you breathed, thankful for the quick relief.
“Good,” the Shadowsinger said approvingly. You hated that affirmation, but were too weak to show it.
The healers dotted around you, placing cold rags on your face and stitching your wound. Azriel watched, his arms folded and face etched with concern. Uncontrollable shakes racked through your body, your muscles jerking with pain and exhaustion.
Falling in and out of consciousness, you were too dazed to note Madja’s arrival, and with her, Cassian.
“What happened?” Cassian asked his brother, his eyes panicked.
“A kelpie,” Azriel said tightly.
Cassian clenched his eyes shut, punching the bridge of her nose. “She got away from me. I didn't want to chase her, she was already distraught.”
“I was tracking her too. I should have intervened sooner,” Azriel responded, his eyes not leaving you as a deeper frown settled on his face.
After a quick check of your vitals and words with her healers, Madja approached the two.“The antidote is working. She’ll recover soon.”
“She still looks sickly?” Cassian questioned, looking past the healer at your sagged and sweaty body.
“That is what I wanted to talk to you both about. Y/N is carrying symptoms of something else I can't place. Do either of you know if she was involved in a foreign mission lately, perhaps something of high risk or stress?”
The brothers shared a look before Azriel responded. “Not exactly Madja, but she… received some bad news today.”
“She was very upset,” Cassian added.
Madja nodded slowly, tutting softly. “Whatever has happened, it’s manifesting physically. She’s weaker than usual, and will need to rest for a few days. I suggest keeping her here, where we can tend to her.”
“Perhaps we can bring her home Madja. Would you see to her there?” Azriel asked, his arms crossing tighter. Illyrian’s being preternaturally possessive, he preferred you at home where he could keep a closer eye on you, help even.
“The choice is Y/N’s really. Let me do what I can while she rests, I’ll call for you when she wakes.” The brother’s nodded, making to leave the wing.
“Madja,” Cassian half turned, grabbing the healer by her arm. “Please, just, tell her we’re sorry.”
With a small frown, Madja reluctantly agreed.
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When you awoke, you expected it to be light. Instead, the infirmary was dim, the soft glow of fae light warming the medical wing around you.
Memories from the night before returned, your stomach churning at the thought. The kelpie, hurting Cassian, the fight with your family. Your heart clenched as you were reminded – they had betrayed you, and you could no longer trust them.
Groaning as you turned to your side, you felt around for anything to catch the bile rising in your throat. You luckily landed on a pan, what little remained in your stomach hurled up as your gut clenched and heaved.
Madja entered at the sound, rubbing soothing pats on your back and taking the pan away when you had finished.
You fell back onto the pillows, your body clammy and weak. “What’s wrong with me?” you asked her as she checked your breathing.
“You were struck by a kelpie. Although your wounds are healing well.”
You looked at the ceiling, nodding as you recalled the horrific event. It was hard enough to almost die at the hands of a creature like that, but your heart ached at the thought that Azriel had saved you, yet you never wanted to see his face again.
“It would seem there is something else that plagues your mind, child.”
You looked at Madja now, blinking away the tears that were quickly building.
“Your family mentioned some kind of distressing news?”
Closing your lids, a silent tear rolled from each of your eyes. You merely nodded, your hands quickly brushing away the evidence.
“Its none of my business, but the General was eager that I relay their apologies.”
You froze, flashing a broken look at the healer you had known for many years. How many wounds and ailments of yours had she patched and cured in your career? But emotional wounds – this was new territory for the both of you.
As if finally in safe hands, your face crumpled, your anger and anguish overwhelming as you began to sob. Madja was ordinarily tough – she had no time for foolery and was unsympathetic for injuries of your own fault. But she comforted you now, hushing you and patting your back in a motherly way.
“What do you do when you no longer trust the people you love, Madja?” you asked through shallow cries.
She gave a small, tight smile, squeezing your hands that she now held in hers. “You spend eternity learning to forgive them.”
You bit the quiver in your lip. “I’m not sure I can,” you admitted.
She sighed softly, nodding with understanding. “You have the rest of your existence if you choose to try.”
Madja’s wisdom comforted you, your eyelids turning heavy and you fell to another bout of sleep.
————
Azriel, Cassian and Mor were eating breakfast at the House of Wind, none of them speaking as the weight of last nights events hung heavy.
With a sigh, Mor looked between the males. “She’s going to forgive you eventually, you know that right?”
Cassian gave her a sorry smile, while Azriel kept his eyes on his eggs. He gripped his fork tighter, his jaw clenched. “You didn't see the way she looked at us.”
“She just needs time,” Mor said. “This was her life’s mission after all.”
Azriel’s head snapped up, an icy cold glare fixed upon his face, a blanket over the sheer guilt he felt at Mor’s statement. “You don’t think I know that?”
Mor blinked at the Shadowsinger in shock – it was so unlike him to lose his cool.
“Easy Az, don't snap at Mor for things out of her control,” Cassian frowned at his brother, before shovelling another mouthful of oatmeal.
Azriel let out a sharp breath, clenching his eyes shut, ignoring the sting from the lack of sleep. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, still unable to unlock his tight jaw. Mor waved him off, assuring him it was no big deal.
A gust of foreign wind blew as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into the dining room. The High Lord disregarding pleasantries, his hand clutching a letter, its broken seal the unmistakable symbol of the infirmary.
“I have received news on Y/N.” The High Lord’s tone was to the point, cold even, like he was only interested in discussing the facts.
“Is she alright?” Cassian asked urgently. Azriel’s grip tightened on his knife and fork as he held his breath.
“Madja says her recovery is slow, but she is making progress. One or two more nights at the infirmary and she should be strong enough to be discharged.”
“I asked Madja about attending to her here. Has she written about that?” Azriel asked.
Rhys’s lips tightened before he loosed a deep breath. Feyre, her face pained, jumped in. “Madja has also written that at this point in time, Y/N does not wish to return to home.”
The others fell silent.
“What does that mean?” Azriel gritted.
Tears welled in their High Lady’s eyes, and Rhys slipped his hand over his mates.
“She no longer wishes to live here,” he said, his violet eyes saddened and dim.
Mor gasped, and Cassian shook his head. “Where will she go?” The General stood, his chair scraping as he pushed it out behind him.
“It’s unclear at this stage. Madja has asked that we respect her privacy while she heals. I’m hoping we can talk to her when she’s feeling better. Perhaps even convince her to stay.”
“She won't come back.” The rest of the group turned to the Shadowsinger, his gaze darkened and his shadows building to his neck. “I could sense her rage, the hate she held in her eyes. To her, what we did is unredeemable.”
“Don’t say that Az,” Feyre begged, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.
Azriel’s pounded the table with his fist, his knife now stuck upright in the mahogany wood. “Would you prefer I lied? She’s worked her whole life to avenge Meryl, and we shattered that dream. I wouldn't forgive us either.”
“Surely there is something we can do,” Cassian looked between his brother’s, eyes desperate, almost pleading.
But Azriel kept his cold glare on the couple before him. “You asked me to find Alvar first. So I did. And now we’ve lost our girl.”
Rhys’s power coursed through the room as he bought his mate closer to his side. “Watch it, Azriel,” he warned. “Alvar had intel on our wards, our home would be forever exposed if he got away. I tried my best to give Y/N the opportunity. Let’s not forget the decision you and Cass made to keep her grounded.”
“She was going to get herself killed,” Cassian muttered, not defensively, but as pure fact. “The desire to kill him – it makes her power unpredictable. She would have hurt herself, or died trying.”
“We all did what we had to do,” Feyre said softly, bringing sense back above the tension of the room. Pained, guilty expressions reflected hers.
Azriel stood now too, making his way around the table and heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Rhys asked.
“To go get Y/N.”
“She’s asked we give her some space Az,” Feyre reasoned. “We have no right to go barging in while she’s trying to recover.”
“I don't care. She’s angry, but that doesn't mean she knows what’s best. She’ll heal better here, with people that care about her. I’ll go–”
“Sit down,” Rhys interrupted the Shadowsinger, the air thickening with his power as he pulled rank.
Azriel’s shoulder’s tightened at Rhys’s order, halting his steps yet refusing to take his seat. “She belongs here, with us,” he gritted.
“We can't force her to do anything Azriel,” Mor whispered, her eyes soft as cast a sympathetic look at her friend.
There was silence in the room again, none of them knowing what to say next.
“This is my fault,” Cassian swallowed, his gaze distant in a deep frown.
“No one is to blame,” Rhys said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The situation is unfortunate, but I’m certain it will get better in time.” He breathed deeply, offering a broken smile to his mate before casting a stern look at the others. “We’ll keep you updated if we hear anything further.”
With a few quiet goodbyes, the High Lord and Lady winnowed back to their River Home.
“We–“ Cassian began.
“Don’t Cass,” Mor interrupted knowingly. “You need to leave bad enough alone.” She stood then, leaving the males to their breakfast.
Cassian cast a look to his brother, who was already looking at him. “Are we leaving now?”
“Not with all eyes on us. Wait until dark. Then we’ll go get our girl.”
“Deal.”
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Part 2 >>>>
AN: Ok, here’s that angsty piece I was telling you about....
I HAVE MISSED YOU GUYS!!!
Also I’ve been slack with my tag lists, very sorry! If you’d like to join a generic acotar one, drop a comment.
#azriel x cassian x reader#azriel#cassian#azriel angst#cassian angst#acotar angst#rhysand x reader#inner circle angst#acotar fanfic#acotar fan fiction#acotar injured reader#azriel x injured reader#cassian x injured reader#Inner Circle#azriel x cassian fight#rhysand angst#inner circle x injured reader#azriel x reader#azriel x reader angst#cassian x reader#cassian x reader angst#acotar reader insert#acotar reader injured
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14. apples
Windhaven was, by all accounts of stranger eyes, a savage and cruel place. For those of a more delicate predisposition of the civilized cities and high courts’ orders, a place such as Windhaven where the only law was powerful force posed a dangerous infringement on their senses. Those with the backbone constitution of a dancing daisy had no place thriving in the cold and brutal environments of Illyria. It is said that the harshest teacher of all there is the environment, and boys expected to become warriors were left to weather its teachings on their own.
But to the native, or whomever willing to keep their eyes peeled and minds receptive quickly realized that Windhaven and by extension Illyria had to be the most orderly of places—if not the simplest organization. Hierarchy was simple, and so was life. It was straightforward, and as such there was no room for the cunning loopholes of politics and forked-tongued faes.
And by order of nature, to find boys fighting to the death was no strange sight. Like leaves shaking in branches and the mountain standing strong, so would always there be a boy on the receiving end of split-knuckled punches.
Sometimes, as it happens to be the case, there were three of them gathered upon one.
See, Cassian has been having a great day. An unusually fruitful day including the literal sense as he has managed to not only eat breakfast, but also an apple to dig his teeth in. The crunch it makes as he tears it apart is a crisp musical sound to his ears, a sweetly luxurious sound he cannot indulge often. He’s got a shirt on his back, and pants and so-far no one has managed to steal them from him. Life was, by his accords, for once looking his way.
And so, he had no intention of ever getting involved in the skirmish he stands witness to with a cheering hoard of boys. It’s the little lord with pretty nails, getting his arse handed to him by three boys Cassian’s been beaten by as well. But he’s lost his pretty hair, it seems. It’s nice to be the spectator for once, not the one fighting for his existence or fending for his life. He folds his arm over his chest, props the elbow of the other onto it and bites into his savory apple. Its crunch is drowned in the roar of boys chanting for bloodshed.
“Kick him!” Cassian shouts, out of sheer frustration, as one holds his flailing and kicking form for a second boy to beat. The third lies on the ground, shaking the daze from his head, his nose dripping blood on the ground beneath him.
Rhysand plants his feet in the ground and hoists up his captor, only to flip him over with a rough shove that twists his own caged arms. Cassian hisses, and shakes his head when a very audible pop joins the shouting.
A sharp nudge from the shoving and moving crowd startles him, and he leaps towards the source only to come face to face with a large pair of hazel eyes staring into the depths of his soul.
“Ramiel!” Cassian swears, his heart nearly jumping from his chest. “What?!” he shouts over the noise at the strangest boy that has ever been given life.
The bony thing points a hand at the fighting, his index finger swashed in churning black shadows that makes Cassian’s breakfast nearly come back up into his mouth. “They’re beating him.”
“No fucking shit!” Cassian barks incredulously, turning back to watch the show. Prince Prick receives a particularly nasty blow to the jaw and honestly Cassian likes the idea someone’s punching the smugness out of him—their Lady doesn’t like it when they fight, and has took away their supper multiple times for it. Cassian’s had breakfast and found a nice snack—he does not plan on losing his last meal of the day.
Another poke in his shoulder. Cassian resists the urge to shudder and scream. No-one knows what Azriel’s shadows are exactly. It’s enough knowledge that the Lords give him a very wide berth, and some of the smart boys have done the same and Cassian believes he is a smart boy himself—not everyone, though. Someone was stupid enough to pick a fight with the newcomer two days ago and the soil covering his grave is still fresh.
Cassian has nightmares about his screams; those black shadows swam into his skull and his eyes rolled backwards and then turned pitch black. Azriel hadn’t even gotten off the earth.
“What?” he turns around again.
Those large hazel eyes blink, once. They stand out in his malnourished face—Cassian figures he’s fuller than he is, and that he’s never been this thin before even when he had to fend for himself and sleep in the cold.
“Don’t you live with him?”
Cassian clenches his hands. “So?”
“If he dies, how are you going to live?”
…Good point. So the newcomer is a little smarter and scarier—Cassian can make do with that. He sighs and hands off the remains of his apple.
“All-right, that’s enough,” Cassian shoves aside the crowd before him with force, and leaps into the air with a loud battle-cry. He tackles a boy—Aemon—to the dirt and rolls over to pull one off of Rhysand. Aemon jumps onto his back and bites his wing with razor-sharp teeth.
“THAT’S IT!” Cassian roars, his temper flaring with his flapping wings as he grabs hold of Aemon and slams him into the ground. Punches him over and over in the abdomen, smashes his face into his knee and kicks his head for good measure. Rhysand’s boxing the daylights out of Zoarus’s head, handling it better now.
Cassian whips around at a shrill yelp behind him, just in time to see Azriel pathetically rolled into the circle (the gangly boy’s legs quite literally bend in the air and flip from his hands after someone’s shoved him), knocking his flimsy body into nasty Cornelius. Cassian’s eyes snap onto another object rolling with Azriel into the field, the sight of which erupting a roar of fury from the depths of his gut as what remained of his apple coats itself in dirt and flattens beneath Cornelius’ troll-like stomp.
The giant of a boy grabs Azriel’s outstretched arm that’s a fool’s attempt in keeping danger at bay, and just as a sickening snap of crumbling stick-bones in Cornelius’s large hands he screams and freezes. Drops Azriel’s arm like hot coals and collapses on his wings, convulsing and jerking wildly as he screams with anguish. Cassian’s mouth goes dry, as darkness replaces the whites of his up-rolled eyes, and his tongue rolls back into his mouth and clogs his airway. It seeps beneath his skin, swarming and spreading like a drop of color in water. Until it stops, suddenly, and he is a gray corpse still on the earth.
Rhys knocks Zoarus into the ground, and climbs on him. Just as he’s about to punch his head the second time, a familiar roar cuts through the cheering and brings about instant silence.
“Ah fuck,” Cassian wipes his mouth, as Devlon comes in sight and the boys part for him without a word.
Later in the afternoon, they’re still being whipped. Cassian’s gotten used to it, essentially, but the sting of the lash over his wings still gets him every-time and Rhys is white as a clean sheet, biting hard on his teeth to keep his cry of pain silent. The fucking creep chained next to Cassian counting their lashes is not helping even if Azriel is receiving far more lashes on account of the murdering.
“Would you shut up?!” Cassian cries out, as Azriel announces a thirtieth lash following the crack of the whip and Rhys’s muffled grunt. Cassian’s going to miss supper and his shirt is ripped. Fucking perfect.
“Thirty-one,” Azriel mouths off and Cassian bites a cry of frustration against the wooden post they’re each chained to. At thirty-five, Cassian and Rhys are released and thrown out of the pen.
“Ow,” Rhys mumbles, pressing his forehead into the dirt, wrapping his arms tight around his abdomen. His lip is split and his eye’s swelling has died down a little. “Ow. Ow. Ow.”
“Come on,” Cassian stumbles to his feet, and grabs hold of Rhys’s elbow roughly. If they move now they won’t miss supper. “Let’s go home.”
“Ow,” the useless prick mumbles again, but complying and getting to his shaky feet. Cassian slings his arm over his shoulder, feeling not the least of remorse for the satisfaction of the cry of pain from Rhys and marching right off towards shelter and warmth, and food.
They get their ears pinched only, but Mrs. Evelyn doesn’t berate them or punish them. She ushers them in at once, into the warmth by the roaring fire where a table awaits with the well-anticipated supper.
Cassian doesn’t bother waiting for his turn cleaning his back, as he immediately drops at a chair and scarfs down his meal in three quick bites that makes him lightheaded, and a little nauseas. Mrs. Evelyn carefully cleans her son’s back, dabbing gently at the bleeding lashes with the kind of care only mothers seem to have for their children. Not that Cassian would know.
His eyes blur, and by the time he has dashed to the door outside, he finds himself facing his wolfed dinner. He wipes the vomit from his mouth and miserably trails back into the hut.
“Come now, Cassian,” she instructs, once Rhys’s collapsed front-faced on his cot. Cassian reluctantly sits at the foot of his, and gives her his back.
“I can do it fine,” he mumbles, staring down at his rough hands.
“I know, darling,” she replies, her hot water drizzling down his back and stinging tears into his eyes. Gentle touch, warm and careful. His eyes blur once more. “Rest a little, I’ll make you something you’ll keep down.”
Cassian flops, without argument or thought, on his cot, his pillow and falls asleep in seconds. By the time they wake, Mrs. Evelyn has invited someone inside to share them dinner.
“What’s he doing here?” Rhys demands incredulously, rubbing his eye.
Azriel looks back without blinking, seated at the table with a bowl of steaming broth before him and bread, Mrs. Evelyn next to him brushing his hair in place. His arm’s wrapped in two splinters and bandage. Cassian sleepily sits up, and makes his way over.
“I found him outside in the cold, poor thing,” she says softly. “So you’re Lyria’s son?”
Azriel looks up at her, and nods solemnly once.
“Eat up, darling,” she instructs. “Rhys, Cass, time for supper.”
Cassian eats his meal slower this time, savoring every bite, while Rhys explains what escalated the fight.
“And then Cassian got in it—why did you, actually?”
Cassian scowls and points at Azriel. “He told me to.”
Azriel blinks, and gulps down his bite. “I just asked if you lived with him.”
“And told me I wouldn’t be any more if he died.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yeah you fucking did—!”
“That’s enough,” Mrs. Evelyn hushes them quickly. “No-one’s going to worry about living anywhere. You’re all staying here, going to be looked after and fed.”
“Seriously?” Rhys groans. His mother gives him a nasty glare that shuts him up instantly.
“And you’ve lost your shirt, Rhys,” she sighs. “Again.”
“Mine tore,” Cassian mumbles, ashamed. “Sorry.”
“It’s all-right,” she reassures them. “And I assume Azriel as well? I’ll make you all new clothes. Not to worry.”
Azriel perks up at the promise of new clothes. The fucker’s face actually brightens as he digs into his food happily. As if he hadn’t just done what he had before. Cassian has no clue what the Hell is the matter with the boy, but he’s not going to make himself a target of something he doesn’t understand. He’s smart enough to know that.
#fictober23#cassian x azriel x rhys#PLATONIC#begrudging alliances turned friendships#fighting#Cassian fic#Azriel#Rhys#bat boys#bat boys kids#cassian#rhysand#a court of thorns and roses#rhysand acotar#rhysandweek2023#you can't convince me azriel wasn't a creepy fuck as a kid#it explains the spymaster/torturer carrer honestly#Cassian Just Wants Supper
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Stories To Be Told: PART 29
Series Index
A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?
↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣
a/n: warning for like… extremely fluffy things. is that a warning? idk. but like… the author, me, squealed while writing this part.
this was combined with the epilogue i planned since it was too short. so that huge time skip? yeah.
BUT, since this is the last chapter… I want to thank everyone who came around while writing this series. Thank you all for your support, whether you were commenting, reblogging or just liking- it means a ton. This story wasn’t originally going to be posted online. It was a rewrite based off of a 115k word fic I wrote. well… not really. That one had extreme inconsistencies, and very limited character development. It was set post-acomaf, where all canon plot ended basically. I much prefer this post-acosf version.
I'm always very nervous posting online, so getting all the support I got for stbt? It means the world to me. I can’t express how much all the support just made my day. Thank you readers, from the bottom of my heart.
After this, I’ll try to work on either a new series, or some oneshots, but I beg of you, please send requests. I am incapable of coming up with ideas to post 😂 (okay, im not, but it helps)
If you have read all that, here’s a little vote for a new series: Azris fic (or another rare pair/crackship)? or new x Reader/OC fic (probably eris)? Something else?
Not guaranteeing I’ll write any of them, but just to gauge what ya’ll might like to see
Now… onto the last chapter of Stories To Be Told :)
WARNING: mentions of nsfw things.
↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣
Azriel and I didn’t come to training the day after either, both of us waking up way too late to even dare try and go. They’d probably be doing the final stretching before we’d even be ready. So we settled for a slow morning, memorizing each other’s lips.
We had, however, arrived for lunch. Nobody had said anything, but I could tell what they were all thinking. We had taken a bath before we left the room, but I knew that the bond could probably be scented quite easily now.
That afternoon, Azriel had to do some paperwork, but I relaxed with him, reading a book, surrounded by his scent. A note arrived sometime.
Family dinner tonight at the River House. See you both there.
Azriel scoffed. I lifted a brow at him in question. “Rhys,” he explained, “wants us to attend a family dinner. Clearly, Cassian told him something, because he said ‘See you both there’ like he knows.”
I chuckled a little. “Does he need to pay for traumatizing you too, my love?”
“By the Cauldron, yes. Him and Feyre, I swear. I have just been suffering. The only thing that did go right was that Cassian was the one brawling with Rhys after their bond. I was saved from some bruises.”
“Oh,” I paused. “I forgot about that part. And they what?!”
“Which part?”
“The part about bonds where the males get really… protective.”
Azriel snorted. “I’ll try my best at this dinner, angel, but do offer me some leniency.”
“As long as you offer me the same leniency, because I am one hundred percent laughing my ass off if you growl at Rhys."
He rolled his eyes. “I won’t growl at him-”
-----
Azriel growled deeply as we walked into the dining room. Rhys’s eyes had been up and looking for us, latching onto me, since I’d been the first to enter.
I snorted, and patted Azriel’s shoulder.
Rhys tipped his head back and laughed. “Alright, Cass, you win,” he chuckled. “You were right about Az being a possessive type.” A gold mark was thrown in the direction of the general, who quickly pocketed it.
I huffed out a breath in amusement and spotted Mor looking quite confused. Oh, this was my chance!
I left Azriel’s side, even as he glared daggers at Cassian, who was sitting near Mor. Mor’s eyes did indeed practically pop out of her skull when I came near enough.
“YOU’RE MATES?!” She squealed.
My face widened into a grin and I nodded.
She let out another happy squealing noise, throwing her arms around me. Azriel growled again and I laughed, backing up a step so that Mor was forced to let me go. She was smiling at me. “Oh! I’m so happy for you!” She squealed again suddenly, startling me slightly. “Welcome to the family!” She said quickly. “I was first!”
I turned my face again slightly in a useless effort to hide my huge smile from those words. Azriel curled a hand around my waist. “This is your family now,” he whispered.
I lifted a hand to rub my smile away, but it didn’t work. So I turned to behold my new family.
Rhys was grinning, with Feyre looking at me warmly. Nyx was obviously happy. “Does that mean I have a new aunt?” He asked Rhys.
“I suppose so,” Rhys chuckled. “But ask Y/N.”
I bit my lip. There was so much joy coming from me right now. Nyx turned to me expectantly.
“If you want me to be…” I replied. “You can call me aunt.”
“Yes!” Nyx threw up a fist in victory. “Auntie Y/N! Now you have to help me steal all the chocolate dad hides in the pantry.”
I snorted in amusement, giggling softly. “Alright Nyx.”
“Don’t conspire in front of me!” Rhys exclaimed.
“Did we just conspire?” I asked Nyx. He shook his head, smiling wide. “See Rhys?” I turned to face the High Lord. “We didn’t conspire anything. You must be hearing things.”
“Welcome to the family,” Cassian hummed, arm thrown over Nesta’s shoulder who sat beside him. “I would come over there and bowl you to the ground in a hug, but you have a possessive shadow death monster attached to you.”
That broke the last of the restraint I had on my laughter. I wheezed loudly, knees going weak from the force of it. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, but almost everyone had joined in. Even Az. Nesta stood and came over. Azriel almost growled a warning, but I slapped his shoulder, stepping out from his grip to hug my sister. My first family here.
There weren’t any words shared between us, but as Nes pulled away, she gave me a soft look that said everything.
Amren gave me a little dip of her head, and I deduced that was likely all I was going to get from her. Lucien and Elain, two people who’d I mostly forgotten about, also gave me slight smiles. They seemed… close, but also not as close as any of the mated couples in the room.
I sat beside Azriel at the table, and ate with my new family.
-----
Later in the night, when mostly everyone had gone home, Azriel asked me the question.
“I know I’m traditionally meant to kneel down before you,” he began. “But I haven’t had the chance to buy a ring yet, so I’ll do that a bit later since I’m impatient. Would you marry me Y/N?”
I squealed immediately, turning so that I was sitting in his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Yes!” I said loudly, drawing the attention of the remaining people in the room. Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Cassian, and Nesta.
I kissed him swiftly, which probably gave the others enough of a guess of what had just transpired.
“We are having a wedding,” I told him. “Family only.”
Azriel grinned. “Whatever you want, angel.”
“AUNTIE Y/N!” Nyx exclaimed loudly, like it was a celebration.
I turned, grinning widely. “Officially,” I agreed.
Rhys smiled, his teeth showing. “Congratulations,” he said.
Feyre scoffed. “You’re so dull Rhys,” she admonished, bursting from her seat to wrap me in a hug. “Congratulations. Welcome to the family.”
“I was just trying not to get attacked!” Rhys protested. “Azzie is terrifying.”
I huffed in amusement. “Azzie?” I questioned, turning back to my mate with a smirk.
He snorted. “You are not calling me that,” he chuckled. “Rhys gets to do it only once a month.”
“Azzie…” I cooed, and paired the nickname with a scratch at his scalp. He seemed to be placated, but glared up at me petulantly.
“I’m getting bowled over,” someone said from behind me, and then wrapped two large muscled arms around my shoulders, lifting me up. I squealed at the movement, crushing my wings to my back. Cassian laughed as Azriel got to his feet immediately, eyes darting around like he was trying to deduce the easiest way to free me from Cassian, without hurting me.
I slapped Cassian’s arm. “You idiot!” I yelled happily as he only tightened his grip. “I yield!” I shouted. “I yield!”
Cassian squeezed even tighter for a moment before he let me down. I turned to him with a challenging grin.
“I have another sister,” he reasoned. “I had to make sure she knows I give good hugs.”
“You call that a hug?” I scoffed, grinning. “I prefer Az’s.”
There was a sound behind me that told me Az agreed with me. He took his seat again, the couch dipping.
“Well then,” Cassian said, voice challenging. “I guess I have to try again. Because I always give the best hugs-”
I dodged his next attempt, shooting out my foot as he took a step forward so that he tripped right onto the couch, face planting almost directly into Azriel’s lap. I was surprised when I felt a surge of possessiveness from myself at the sight of Cassian so close to my mate’s lap.
Cassian was laughing and sputtering as he stood back up. “I’m making you pay for that in training,” he growled.
Those words made a bolt of heat travel up my spine. Goddamn, had Azriel really ruined those words for me? Must have.
I tried to keep my scent in check as I coughed. “Sure you will,” I challenged. “I’ll win.”
“You can try,” Cassian scoffed. “I always win.”
“I’ll win because Nesta is on my side,” I chuckled, meeting Cassian’s mate’s eyes across the room, still sitting on the couch with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
Cassian turned with a look of betrayal on his face. “How dare you!” He accused dramatically.
I chuckled, and fell back onto the couch beside Azriel. “Love you,” I chuckled, kissing him gently.
His hand fell onto my thigh, just a little too high to be normal. “I felt that through the bond, you know,” he informed me as I pulled away.
I blushed. “Shut up,” I growled. “Or I’ll show them where you’re ticklish.”
He paused, narrowing his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said playfully.
“Oh I will,” I said.
Azriel trailed his hand up threateningly, and I basically leapt up on top of him, and went for the ticklish spot in his armpit. He wheezed, capturing the attention of everyone.
“That’s where you’re ticklish!?” Cassian exclaimed. “Damn it. I’m exploiting that.”
I grinned as Azriel’s eyes widened even as he struggled to get my hands away from his ticklish spot. “I’ll kill you,” Azriel managed through his laughter.
“Not intimidating,” Cassian chuckled. “You’ve used the line too much.”
I relented after a moment. Azriel heaved for breath, glaring at me. He leaned up to whisper in my ears.
“You’ll pay for that.”
I grinned. I planned on it.
-----
It was the Winter Solstice, and goddamn was it cold outside. I heard a shout as Rhys assumingly got pummeled by snowballs by Cassian. No surprise there. Cassian apparently had been “training” for the annual snowball fight my mate and his brother’s had every year. As I gathered up my own snowballs to launch my attack on Cassian, I smirked in the direction of Azriel’s snow fort.
We weren’t explicitly teaming per say, but we were acting as tentative allies. That little peace treaty would break as soon as Cassian began to complain about his toes freezing off.
Az had mentioned this tradition about a month ago, explaining Cassian’s training, and Rhys’s determination to beat him. Apparently, my mate was by far the most competitive for the fight. He’d won basically every fight leading up to this one. Rhys and Cass had quite a few wins, but Azriel? Azriel definitely had the most.
I offhandedly mentioned that if I were a part of the snowball fight, I’d go straight for Rhys’s face and then pummel Cassian. Then deal with Az.
Azriel, apparently, having taken that internally, offered to let me join. His brother’s mates hadn’t been interested in being out in the cold for hours, but me? Oh I was so for it. No magic. No wings. Just an even playing ground for the Illyrian idiots who just wanted to pummel each other with snowballs.
Rhys immediately let me in on it, even trying to covet an alliance with me throughout the month, but little did he know that Azriel would be getting my “support” through the game. He’d gasped dramatically when I told him I was betraying him right after he’d told me all the strategies he planned to use. Oh, it was so worth it. Now I knew the High Lord was worried, and preparing for that strike that would end him, coming from me.
Cassian shouted as the snowballs hit him from behind his fort. “Y/N!” He shouted angrily. But a playful angry. “I’m going to get you for that!”
“Just try!” I challenged.
For another three hours, we fought. When it was basically just Azriel and I, I turned on him immediately, gaining the element of surprise as I came up behind him and stuffed a whole pile of snowballs right down the back of his leathers.
He screeched and tried to shimmy them out.
“Betrayer!” He shouted, apparently giving up on getting the snow out, and intent on getting revenge. He picked up a pre-made snowball, but I merely smirked and produced one last snowball in my hand, and threw it directly into his forehead.
Azriel groaned, wiping his face. “I’m fucking freezing,” he admitted.
“Do you yield?” I asked him, and subtly packed another pile of snow together with my boots to easily form into a snowball and throw it at him if he didn’t.
“Fine, yes,” he groaned. I grinned.
“RHYS! CASS!” I called. “YIELD OR DIE UNDER THE POWER OF Y/N!”
“I yield!” Cassian yelled back. “My ass is numb.” The second part was quieter, but just loud enough to be heard.
“Never!” Rhys shouted.
I stole some of my mate's snowballs, holding them with one arm and leaped over the fort, running across No Man’s Land. Then I leaped straight into Rhys’s fort and pummeled him with the snow.
He screamed dramatically. I smirked, and then gathered more ammo, and stuffed it down his neck as he tried to clear his vision. “I yield!” he shouted. “Fucking hell! No! Don’t stuff it down my shirt even more-”
I chuckled, and then with one final push of the snow down his shirt, I stood and vaulted over the fort again, hands raised in victory.
“FIRST WIN!” I shouted, laughing hysterically after.
Cassian came out of his fort, shivering. Azriel was still struggling with the snow down his shirt. Rhys basically dragged himself out of his fort.
“Too cold,” Cassian said, “to care.”
I rolled my eyes, scoffing. “Come on then idiot. Your mate can console you for your horrible loss.”
“This is horrible!” Cassian complained.
“Let’s go to the damn birchin before my toes decide to fall off,” Rhys said, shivering as well.
We’d decided before that they’d not go in completely naked, despite tradition. Azriel was way too possessive for that. They’d keep their undershorts and I’d keep on my undergarments.
“Who won?” Nesta asked as we came inside. Her stomach was just slightly starting to get that little bump that told everyone she was having a child. I silently hoped for a little girl.
“I did!” I announced triumphantly. “These males stood no chance.”
Feyre snorted in amusement. Gwyn clasped me on my back. “Better you than them,” she joked. Emerie, who was beside Mor, called out a congratulations.
“You guys should compete next year,” I suggested. “We’d be the height of competition.”
“Freezing in the cold for hours?” Emerie asked. “No thank you. Not even on a good day.”
“Boring,” I teased. “Is Mor making you soft dear sister?”
“Shall I slap her?” Mor asked.
“No, I’ll make her pay for it in training,” Emerie chuckled.
“Just try me,” I challenged. “Just try.”
“Oh I will,” Emerie chuckled. “Now go sweat with the other idiots.”
Azriel chuckled, putting a hand around my waist and leading me in the direction of the birchin. “Come on love, I’m freezing still.”
“Fine…” I would be merciful… today. I pecked Azriel on his cheek gently. “Only for you.”
“Oh yes,” he chuckled. “So merciful towards your mate.”
I scoffed, smiling. “Love you.”
He smiled, and said that little phrase that always left me breathless from the sheer love.
“It’ll always be you.”
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TAGLIST (see post for getting added)
@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @graciereads, @chanaaaannel, @towhateverend13, @eos-princess, @marina468,
Make sure to ask if you'd like to be tagged in more of my writing! This taglist is soon to be deleted :)
#azriel#azrielxreader#azriel x reader#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic#emerie#rhysand#feyre#morrigan#cassian#nesta#snowball fight#acotar fluff#fluff#mywriting
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Of Oblivious Minds
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)
a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡
Part 2
~~
You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain.
Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you.
You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense.
You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before.
“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?”
“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low.
“And what’s that?”
You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.”
The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles.
“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.”
“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace.
“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat.
Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.”
Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him.
“Maybe we would.”
Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets.
“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.”
“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night.
“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused.
Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.”
The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that.
They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back.
And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked.
He had to be in love with her.
You were usually quite good at reading these types of things.
“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.”
“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words.
“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.”
You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”
You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms.
“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.”
“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.”
He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.”
He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears.
You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink.
You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard.
Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water?
Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk.
It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own.
“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?”
“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.”
“Liar.”
Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?”
You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.”
You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”
“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”
You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder.
“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.”
“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.”
“If you say so,” Cassian hummed.
“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.”
~~
The following days were… strange to say the least.
Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.
And she spoke of Azriel. A lot.
Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…
Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her.
You were so, so right.
There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange.
Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one.
Well, other than Elain.
Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway.
You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel.
Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.
“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence.
You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?”
“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.”
A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?”
That was new.
“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.”
You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago.
So why did it suddenly feel so different?
“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.”
Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.”
As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel.
Something about it felt… wrong.
“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.”
Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.”
“What does that—”
The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened…
You shuddered at the thought.
This couldn't be an attack on Velaris.
Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes.
“Get under the tables!”
You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack.
Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued.
“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!”
Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages.
After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief.
“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.”
Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.”
You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.”
She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?”
“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?”
“Are you hurt?”
You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face.
Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.”
He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.”
When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain.
“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago.
“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out.
Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief.
“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in.
Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?”
You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?”
“Oh. No. Not as bad.”
“And how is everyone else?”
“I’m not sure.��
Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever.
“Are you okay?” you asked instead.
“I am now.”
You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others.
Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore.
But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make.
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#acotar fanfiction#azriel#a court of thorns and roses
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ACOTAR MEN X READER, BANNING THEM FROM INTIMACY
☀︎ — summary: you let them know they’re not allowed to touch you in any way, shape or form. How do they react!
☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw, az being a slut as per usual, cassian being yummy, touchy needy fae males, slight dumbification in lucien’s
☀︎ — amara’s note: lucien was my fav one to write omgggg, also i hope u sluts enjoy😈😈😈😈 also enjoy while i work with tutor az👀👀
RHYSAND
“You’re putting me on a ban? You can’t be serious.”
“Nuh-uh Rhys, you flirted with that girl so have fun by yourself for the unforseeable future.”
Rhysand didn’t actually flirt with anyone, he was being his usual self and the way the girl was leaning towards him made you angry so you just blamed him instead
He gets through the first few days calmly although he is mildy irritated. Especially when Cassian and Azriel tease him about it.
“So no sexy time for you Rhysie, that must suck,” Cassian says as he ties his hair back.
“Well, not really much sucking these days, right?” Azriel snickers, getting ready for the inevitable fight
Rhysand takes out his frustration on them for their smart little comments.
Rhysand has quite a high libido so that man usually fucks you good atleast once a day even when you’re both busy.
“Darling, please forgive me. I will never do it again. Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”
He begs and begs because he’s going a bit crazy
In the end, it takes him only three days for you to forgive him and lift the ban. The man is charming and seduces you into dropping the ban
The second you drop the ban, he grabs your waist, throws you over his shoulder and winnows to the cabin where he fucks you for a week straight.
“That oughta put that nasty idea out of your head forever” he says, patting your head while smiling at your ruined self. Mascara running, laboured breathing, and a pounding heart is your only answer
Yeah this man wrecks you and you never pull this stunt again…
YUMMM MHE IS SO DELICIOUS 👹👹👹👹
ERIS
“You may not touch me or have sex with me in any way until I say you can.”
He narrows his eyes as he slightly smiles when you announce a ban on all intimate activities for the unforseeable future.
“Is that so?”
You cross your arm on your chest, lifting your chin in defiance.
“Yes, that’s right. Since you want to entertain Nesta Archeron, you may not be in my vicinity.”
You are being waaaaaay too dramatic. He didn’t even spare her a single glance until you pointed to her. Nothing at all happened, I mean the male didn’t even know she was at the ball until you told him.
Nesta walked up and was a bit too close to him and even though Eris moved to your side, giving her an unamused look, you were still irritated
And since you couldn’t take it out on her, you take it out on Eris.
But Eris knows what you’re doing, he knows how extremely dramatic you are being, so he just lets you cool off, let’s you huff and puff around the house
You are a mess. An absolute mess
You find yourself longing for Eris's touch, even just a simple headpat from him would send you into cardiac arrest.
The fact that you lasted an entire week is insane bc you’re both touching each other in some way all the time
When you’re lounging; his head rests on your chest, and you lovingly massage his scalp, running your fingers through his hair. Alternatively, he pulls you closer to his body under a warm blanket, nestled in his neck, while he warms his hands for you, acting as your personal heater.
When you’re in public; he always has a hand on your lower back, waist or you walk hand in hand. You also wrap your hands around his biceps, caressing the arm when you feel tired
When you’re in a meeting; your hands naturally seek each other under the table. Whenever one of you gets heated or irritated, the other soothes them by rubbing their thumb on the back of their hand, offering quiet support.
After a week of torture you finally breakdown in his office, storming in and placing your palms on his wooden desk. He looks up at your curiously, an eyebrow raised.
“Okay, I can’t do this anymore, please touch me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Eris is just as desperate as you are but he wants to drag this out just a tiny bit more before giving in
“Interesting. You initiated this ban, yet you’re the one who can’t follow through? You were fine without me for a whole week, I think you’ll manage another one.”
Your jaw drops in disbelief. Another week? No, you’d rather die.
“I think not. I will beg if I have to. Touch me, please. I will probably die if I go another week without you.”
He leans back in his chair, puts his arms behind his head as his arms bulge. One of your biggest weaknesses
“Normally, I’d make you beg but I missed you aswell. Come here.”
You damn near cry in relief when you sit in his lap and nestle in his arms. His warm hands rub your back and thighs, making you impossibly more relaxed
“This was one of the dumbest things I have ever done. Never again.” You whine against his neck, kissing it over and over again.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, emotional as he press a kiss to your head
AZRIEL
“Okay.”
That is all he says when you tell him your banning him from touching you. Honestly, you thought he’d have a bigger reaction so you start getting second thoughts.
But you thug it out bc you still want to prove a point even though he looks super unbothered
In reality, Azriel is panicking on the inside
Although he knows he can physically withstand sex, it’s the love and intimacy he misses the most
So he does the one thing he knows you won’t resist
He sluts around the house
Okay, he walks around shirtless or with super tight black shirts thst highlight years and years of working out
Azriel knows you’re weak for his muscles and body so flaunting it around is step one of his plan.
Step two of his plan draws him extremely close to you, mere inches away. He leans in as you speak, exploiting yet another weakness.
He wears delicious colognes that make your eyes flutter. He wears chains around his neck and leans over you.
Azriel’s final and ultimate slut move is waking up in the morning, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he speaks. It's all it takes for you to cave in to his charms.
You find yourself the one begging for his touch, unable to resist the longing for his embrace. You babble about never wanting to go so long without feeling his presence again.
CASSIAN
Cassian’s love language is most definitely touch so when you tell him that he is banned from here on out, he freezes.
Like it doesn’t make any sense, he actually can’t grasp the concept.
“What does that even mean? What do you mean I can’t touch you?”
Tha man is flabbergasted
He will follow you around, apologizing for his behavior over and over. You’ve already forgiven him since it was a minor thing but he doesn’t know that
Cassian starts carrying a pillow with him, imagining it is you. He craves touch, and if it's from a damn pillow, he'll gladly take it
He pouts as you try to surpress a smile at his expression. He’ll give you puppy eyes in hopes of you dropping the annoying ban
Eventually, Cassian levels up and becomes extra touchy with the inner circle instead, seeking any physical touch
A confused Azriel gets extra pats on the shoulder, but Cassian's hand lingers, staying put longer than usual, leaving Azriel puzzled by the sudden change in his behavior.
An amused Rhysand receives more hugs, but Cassian's hugs linger, holding him close as if imagining you there for a moment.
Obviously, nothing compares to you, and the whole situation only makes Cassian more irritated.
No sex is just unbearable. Jerking off isn’t fun at all and he can count on one hand how many times he had to use his hands since you got together
After only one and a half day you start to miss his touches and get jealous that your friends is getting his warm touches instead.
You’re also very horny and since you and cassian have a VERY active sex life, it makes a lotta sense. This male usually fucks you 1-2 times everyday, and I mean EVERY day
Seriously not a day goes by without some action, whether it be fingering, bjs, handjobs, nipple play, him eating you out, 69 just anything really
When you finally, after 1,5 excruciating days let him touch you, he smiles and thank the Mother then drags you to your bedroom
Y’all don’t come out for a solid 2-3 business days
Ever since the ban, he is stuck to you like glue fr
LUCIEN
Lucien is very calm for someone who isn’t allowed to touch his mate
“You’re banning me from touching you? That’s really cute,” Lucien remarks casually, a hint of amusement in his tone as he takes a sip of his peppermint tea.
You furrow your brows, pouting. “I'm not joking, Lucien. If you touch me, I'll scream,” you assert firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. With lifted chin and proud gaze, you stand your ground, making your new and temporary boundaries clear.
Lucien chuckles softly. “Yeah? You’ll scream? Love, you scream real nice for me when I touch you anyway, so what's really new?” he teases, getting closer to you.
“I mean, do you really want me to not touch you?” Lucien asks, his voice low as he inches closer and closer until your faces are mere inches apart.
He gets so close, his warmth leaving you breathless. His soft, plump lips barely brush against yours, the touch so light it's almost not there.
“Tell me, my sweet, perfect girl,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours, “who put this idea in your head?”
You are barely functioning, your words stuck in your throat as you struggle to come up with a response.
“I know you're too out of it to properly respond to me right now, and it's okay,” Lucien says gently, his tone teasing. “I guess using your brain is a tough task, hm?”
You nodded absentmindedly, distracted by his charming smile
“M'sorry, Lucien,” you mumble, your words breathless and slightly slurred. “It was just a joke. I really want you to touch me,” you admit, your voice trailing off as you become increasingly dumbfounded in his intoxicated presence.
He tsked with mock sympathy. “It's okay, sweetheart,” he said gently, gripping your chin. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean the next time, okay?”
“Okay, I won’t.” you say blushing at the proximity before giving him a sweet sweet kiss on the lips. Lucien pulls you in closer and y’all fuck right there on the kitchen table but damn it was good
Yeah, banning Lucien from intimacy will never work
🏷️: @thelov3lybookworm @redbleedingrose @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @clairebear08 @rowaelinsdaughter @artists-ally @berryzxx @aroseinvelaris @cupidojenphrodite @jeannineee @daycourtofficial
#talkswithamara#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#azriel#rhysand#azriel x reader#eris vanserra#lucien#lucien vanserra x reader#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#high lord rhysand#rhysand acotar#rhys#rhysand x reader#rhys acotar#rhys x reader#azriel fic#cassian fanfic#eris vanserra acotar#eris vanserra x reader#eris x reader#eris acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#cassian x reader#cassian acotar#cassian
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Baby, Mine
Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot
Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.
Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination
“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”
“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.
Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.
“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.
“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”
There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.
“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”
And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.
So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.
Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.
As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.
She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.
Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”
“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”
Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”
“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”
She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“
“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”
Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,
“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”
He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”
She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”
Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”
And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”
Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.”
At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.
A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”
“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”
She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.
The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.
Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.
Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.
Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.
Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.
But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.
As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.
Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.
He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.
“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.
A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.
As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”
He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”
Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”
“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”
“He doesn’t deserve her.”
Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”
“At the Town House.”
Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”
Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.
“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”
“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”
Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,
“Secrets”
“Secrets”
He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.
“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”
Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.
“Easy brother.”
Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.
“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.
“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”
Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”
Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.
Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”
“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”
“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.
Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”
She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.
“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”
Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.
“She kicked for the first time the other day.”
Rhys raised a brow.
Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.”
Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.
“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“
Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.
“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”
Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”
“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”
As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”
Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”
“Okay, quieter than usual.”
Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”
“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”
She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.
Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.
She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”
Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”
She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”
“Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.
“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”
Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”
She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”
A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”
Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.
Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”
And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.
It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.
The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.
“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.
“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”
Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”
Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”
He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”
————————-
“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.
“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”
“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”
“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”
“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”
“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”
“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”
“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.
Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”
“Are you ready for this?” He asked.
“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.
Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”
She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”
“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.
She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”
“I know better than to go against your intuition.”
With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”
As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”
She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”
As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.
The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.
Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”
Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.
She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.
“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.
Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.
“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”
An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.
“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”
Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.
“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”
The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.
Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”
“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”
Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”
“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.
“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”
Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”
Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”
Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.
“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.
Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”
She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.
“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”
She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.
The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”
Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.
Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”
Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.
————————-
Epilogue
Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.
He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.
Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”
Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”
Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”
The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”
Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”
Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”
Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.
#feyre#rhysand#azriel x pregnant mate#Azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel one shot#angst#sarah j maas#READ THE WARNINGS PLEASE#feysand#under the mountain#amarantha#acotar angst#acotar x reader#acotar#a court of thorns and roses
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Azriel Fic Rec Library 🦇💙
In no particular order, here's an extensive list of Azriel x Reader or Azriel x OC fics that I've compiled for those who can't get enough of him. I literally maxed out the number of tags/links you can include on a post for this 😂
🌼 personal favorite
🥀 angst
💞 fluff
🔥 smut
by @acourtofmenandthirst
You Called 🥀💞
by @moonlightazriel
Before you 🔥🥀
The truth about you 🥀💞🔥
The family we choose 💞
by @thelov3lybookworm
I Didn't Ask For This 🌼🥀
Finally Safe 🌼🥀
My brother. 💞
by @writingsbychlo
SWEET LIKE SUGAR 🌼💞🥀
false confessions 🌼🥀
how we survive 🥀
by @readychilledwine
Slow Hands 🌼💞🔥
Bound by Fate 🌼🥀💞🔥
Little Bat, Big Dreams 💞
Beauty in Pain 🥀
Devotion 💞
by @leafsandstarlight
Forced Revelations
by @lalacliffthorne
the basic rules of friendship 💞🔥
motorcycle 💞
by @bubbles-for-all-of-us
Hear the lonely cry out 🥀
Can you love me most? 🥀
Baby daddy 💞
by @draemgal
master of disguise 💞
by @azsazz
Nightlight 🥀
Wrong Side of the Right Coin Azriel x Reader x Eris 🥀
Just Hold On 🥀💞
What Lies Ahead
Bleed for Me
by @xoxonyxx
What Should've Been 💞
by @illyrian-dreamer
Spin the bottle 💞🥀
Our girl Azriel x Cassian x Reader 🥀
by @acourtofwhatthefuck
Practice On Me 💞🔥
by @danikamariewrites
Sixth Sense 💞
Shell 💞
Fever Dreams 🥀💞
Please Don't Go 🥀💞
Pointless Fights 🥀
Perfect Princess 💞
by @lidiasloca
more than this 🥀
by @tadpolesonalgae
please... 🌼🥀
washing his wings 💞
Can't Bring Myself To Hate You 🌼🥀🔥
His Personal Assistant
by @mother-above
The Golden Warrior 🌼
by @aquanova99
The Shadow and the Seraphim
by @fieldofdaisiies
Oh Those Romance Novels 🔥
Love's A Burden 🥀
by @ellievickstar
Between Two worlds
by @florence-end
Worst kept secret 💞
Stitch up
by @redheadspark
Reunited 💞🥀
Hold 🥀💞
by @acourtofmarvels
Miracle 🥀
by @bookish-whore
Haunted 🥀
by @honeybeefae
7 Minutes In Heaven 🔥🔥
Shadows of Fire Azriel x Reader x Eris 🔥🔥
by @reverie-verse
Ooops Mating Bond 🌼💞
by @cassiefromhell
Unexpected Azriel x Reader x Eris 💞🥀
by @ladylokilaufeyson5
A Little Helping Hand 🌼💞
I Will Always Find You 💞🥀
by @azrielhours
Soft Spot 🌼🔥💞
I want you to rest 💞🥀
Kiss Thief 💞
Soul Song 💞
Restless Dreams 🥀
Stolen Away 💞
Waiting for You 💞🥀
by @liahaslosthermind
Swarming children and elbows to the face 💞
by @itsphoenix0724
Tickle My Strings 🔥
by @jeannineee
Apology 💞
Umbra et Ventus
Blue and Red Azriel x Cassian x Reader
Stubble 💞
Illyrian Babies Azriel x Cassian x Reader 💞
Closure 🥀🔥
by @violette-hue
Fated 🔥
by @angelshadowsinger
Supposed to Be Together 🥀🔥
Prized Possession 🥀💞
by @callmeblaire
little friends 💞
by @fairydustblossom
tied to you 🥀💞
losing control🥀💞
pre relationship fluff 💞
by @throneofsapphics
up all night Azriel x Reader x Cassian 💞
by @arrantsnowdrop
Starlight 💞
Wrongly Accused 🥀🔥💞
by @clairebear08
Hide and Seek 💞
Betrayal 🥀
by @starlightandsouls
My Angel 💞
Yours To Keep And Cherish 💞
Bookshop Brawls 💞
by @azrielscrown
the secret of seduction 💞🔥
wake me up. 💞
by @glittergelpensblog
Shadow and Song
In the Dark
by @azriels-shadowsinger
brother's best friend 💞
by @xreaderbooks
Two sides 🥀
by @vacant--body
stay with me 🥀🔥
by @whisperingmidnights
We Shall Become Monsters 🌼
by @wishfulwithwine
You Belong With Me 🥀
by @queen--of--shadows
Healing Shadows 🌼
by @ochiolism
winter's frost
#azriel#acotar#azriel fluff#azriel smut#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel angst#azriel x reader#azriel x oc#azriel fic recs#azriel fanfic#cassian#rhysand#eris vanserra#a court of thorns and roses#lucien vanserra#acosf#acomaf#acowar#azriel fic#azris#fic rec list#fanfiction#acotar fic rec#acotar fanfic
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Game Night
Azriel x reader
Summary: Game night with your mate and the IC. Safe to say your ready to fight Cassian. Mostly fluff at the end
I was inspired after the game of monopoly with my cousins. it was extremely chaotic😭
I leaned in even closer my head resting against his chest, his head ever so slightly resting on the top of my head. I was sat, very comfily, on Azriel's lap his wings cocooning us into a warm and peaceful environment.
"Az? Can you stop making y/n so comfy?" Mor asked from across the room choosing her character. I looked up at Azriel who had a small smile on his face. His hand tightened around my waist, his other hand continuing the circles he was making on my thigh.
"I will do whatever my mate tells me to do. If she wants to play she plays. If she wants to sleep she sleeps." Azriel said to Mor pressing a warm kiss to my head.
I sat up a little and slid off of Azriel's lap to sit next to him, he looked a little disgruntled but all the same kept his arm around my waist his left wing around my back. "She's right. I want to play but it's just- your too comfy." He raised an eyebrow at my statement. He was probably confused as to whether I was complimenting him or not.
"You can come sit on my lap, y/n" Cassian said grinning. Nesta whacked him on the arm, earning a surprised yelp from him. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean it" He muttered.
The monopoly game soon started and of course the rules were changing as the game went on. That was one reason why Elain had opted out and had instead taken up Lucien's request to join him for dinner. Her evening was probably more peaceful than mine was currently going.
I stood up ready to kick Cassian out of the game "Cassian! You can't just land on pay two hundred and then proceed to put it in the bank. It's supposed to go in the middle"
He stood up crossing his arms "It goes in the bank! NOT THE FUCKING MIDDLE! I'm not-"
"Watch your tone" Azriel interrupted, his voice threatening and causing Cassian to send me a wink "he's whipped" he mouthed at me, earning the middle finger from Azriel.
"Why is it going in the middle? I thought-" Mor added, trying to hide her money behind her so we wouldn't know how much she had. It was quiet obvious.
"It's not, it goes in the bank. Where did that rule even come from?" Rhys asked, annoyed that the game had stopped because he was currently winning and he wanted to continue charging us every time we landed on one of his properties.
Feyre rested a hand on his arm to calm him down "It goes in the middle because when someone else lands on free parking they get the money. Otherwise what would be the point of landing on free parking if you don't get anything?" She tried explaining. Cassian just looked even more angry and Rhys decided it was best to agree with whatever his mate was saying.
I clapped my hands at Feyre "Thank you! At least someone knows the rules"
"I'm putting it in the bank, none of you even know how to play" Cassian snatched the two hundred from the middle and handed it to Azriel who was playing as the banker. Azriel shook his head putting the money back in the middle.
"It's not going in the bank, mate." He looked tired from all the unnecessary arguing that was going on.
Cassian tried to shove it in himself "It does! Just let me put it in"
"Hands off the bank or else your ass is out of the game" Azriel said. Cassian reluctantly took his hands back and crossed his arms looking angry.
"Cassian just put it in the middle! Someone else could end up with it. It could be you if you land on free parking" I said stretching out my hand for the money.
"Nes! A little help here" Cassian said to Nesta pleading with her. Nesta merely shook her head "You wanted to play. So play. Teams don't work in monopoly sweetheart"
After a few more minutes of arguing and a few more refusals of Azriel not accepting Cassian's money, he put it in the middle and the game carried on. Eventually Mor got the money and made sure to tease Cassian with it as much as possible.
"Whatever. We'll see who wins" Cassian muttered sulkily. Nesta patted him on the arm "I'm sure you'll win"
We all knew he wasn't going to. Rhys in fact won. Then it was Nesta, Azriel and then me and Feyre in joint fourth. Mor came second to last because she forgot she had stashed her money behind her and so became bankrupt. And last but not least came Cassian who kept landing on Rhys's properties and eventually had no money left. He survived for half the game, a new record for him. He seemed extremely pissed but all the same asked "So, should we play again?"
"If you mean without yourself then sure" Rhys said looking rather pleased with his win.
"How about a game of cards? They're a little less...chaotic" Feyre asked reaching for a deck of cards and shuffling them.
Everyone agreed, readying themselves to play. I wasn't really someone who enjoyed playing cards so I opted out and settled back onto Azriel's lap, resting my head in the crook of his neck. He smelt delicious like usual. Like wind, smoke, musk something so delightfully intoxicating. And something that made me sleepy. Everyone's voices had become more distant, almost as if someone had turned their volume down. All I could hear was the low hum of their conversation and feel the slight rumble of Azriel's deep voice whenever he talked.
I felt Azriel tilt his head slightly down to look at me. I looked up at him snuggling in closer to his warmth. I pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw earning a small smile from him.
"We can go up if your sleepy" He said quietly so only I could hear. I shook my head resting my hand on his chest. "You need to win for the both of us"
His lips quirked up even more. Those perfect lips. Lips that I wanted all over me. "Sweetheart, your eyes are closing without you even realising" He brushed a strand of hair out of my face.
"No they're not. Win for me Azriel"
"Ok, love. Whatever you say" He pressed another kiss to my head and let his shadows cocoon me so I could just barely hear their conversation. It was almost like a lulling buzz in the background.
*later on
I woke up to find myself in our gigantic bed (Illyrian wings were no joke) my face pressed into his chest. One of his hand cradled the back of my head while the other was wrapped around my waist. His wings were behind him, the warm blanket being enough for the night. Although it wasn't cold I still liked the feeling of the heavy weight of his wings draped over me. It felt like we were safe. Nothing could pull us apart.
I looked up at Azriel to see he was already awake. He smiled at me. A small dimple appearing in his cheek, his hazel eyes full of warmth. I kissed his cheek and then left a small kiss on his perfect lips.
"Your cute when you smile" I whispered to him. It was still night outside but because the curtain was left open I could just about make him out in the moonlight.
"And your gorgeous every single moment of the day" His voice was deep and full of tiredness. I reached up, my arm trying to get to his wing. He let it drop closer to me so I could gently pull it down onto me until it was draped over me like I wanted.
"Not too warm for you, sweetheart?" He asked rubbing his thumb up and down my bare skin, where my nightshirt had ridden up.
"No. Now go to sleep, shadow singer." I nuzzled back into his chest and let myself fall into a dreamless sleep.
#acotar#azriel imagine#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfiction#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader angst#azriel x reader fluff#azriel shadowsinger x reader#azriel spymaster#azriel x oc#azriel x y/n#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acomaf#nesta#nesta archeron#nesta acotar#nessian#feyre#feysand#morrigan#mor acotar#nesta x cassian#rhysand#feyre archeron
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All My Dreaming
Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.
Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader
A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby!
WC: 16.1k ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things.
Part 2
Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it.
Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo.
The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour.
When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous.
His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return.
It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into.
You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed.
Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal.
You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee.
You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit. But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.
Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.”
Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone.
“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure.
He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else.
“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.”
Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.
You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove.
You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully.
As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire.
Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.”
“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone.
You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked..
You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.
He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it.
“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift.
You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief.
“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes.
He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.
“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.
He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance.
You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment.
Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed.
“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.
Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon.
In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate.
Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room.
“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.
He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees.
Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.
“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction.
You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension.
“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.
“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel.
You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’
He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again.
“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.
“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.” He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on.
“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind.
Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind.
“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.”
You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way.
“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.
Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.
He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”
Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.
You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you.
“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment.
Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up.
That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive.
When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily.
Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features.
You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed.
Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness.
Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.
Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.
Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight.
When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”
This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple.
When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up.
On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here.
You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed.
As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose.
“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”
“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred.
Shit.
“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.
Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky.
You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed.
The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead.
It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.
He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.
You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting.
“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit.
He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared.
You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand?
“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles.
You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt.
“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head.
“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.
Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently.
The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming.
You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound.
“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.
He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago.
You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate.
Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you.
Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode.
He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian.
As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded.
They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try.
As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you.
Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives.
They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens.
As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook.
“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”
Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him.
Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!”
“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.
“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.
“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered.
Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.”
‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.
Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.
Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back.
“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home.
Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body.
You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.
Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you.
You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.”
He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically.
“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now.
“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.”
Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly.
“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained.
He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently.
Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own.
He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.”
The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life.
Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male.
You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time.
Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.”
You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit. You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.
You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.
“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly.
“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action.
“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee.
“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly.
You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off.
In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.
“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.”
You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading.
“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin.
“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth.
“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven.
Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier.
You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.”
You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed.
“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.”
Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile.
Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.
The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested.
He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you.
He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love.
“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.”
You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core.
You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh.
He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”
Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations.
“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh.
His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself.
Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back.
He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch.
“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off.
His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up.
Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed.
“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest.
“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.
“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.
“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked.
You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder.
He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there.
The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt.
Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.
You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest.
Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours.
You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf.
“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.
“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm.
You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard.
He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.”
You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked.
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Overwritten – Part 7
Azriel x Reader
Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.
Warnings: Violence
Words: 1,696
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Part 7 ∇
There are some blows that hit so hard they can be heard before they are felt.
This was exactly that. Azriel’s punch landed on the left of Cassian’s jaw, sending the General stumbling to the side, the pain initially blocked by shock. Before he could process the strike, Azriel had grasped his shoulder and swung a low fist to his abdomen, sending Cassian airborne before landing on his back as his wings scraped the ground.
Cassian’s eyes were wide as he spat the blood that drew inside his swelling cheek. “What the fuck?!”
Azriel’s gaze was fixed on his brother with a cold stare, his eyes blackened with rage. His chest moved with fuming breaths as he waited for Cassian to stand – he would not attack while he was down. Despite his rage, Azriel’s shadows stayed close, unwilling to fight this on his behalf.
“Get up,” he snarled, shaking his hand to rid of the pain the strike had caused him, preparing for another blow.
Cassian stayed on the ground, sitting up on his arms as he scowled at his brother. “The fuck I will. What in Mother’s name is your problem?”
“You dare fly my mate.” Azriel’s voice was laced with ice, his nose scrunched with disgust. Cassian’s face scrunched too, before realisation set in.
“Az, I offered to get her out of the house for a while,” he defended, raising his palms as he explained.
“You had no place,” Azriel growled, his hands now locked in fists that shook at his sides. “She is my mate.”
“Yeah, don't I know it buddy. You've made that very clear.” Cassian stood slowly, his stance angled – not aggressive, but not backing down either.
A warning rumble sounded from Azriel’s chest.
“Listen, brother. It had nothing to do–”
Azriel moved so fast that Cassian was once again unable to dodge the uppercut that knocked his jaw to the skies. Grunting in pain, Cassian staggered back, a curse slipping from him as he spat out more blood. “Are you really going to make me do this?” he questioned the Shadowsinger.
Azriel remained silent, staring, his only movement the heavy pants that left his chest.
“Seems like you need this then, hey brother,” Cassian said with a light hearted chuckle that made Azriel see red. Shaking his long locks, Cassian charged for his brother, launching the most aggressive fight they had ever had.
It was a flurry of wings and limbs, the both of them skilled in their own ways. Azriel’s speed was often at heads with Cassian’s strength, however the rage that consumed the Shadowsinger offered an extra bite to the blows that he landed. And while the strikes were few from many, it was that same rage that blinded Azriel from his usual thought-out tactics, which Cassian played to his advantage.
“You’re not thinking clearly brother,” Cassian chuffed, ducking below an incoming right-hook, earning a frustrated grunt from the Shadowsinger.
“Shut up and fight,” was Azriel’s reply.
“I’d rather we talk it out,” Cassian said, his tone laced with a hint of teasing.
Azriel seethed, his focus narrowing before kicking his legs low, aiming to clip his brother below the knees. Cassian dodged the move effortlessly, only adding to Azriel’s anger.
“It meant nothing Azriel, surely you know that.”
“Flying my mate is not nothing,” Azriel spat, throwing himself for Cassian’s abdomen, wrapping his arms around the General as they both speared to the ground.
The two males fought and wrestled, sounding a series of grunts and roars between them. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Mor discovered the pair, the drapes of her red dress clutched in her hand as she sprinted towards them.
“Azriel! Cassian! What the fuck is going on?”
Azriel ignored the female he had previously felt so much for, no longer did Mor hold any sway over him. Blinded by a surge of possessive hormone-fueled rage, he kept his focus on Cassian – eager to fight for his mate whichever way he could.
“Don’t worry Mor,” Cassian panted, grinning through bloody teeth. “Azriel’s just working out his pent-up emotions, aren’t you brother?”
That earned him a sequence of blows to the face from the Shadowsinger. “Worth it,” Cassian huffed with humour, his eye now blackening as blood poured from his nose.
“Azriel, stop it!” Mor yelled, trying to pry him from where he had now pinned Cassian.
Swirls of night suddenly filled the air as Rhys winnowed in, having heard Mor’s call for help mind to mind.
“Get off him Azriel,” he ordered, waiting for his Spymaster to obey. His order went ignored, and Rhys audibly sighed before catching Azriel’s fists and hauling at his shoulders. Azriel fought back, shaking off Rhys’s hold, unable to overcome his fixation on punishing Cassian.
But Rhys reached again, his voice low and laced with power. “I said get off him. That’s an order.”
Azriel’s body went rigid in response as he let out a frustrated growl. There was no fighting against Rhys’s power. He stood then, turning to face his High Lord with the same look of angst and disgust. Mor rushed to Cassian, propping his arm over her shoulder to help him stand. Cassian had seen worse, but it was clear he had let Azriel land more blows than necessary, letting him use him as a much-needed punching bag.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rhys fumed, his own violet eyes of equal darkness to Azriel’s.
“He flew my mate–“
“I know what he did. None of it is close to a means for you to attack–”
“She is not his to indulge!”
“He did it for her health, Azriel!“ Rhysand sighed now, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know it is difficult to watch us attend to Y/N–”
Azriel interrupted with a scoff. “Difficult? You think it is merely difficult? You ask the impossible of me Rhys!” Azriel pointed a finger at the High Lord, his hand shaking in suppressed rage. Rhys blinked back at him – never had his brother accused him in such a way.
“You say you know what’s best for Y/N, but she is my mate. I know her inside and out, better than any of you ever could. I hear her beckon me, call me through our bond, day and night. Whether she knows it or not, she needs me.”
Azriel’s family watched as his chest heaved in passionate, desperate breaths. “You've held me outcast for too long. Its time. She needs me. And I-I, I need her.”
The group was silent, Azriel’s words hanging in the air. None of them had realised just how much he was hurting, and a mutual guilt settled across the three.
“Please, let me see her. Awake this time.” Azriel’s tone had changed now, hazel eyes swirled with desperation and passion – a mates plea. Rhys was silent as he took in Azriel – his brother hurting so deeply, and was not far from begging. He had never meant to cause Azriel pain, let alone this much. Casting a look to Mor who offered a quick nod back, he sighed.
“Alright Az,” he said tightly. “Should she agree to it.”
————
Feyre was in front of you, her voice a muted melody of nonsense, impossible to hear over the thunder of your own heart.
There, on the other side of that door, was Azriel. And he wanted to see you.
It was as if there were two parts to your being, one that sparked and came to life at the mere mention of his proximity, begging you to join him, tugging at the tether of his direction as if the only place you could ever feel content was right by his side.
But that other part of you, the unmistakable feeling of dread, panic, fear-provoked adrenaline so thick you could feel it course through your veins – that part was just as impossible to ignore. Treatment was yet to unravel the wedge Hybern had driven between you and your mate, and while you knew that logically, there was no telling with how you were going to react. Hurting your family, including Azriel, was what you feared most.
“We’ll be right by your side, and you can leave at any moment you’d like,” Feyre’s soft voice became clearer now, your vision focusing on her gentle face in front of you. You blinked, trying your hardest to concentrate as she explained what would happen if you chose to enter the library and speak with your mate.
“What if I switch again?” Your voice was small, childlike.
“We’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”
“But I’ve hurt so many of you in the past.”
“Those were mistakes, we were learning then. Things are different now. No harm will come to you or anyone else in that room, I promise.”
You nodded, trusting her every word. Feyre would sit by your side, and Rhys by Azriel’s, that way there was enough magic to intervene if things went wrong.
Running shaky hands down your sweater, you suddenly felt self conscious. What kind of state were you in to see you mate for the first time in months? What would you say? What would he say?
“Don’t fret,” Feyre smiled at you. “You always look beautiful, and Azriel would never think otherwise.”
“I’m not really sure what to say to him.”
“You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. But be honest with yourself, don’t feel the need to be pleasant or filter things for anyone else benefit. You deserve that, Y/N.”
You smiled tightly back at your High Lady. “It’s hard to believe you’re not nearly as old as the rest of us,” you joked, perhaps your first in many months.
Feyre’s cheeks blushed lightly as she laughed. “You’re too kind.”
Turning to face the door, you drew a long breath and squared your shoulders. I will not snap. I will not shift. I will not hurt anyone, no matter how scared I am. Repeating the sentence over and over in your head, you turned the handle of the door, entering the library to meet your mate.
————
Part 8 >>>
AN: Another day, another part to this series – hope you enjoyed!! Thank you with all my heart for the support so far, it means more than you could know!! 💕 Comment if you’d like to join the tag list 🌙 MWA
Tag list: @hyacinthoideshispanica @kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468 @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars @lucyysthings @valeridarkness @alw-aysjanuary @brekkershadowsinger @ladygloucester @ciannemar83 @wiitchkiller @xtreme-shipper @thorslonglocks @im-bili @kexrtiz @shadowcrowsworld @lillithathecat @marina468 @aroseinvelaris @cynicalpotato95 @goldentournesol @maddithefangirl @holywolfsstuff @banasheefan56 @banasheefan56 @im-bili @v1olentdelights @cardanenthusiast @mandarin-lmao @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @ttreader @shadowsingersmate24 @auggiesolovey @percyjacksonspeen @starxqt @reiincarnatiion @thefandomplace @highladyofillyria @ariels-thingamabobs @optimisticbabydreamer @feyretopia @marina468 @kingshitonly @v1olentdelights @123345566 @reiincarnatiion @bookish-dream @azzydaddy @venussdovess @kristeristerin @xtreme-shipper
#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#jealous azriel#azriel jealous#cassian acotar#rhysand#rhysand and feyre#acotar angst#acotar reader insert#azriel fanfic#azriel fan fic#Azriel series#shadowsinger x reader#acotar brainwashed#azriel x brainwashed reader#azriel x cassian fight#acotar fight#inner circle#sarah j maas#mating bond
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the house (2)
hi guys! i felt so inspired that i was able to write part 2 soon and that's a very rare thing for me. thank you so much for all your comments and notes! they made me very happy. see you in the next one!
summary: Azriel wasn't gonna give in so easily with Rhysand, but he had to do everything he could to ensure his mate's well-being
pairing: azriel x f!reader
words: +3.5k
warnings: bad words and fights and angst and a lot of anger. also English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!
part 1: the cliff
part 3: the court
part 4: the routine
“... what the fuck is wrong with me? No, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Az, I had no idea-”
“What does that fucking power works for if you're not gonna use it right?”
Cassian stood back from the commotion, with Nesta and Mor on either side of him watching from head to head as words crossed. Azriel was raising his voice and snarling at his own High Lord, and Cassian was almost surprised to see the way Rhys only dropped his shoulders, looking at his brother with sunken eyes as he claimed him. He had no intention of defending himself, Cassian could almost feel how embarrassed and remorseful Rhys was from a distance.
Azriel had a right to be angry, everyone knew that. And no one would stand in the way (unless the situation turned violent) because they understood the lengths you could go to just to safeguard your mate's well-being. Rhys would do it for Feyre. Cassian would do it for Nesta. Cassian always believed that this was how he would see Azriel defend his mate, right when he found her, and he was grateful that Rhys understood that his cries came from beyond rage and anger. There was anguish there, pain, guilt… Cassian had never seen Azriel so upset.
Returning to the Town House was torturous. Azriel wouldn't leave his mate's side and wouldn't allow any of his brothers to get close either, but she wasn't willing to go to a place she didn't know at all either, even if her mate accompanied her. Cassian had to watch his friend be more cautious and careful than ever with someone he never thought he had to be: with himself and Rhys. The sight was bleak as Azriel's shadows swirled around him and his mate, almost as if erecting a wall between the four of them. The looks Azriel sent them were like daggers and just by sharing a glance they knew that this was something the Shadowsinger wasn't going to overcome out of thin air, even if hundreds of years of friendship gave him the confidence to do so.
Azriel had to make a promise with her to convince her to leave, because he wasn't willing to let her disappear from his sight and she wasn't willing to just go with them for the sake of it, when one of the men in front of her was the one who pushed her off the cliff.
Cassian noticed several times Azriel watching the tattoo with crystallized eyes. Beyond everything, the hostile and distrustful context of the whole situation caused him pain.
Arriving at the Town House, they were all assembled. Without wondering too much without Rhys having spoken to Feyre (which he surely had), Cassian ran into the kitchen where Nesta was with her sisters and enveloped his mate in a tight embrace. Within seconds he heard movement around him and knew Rhys had done the same. Neither of them would ever be able to forgive each other for what had happened, if Azriel ever forgave them first.
“Az, I'm truly sorry,” Rhys stood behind his desk, the only thing that allowed him distance from a heated Azriel, besides Feyre's presence which the Shadowsinger respected even within his rage. “I was careless with the inmates. And you're right, it was easier for me to have simply looked inside her head. It had been a long time coming and I think I became confident of the reality of the situation, that whenever I saw inside them I knew what they were. I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry, brother.”
“Your apologies are worthless,” Azriel spat, his face almost red from the way he was trying to contain his emotions and his hands resting on the table. Rhys lowered his head in front of him, running his hands over his face. “How are you going to fix with your words what for years broke under your nose? How can I come to look at you with respect when my mate is terrified to see you?”
Cassian felt Nesta's hands wrap around his right arm and he lowered to look at her questioningly. She had reserved her comments from the moment Cassian had told the two sisters what had happened. Feyre had escorted Rhys to his office after their effusive hug and Cassian had stayed with Nesta and Elain in the kitchen, talking. With Elain it had been a little easier, her face looked mortified and she had run after Rhys and Feyre barely understood what had happened.
Nesta… she tried not to show what she was thinking, but Cassian knew there was something that made her feel upset and insecure.
Cassian tugged at the bond, trying to get her attention and Nesta had to drag her gaze from Azriel to look at her mate. Cassian felt the air rush out of his chest when he noticed the tears under her eyes. He didn't waste a second in leading her out of the room, moving into the giant living room in complete darkness, despite it being barely noon. The maroon curtains lent a more somber look to the situation.
“What's wrong?”
Nesta closed her eyes as Cassian's hands cradled her face, letting out a pair of tears that furrowed the border with her cheeks. A ragged breath left her and Cassian felt the agony of her nervousness shake his body.
“I had already seen her,” she whispered, her eyelids tightening. Cassian frowned, but didn't interrupt her when she came up for air again. “I once accompanied Rhysand and Feyre to the camp. Feyre had told me that Rhysand had some business to take care of on the mountain. I heard… I heard her voice…”
Cassian pulled his mate closer by the shoulders, pressing her against his chest as her voice broke off.
“I heard her voice begging Rhysand to believe her,” Nesta continued, trying to still the sobs that were born in the ache in her chest. Cassian shared the sentiment, the end of the bond in his chest twisting with his mate's wailing. “She was so scared…”
Nesta wrapped her arms around Cassian's torso, sinking her face into her mate's neck. Cassian moved from side to side, trying to send warm sensations through the bond, trying to calm her down a bit.
Nesta's revelation left Cassian almost frozen. The last time Rhys had gone to the mountain had been ten years ago.
-
Azriel hadn't expected that to be the way he would meet his mate, much less would he have expected her to be terrified to be around his brothers and almost himself and, of course, much, much less had he expected to hold so much resentment against Rhysand.
His mate hadn't left the room Azriel had left her in, as far away from the others' rooms as possible. With the tattoo burning his skin, Azriel had not only promised her that she would be safe in the Town House, but she had also made him promise that her interactions with his brothers would be next to none. With the watchful eyes of his friends from centuries ago upon his back, Azriel agreed. He had to make sure to provide for his mate's physical and mental health, especially when he knew that the time she had spent with the Ilyrian soldiers had to have been traumatizing.
And of course, there was also the issue of the bond.
His mate couldn't or didn't know how to control the flow of emotions that traveled through the bond and Azriel felt it all. At the moment she was relaxed, calm inside the room away from everyone, but Azriel was losing his temper in the living room. His friends were gone, they had left him a moment alone when he had finished yelling at Rhysand, as he tried to control his emotions and those of her mate, who had surely been listening to everything and so was sending distressing sensations through the bond.
But even with all that space to himself he still felt like he couldn't breathe.
He didn't know how things were going to be from now on. The mere thought terrified him to the bone. He didn't know how he would deal with the fact that he wanted and was dying to be near his mate, to hold her, to comfort her, to support her, to protect her just a step away from him, but he couldn't, at least for now. The need consumed him and tormented him. Staying behind had never been an option, especially if it was his mate, but what could he do if that was what she wanted? He would have to get used to the pain, the emptiness he already felt in his life even though it had barely been half a day since he had found her.
Ah, Azriel didn't know how much guilt and pain he could carry until his knees failed.
He closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, laying his head back on the couch, his face settled in the direction of the ceiling. He tried to relax his muscles, stiff from the tension and stress, from the speed with which everything had happened in the last few hours. Maybe then he could get some sleep. He didn't know how it would be now that he had found his mate.
Azriel was beginning to feel his body going numb, the inattention to his senses and the lightness of his limbs, when a pair of light footsteps entered the room. They would've gone unnoticed by anyone, but not him. He lifted his head attending to the sound, finding you on your feet, frozen, all around the entrance to the living room, hands clasped together twitching in nervousness.
Azriel didn't know what to do. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. But he also felt the fear and nervousness coursing through the bond from the other end. He tried to send calm through his end, hoping that and the shadows crowding at her feet, which hadn't left her since they found her, would allow her to relax a bit.
“I'm sorry… for interrupting,” you looked down and Azriel had to stifle the urge that went through his body to get up and go running to your side. His head filled with the memories of his dream, cruelly comparing the happiness that was in them and the sadness that now engulfed you. Your voice was barely a whisper.
“It's okay,” Azriel stood up carefully and quietly, catching your attention. From the way you brought your hands to your chest, still clasped together, Azriel made no attempt to move closer.
“I need to ask you something,” you fought with the words until you finally told him and a current of panic ran through the bond, so strong that Azriel had to hold back the grimace on his face.
“Whatever you need.”
You looked at him again and Azriel felt something in his chest blossom. He sent that feeling through the bond, hoping it would counteract the anxiety on your end, but only received a frown in response.
“I need to contact my parents,” you asked, shifting your feet a little closer and Azriel quickly caught the pleading expression you were trying poorly to hide.
“Sure. Where are they? I can take them a letter, if you want,” Azriel offered, but your reply wasn't welcome as a spasm of pain ran through his chest.
“No… I-I-I don't want that,” you shook your head, lowering your head. The way you moved your intertwined fingers made him question how much courage you'd had to muster to come out of your room and ask him that. You must've wanted it badly. Surely it was all you could think about for all the years you were on the mountain. Azriel moved his hand from side to side across his chest, through the fabrics of his clothing.
“We'll do what you want, then. Tell me where they are.”
“Adriata,” you whispered, eyes glittering.
Azriel choked. Of course, former prisoner of the Summer Court. How would he get across the border if he had a blood ruby in his desk drawer? Rhysand and he were still mortal enemies of the Summer Court.
“And how do you want to contact them?”
“I want to go back.”
“What?” he coughed, his body tensing and the calm evaporating from his body in a second. Surprise narrowly prevented him from noticing your crystallized eyes.
“Azriel,” you implored, taking long strides towards him, frozen in place, electricity coursing through his veins from the way you said his name. “I don't even know how long it's been since I last saw them. Please, please. That was all I've ever wanted since I was captured. I just want to see them and let them know I'm okay. Please.”
Azriel stood there on his feet in front of you, barely acknowledging the fact that you had moved so close to him that from just raising a hand he could run down your cheeks. Your request had torn at his chest and he was sure he hadn't been able to keep some of that emotion from traveling through the bond, because now you looked more disgruntled and nervous than before. Now you wanted to… leave? And you were asking him to let you do it, as if he had any right to keep you here, as if you owed him anything?
The Shadowsinger clasped his hands at his sides, trying to contain his emotions behind the line, trying to keep them from affecting you too much. He had never felt such pain, not even something he could imagine, nothing that had ever hurt him before could compare to the pain of that moment. He hadn't had a moment with her and he had to let her go already.
“You want to go back… to Summer Court,” Azriel murmured, trying to confirm the obvious, as if you repeating it made it more real, as if he needed it to be sure.
“Yes,” you shook your head in assent and Azriel's heart crinkled as he noticed your desperation. Of course that would be the first thing you would want to do, how could he have been so selfish as to not even consider it before? How could he not have suggested it from before?
“You… I don't… I mean-”
“Azriel,” you took another step, hesitant, he could tell by your body language, but trying to keep the assurance on your face. “I need to see them. Please.”
“All right. Just… wait,” Azriel moved to the side, trying to clear his mind and think rationally even though your closeness was suffocating him. “There's something you should know.”
“I know the Night Court and the Summer Court aren't on good terms,” you shook your head, as if to tell Azriel that it was a silly problem that should have no bearing on your return.
“Yes, but that's not all,” moving his hands away from his already sufficiently tousled hair, Azriel looked at you in anguish. “If you go back to Summer Court now, I don't think you'll be able to come back again.”
You frowned at him, tilting your head in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Rhysand has held the Summer spies captive for…. many, many years. Tarquin has tried to negotiate their release, but Rhysand is not open to negotiating with him, or even seeing him again,” Azriel tried to explain, not overlooking the way you flinched when he mentioned the high lord's name. “If you leave now… If your parents declared you missing… Tarquin's not going to let you go out again. And they won't let me in either because the moment they see me they'll try to kill me.”
The silence that followed his words was agonizing. Azriel was terribly frightened. It didn't calm him to know that the doubt in your eyes was minimal; the desire to see your parents again was greater than the possibility of never seeing your mate again. The mere thought made him shudder, but if that was the case, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing.
“Why… why wouldn't my High Lord let me come back?”
“Fifteen years ago the high lord forbade his people to return to the Night Court. Fifteen years ago no person from the Summer Court has gone beyond the mountains of Day.”
“Fifteen years?” you stammered, an expression of incredulous surprise taking over your face. “I'd been there for more than fifteen years?”
Azriel halted his movements, barely noticing how you succumbed to gravity and plopped down on the couch where he had been a couple of minutes earlier in complete stupefaction.
“Y/N, I'm really sorry-”
“I can't stay here,” you looked at him again, shaking your head in refusal and sending a current of panic through the bond. “I don't want to. I need… I need to see my parents. I want to be with them.”
Azriel shuddered at the desperation he saw in your eyes. He wasn't going to deny you that, ever. But he couldn't deny that he wanted to show resistance because, if you left right then, when would he ever see you again? They wouldn't even have time to talk about the elephant in the room, but, at the same time, it didn't seem like the most important conversation at the moment.
Azriel wanted to cry.
“It's okay. Don't worry. Of course you'll go see them,” he finally spoke, facing the reality he would have to live in from now on.
“Thank you,” you cried and Azriel felt each tear pierce his heart, even though the feeling of relief reached all the way to his chest, your relief, mixed with his hopelessness. “But, you… you won't be able to go.”
“No.”
“We won't be able to see each other.”
“No,” Azriel exhaled sharply and shook his head slightly. “But I'll work it out. Somehow.”
“You can't go near there. Tarquin would hurt you!”
Azriel felt the worry reach from the other end of the bond to his chest and was a little glad to know that you at least cared about him the same way he cared about you.
“I'll make an agreement. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it. I promise.”
You nodded in his direction, convinced of his words, convinced of his shaky assurance and confidence.
“And you… will you accompany me?”
You frowned when he shook his head, but quickly added, thinking he'd be mad and damned if he'd let you spend the return trip all alone after all you'd been through, “I know a faster way to travel.”
“Okay,” you nodded, calm finally ruling in your body. “So when do we leave?”
-
Everyone in the house had gathered to receive Azriel's announcement and things were breaking down just as he expected.
No one had said anything for several minutes after the Shadowsinger announced that he would be going to the Summer Court with you, to return you to where you belonged, to your true home.
“I'll do it,” Mor was the first to speak, to Azriel's right, watching him confidently. She turned to look at Rhysand, who hadn't looked up since his brother finished speaking, deep in thought with a hand on his chin. “I'll request a meeting with him.”
Cassian stirred at Azriel's left side, sweeping his gaze over everyone present. He could almost imagine what was going through his friend's head, helpless at not being able to join him, just as it must've been going through Rhysand's mind. Azriel knew the only reason his High Lord was still thinking was that. If it was risky for the Shadowsinger to go, it would be worse if it was both of them.
“I can go too,” Feyre spoke to Rhysand's right and the aforementioned raised his head in a second, beginning to shake his head in denial.
“For no reason should you ever step near that Court again,” Rhysand stood up, resting his hands on the desk and leaning towards his mate. His face contracted, contrasting with Feyre's warm gaze.
“Rhys, don't you think it's time to get this over with?” Feyre reached up to cradle his mate's face, Rhysand leaning in almost on instinct, betrayed by his senses.
“You want me to overlook so easily what he did to you?” the High Lord frowned, closing his eyes under Feyre's gentle touch.
“Not easily, Rhys. It's been fifty years.”
“You know fifty years is nothing to us,” Rhysand snorted, straightening his back.
The Shadowsinger clicked his tongue.
“It was too much for Y/N.”
No one in the room had to look twice to know that Azriel was tense, hands clasped behind his back. Rhysand turned to see him, his wary look of apology over his friend's stony expression.
“You know I didn't come here to ask your permission, Rhysand,” Azriel almost spat, dragging the words out between his teeth.
Mor shuddered beside him, following Cassian's gaze. In so many centuries, there had obviously been trouble between the Inner Circle for some time, but in this moment it felt different, deeper and more painful. The anger and rancor in Azriel's gaze was unmatched and to earn that facet of the Shadowsinger you really had to be a son of a bitch. Mor hoped she was wrong.
“It could be dangerous for you,” Rhysand warned and Azriel had to stifle a wry chuckle. The way his High Lord's features contorted gave him to understand that he had understood the twitch in his muscles all too well.
“I don't care what you think,” Azriel bellowed, clasping his hands at his sides. “I'll go with her, and since Mor offered I'd greatly appreciate it if she'd accompany us.”
Rhysand didn't respond, settling for sharing a glance with his brother, trying to reach a part of him that was minimally willing to forgive him. Azriel sensed his intrusion and angrily erected a wall of obsidian in his mind, miles away, forcibly pulling Rhysand out of his head. The aforementioned barely staggered to his feet.
“Fine, but I'd like to be kept informed of everything that happens,” Rhysand nodded looking at Mor, who barely returned the gesture and left the office to manage the meeting as soon as possible.
When the doors rattled and the room fell silent again, Rhysand looked at Azriel pleadingly.
“Az-”
“If that's all.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, Azriel turned on his heels and stormed off. Cassian followed close behind, barely sending a glance at his high lord, his brother, saying with his gaze how sorry he was that it had all happened and ended like this.
#azriel x you#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#acotar#acotar fanfiction#rhysand acotar#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar series
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Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader
Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?
Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.
Word count: 7k.
Warnings: Some injury detail.
“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”
Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.
Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.
Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.
“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”
“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”
“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”
“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”
“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.
He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.
Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.
He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.
Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?
He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.
“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”
Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”
“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”
“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”
“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”
“I’m not saying that, Az—”
“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”
“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”
“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”
“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”
Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.
He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.
And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”
“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”
Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”
“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”
Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.
“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”
As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”
“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”
That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.
Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”
Az says again, “Fuck you.”
Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”
“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.
“Where are you going?” Az asks.
“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”
He has no idea how right he is.
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It starts with the fire going out. Always.
The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.
You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.
Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.
Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.
Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.
But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.
“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.
“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”
It.
“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”
“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”
You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.
Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”
The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”
You do not move.
“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”
They laugh at that.
You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”
He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.
“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”
If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.
“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”
“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”
There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.
“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”
You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.
You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.
You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.
“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”
And then they begin hacking at your wings.
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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.
You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.
The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.
“Will she live?” Your father asks.
“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”
“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”
“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”
“I will do with my child as I see fit.”
“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”
Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”
“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”
Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.
Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”
No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.
You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.
Bury the body.
Bury the body.
Bury the—
Your body lurches up.
Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.
The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.
They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.
You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.
“You were shouting in your sleep again.”
You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.
“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”
“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”
“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”
Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.
The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.
“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”
Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—
“I’m going, I’m going.”
The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.
Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.
Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”
“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”
“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”
She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.
“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”
“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”
She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”
You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.
Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.
And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.
But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.
You need to be away from them. To be on your own.
“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”
The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”
“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”
“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”
“Of course I will.” No.
She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.
But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.
“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”
“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”
She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.
You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.
You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.
So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.
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Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.
The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.
He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—
“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”
Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.
Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”
Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.
The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.
See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.
Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.
It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.
It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.
Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.
“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”
Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”
There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”
At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.
“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”
“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.
It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.
But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.
Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”
No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.
He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”
He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.
Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”
“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.
Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”
“Listen, Cassian—”
“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”
All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.
All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.
But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.
She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.
“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”
Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.
Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.
“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”
Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”
Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.
“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”
“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.
Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.
“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”
True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.
She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.
So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?
This is fucking ridiculous.
She can’t be left to live like this.
“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”
Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.
Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”
Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.
“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”
Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”
“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”
The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.
But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.
“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.
She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.
“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”
Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”
“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”
Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.
But Az seems oblivious.
“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”
“She wouldn’t—”
“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.
Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”
Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”
Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”
“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”
“Cassian, that is enough—”
“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”
Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.
“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.
He barks a laugh. “No chance.”
“Kaeda just said she’d help—”
“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”
Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—
“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”
Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”
“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.
Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”
Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.
Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.
And then there were two.
Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.
“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”
A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”
“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”
Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.
“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”
She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.
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This is starting to feel like a bad idea.
It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.
This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.
You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.
And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?
These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.
You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.
You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.
No.
You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—
But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.
“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”
If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”
“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”
But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.
“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.
But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.
Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”
“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.
“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”
You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”
“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”
You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”
“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”
“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”
He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”
“No.”
“What? Why?”
“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”
“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”
“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”
You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”
“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”
“Why?”
“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”
It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.
Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”
“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”
Azriel stops short. Stares at you.
You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.
You’re not sure you can do that anymore.
Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”
“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”
Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.
You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.
And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.
“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”
You fold your arms. “Fine.”
“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”
“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”
“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”
You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.
So you say nothing. You just shrug again.
He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.
You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.
And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”
He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.
And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.
azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd
#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel fic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#acotar x reader#acotar writing#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar series#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#reader insert#cassian#rhysand#batboys#illyrians
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If It All Fell (3)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Word count: 3.1k
Warnings: Angst (obvi)
a/n: It's about to reallyyyy get started in the next part (I promise there will be fluff in this fic eventually). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with this series ❤️❤️ I love writing it!!
Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 4 ☼
Series Masterlist
~~
Mor’s fingers slid along book spines as she circled the room. A fire crackled and popped beneath the mantle, providing ambiance as the blonde retold another story of your life. You, unsure how to move about the space, remained seated in a rather large chair with an uncomfortably low back.
“Gods, you wouldn’t talk to Rhys for a week. He was beside himself,” she laughed, shaking her head in faint fondness. “You refused to stay at the House out of pure spite. That’s when you and Azriel decided—”
She cut herself off, nearly tripping on the ornate rug under your chair.
“When Azriel and I decided what?” you probed.
Mor bit into her lip, taking a large breath. “That story is for another time.”
You hummed, hiding your frustration beneath a close-lipped grin.
A story for another time.
This was your story, and yet, there were so many pieces that weren’t making sense. There was so much being kept from you—you could feel it—but why? Why did Mor omit some things and freely speak of others? Why was the topic of Azriel so… taboo?
Your thoughts traveled back to the lunch yesterday, the way Azriel had abruptly vanished. He hadn’t been able to spend even an hour in your presence. The rest of the meal had been tense, with Cassian attempting to save your feelings by sending subtle jabs Azriel’s way and Mor shooting daggers at the swinging door.
Maybe you and Azriel were enemies? It certainly didn’t feel that way whenever he was around. Granted, you’d only seen him twice since waking up, but those two times weren’t filled with hostility or ire, were they?
Mor moved over to the window. You clenched the cushion of your chair between tense fingers.
Did Azriel not like you?
The thought sent daggers through your chest, which was odd, considering the man had only spoken about four words to you. But… he had to like you, didn’t he? When Mor spoke of your family, of your place in this court, she always included Azriel. He was always some part of the stories of your life.
But that didn’t mean the two of you were friends.
That didn’t mean he liked being around you.
Perhaps the Inner Circle was attempting to rewrite history—reform a bond between friends that had long been burned. Maybe the two of you had constant disagreements and fights and the rest of them were sick of it, using your lack of memories to drive you back together. That would certainly explain Azriel’s disappearance yesterday.
The conclusion ate away at you. It ate and ate until you were left feeling hollow. How could one person—a person you didn’t even know—be affecting you so much? There was a vast array of other problems you should be dwelling on.
“He doesn't like me very much, does he?”
You hadn’t meant to ask the question; the words had spilled out without permission.
Mor’s head jutted back in confusion, her mouth opening in the shape of a scoff. “Who?”
“Azriel,” you clarified, suddenly feeling so small in the large, confusing chair you sat in. “I know I lost my memory, but I still grasp context clues, Mor. You’re always hesitant to speak of him and he didn’t exactly seem overjoyed to be spending time with me yesterday. Listen—” you held your hand up, stopping Mor from giving you the excuses you could see welling up “—I don’t care, okay? I don’t care how bad it all sounds. I just want to know the truth. I can’t… I can’t even begin to figure this all out without the complete truth.”
The conflicted twist of Mor’s brow was glaringly apparent. She brought her fingers together at her waistline, fidgeting with them in what you assumed to be a nervous habit.
A lick of sympathy made you add, “Come on, it can’t be that bad, right? Whatever it is?”
A pause.
“I don’t know if I should be the one to explain this all to you,” Mor said, struggling over each word.
“It seems like no one else will.” You stood from your chair, ignoring the strange sense of loss from your departure. Did the rest of this room smell so much of cedar and night-kissed air? “Please, Mor. I’m so confused. I know more about myself, about you and I—you’ve done a wonderful job at that—but… I need to know everything. There’s a chance that I… a chance that I don’t get my memories back. I need to know who I am. Every part.”
You brought your hands up to grasp at Mor’s, pleading with her through your gaze. Your friend—she had become your friend—stared back at you with so much disparaged hope.
“You could still—”
“Please, Mor.”
You squeezed her fingers.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Y/n, Azriel—”
Something crashed, causing Mor to yank your hands back until you were secure behind her, her body acting as a shield between you and the door. There was another bang, a panicked voice, and then heavy footsteps. Your back pressed against the glass window, a chill sinking into your bones.
“—in her and Az’s reading room.”
The door slammed open not a moment later, Cassian bursting through in a frazzled state. He quickly scanned the room before landing on you and Mor. He locked eyes with the blonde, gave a quick nod, almost indistinguishable, and then turned his gaze to you.
“You want to meet our High Lord?”
~~
You could feel the tension the moment you stepped into the room.
Shadows battled for purchase around Azriel, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood opposite Rhysand. A desk separated them, filled with papers and books and notes. Neither made any indication that they had heard your group enter the office until Rhysand shot his eyes to the corner of his vision.
Azriel sighed, deep and menacing, as if Rhysand had insulted him gravely.
But he hadn’t said anything.
Rhysand’s jaw shifted to the side.
Cassian spoke, and it was then you realized his arm was pressing you back into the doorway. “Everything good in here?”
Mor stood ground behind you, keeping a firm hand on your back.
“Everything is fine,” Rhysand replied, steady voice matching his steady gaze on the male in front of him.
“You both sure? Because you told me to get her and I don’t know if having two Illyrians—”
“Everything is fine, Cassian,” Rhysand repeated. Some of the tension left him. With a sharp look in Azriel’s direction, he turned his attention toward you, craning his head to the side to catch you behind Cassian’s broad shoulders. “Hello, y/n.”
A nervous breath left you; whether it was from the hostility in the room or the greeting from the High Lord, you didn’t know. When Cassian nodded to Azriel and moved to the side, allowing you a full entrance, you glanced around quickly and caught the eyes of each person once, and then twice.
You licked your drying lips. “High Lord,” you responded, bending at the knee and lowering your gaze.
You had no recollection as to how long a bow was supposed to last. There was just some intrinsic part of you that knew the gesture was needed. Rhysand was a High Lord and you were… well, you weren’t sure what your title was—if you even had one. What your place was within this court.
No one had deigned to tell you.
When you rose after a seemingly acceptable amount of time, you were met with a still silence. All of the previous tension in the room melted away to create space for the stifling pause that permeated the air. Rhysand blinked at you, and then blinked again.
And then he had to cover his mouth because he began laughing.
A new emotion you could not remember experiencing invaded every inch of your body. It took you several seconds of enduring Rhysand’s muffled laugh before you recognized it as mortification. Pure, unadulterated mortification.
You clasped your hands together in front of your waist and took a harrowing breath in, trying to fight back the sudden burn in your nose.
Azriel, who had been watching you with careful grace since you stepped out from behind Cassian, turned his head with a sharp snap and growled at his High Lord. The leather around his fingers, placed there to keep his blazing siphons in place, groaned as his fists constricted once more.
Rhysand banished the argument before it began, attempting to wipe away the laugh with his fingers. “I’m—I’m sorry, y/n,” he chuckled, collecting himself further, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I know this is not funny for you, but… but I have never seen you do that a day in your life. And you have met several High Lords.”
You glanced around to gauge the reactions of the others in the room, finding Cassian with his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek to fight a smile and Mor staring up at the ceiling, in the midst of that same battle. Some of the embarrassment fled, but it was only replaced with confusion.
“I.. I’m sorry, I just assumed—because you’re a High Lord, I assumed your station required—”
Rhysand shook his head and gently corrected your rambling. “In a public space, perhaps. Maybe not in Velaris. And certainly not from someone I consider to be a sister.”
A sister.
Your family.
Right.
“I’m sure Helion would welcome the greeting,” Cassian huffed out from beside you, his words laced with an unrealized laugh. “Especially since the last time you greeted the High Lord of Day you told him to never again try baking in his entire immortal life. Not even a hello.”
Whatever discussion was occurring prior to your entrance was long forgotten. Even Azriel cracked a smile at that, and the room was filled with more than Rhysand’s laughs. The sounds, although new for you, had a smile tugging at your own lips. It was the first time since you woke up that no one was frowning at you, or fighting off tears, or storming away in bouts of shadows.
In fact, the feeling was so jarring you found yourself laughing as well—a tentative laugh, but one of the first that felt real.
It was a few more moments of joyous forgetting before silence took over again, but it was a lighter silence this time. Rhysand motioned to the chair facing his desk, and you took the seat, Cassian standing tall behind you, Mor positioning herself on the arm.
Azriel remained standing just a step away.
His face was void of a smile once again.
Rhysand cleared his throat. “It seems wrong to introduce myself now, but I must ask that you call me Rhys—or Rhysand, if I’ve really done something to piss you off. But not High Lord.” When you only nodded in agreement, he looked down at his desk, something lost in his eye. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you sooner. I’ve been researching—trying to figure this out.”
“I know. Thank you, Hi—Rhys,” you corrected. Cassian squeezed your shoulder from behind. A shadow followed the movement, slinking down from the Illyrian’s hand to loop around your neck.
“There isn’t much literature on witches, unfortunately. Not here. I’ve had Amren, another member of our court, looking through what she knows. She—well, she knows a great deal about many things that we don’t understand.” Rhysand sighed. Humor left him. “The consensus so far is that anything done by a witch can only be undone by that witch. Meaning—”
“Meaning there’s no hope unless we can find her,” you finished for him. “But—” your brows furrowed “—I’m the only one who saw her. Mor’s told me about that day. No one else saw the witch but me and now I…”
The burning in your nose was back, this time accompanied by the pounding in your head and the pressure in your chest. Both had become constants in your life. A sickening sort of panic twisted its way through you, leaving your breath unsteady even as Cassian ran a comforting hand over your shoulders and Mor offered silent encouragement at your side.
The only thing keeping your tears at bay were the shadows that had sought you out, their presence tickling your skin and serving as a distraction. That, and the azure glow continuously catching the corner of your eye as Azriel clenched and unclenched his fist.
“There are two avenues we can take,” Rhys offered with a kind, calm smile. “I am able to see into minds, oftentimes past what even you might be cognizant of. If you allow me to, I can enter your memories and take a look… maybe see the witch or something useful.”
You could make it worse.
You remembered bits and pieces from the day you were attacked, but some things were clearer than others. You had no idea who said what, but you knew someone had warned Rhys against this—someone had wrapped themselves around you and kept him far, far away.
“Would that hurt?” you asked.
A trembling exhale fell from the shadowsinger’s lips. You turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes forward.
“I would do my best to ensure that it didn’t,” Rhys comforted, his own eyes darting from Azriel and back to you. “At any sign of discomfort, I would stop. The goal would just be to see where your memories lay, if they were accessible at all. And to see if there was anything hidden about the witch.”
You nodded, trying to reconvene privately as you stared down at your fingers.
He would just take a look. Maybe it would somehow stop this incessant pounding in your head or maybe he would be able to see the memory of the witch. Maybe your memories were there, and you just didn’t have access to them yourself.
Maybe, maybe, maybe…
“If you aren’t comfortable with that—” Azriel’s low voice cut through your rampage of thoughts. “—we still have several people looking for information. As spymaster, I can assure you that all personnel available are on the hunt in Spring Court.”
You looked up, and Azriel met your eye for the first time since that disastrous lunch. Something felt like it fractured within you, a desolation so sharp it stung, but just as abruptly, that feeling washed away. It felt as if it seeped through some crack only to be reined in and slammed behind several locked doors.
You rubbed at your chest in an attempt to soothe the ache the feeling left. Azriel flickered his gaze down to watch your hand, clenched his jaw, and then looked back up. Softer this time—an apology you couldn’t comprehend.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “It means a lot that you are spending so much time on this. I—I can’t begin to thank you fully.”
Some of the conviction you had grown so used to seeing on Azriel’s face crumbled. He took a half-step towards you, a seemingly unconscious movement.
“Anything.” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. “Y/n, anything.”
It wasn't until Rhys spoke again that you were snapped out of the trance Azriel had locked you in. “I cannot guarantee I will see anything, if you choose to allow me in,” the High Lord explained. When you looked over at him, a sad smile lingered. “Which is why an alternative may be needed.”
“Of course,” you nodded, an encouragement for him to continue.
Rhys pushed his fingers together as they sat atop his desk. “We would take you to Day Court. Helion—the High Lord Cassian mentioned—is skilled in spell-cleaving. He may be able to undo some of what the witch did, if that’s possible. Or just give us a better read on the situation.”
Mor startled from beside you, “Rhys—”
“It wouldn’t be like last time,” Rhys placated, once again glancing toward the shadowsinger. “It wouldn’t.”
“Couldn’t Feyre—”
“She doesn’t have that much control over each of the court powers yet. We—we tried.”
“Feyre?” you asked, but the question was directed to no one and no one answered it.
“It’s a brilliant plan, isn’t it?” Azriel spit out, vitrole tainting each syllable. The heat rose in the room.
Cassian cut in this time, his voice a vibration at the back of your head. “Azriel, maybe—”
You couldn’t focus on anything they were saying as each line spoken left you with more questions, more pieces you couldn’t connect. Azriel was mad, Mor was concerned, Cassian was attempting to play the mediator. You had no idea what role Rhys filled, but you assumed it was the level-headed High Lord who only wanted the best for his court.
But Azriel was too livid and that emotion drowned out all the rest.
It wouldn’t be like last time.
What happened last time?
“I can’t go through that again,” Azriel stressed, his palm now flat on the wood of Rhys’s desk. “We can’t put her through that again.”
But it had sounded like the Night Court was friendly with Day; Cassian made it seem like you were close enough with Helion to make jabs at his cooking.
Put you through what?
“Maybe,” Cassian gritted out, his fingers kneading comfort into your arm. “This isn’t the best discussion to be having. Maybe we start with the first plan and if Rhys can’t find anything, we talk about it.”
Azriel leaned away from the desk, a sharp breath leaving his nose. The shadows that had swarmed around him calmed and flowed along the floor, stopping at your feet. A link between the two of you, it looked like—like a thread or a river or a bridge.
You expected Azriel to leave again, to storm off and avoid this entire situation. You wouldn’t exactly blame him; even with Cassian’s negotiation, there were still so many contingencies and unknowns. This wasn’t simple or clear cut, and it would take a lot of time—time perhaps not so willingly given.
But he didn’t.
Azriel bit back a snarl and pushed back into the shadows, but he didn’t leave.
You felt his eyes on you from the corner of the room, and something within you calmed while something else chafed.
Amidst a soft ringing in your ears, you caught Mor’s low grumble. “At least now we know why they were at each other’s throats when we walked in.”
Cassian scoffed out a disbelieving sound.
And you… you gave in to a few of the tears that had been burning behind your eyes, completely missing that the crack in your chest had returned. Completely missing that it was the cause—emotions that weren't entirely yours influencing the dampness on your cheeks.
Part 4 ☼
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#acotar fanfiction#azriel angst#azriel#azriel fic
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forever, my love
pairing: Azriel x fem reader
word count: 4.3k
warnings: 18+, mentions of battle and war, references to depression, smut (fingering) but it's romantic, angst but also fluff.
summary: you and Azriel had seen many battles over the centuries but when something goes wrong and has a lasting impact on you, Az promises to take care of you.
a/n: thank you so much for the love on the first fic! here's another one! I promise next time I'll write something happier haha, suggestions are welcome! I hope you enjoy.
The cruel, unyielding symphony of battle swelled in you as you continued to swing your sword at the enemies in front of you. Grunts of pain and screams of frustration left your lips as you continued to carve a path through the soldiers in your way, desperately trying to hold the line as Cassian had commanded.
Your body moved automatically, thanks to the centuries of muscle memory drilled into you from the intense training and the many battlefields you had found yourself on during your long life. In recent decades, you may have taken a step back from helping to command the Night Court armies and turned your attention to training the next legion of warriors and aiding your spymaster in more covert missions. Still, your body would always remember the steps needed in battle. It would never shrink from charging head first.
Once, you had been told you were beautiful to watch in battle—second only to Cassian himself as you danced your way through enemy hordes. But now, as you cut through another bottleneck of soldiers, you could only focus on keeping yourself alive, so you were extremely exhausted.
Step, swing, push, slash, pivot, hit.
As you managed to gut the last soldier in front of you, you allowed yourself a small moment of reprieve to collect your thoughts and take a gulp of air. The sound of battle raged around you, and you could faintly see your friends and allies around you, diligently fighting for a future you had only just battled for a mere handful of years ago. You sent a pulse down that precious thread, tucked deep within your heart and nodded your head in relief when you felt a responding pulse from the male on the other end. Alive. He was still alive. That's all that mattered at the moment.
You heard a shout close beside you and watched an Illyrian soldier, who had been grounded due to semi-shredded wings, fight off a group of soldiers starting to swarm around him. Taking a deep breath, you sheathed your long blade and palmed the knives strapped to either thigh.
Winnow, slash. Winnow, stab. Winnow, swing. Your High Lady herself had taught you this particular move after you had seen her yourself face enemies from a different war, a different conflict. You kept the image of your friends smiling at Feyre as she had embarrassingly walked you through how she did it, blushing furiously at your instance in teaching you at the forefront of your mind, and you continued to dance to the sound of the battle's symphony.
That was the future you continued to fight for, and you were determined to protect it.
…
Your entire body heaved as you shoved your blade through the chest of the last soldier in front of you. The sounds of battle were quietening and dying out as the last of the enemy horde were tied up or killed.
A groan left your lips as you yanked your blade free and used the last of your power and strength to winnow to the edge of the battlefield. You stumbled as you landed, cursing yourself for letting your power drain so thoroughly during battle. Az would chastise you about that later. Speaking of which…
Where are you? You sent down the bond, waiting for the familiar calm voice to reach your mind. A frown fell on your face as the minutes stretched past, and you didn't hear a response from him.
Az?
You refused to panic just yet. While this was unusual, you knew the moments after a battle was the most crucial for a spymaster as he gathered up defeated enemies to spirit them away for interrogation. He was probably just busy, you reasoned with yourself.
But a small part of your brain also whispered that he always kept the precious channel between you both open and always responded when you called.
You trudged through the mud towards the huge fortress in front of you. It may have been dilapidated and crumbling, but it provided a place where Rhys could gather his allies and forces and not be constantly caked in dirt and mud from his war camp. Once, it had probably been beautiful, home to some illustrious High Fae family, but now it was home to tired soldiers and had clearly seen much better days.
Azriel. You tried again to reach your mate through the bond, your heart thundering louder in your chest when you didn't receive a response. This time, you stretched your consciousness along that bridge…and slammed into a cold stone wall on the other end. Panic began to claw up your throat, but you refused to give in. He was probably busy with Rhys or Cassian; you desperately tried to reason with yourself as you sheathed your heavy blade into the scabbard strapped to your back and walked up the stone steps to the bustling entrance of the fortress.
"Injured that way, please!" You heard the familiar voice of your High Lady directing her people from inside the entrance. She turned around, and you saw her face relax in relief as she spotted you, "Y/N. Oh, thank the cauldron, you're alright."
Feyre was wearing her Illyrian leathers, her hair windswept and looking just as tired as you felt. She walked towards you, and you hugged her tightly, grateful to see one of your dearest friends safe and sound. You gently manoeuvred around the bow strapped to her back as she hugged you back just as fiercely. Much to everyone's surprise and yours and Rhys' amusement after the war with Hybern Feyre had mastered the notoriously tough Illyrian bow - why anyone doubted her after her past in the human realm you were still confused by. You had seen her sweeping over the battlefield today and dispatching enemies, saving your life more times than you cared to admit. Her flying wasn't strong enough to join in with the Illyrian legions yet, but she had become invaluable on the battlefield once again.
"You looked awesome up there today." You both grinned at each other, warriors recognising each other, "where is everyone?"
"Amren and Mor are in the war chamber, exhausted but ok. Cassian was dropping off a soldier to the hospital wing."
"Az?"
"I thought he was with you?" A quick shake of your head had her face falling, "Ok, he's probably busy with clean up - let me see if Rhys can reach him."
"Thank you," you whispered, and she squeezed your shoulder and kissed your cheek before going back to directing people coming through the entrance.
You jumped as you felt a bigger, wider hand fall on your shoulder but relaxed when you turned to see Cassian grinning down at you. Not the Illyrian warrior you were desperate to see but still a fucking welcome sight.
"You saved our asses out there, as usual, tiny angry one." You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you hundreds of years ago as you let him pull you into a bone-crushing hug.
"Glad to see you survived another battle, General, and without getting yourself torn to shreds."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up you." He teased as he gently pushed your shoulder. You may be Az's right-hand woman with his spy network now, but you were Cassian's second in command first. A formidable warrior whose name struck fear into your enemy's hearts, renowned for being utterly ruthless in combat and undefeated. How long ago it now felt when you and Cassian had first led the armies in that war hundreds of years ago.
"Have you seen Az?" You hated how quiet your voice sounded, but you struggled to keep the panic at bay.
"No," Cass frowned, "is he still out there?"
"I don't know, I can't reach him." You whispered, and immediately you felt Cassian shift, ready to head back out there and find his brother - could see the panic that settled in his eyes at the thought of finding him dead on the battlefield.
"Let's not panic yet. We'll go find Rhys, and we can set up a patrol-"he continued to talk to you, laying out a plan before you, but you couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear over the sound of your own panic as you tried to not give in to the fear that was eating away at your heart. You absolutely refused to even think for a minute that he was dead. But why was the bond cold? Why hadn't he gotten in touch, and why hadn't anyone seen him since the battle ended?
You turned your head to the side, ready to throw up the small amount of food you had choked down earlier, when-
Y/N! You froze as you heard a familiar roar and couldn't place if it was something you had heard echoed around the stone room or through that precious bond you shared.
Immediately, you turned from Cassian toward the sound of that shout, and your knees nearly buckled when you finally spotted Azriel walking through the fortress's entrance, bathed in his shadows.
His eyes were wild as he scanned the room, looking for you. His hair was matted to his sweaty forehead, blood coated his face, and he was stalking forward with a slight limp. But he was alive. Alive.
"Az." You had barely whispered his name, but you watched as his eyes snapped to you, and something broke in his carefully carved facade as his gaze took you in. Pure, undiluted, raw relief settled on his face as he realised you were still here, unhurt and standing.
Sobbing, you left your friend behind and ran towards your mate. He just stopped where he stood and held his arms out, catching you as you barrelled into him. He rocked ever so slightly back as he caught you, a testament to the exhaustion seeping through his body, but you felt that primal part of you that had been thrashing around your heart ease as his arms circled around you tightly and he buried his head in your hair - breathing you in.
"I thought I had lost you." You sobbed as you pushed your face into his neck, breathing in that comforting smell of night-chilled mist and cedar.
"I know, baby, I know." His beautiful, scarred hands gently stroked down your blood-soaked and matted hair as he continued to mumble, "I'm here. I'm safe. We're safe."
"What happened?" you asked as you pulled away ever so slightly from his body, letting your feet hit the unforgiving stone floor. Azriel's face was so tender, so soft, as his hands came up to cup your face. You watched, giving him a minute to scan your face for any injuries. A sigh left his lips when he noticed that you were largely unharmed apart from the usual cuts and scraps from battle.
"Faebane," he muttered darkly, and you gasped. "One of the soldiers had some and threw it on my face when I got close. Clearly, they haven't got much, and it's a diluted solution leftover from the war with Hybern as it cleared quite quickly, but still…this is something we now have to factor in."
"I couldn't feel you down the bond." Your voice hitched.
"I couldn't feel you either, sweetheart, I didn't know if you still breathed. I was so scared." Another sob slipped through your lips, one of sadness but also one of relief as you gripped his Illyrian leathers and pulled him closer - unable to stand any distance between you. You rose up on your shaky legs and pressed your lips to his.
The kiss wasn't sweet or tender; it was demanding and all-consuming. It was a kiss between two mates who had been terrified that after their years of searching, they had lost each other. You felt the rumble of Azriel's moan as you tilted your head to get better access to his lips. His hand reached up to cup your head to hold you in place as he licked into your mouth, and his arm snapped around you as your legs finally gave out and caught you before you sank to the floor.
You broke away gently, not going far as you rested your foreheads together. Your bodies heaved as you sucked in air for what felt like the first time since the battle ended. You closed the distance again to press your lips to his again, once, twice, thrice.
"I can't do this anymore, Az." You whispered, tears slipping down your face. Tears that Azriel captured with his thumbs as he looked at you with such devastation, "the wars, the battles, not knowing whether our friends are alive, not knowing if you are still alive. I have never felt so old."
"I know, sweetheart. I know."
You both sighed as you felt the soldier hovering near you, waiting to catch your attention. Once, you would have known every soldier's name, but now you just had a vague recollection of his face. "Azriel. Y/N. I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rhysand has requested your presence."
Az pulled away slightly to nod at the soldier, who offered you both a respectful salute before leaving. You felt his scarred hand drift down your arm to grip your hand. You felt his squeeze, and you squeezed back, "Come on, love, let's go get this over with, and then let me take care of you."
…
The fortress was quieter now, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next attack; the next moment, you would all be dragged out onto the battlefield again to face your enemies. You and Az had been stuck in meetings for hours after that initial reunion, and you had felt so hollow as your friends recounted what they saw throughout the day, the tactics the enemies were using and how you stood a chance at defeating them once and for all if you hold strong. You hadn't let go of Az's hand the entire time, only letting go once he had told his story about the faebane and he had seen tears slipping down your cheeks again and had pulled you into his arms.
A sadness clanged through your chest as you watched all of your friends that afternoon once the allies from other courts had left for their own war camps. Even through the exhaustion, the court of dreamers was still fighting, even though you had all been on the battlefield in a different war only a handful of years ago.
Azriel had made good on his promise. The minute Rhys commanded you to rest, Azriel gripped your cold hand and pulled you towards the room down the hall you were sharing. Immediately, he had asked a passing soldier to grab you a plate of food, something warm, before strolling into the room and firmly closing the door behind him. With such gentle hands, he had taken your frozen body and sat you down on the impressive four-poster bed in the centre of the room, your body sinking deeply into the comfy mattress.
He firmly pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before moving away to stoke the fire that someone had forethought to start while you were in meetings. Once satisfied, he quickly looked back over his shoulder at you - to check you were ok - before moving into the expansive bathing chamber. You could hear his footsteps on the tiled floor and the water gushing out of the taps into the large bathtub, but you couldn't stop the fear from clawing up your throat. Panic began to settle in again because he was out of sight.
What your enemies would think at the mighty Y/N reduced to this quivering mess.
Just as you couldn't take the roaring in your head anymore, at the nausea swirling in your stomach, and were about to get up to run to his arms again, Azriel stepped back into the room. You must have been shouting down the bond again because he had a soft, sad look on his face.
"I'm here, sweetheart." A whimper left your lips as you flew from the bed into his arms again, unable to get enough of the feeling of him, of being safe with him. His hand skated up and down your spine again, mumbling soothing words and pressing his lips into your hair: "I've drawn you a warm bath; come on."
You hadn't realised how much you had been shivering or how long you had been cold until the idea of settling into warm water felt so appealing. He smiled at you as he took your hands and guided you into the large bathing chamber. The bathtub sat in the middle of the room, large enough for not only you but also to accommodate wings, you realised. A soft smile fell on your lips at the thought.
In a comfortable silence that you and Az had always been able to enjoy, he gently began to unbuckle your damp and blood-encrusted leathers. With slow, methodical movements, he pulled the material from your body before throwing it into a basket in the corner of the room. You watched, your breathing shallow as Az ran his soft fingers up the exposed skin of your arms before hooking under the strap of your bra and removing it carefully from your body. Only then did his fingers skate down the soft valley of your breasts, over your abdomen, before slipping underneath the waistband of your underwear and slipping them down your thighs. Az had seen you in every state and had marked every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue, but this moment, him undressing you as you tried desperately to keep yourself from shattering, was the most intimate thing you had shared. It was warm and sweet, flecked with starlight.
That same warm smile was still on his lips as he took your hand and guided you into the warm water in the bathtub. An appreciative groan left your lips as your feet, legs, and body were submerged in comforting, warm water.
You turned around and grinned at your mate as you watched him unbuckle his own leathers and shuck them off his body. You couldn't help gazing appreciatively at his body, that body you also knew as well as your own: the proud contours of his shoulders, the toned muscles of his arms, his chiselled abdomen, the thick, powerful thighs. He truly was sculpted by the gods themselves.
Az silently padded over to the bathtub, slipping into the warm water himself before resting against one end and gently slipping his arm around your waist to pull you against him - your back pressed tightly against his chest.
With a gentleness that you know would shock so many people, he reached to grab the washcloth and soap from the side before he lathered them up and softly washed the mud and blood from your body. He took his time, kneading his hands into your aching muscles. He even undid your tattered braid and carefully washed the blood and dirt from your hair. The moment was so loving and beautiful after what happened earlier in the day that you couldn't help the tears that silently slipped from your eyes and tracked down your cheeks.
Once you were both clean, he pulled you flush against his chest again, letting you lean against him with your eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of being this close to him in the warm water. You idly traced the scars on his hand underneath the water where it was resting against your stomach whilst his other hand slid up and down your thigh, over your hip and up your body.
"I love you, Az." You whispered into the soft silence that had settled between you.
"I love you too, baby." You felt him press a kiss to your temple.
After today, after the horrors you had seen, after the panic that had coursed through your veins, you needed to feel something more. He wasn't close enough; you needed to feel him. Without saying a word, you lifted your free hand to gently grip the hand that was trailing up and down your body, stopping it in its lazy movements to slowly place it closer to that now throbbing part of you at the apex of your thighs.
"Sweetheart?" He questioned quietly. You could sense through the bond his willingness to touch you and feel his want with the way his erection was pressed against your lower back. But he needed to check that you really wanted this and that he wouldn't overstep some line, especially after today.
"Please, Az. I need you." You whimpered as you felt his slender fingers skim along your inner thigh.
"Relax, sweetheart, let me make you feel good." He rumbled against you as he gently began to press kisses under your ear, at that sweet spot he had found on that first night all those years ago. Your chest heaved as you felt his calloused fingertips trace up your thigh, over the curve of your hip, and along your bikini line before sensually slipping down to trace your slit.
A soft hiss escaped your lips at the feeling of his fingers so close to where you needed him most, a whimpering, "Please," leaving your lips as he chuckled behind you. His breath ghosted over the shell of your ear and caused a shiver to run down your spine.
"I have worshipped your body for centuries, love," Azriel murmured, his strong nose nudging the side of your head so he could begin placing open-mouthed, hot kisses down your neck, "and I never get tired of hearing those noises you make when I touch you."
You whined softly when Azriel moved his hand, but it was quickly silenced when you felt him suck on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder as his strong hand gripped your thigh to move it to the outside of his so he had better access to you.
One of his slender fingers returned to your centre and traced your slit once again before gently swirling around that bundle of nerves. A curse ripped from your lips as your hips bucked at the contact, and another primal chuckle rumbled up Azriel's chest at your delicious reaction.
Azriel continued to swirl his finger ever so gently over your clit, every now and then applying the smallest amount of pressure and causing a sharp cry to leave your lips as white-hot pleasure shot up your body. It wasn't enough; he was teasing, and you needed your body to shatter in a way you were familiar with.
"Use your words, love. Tell me what you need." You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and if you weren't wound up so tightly, you might have called him out on it.
"Your fingers, Az. Please." You whimpered.
"Because you asked so nicely." He mumbled into your skin as he gently slid one finger into your core. A sharp cry left your lips at the feeling of those scars creating the most delicious friction against your walls.
He set a slow but deep pace as he pumped his finger inside you, his thumb still drawing figures of eight on your clit. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you, your toes curling as you felt Azriel taking you higher and higher. His hand that you had been gripping, resting against your stomach, slid up your body to cup your breast. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he expertly rolled your nipples between his fingers and tweaked them in the way he knew you liked. You could feel that familiar crest of your orgasm approaching, and he had barely touched you. So expertly knew your body. You threw your head back against his shoulder, unable to do much but go limp against him.
"I love you so much, Y/N." He whispered, and you turned to face him and saw that raw emotion on his face again, an emotion that mirrored yours. As he slipped another finger inside you, curling his fingers to reach that spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars, you reached up to grip his hair and press your lips to his.
You felt him grin against you as you kissed him, your hips undulating and rolling against his fingers to meet his lazy thrusts. The kiss was full of teeth and passion, and you felt the rising tide of your pleasure as you writhed against him. A cry left your lips as you felt yourself reaching the top of the wave, your mind turning foggy and hips bucking sloppily as you felt your orgasm approaching.
"Let go, love, cum for me." His words, whispered lowly in your ear, his tone dripping lust and awe, and the soft thrust he gave behind you that had you feeling how much he was enjoying seeing you like this, caused that band in your body to snap and the pleasure he had been slowly building crest and shatter. Pure, white, hot pleasure sparked throughout your body, sending every nerve-ending alight as your orgasm washed over you. Chants of his name left his lips as your back arched and your hips thrashed as he continued to pump his fingers deliciously inside you.
After what felt like hours, the wave of pleasure began to subside and be replaced with a bone-deep satisfaction. A sigh left your lips as you slumped back against your mate, his arms catching you - as they always did - and pulling you close to him. You felt Azriel mumbling your name whilst pressing soft kisses to your temple, cheek and jawline.
"Rest, love. There will be time for more later. I promise." It was that promise you clung to as you rested against your mate and let your body relax in the cooling water of the bath.
#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel imagine#azriel fanfic#azriel fanfiction#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#acotar oneshot#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic#acotar#rhysand#feyre#cassian#azriel fluff#azriel fic#azriel smut#acotar smut#azriel spymaster
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Size Kink
✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️
A Size Kink is a general term for being aroused by being smaller/larger than your partner. It can be height, muscle mass/weight in general, cock size, ect. This is generally a kink we associate with subs having, but in my humble 5'1" experience, I've met more Doms with this kink than subs (hence my 5'11" baby daddy who thought he'd never have someone short enough to enjoy this kink with.) This kink has several subgroups that fall into it and sex acts that fall into it, but my personal favorite to write is height difference and body frame difference. So tall muscular male, short female (curvy or lean.)
What I love about size kinks is that it's so focused on specific aspects, and ANY body type gets to play with it. Little hands? Little legs? Luscious curves? Member of the Itty bitty titty committee? There is someone out there with a size Kink who is into your body and thinks you are a piece of artwork and sexiest thing on the planet. It's so beautiful because it is a body type kink that does not discriminate, and as a sex positive and body image positive person, I think that's super important and comforting for some people.
💕Peep the Valentines Day list here💕
As always NSFW below the cut
Azriel x short!reader
Warnings - reader is VERY petite, smut, p in v, slow stretching
A/N - So, I actually have a request for a size Kink with Cassian sitting in my drafts as well from before I decided to do Valentines Day Bingo. Since I picture Cassian as an absolute unit, I used a more Megan thee Stallion vibe for that reader (tall and thick) so I decided to go very short and thinner built for this one to ensure they'd be different. I apologize if that bothers anyone. I will try to get that Cassian request finished asap to post it and make up for this 💙
Ps- with how quickly I am cranking some of these out, and how.... spicy some of them are getting, I don't have my normal outside editing all of the time. Baby daddy proof read this one. Before staring at me and going, "that wasn't fair." So, I apologize for any errors, as always, I will catch them on my fresh reread after it's posted 🫠
Azriel was slowly losing his mind as he watched you use a chair to be closer to Cassian's height and argue with him face to face.
You were just so… small. So little compared to the two Illyrian males. They towered over you. They dwarfed you. Hell, he and Cass had discussed several times how easy you'd be to manhandle, considering they were both so sure their large hands could almost touch if they were wrapped around your waist.
At 6’8” and 7’ it wasn't hard for him and Cassian to own a room or be the tallest males, but Gods when Azriel stood next to your 5’ frame, when he saw Cassian pick you up like you were no more than a doll. It did something to him. It made him feel like a God, like he was powerful, possibly invincible.
He had been further spurred on by over hearing you and Nesta yesterday. She had asked you about how, if the opportunity presented itself, you would manage to fuck an Illyrian, and you, you with your never back down attitude had told Ness, “Mountains were made to be climbed.” He did not know if you had meant that in regards to him, but his hand found his cock quickly that night.
Azriel walked over to where you and Cassian argued over cereal. The fight wasn't serious, but he just needed to remind you that even with a chair below you, you still fell a few inches short.
“Get down before you fall and hurt yourself, angel.” He put a hand to you, offering to help you down. You glared, but put your hand in his.
Offering to help you was a mistake.
He felt the blood rushing to his cock as your little hand sat in his.
He shared a knowing look with Cassian when you looked away to step down and get back on the floor. The argument resumed instantly, your hand still in his.
It stopped as soon as Nesta walked in. Her mate and you going silent and agreeing to disagree.
Well, at least you thought you had agreed. Until Cassian turned around, Nesta in his arms waiting to fly into Velaris. He looked between you and Azriel before smirking. “You know, y/n, you might have shit taste in cereal, but at least you're the perfect height for some things.”
You didn't get it until you turned to Azriel, plush lips parted to ask what Cassian meant.
The blush that spread your cheeks was sinful.
Another image Azriel would save when he imagined it was your mouth around his cock tonight.
Azriel's room was across the hall from yours, so he knew you were being subjected to the same torture he was.
He was sure all of the Night Court could hear Cassian and Nesta. He rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his face and sighing.
You were so small, so sneaky, he hadn't noticed you come in and shut the door until you were sitting on his bed.
And fuck being in his custom made oversized bed made you look so little. “Hello angel.”
He made room for you, welcoming you under the blanket you laid facing him, watching him. “Do you all never.. get worn out?” He chuckled. “Because humans do. Males typically finish, then they're like, done, and asleep.”
He looked towards you, laughing and smiling so hard his dimples were showing. “Is that your way of telling me you didn't enjoy rolling in the sheets while you were human?”
That blush spread your face again. “I had plenty of fun before Hybern did this to me. Thank you very much, sir.”
You had done it. Azriel shut his eyes, growling at the nickname as he did. “You cannot call me that when you're laying in my bed, y/n.”
You looked at him, snuggling closer to him. You knew what you were doing to him. You had known for a while. You always tracked his eyes when he'd watch you take your heels off, biting his lip thinking no one was looking. You noticed him hide his arousal behind a mask of indifference when you would climb things around the House of Wind. You had also noticed Azriel and Cassian taking every chance they could to lift you.
You had even know Azriel was so sneakily listening to you and Nesta the other day, and you had meant it. Azriel was a mountain you intended on climbing. “Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to have to use those big hands to keep me quiet.”
The growl that echoed through the room had your thighs clenching. He was on you in an instant arm between your breasts, so it rested on your neck. The other hand sat on your hip, inching forward. “Do not tease me.” You could feel him pressed against your back, mind immediately lost in how that would fit.
You may have been biting off more than you could chew.
But fuck it.
You had never backed down from a challenge. Why start now?
You wiggled further into him, grazing his cock with each movement. “What if I'm not teasing? What if this is an offer, sir?”
“You're going to regret that, little one,” Azriel's hand immediately was in your shorts, his other hand squeezing your throat. A thick finger ran your soaked core, pulling a moan from you. “Going to have to go slow,” Azriel ground his hips into you, needing that friction on his aching cock. “Don't want to hurt you, angel.”
That one finger entered you without warning. It was already a stretch, but one you welcomed.
You loved how everything about Azriel was so big. His hands, his muscled chest and arms, his wings. Of course he'd be big there too. Anticipation began to replace the fear. You relaxed into him, tilting your head and pulling him into a heated sloppy kiss.
Azriel swallowed your moans and cries as his finger opened you up for him. You were tight, so damn tight. His hand moved from your throat to your breasts, loving how they weren't even a handful for him. You were so petite and slim, he reminded himself. He pulled your tank top off, maneuvering the best he could to get you fully below him. He pushed in a second finger, watching as you squirmed so helplessly below him. “So fucking little,” he moaned. “Mother above you're perfect. Just perfect.”
He leaned back, fingers increasing speed the best they could with your shorts in the way while he toyed with your breasts, pinching your nipples and smacking the tender flesh as he saw fit. “Cum for me so I can sit you on my cock, angel. You can do it, y/n. Show me how tight you'll be squeezing around me.”
You felt like you were floating as you came, whimpering Azriel's name as you watched him rut against the mattress for some friction, hazel eyes damn near lost in lust.
He pulled his fingers out of you, wasting no time ripping his sweatpants off and using those juices to coat himself. Your shorts came next, torn to shreds as he pulled you to the edge of the mattress and rested one leg on both sides of his chest.
He was as perfect as you imagined. His cock was long and thick. He was running it along your folds, soaking up at the slick he could before smacking the head of it against your clit.
Azriel could help but to stand with his hips flush against yours, admiring how it looked like his cock would be damn near in your stomach. “Gonna go slow,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Can't risk hurting my little angel.”
He pushed the head in, keeping an eye on you as you moaned out a long fuck before relaxing into his bed. He sat there, only a few inches inside of you, feeling as your walls stretched out to accommodate him.
He pulled out and slowly reentered, pushing a little more inside of you. Your back arched off the bed, a whimper of pleasure ripping through your throat. The burn of it felt so good. You felt yourself drooling already, mind numb, and lost to anything that wasn't Azriel.
He continued his motions over and over until he was flush against your hips, and you were screaming for him. You had cum just from him slowly getting inside of you, and now he could see the bulge he had created, the slight swelling inside of you as your body made room for him.
Azriel put a hand on the bulge, feeling himself inside of you as he began thrusting. You were squeezing him so tight, hand struggling to find him to hold on to something.
He felt himself losing control, pace growing faster and faster as he watched you squirming and moaning below him. His arms went behind your hips and back, lifting you off the bed and manhandling you in the air for a little while. He brought you to his chest, moving you to be against the wall that shared his room and Cassian's.
A silent brag, and message, that he could now accurrately inform Cassian how easy you were to toss around like a doll.
Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you became a babbling mess. Your silky core was twitching and tightening around him all over again, indicating to him how close you were, how ready you were. “Az,” you panted. “So fucking big.”
“Yeah,” he kissed the top of your head. “Bet it feels so good stretching you out, doesn't it, baby?” You couldn't respond as a certain angle had you becoming pliant in his arms. “Fuck I know it does.” He was practically lifting you on and off of him, watching as you stretched around his cock. “You're close, aren't you, angel?”
You nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw fallen open to the perfect o. “Gonna cum.”
“Then cum. Squeeze my cock. You wanted to climb the mountain, right y/n? Fucking climb.”
You hit that peak on his command again, clinging to him tightly as he continued using you and stretching you out.
It took Azriel a few more moments, but he stilled inside of you, head thrown back in a loud growl as he came inside of you. He pressed you back against the wall, panting slightly as he stared into your eyes. He lifted you easily, allowing his cock to fall out of you and you to whine at the sudden emptiness that took place where he had filled you.
“This can't be a one-time thing,” his voice was almost desperate as he moved to set you on the desk, forehead finding yours. “I need more of you. All of you.”
You couldn't help but to bit your lip, nodding so quickly with a growing smile. “I like how little you make me feel. How safe you make me feel.”
Azriel's eyes almost rolled back completely as they shut. “Gods you are perfect.” He leaned in to kiss you, only to be interrupted by his door slamming open and Cassian and Nesta barging in.
A massive wing snapped between you and them, blocking your body from their view.
Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “We want to know how exactly that worked. Show us. Please.”
“Show you?!” Your voice cracked as you turned to a smirking Azriel.
Azriel kissed your forehead. “Bend over the desk, angel. Gotta give him a show since he asked so nicely.”
General tag list:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho
@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth
Valentines Day Taglist:
@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb
@justasillylittlegoofyguy
Azriel Taglist:
@elle4404
#acotar#acotar x reader#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel shadowsinger#shadow daddy#readychilledwine valentines day bingo
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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#cassian x y/n#cassian#cassian/reader#cassian fluff#cassian acotar#cassian x reader fluff#cassian fanfic#cassian fic#cassian x you#cassian x y/n fluff#cassian x you fluff#cassian fanfiction#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar fluff
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