#elain and amren fanfic
Text
— “You were flirting with me?”
pairing: Azriel x fem!reader
summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls
warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,
amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗
You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.
Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.
Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.
“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.
“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”
You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”
And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.
Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.
He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.
With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.
—
The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.
But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.
So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.
—
Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.
Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?
He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.
Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.
He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.
“Hey.”
You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?
“Yeah?”
He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.
“How have you been?”
You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.
“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”
Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.
Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.
“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”
A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.
Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.
”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”
Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.
"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.
"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.
"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.
"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.
Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.
“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.
“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.
“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.
You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”
Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”
Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.
“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.
"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.
—
Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.
As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.
You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.
—
Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.
"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”
Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.
“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.
“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”
Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”
Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.
You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”
Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”
You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”
Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”
The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?
—
“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.
Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”
Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”
Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”
Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”
Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,
“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”
Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”
Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”
Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”
Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.
—
You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.
As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.
You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.
Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.
His presence was undeniable.
Azriel was here.
Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.
"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.
"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.
"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.
Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows
"You look absolutely breathtaking."
Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.
You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.
”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”
Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."
A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.
"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."
Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.
As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.
Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.
"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."
Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.
Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”
You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.
"May I-"
"Yes."
It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.
His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.
You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.
Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.
Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.
“Are you okay?”
“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.
With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.
“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.
Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”
The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.
“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat
“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.
”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.
“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.
You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.
As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.
“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”
In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.
You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.
“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.
You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."
"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.
Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.
"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."
You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.
Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.
“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.
You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”
—
extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:
Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.
"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.
Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.
Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."
Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."
Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."
Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."
Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”
Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”
Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."
Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"
Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."
Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”
"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.
Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”
Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”
Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”
Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.
#talkswithamara#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#azriel#rhysand#azriel fluff#azriel fic#azriel imagine#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acomaf#azriel acotar#az x reader#azriel x reader#azriel x yn#azriel x fem reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x reader fluff#azriel x female!reader#cassian#amren acotar#mor acotar#nesta archeron#feyre archeron#elain archeron#rhysand acotar#cassian acotar#azriel a court of thornes and roses
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The Girl Who Cheated Death
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary - There was no one in any universe who would dare to approach you without fear, that is until you meet a certain Shadowsinger. Once stone cold and vicious in your own right, you soon come to realise that perhaps all it takes is a pretty male with hazel eyes to set you free.
Warnings - kinda dark reader, stone cold, lots of sass, swearing, drinking, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of trauma, some subtle sexual tension, everyone being afraid of the reader because she's giving death vibes x
Word Count - 8.9k
Physical descriptions are present in this fic.
Based on this ask! Thank you @cleverzonkwombatsludge for the request 🫶🏻
"Can I offer some criticism?"
"If it's constructive..."
"You're an idiot," the unwinding braid at your side loosened more with each twist of your fingers, and to your right, through the reflection of the recently polished vanity mirror stood Amren, your closest friend that you had gained when you had first moved to the Night Court one hundred years ago.
It had been no accident that you and Amren had met, in fact, she had been the one to seek you out after a rather intriguing show you had directed at Rita's. Amren watched man after man almost break their necks to look at you, the most beautiful resident of the Night Court, and in all of Prythian. Hair that reminded Amren of a black widow swayed behind you in perfectly loose curls, it was sinfully dark and shone in the faelight, shimmering so brilliantly that Amren had thought that threads of silken web were weaved between each glossy black strand.
Amren also remembered the dress you had worn, it was short and tight, the fabric hugged every curve of your body and kissed the thighs that were connected to those incredible taut calves. If looks could kill then the Night Court would certainly fall to its knees.
It wasn't what you looked like that caught Amren's attention, however. It was the way that every single person in that room shrunk away from your stare, a stone iced glare that was void of any life, all that lay in them was ire and boredom, which quite perfectly summed up what you felt about life in general.
The firedrake sought you out, coming by the gallery you had opened in the city which held an array of carefully collected artworks and mysteriously rare antiques, just to get a glimpse of you, to see the one who had been the first to pique her eye in centuries. Amren had not been disappointed by you. There was something about the way you carried yourself that attracted her to your aura, the perfect posture and slightly hooded eyelids that encased walnut orbs that glimmered gold in the sun. That wasn't all, no, it was also the way you spoke, so sultry and dark, but there was a certain elegance your words. A siren luring souls to the darkest depths of the ocean floor.
Rhys had once suggested that you'd never truly age considering you never smiled. That had earned him a rare small quirk of your lip, and he considered it to be his greatest achievement of his life to date.
It had made sense that the Night Court had been the place where you had chosen to settle, it had moulded very well with you, to the point where Day had become an infantile dream that was floating away in your subconscious. Forgotten.
Despite being a collector of sorts, Amren had soon found out just how far your talented talons stretched, you were incredibly well versed in old dialects, ancient symbols and traditions, a talent that Rhys had soon asked Amren to take advantage of since he was too afraid of you to ask you for aid himself.
Seemed as though the terrifying High Lord of the Night Court was actually scared of something.
"How exactly am I an idiot?" Amren enquired with darkened orbs that kept on glancing downward to the scars that littered the bare spine from the licks of Illyrian whips. They were slightly raised and pallid in comparison to the rest of your healthy glowing hue.
Untethering the last of your braid, you ran your nails over your scalp and pulled slightly, shivering at the relief that surged through you as your hair fell unbound down your spine. All the taut tension in your body quickly evaporated. Silently, you turned on your seat to face your friend, "You're asking me to revamp my evil lair to make it more welcoming for your odd little family," you said incredulously and unblinking, "You're an idiot."
Amren wasn't exactly asking you to make your own home more appeasing to the Inner Circle, she simply meant the private office that Rhys had bestowed to you for whenever he needed your help with something, and it had become a place that you frequented often. It was located in the library of the House of Wind so that your nimble fingers had access to all of the books and ancient texts they needed.
The only settling thing about that office was the view of the golden valley of Velaris, of the snow-capped mountains that loomed to the north. Everything else filled any resident with dread. Tall well-loved candles were scattered about the space, cloths stained with millennia old text hung from the ceilings, tomes lay splayed open on the desk and centre table, each depicting some form of terror. To you, your work was fascinating, studying the origins of evil and all of its forms, to others it was petrifying.
It wasn't odd to find the firedrake confined in your apartment, whether you be with her or not, glass of red in hand and reading some sort of research text. Amren often didn't even glace up at you when you entered your own home, all she noticed was your shadow gliding across the room, drowning out the golden candlelight.
"Rhys would spend more time with you if you did. He's actually really insightful, he could help you with your study."
"Why would I want to spend time with him?"
A poor attempt from Amren to try and push you into a monotone civilian life yet again.
"Fine," Amren rolled her coiling silver eyes and tutted, "Are you ready? Rhys doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Irritation was rife in her voice, you clasped a dainty blood diamond around your neck and allowed your shoulders to drop, "I don't particularly care for your High Lord's time." Rhys was not your High Lord and he knew it, he knew that you couldn't be ruled over and would never answer to anyone but yourself. A queen of her own kingdom. But one he very much wanted to keep on his side.
"Y/N," Amren bit, and you too tugged back the smirk that was quaking in the corners of your mouth.
Meeting her fiery gaze in the mirror, you rolled your head to the side in one swooped graceful motion, "I'm teasing, Amren." Rising from the bench before the vanity, you felt the silken hem of your dress brush against your feet. It was a simple garment, black buttoned up fabric, a deep v-neckline that showed the beginnings of your cleavage, short and soft floating sleeves that cuffed above your elbows.
Smirking with approval, Amren moved to the front door of your ornately beautiful apartment, a personal haven of yours that was vastly different to the office at the House of Wind. Brunette carpets thick enough to sleep upon covered the space, the walls were a shade of milked coffee, warm and inviting, and the ceilings were a soft cream and coved with intricate carvings. A large fire bundled into the far wall at the centre of a wall of windows, before it was a onyx seating area of plush deep seated sofas and armchairs.
It was charming. One of the best views of Velaris was from your living room window.
Leaving your home with the click of the lock, you followed after Amren, falling into place beside her as you walked up the winding paths to the House of Wind. The feeling of people's eyes trailing you had become something you'd become rather accustomed to, they were astounded by your beauty, amazed by how someone could look so breath-taking yet so horrifying.
The House of Wind was as it always was, incredibly luxurious in its own right and shivering at your entrance. It wasn't like the house didn't like you, it just struggled to adjust to your energy, it was starkly different to the usual joy it mostly held.
The echoing voices halted when you rounded the corner, your scent of jasmine and sandalwood soaring through the air, infecting their oxygen. Violet eyes appeared before you within a couple of moments, always wary, always laced with the tiniest bit of fear, "Thank you for meeting with us."
"Well," your eyes sliced across the room, absorbing every face and feature and feeling somewhat intrigued by a face you had never seen before. Tall and tan, shadows swirling at his shoulders, large wings that he had mindfully tucked behind his back, and shiny black hair that fell over his forehead. Rhys stood before you waiting for you to speak, your eyes found his and you hummed, tapping your finger against your clothed thigh, "Anything for the firedrake."
A chortled scoff flew from Cassian and Rhys stepped aside slightly to expose you to the general who soon choked on the air, "Something funny, Cass?" Rhys asked with a smirk, he motioned for you to find a seat and make yourself comfortable.
A deep rooted velvet armchair called to you and you moved to it, paying little attention to the hazel eyes fixated upon you. "No, not at all," Cassian sent you a tight-lipped smile which made Nesta grin, enjoying his discomfort nearly as much as you.
Flames danced in your eyes, the fire burning brightly in the fireplace that welcomed your gaze as though it was a mirror. Turning your head, you folded your hands over your thighs, feeling the exposed skin that lay there from the seamless slit in the fabric.
"How about you skip whatever small talk you were going to offer and get to the point, Rhysand?"
Widened pupils possessed Nesta's gaze, she leaned back into her seat and smirked, a wickedly feline feature, and spoke, "I like you."
No words left your lips, you held her gaze and felt your darkness bubble at her determination to withstand your stare, but she soon stood down; though, she continued to watch you, noting your posture and the way you held yourself. Nesta was in awe.
And she wasn't the only one.
"Straight to the point as always, y/n."
"Am I supposed to be anything but?" Rhys sighed, a headache already forming at his temples from your dry sassing. Perhaps he needed some of that powder that Elain had gifted to Azriel last solstice.
The High Lord pinched the bridge of his nose and slid his hand to rest on Feyre's knee, a sweet gesture, "We need your help with some particular text that none of us can translate. If anyone is going to be able to decipher it then it would be you."
"What text?"
Boredom coiled in your gut, "It's the story of Koschei, we believe that there may be a key hidden within the text that could help us to defeat him." The coil loosened and your eyebrow twitched, and a dark spot to your left caught that millisecond-long expression, sliding back to its master and humming in his ear.
Koschei was a death-god, a personification of evil. To have your hands on such a text would more than aid your research. It would make you infamous in the underworld of Prythian.
"Is it in my office?" Rhys straightened and nodded stiffly; rising to your feet, you brushed down the pleats of your skirt, "I'll take a look."
Before you could move from the room, a gentle clearing of a throat sounded from behind you, beckoning and hesitant. Slowly, you turned around, noticing how Rhys was now standing, "I would like Azriel to help you with this. I believe that your collective talents will be able to decipher the message faster."
Of course. The illustrious Shadowsinger that you had never had the displeasure of meeting. Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court.
"Studies have shown that I didn't ask for your opinion, High Lord," if anyone else had used the mocking tone toward his title they would have been misted on the spot. But not you, never you. Rhys was too afraid that Hell would rise from your ashes and devour the continent if he even tried it.
A cool kiss slithered around your ankle, and when you peered down you found a shadow curling there, caressing your skin and shivering in delight. Your eyes followed the tendril back to its owner who was clearly mentally scrambling to pull his shadow back to the others. Hazel collided with molten gold and you found yourself yearning for the shadow to return.
"I have to insist," his voice wavered and it didn't go unnoticed by you.
Amren sucked in a breath, shrinking further into her spot wedged between Mor and Elain, knowing that she told had told Rhys multiple times to never order you to do anything.
"What do you fear, Rhysand?"
"I think that you'll find that the word fear is not in my vocabulary," he doubled down and you couldn't blame him, he was an alpha protecting his territory.
Ticking your head to the side, your eyes dragged up his body, and you smirked, a real one that made his blood chill, "Perhaps. But it's in your eyes," not giving him a chance to respond, you turned to Azriel, finding him looking up at you with an almost bewitched possession in his eyes, "Stay out of my way."
Not another word was spoken as you stalked from the room, the only sound being the footsteps of Azriel who had speedily followed after you. Neither of you spoke on the descent down to the library, even that vast space of aged excellence watched you enter; you almost floated across the room, a grace in your steps that Azriel had never seen before, and it had him needing to know more.
How Azriel had never met you astounded him, he would certainly remember a face like yours. It was one that held the power to haunt his dreams.
As promised, the texts had been left on your desk, and you moved to them instantly, tracing your fingers down the bound leather spine and examining the golden embossment, picking apart the symbols in your mind. Rounding the large oaken desk, you pulled the text with you, opening the cover and not even flinching when it thudded against the desktop.
Thick waves fell over your shoulder and you mindlessly tucked them back from where they had originated, not caring about the effect it had on the Shadowsinger who noted how your fingers grazed against your collarbone on its return to the ancient pages before your insightful eye.
"I've never been in here before," a weak attempt to strike up conversation with you. Azriel had heard much about you from Cassian and Rhys, of how awful terrifying you were, how you intimidated every single person that crossed your path and seemingly enjoyed the terror of it.
Azriel understood it, there was something about you that was unnerving, that he could understand why people were uncomfortable in your presence, but he only found himself in wonderment of it.
Without looking up, you turned the page gently and muttered, "Why would you? It's my office."
Displeasure was prominent on your tongue, the taste of it swelled in the muscle but you didn't allow it to be vile, you pulled the bile back and silently choked on it.
Azriel drank in the room, the begging to be lit candles and the large arched windows, the aged tapestries of history that were clearly too valuable to display in your gallery, "The creation of the cauldron," the words pulled you from the text and your gaze narrowed in on the Shadowsinger rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands folded neatly at his back.
"How do you know that?"
The Shadowsinger circled to face you and took a tentative step to the edge of the desk, "I've seen a couple of the same markings in a cave. This is the original?"
"Yes," there were many deplorable things you had taken part in to secure your collection as the most impressive in the entire universe, some things you weren't proud of, others, you were very much so.
"How did you get it?" Azriel admired the piece, a depiction of Prythian's creation that no one would ever guess was as important as it was, all because they couldn't read the first language of the fae.
Sitting back in your seat, you placed your magniscope on the surface, an ornate tool used by curators and researchers alike to read between the lines of existence, and watched him, "There are some things in this world that would make even your blood burn, Shadowsinger."
The way you said his name had a shudder flickering down his spine, your tone was sultry and low, like you knew of his darkness and had decided that it was a star in comparison to whatever lived within you.
A golden glow shrouded the room from the setting sun kissing the mountain peak, it washed over you, its light glittering your skin with shimmer, turning your eyes into burnished gold. The blood diamond around your neck cascaded speckles of its hue across the ceiling, and your chest rise an fell with even, calm breaths.
Forgetting the reason why he stood before you, Azriel allowed himself a moment to examine you, the beautifully loose hair that swam down that perfectly curved spine, the eyes and cheekbones, the full lips and the indents of your collarbone. You were by far the most incredible thing he had ever seen.
The stolen moment wasn't one that escaped your eye, a gentle heat pooled at your cheeks and you had no option but to look away, clearing your throat and pouring your attention back into the text in front of you.
Coiling the magniscope in your fingers, you hovered it over the written symbols on the page, moving it in line with every line and swirl you could see. It was a heavy object, and you hadn't been surprised when Amren had mistook the glass orb as a bookend.
"What do you know of Koschei?" Azriel found a place in the seat opposite you, his shadows danced from his shoulders and began to inch toward you, and he made no move or command to stop them.
"There are many legends," you began, craning your neck to peer at the top of the adjacent page, "Attacking his physical body won't harm him, he has split his soul into parts and placed them in other living creatures or sentient objects. Destroy the objects and you have a better chance of ending him."
Azriel angled himself forward, propping his elbows on his knees, "How do you know that?"
Again, without looking up, you spoke, "When you spend a lot of time in the Underworld of this continent you pick up a few things. You also learn how to decipher the truth from the lies."
Another gentle turn of the page.
The taupe scribing possessed the faintest words written in a pale gold ink, so miniscule that any other magniscope wouldn't be able to see it. Though yours wasn't just any ordinary magniscope, it was forged with the stardust of a fallen star, a star that used to burn the brightest in the northern skies.
"You know of the Underworld?"
For a moment, your gaze flickered upward, golden pools peering through your long thick lashes, "Very well."
It wasn't surprising that you had dabbled in the darkest reality of the continent, your knowledge was not cheap, and it wasn't knowledge that you could gain from books alone. Azriel wondered how many souls you had stripped from the earth on your quest for knowledge, perhaps it would cause his count to pale in comparison.
"I could only imagine what someone would do for this level of knowledge," his voice lingered, questioning, requiring to know every corner of the mind locked within the female in front of him.
"Are you trying to compare body counts, Spymaster? If so, I assume I would be disappointed with your lacklustre attempts."
Then you were back on the text, scribbling words down in the notepad to your left without even glancing to it, focused to the point where no letter strayed from the lines. But you still felt his eyes on you, waiting, scouring your face and trying to figure out why exactly he had never crossed paths with you before considering your occupation.
"Don't you have some doe-eyed damsel to go and rescue?"
Even with the fleeting few minutes spent with the Inner Circle, you saw how Elain Archeron looked at him, all love-sick and hopeful. Elain was a perfectly mundane being, content with all things bright and pretty. It was sickening.
Biting back the urge to roll his eyes at the thought, Azriel shuffled into his seat, seemingly getting more comfortable, "No."
"Shame," you mused, impressing Azriel with how you scribed, analysed and spoke all at the same time. A very powerful mind was dwelling within you, and it had his attention.
Azriel was finding your dry words quite amusing, though he was spending his time sat before you in silence, sketching every inch of your face and body to his memory.
A soft tug pulled at your brows, and if Azriel wasn't fixated upon you then he surely would have missed it. He let a minute pass, a minute where the pace of your analysation quickened alongside the rate of your writing. Again, your hair fell over your shoulder, clearly bothering you but you couldn't move it, not when you were so entranced, and it took all of his will to not do it for you.
Questioning you on your findings, your eyes held a certain twinkle to them as you explained your theory. That Koschei had in fact fractured his soul and implanted the pieces of it within other living creatures and objects, and that to hunt those objects down was the only way to be able to banish him from the world.
"Run and tell your master," you told him after you were done explaining how to find the first host of Koschei's soul, "I'm sure he will be thrilled with your input."
Which was very little, Azriel hadn't done anything other than invade your space and make himself far too comfortable, but he didn't argue, he simply stood from his seat and bowed, taking your hand in his marred digits and raising it to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles and thanking you before leaving you to your silence.
The ghost of his touch lingered on you skin, as did the licks at your calves from the shadows he hadn't cared to reign in upon his exit.
It was then that a small yet foreign warmth pooled in your chest, you rubbed the spot gingerly and sighed, returning to reality and shaking your head back to sense. Finding peace in the confined corners of your mind.
The next instance where you found yourself in Azriel's presence had been one warm afternoon in the library.
Velaris had been scorched by the sun, the summer breezes swept across the city, and you had decided to wear a simple grey dress that afternoon, it was lightweight enough to flow in the gentle caress of the wind but still managed to keep to your usual elegant yet sharp style.
Since that insisted couple of hours in your office a couple of weeks ago, you were ashamed to admit just how much your thoughts drifted to the Shadowsinger you had seen lurking in the corners of your consciousness. The darkness was lingering in the farthest reaches, as if it didn't wish to be discovered by you but couldn't steer itself away.
The ladder beneath your feet creaked as you reached across the shelf, tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you strained slightly, your fingers barely brushing against the spine of the book you needed. A familiar cool presence washed over you, trailing up your skirt and arms and extending from your fingers to remove the book from the shelf and place it in your awaiting grasp.
Peering back to the ground, you saw Azriel stood at the foot of the ladder with his hands resting at his sides; balling the skirt up in your fingers, you used the railing the lower yourself back to the earth and paused in front of Azriel who had a brow quirked in curiosity, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," his voice matched your own but he found himself faltering when you went to walk by him. His voice called out to you, "I just wanted to let you know that we found the first host."
You paused your steps and turned, "And?"
"It's destroyed," and clearly the gravity of it weighed on him, he had to have known that Koschei wasn't exactly going to make the objects easy to destroy, but it still didn't mean that it wasn't traumatising.
Understanding what he meant, at the life he had just taken to protect to continent, you took a step toward him, an olive branch of sorts, "Are you alright?"
Itching with confusion, Azriel nodded slowly, "I didn't think you cared."
You shrugged, nonchalant, and scuffed the heel of your sandal against the floor with your gentle kick, "I don't."
Azriel hummed, a serene grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "I think that you do," Azriel took a step forward and noticed how your back straightened and shoulders rolled back.
The book became plastered to your chest, "Whatever you think is of little concern to me."
Two weeks had passed, two weeks of not only searching for the first host of Koschei thanks to your wildly impressive knowledge, but two weeks of Azriel doing all he could to gain your attention. It had been difficult to see you at Rita's, swaying to the music without a care in the world beside Amren, and not be able to touch the skin that seemed as smooth as honey.
His shadows had been following you, reporting back to him of how you spent your days cooped up in your apartment reading or in your office analysing another ancient text. They reported no men, nothing untoward or damning, they simply whispering to him how pretty you were. They had been bewitched by you, utterly obsessed with everything that you were, and he couldn't blame them.
Turning on the balls of your feet again, you entered your office, leaving the door open in silent permission that Azriel basked in as he followed you inside, "I'm trying to talk to you, y/n."
A soft hum vibrated against your lips. Placing the book once glued to your chest on the centre table of the room, you faced Azriel once more. The office was cold, as was every chamber built below the main infrastructure of the house, and Azriel wondered how you could be so at home within it.
It was entrancing how a room so dark and full of evil texts and passages could make you look so ethereal. The glossed black hair he had often dreamt of running his fingers through was tied back in a loose thick braid, whisps of hair fell from the vines of it and settled over your eyes. Ornate jewellery twinkled in the pale sunlight, swirls of gold encased your fingers and wrists, and a coiled necklace that resembled a scaled serpent glided around the base of your neck.
"What would you like me to say? I did tell you how to find the first host so that you could destroy it. I don't require updates, Azriel," the movement of your tongue as you said his name for the first time had his resolve withering.
"Well, I suppose we'll have to warm ourselves by the glow of your I told you so."
Then, as though the sun was blessing the earth after eons of slumber, your lips widened into a grin, one big enough to expose your perfectly white teeth and Azriel felt the dark storm clouds in his soul splinter. A golden threat soared through him, reaching out to you and entwining itself with the thread bristling at your centre.
Sculpted fingers drifted over that spot in your chest that had become increasingly hard to ignore and you inhaled sharply. Azriel's pupils had dilated, they were wide and frenzied, and his hand was outstretched to you.
The smile on your face dropped.
"You're my mate," Azriel nodded at the words you had managed to utter, the same ones that had become lodged in his throat.
Heat prickled at his skin, nerves seeped into his bones. You were so unreadable, and Azriel was scrambling his thoughts to clear so that he may be able to figure out how you felt about it. About being fated to be his.
Azriel had learnt from Amren how unaffectionate you were, how much you hated anyone touching you. It was because of the Illyrian camps you had visited in your younger years where they had thought you a witch, and had punished you for it in a barbaric way; the evidence still lingered on your skin in long angry streaks, and Amren had admitted that night is what spurred on your need to understand the roots of evil.
It was understandable, to spend a lifetime studying the one thing that had ever truly hurt you. For what reason, Azriel didn't know, but he liked to think that it was to cause evil to cower in your presence.
Silence shrouded the room like a disease, infecting and poisoning everything in its path, and Azriel way becoming increasingly worried about how your smile had dropped. Was he truly that repulsive to you? He could only ever dream to be mated with someone like you, someone who welcomed death like an old friend and would entertain it in an eons long waltz, someone who was poised and elegant but so brilliantly lethal that it made even him shudder.
Taking an unsettling step toward you, Azriel loosened a breath when he saw that you hadn't retreated, his eyes were trained on you as he took another step, and then another, until his shadow danced with you own, "I'm your mate."
Rhys and Cassian would be mortified of the news, Azriel was sure that Rhys found you terrifying in the same way that Cassian found Bryaxis. No of that mattered though. Not to him. Not when he now belonged to a female as striking and dangerous as the blood in his veins.
A faint blush crept up your cheeks at the proximity, the tendrils connected to his essence peered over his shoulders seemingly apprehensively thrilled that it was you stood before them, "Yes, you are."
Azriel's gaze drifted down to your lips and left dragged back upward to your eyes, "Can I touch you?"
A part of you froze at the desperate question. You hadn't let anyone touch you in years, you couldn't remember the last time you laid with a male or female, you couldn't remember what a simple even felt like. Amren had never even tried to get too close to you let alone anyone else.
In the first vulnerable emotion you had ever let anyone see, you sheepishly nodded, eyes boring into his own and he didn't break his stare as his fingers twitched toward you, ghosting along your skin and melting at the heat they found there. Mindlessly, you shifted when his palm lingered a whisker away from the slope of your neck and his eyes became stitched with concern but softened when you had won the fight against your fear to stand still once more.
Azriel's hand lowered, resting against your skin that was softer than his imagination could ever fathom. His thumb drifted down the column of your throat and you swallowed, hard.
"You don't have to accept this or me," he told you, his voice tantalisingly cooing to you in a hush above a whisper, "But gods, y/n. I really hope that you do."
Azriel saw through you then, through that façade you wore like a medal. And he found what saw to be quite heart-breaking. Stood before him was a woman, one that possessed a brilliant mind and equally captivating beauty, but beneath it all was the girl who was brutalised so badly that she vowed to never allow another person close again.
"You're my mate," you spoke with a certain conviction that hadn't graced your words the last time, Azriel watched your lashes flutter, and he felt his soul singing when those eyes found him again, "I'm not letting you go."
Gracefully, your fingers curled around his wrist, your index finger sleeping just over the faint beat of his pulse, just where his marred flesh faded to memory, "You accept it?"
"I- yes, I do."
Jasmine and sandalwood drowned his lungs, and he would have died happy just to be able to say that he knew what your shampoo smelt like. Papaya and coconuts. He gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, noting how much you loved the feeling of it as you shivered in his arms. Azriel pressed a dainty but tender kiss to your brow, and it had you realising that maybe you were allowed to give yourself this one thing that the younger version of you had always dreamt of.
Azriel hadn't tried to push you further, he knew that the moment of allowing someone to touch you, to hold you, was far more momentous than finding your mate.
Instead he asked you a simple question, it was more of an offering than anything. To spend time together away from the prying eyes of his family, so that you may become comfortable with one another before allowing anyone else into it. You had agreed. Eagerly.
So the next few weeks drifted by, afternoon walks along the Sidra, morning breakfast drop-offs at your office, after hours visits to the gallery where you would tell him of your adventures and how on some occasions you barely survived. Azriel was in complete awe of you, he sat beside you on your love seat completely captivated by you, his fingers tracing small circles into your thighs and his shadows curling through your hair. And that smile, gods, that smile could make even the most poised male lose all sense. It was bright and gleaming, and your skin glowed with the happiness of it.
Then you had decided to break the news to the Inner Circle, and as you stood before those doors oozing with grandeur, you felt nerves pinch at your skin, "Are you ready?" Azriel's fingers were tangled with yours and he bowed his head to place his lips on your bare shoulder.
"Yes." Azriel gave your hand a gentle tug, willing you to move from your spot located just behind him.
The aura of the house had shifted, now, it was inquisitive, glancing to the mirrors and then back to your hands to see if what it was seeing was real. Laughter echoed at the end of the hall, your scent had usually silenced them by now, but not this time. Now that your scent was mixed with Azriel’s it seemed much less threatening. Pity.
Turning the corner, you became startled by the smash of a glass, shards of it glided along the floor and fell at your feet. Looking up, you found Mor frozen in place, wide eyes and bewildered. The rest of the room craned to attention, collectively moving their eyes from Mor, to you, and then to Azriel, and then to your entwined fingers.
It took a minute, but you could have sworn you heard the bell ding in Cassian’s empty brain, “Oh shit,” he rose to his feet, wings flaring slightly as a wide grin gripped his mouth.
Rhys appeared before you both, gaze lowered in surprise, clearly trying to picture a timeline in his mind. The High Lord looked to his Spymaster, “Are you-“
“Mates?” Azriel finished incredulously, knowing that your moulded scents had already infected the room, and turned his head to you, orbs gleaming and adoration speckled on his cheeks, “Yes.”
Elain Archeron had sank into her seat, doing her best to not pay attention to you in particular whilst her stomach churned with the scent seeping into her bones. Subconsciously, you moved closer to Azriel, a slightly territorial action that made him smirk.
It had been a brief conversation that you had suffered through, the one where Azriel had made it very clear that the situation with Elain was brutally one-sided. Azriel had only sought to be nice to her, to help her to adjust to her new body and life because she was Feyre's sister and Feyre was his High Lady, and she had taken his kindness for something much more than what it truly was.
Leading you to the velvet armchair that you would usually slither into, Azriel sat and motioned for you, turning you in his hands so that his touch never left your thighs, and pulled you to his lap. A bashful smile formed on your face and you could feel the eyes of the room on you, equally as confused as shocked.
"Since when?" Nesta had asked after sipping from the goblet of red wine between her fingers, the liquid staining her plump pale lips, and she used her thumb to wipe a singular droplet before it ran down her chin. Her eyes held an emotion you couldn't quite make out, Azriel had admitted that Nesta was just as unreadable as you at times, but the way his digits dug into your flesh told you that what the eldest sister was feeling was an assortment of jealousy. Not toward you, toward him.
"The bond snapped just over a month ago," Nesta hummed and burrowed herself into the cushions, pouting slightly, like she was an infant who had her favourite toy taken from her grasp. "We wanted to explore it before we properly accepted it or told anyone."
That made Elain's doe-like stare move from the floor to your mate who was sat with you on his thighs rubbing small circles into your shoulders, "So you haven't accepted it?"
Your jaw clenched at the question, the question that was perfumed with the last splatters of hope, "If you're asking if we've fucked yet, Elain, then no, we haven't. Does that answer your question?"
Azriel's fingers moved to play with the ends of your hair, knowing that the sensation of slight tugging over your scalp relaxed you infinitely, "I only ask because I know how physical Azriel can be. Surely you've heard the stories?" Elain feigned innocence, Feyre sighed from her seat and glanced to you apologetically, silently begging you to not tear her sister apart.
In fact, you had heard the stories. Trying to ignore the gossip of the city was difficult considering how used you were to eavesdropping into certain conversations in the underworld. So, unfortunately, you had heard about Azriel's many lovers, and you'd be silly to not feel insecure of it, but you wouldn't let her see that. Ever.
Craning your neck to the side, you smiled, your iced gaze slicing into her and making Elain shrink under the weight of it, "With all due respect, which is none," you leaned to the side, accepting the goblet of wine that the house had presented to you in premature thanks for the forthcoming words you were about to utter, "Your existence gives me a headache, so please go and find somewhere else to be."
Rhys' eyes widened but he suppressed the smirk forming on his face, hiding his lips behind his fist and closing his eyes. Not even Feyre or Nesta spoke up over it, they clearly knew better than to challenge you. Cassian however didn't really care if Elain saw his joy at your words, he had been growing more tired each passing day of her pining affection toward his brother, and now he understood why Azriel had withdrawn further from the female over the last few weeks.
It was because of the unique female before their very eyes.
The middle sister went to open her mouth, to retort something that wouldn't even irk you, but Amren shushed her, halted the words in her throat and willed her to die with them, "Don't even try it," Amren served you more than her own court, finding a kindred spirit within you, and she would shame herself if she let Elain speak to you as if you were nothing.
Elain would never understand someone like you. She wasn't worthy of it anyway.
No one had ever tried to understand Amren, not really, they thought her too complicated to be worth it. As long as they brought her pretty jewels and respected her then there was little else to worry of in their eyes. But you, you had understood her instantly and had found a particular solace with her, like you were peering through a mirror and she was your reflection.
Sipping the potent liquid in your goblet, you bowed your head to her, quietly thanking your friend for halting the small spat before it escalated and ruined the evening entirely. Tonight was not about Elain and her fragile feelings, it was about showing the Inner Circle who now owned your heart.
So, the middle sister vacated the room feigning a migraine, and the aura instantly lifted. A soft smile formed on your lips when your eyes landed on your mate, your entire face relaxed; entwining your fingers with his, you blushed when he pressed his lips to your knuckles and dragged your index finger down his cheek.
The Inner Circle watched on, knowing that they had never seen Azriel so taken by anything. They feasted on the sight of his shadows purring through your hair, on your colliding smiles, and how your gentle words to one another were contained in an ornate bubble around your bodies.
As the evening continued, you found yourself quite enjoying their company, you sat bundled into Azriel's embrace, finding comfort in the arms that were wrapped around you whilst Cassian spewed war stories, bragging at his prowess.
"Not to brag," you began with a smirk, "But at least eight men have described me as 'terrifying', and two of them are in this room. Choke on that ego, Cassian."
Nesta's grin turned feline and excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach. What she wouldn't give to spar with you, to have your legs wound around her and that tense gaze splitting her in half. From the whisperings of Prythian, it was very clear that you had done some rather diabolical things in order to obtain certain artifacts that had been locked away in your most prized and personal collection. So prized that its location was unknown. She could only imagine what trinkets you possessed, and the things you had witnessed.
"What about Azriel?!"
The Shadowsinger shrugged, his hand resting on your thigh and squeezing the flesh there, "I've only ever been entranced by my mate, Cassian," Azriel drawled, sipping the amber liquid swirling in his rocks glass like molten bronze, "It's you and Rhys who are afraid of her."
"If it's any consolation, I don't blame you."
Cassian frowned, turning to Nesta and asking, "Are you scared of her?"
"No," she answered a little too quickly, so quickly that you had quirked your brow at the sound, "I find y/n to be quite exciting."
"Exciting?" Cassian moved to Feyre and asked the same question, his manhood decaying when she too said that you didn't scare her, "Mor?"
The blonde who could not rival your beauty had always watched you from afar, and had always enjoyed how you made males squirm. Mor rose her glass to the stars and stated, "Bring every man you meet to their motherfucking knees, y/n."
"Amen to that," Amren tipped her glass in response, downing the rest of the thick red sap and finally feeling at home in the presence of her family thanks to you, and she eternally thanked the male sat beside you for being able to breathe some light into the storm cloud that was your mind.
"Mother above," Rhys grumbled, the women in his life uniting and itching to wreck havoc. The action of Rhys swiping his hand down his face, dragging the skin slightly toward in frustration, made a deep chuckle float from your lips, so serene that Nesta likened the sound to a siren call and found herself drawn to it. "Did I just make you laugh?" Rolling your eyes, you nodded at the High Lord who turned toward his mate, "This is the best day of my life," then back to you, "Does this mean that we're friends?"
Rhys waited expectantly, childlike orbs pleading to you with their innocence. You had no friends bar Amren and you were content with that. It meant that you only had one thing to lose. But as Azriel laid his hand on the small of your back, gaining your attention and giving you an expression of promise, the resolve of your solitude cracked, "Why not?"
The door to the River House flew open, a sudden shrill chill soaring through the air from the wild winds battering against the city, no doubt spurred on by your fury.
Many months had passed, and in that time you had truly blossomed, sure you still wore the mask of the devil on your features in public, but when you were with the Inner Circle, a group of people you now proudly belonged to, that mask drifted away like ash in the autumn breeze; and when Azriel was beside you, it felt as though warmth and happiness was all that you ever knew.
Much to Elain's upset, you and Azriel had officially accepted the bond and had locked yourselves away for four weeks to make the most out of every single moment together, and Rhys had been understanding enough of the bond between you both to not drag your mate away on another mission. The bond between you and Azriel was something that Rhys had never seen before, not even between him and Feyre.
"She tastes like every dark thought I've ever had."
The ceremony itself had been astonishing.
The women of the Inner Circle had spent the better part of two days dressing your apartment for the occasion and Feyre had made it quite clear that the upcoming ceremony was going to make theirs look ridiculous in comparison. Rhys was split between jealousy and awe when he saw it.
No one had ever stepped into the apartment beside Amren and Azriel, he had decided to move into the apartment after your return from the four-week sabbatical at the cabin, it was as though you were gifting them with the last part of you, allowing them to see what they could never fathom.
Faelights were strewn across the ceiling, curling around the arched windows that displayed the golden valley of the city in a way Rhys had never been able to appreciate before; tucked between the vines of the lights was fresh foliage, an array of green hue ferns caressing fully blossomed white roses and pale blue peonies. Sprigs of cedar and rosemary had been wove between the foliage and flowers alongside splinters of sandalwood, filling the room with the physical aspects of your scents.
Only the Inner Circle had been invited, and as you were dressing in your room with Amren, you could hear Nesta whining of her foolish jealousy of having to watch Azriel marry you. Amren had simply raised a brow and smirked at you through the mirror as she finished securing your veil to the back of your head.
There was no one you would want to share the moment with other than her.
Amren had blindfolded you, leading you through the home so that the gift wouldn't be ruined just so that you could get ready together, for the most important and deserving night of your life.
The dress that you had meticulously chosen was the most incredible garment Amren had ever seen, so much so that the first time you had tried it on in front of her, she had nearly cried at the beauty of it; and there you now stood, twisting in the mirror and running your hands down the hem of your veil and then your hips. The dress was made entirely of white lace that you had imported from the Day Court, an off-the-shoulder neckline and sleeves that kissed your wrists, it was elegant and graceful, and made the freckles of your trauma glow like shooting stars.
A gentle knock had sounded at the door and Rhys stepped in, taking one look at you and finding his breath catching in his throat. "You look amazing," he breathed, approaching you with his hands deep within his pockets.
The High Lord had been honoured when you had sheepishly asked him to walk you down the aisle; Rhys had found himself consumed with the need to protect you, after seeing your guard disappear, he saw who you truly were, a woman who just wanted to be loved and protected, and ready to allow other people to do it for her after spending so long doing it herself.
"Are you ready?" Inhaling deeply, you nodded and turned to him, noting the outstretched hand before you and feeling your usual anxiety bubbling in your gut. Rhys, realising that he shouldn't have done something so bold, went to retreat but halted when you took a small step toward him, reaching your fingers out to his palm and sliding them into his grasp.
Azriel was right, your skin was a smooth as honey.
A gentle smile of triumph later, you spoke, "I'm ready."
It was that moment that Rhys was begging you to remember as you barrelled through his house, no doubt heading straight for him in the confinements of his office.
He could feel your anger slam through the walls, your footsteps sounding up the staircase and stopping at the top of the hall, a pause to remember just how much you liked him before stalking down the hall and bursting into his office. Rhys cringed, knowing what was coming as you strode to his desk and slapped your palms flat against the wood.
"If you ever," you pointed your perfectly manicured finger in his face, "Send my mate back to me in that state again. I. Will. Destroy. You."
The snarl of your words sent a shiver coursing down his spine, and in that moment you were the y/n he had met one-hundred years ago. Cold. Distant. Almost demonic.
In his defence, he hadn't sent Azriel on an overly dangerous mission, it wasn't his fault that his Spymaster was ambushed in The Middle. Azriel's spilled blood was entirely his own fault in Rhys' eyes, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt, y/n."
The rushed footsteps of another sounded in the hall, and when Rhys looked past your deeply heaving form, he was relieved beyond compare when he saw a bruised Azriel approaching, "Angel, it wasn't his fault. I was distracted," his voice grew louder as he paced closer to the pair of you, appearing at your side and turning your head in his fingers to face him, "I was thinking about you and I didn't hear them coming."
Watching your shoulders drop, Rhys sighed and wiped away an invisible bead of sweat from his brow, sitting back down and continuing his viewing just as you tilted your head to the side and popped out your bottom lip.
"You were?" Azriel's eyes softened and he dipped his gaze to meet yours, "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done. You were attacked because you were thinking about me, you actually bled because you were thinking about me?"
Rhys could only watch on perplexed at your words, you threw yourself into Azriel's arms, muttering small apologies for brushing against the bruises littering his abdomen, "She's crazy."
The Shadowsinger could only huff, too entrapped by you to really reprimand him, "Yeah," his eyes opened lazily, brimming with exhaustion, "But she's my crazy."
Azriel's shadows curled over your shoulders and shuddered, crying to be as close to you as possible, like they were trying to entwine with your soul so that you one day may carry them with you wherever you walked. In whatever world.
A bond like yours was made to topple temples and shatter worlds, it was made to transcend time and space; and as you wrapped an arm around your mate and led him from the office, not without sending one more warning glare to the male you had come to love as a brother, Rhys knew that no matter where either of you went, there would be no place that you could travel to where the other would not follow.
Author’s Note
Hope you enjoy 👉🏼👈🏼
Let me know if you’d like to be added to my PERMANENT TAGLIST 🤍✨
Banners by the fabulous @tsunami-of-tears
Permanent Tags
@romantasyreader28
#acotar imagine#acotar#acotar fanfiction#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine#azriel x reader#azriel x you#rhysand#cassian#azriel fanfic#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#acotar series#azriel acotar#azriel x y/n#nesta#nesta archeron#nesta x cassian#feyre cursebreaker#feyre archeron#feyre x rhysand#elain archeron#rhys acotar#mor acotar#amren acotar#amren#pro amren#cassian acotar#azriel fluff
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🌛Writing Masterlist🌜
✨- indicates smut.
A Court of Thorns and Roses
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Azriel:
🌙Series🌙
Coming Home
Practice On Me
🌙Oneshots & Requests🌙
Pushing Buttons ✨
Heart of Fire
They Never Showed You Love
Fuck Me Properly ✨
All Tied Up for Me (Cassian & Azriel) ✨
Why are you still here? | Part Two
Studious | Part 2✨
Comfort ✨
Bluebird | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII ✨| Part IX
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Cassian:
🌙Series🌙
Crawling Back to You (mini series)
Part one ✨
Part two ✨
Part Three ✨
🌙Oneshots & Requests🌙
All Tied Up for Me (Cassian and Azriel) ✨
What About Me?
Misunderstandings (Starfall Week 2023)
Heavenly Touches✨
Goddess✨
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Rhysand:
🌙Series🌙
🌙Oneshots & Requests🌙
With Me, Always.
Shrinking Violet. ✨| Part II ✨
Forget-Me-Not
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Lucien Vanserra:
🌙Series🌙
Fireleaf
🌙Oneshots & Requests🌙
Just You and Me ✨
Yell at Me Again ✨
A Personal Problem ✨
The Moon on a String ✨
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Eris Vanserra:
🌙Oneshots & Requests🌙
Loose Lips | Part Two ✨
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Nesta Archeron:
🌙Oneshots & Requests🌙
Strawberries and Cream (Starfall Week 2023) ✨
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#acotar fanfic#rhysand#mating bond#a court of thorns and roses#cassian#feyre#amren#morrigan#nesta#elain#azriel fluff#acotar fandom#acotar series#shadowsinger#spymaster#fluff#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#sarah j maas#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar writing#acotar fluff#acotar x reader#Lucien#vanserra
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TULIPS (Chapter Three)
FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader
SUMMARY dinner with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court was going well- if not better- than you expected... until it wasn't.
CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, cuteness, pregnancy, mentions of foot massages, rushed editing (you have been warned)
AUTHORS NOTE this was as adorable to write as it was to read, hope you all enjoy!
SERIES MASTERLIST
As the weeks transformed into a comfortable cadence of companionship, Eris's presence evolved from a persistent irritation to a source of solace and warmth. Each night, he would accompany you on leisurely strolls through the Autumn Court's sprawling gardens, engaging in deep conversations that ranged from trivial to profound. Initially resistant, your defenses gradually crumbled under the weight of his genuine interest and the gentle tenor of his voice. Eris, once a distant figure, had seamlessly become both a confidant and a friend. The awkwardness that had once marked your interactions gave way to an easeful rapport, characterized by shared laughs, quiet moments, and even intertwined arms as you walked together.
Despite your initial fears, keeping both you and your pregnancy hidden from Beron proved less daunting than anticipated. The castle staff, having grown fond of your presence and Eris's protective stance, covertly supported you, ready to accept Beron's wrath should the need arise. The life blossoming within you stirred more vigorously with each passing day, its movements transforming from uncertain flutters to joyous, definitive kicks—a constant, cherished reminder of the new life you were nurturing.
Lately, however, the joys of pregnancy have been tempered by its tolls: swelling and a pervasive fatigue that some days tethered you to your bed. Adapting to your needs, Eris crafted a new routine. Each morning, he would cross the short distance from his room to yours, coax you from the sanctuary of your bed to the plush couch near the fireplace, and spend a few moments ensuring both you and the baby were well before attending to his duties.
Now, you were nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket against the autumn chill, while Eris attended to your swollen feet. His fingers, long and defined, pressed into your arches with a precision that coaxed sighs of relief from your lips. You massaged your growing belly, lost in the tranquility that only this quiet room, with its crackling fireplace and the soothing touch of a man you had grown to trust implicitly, could offer.
Breaking the silence, Eris's voice was soft, yet carried an undercurrent of something significant. "I have a meeting tomorrow," he murmured, his fingers shifting to your ankles, easing the persistent ache with gentle, circular motions. You hummed in acknowledgment, the peace of the moment making it easy to listen.
"I'd like you to come with me," he added, his suggestion prompting you to open your eyes and sit up, tension threading through your previously relaxed posture.
"Eris, I’m not sure that’s—" you began, only to be cut off as he expertly pressed into a tight spot on your foot, drawing a sharp, involuntary focus back to the physical relief.
"I know you are hesitant to go out, but I promise, no one will learn of your condition. You and the baby will be safe—I swear it," he assured you, his gaze intense and earnest.
"And who exactly are we meeting?" you asked, curiosity piqued despite your initial reservations.
"The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court," he replied smoothly, watching for any shift in your expression. He was aware of your past efforts in the Spring Court, though he remained blissfully unaware of that one fateful night with Lucien—a detail you continued to keep close to your heart more so out of fear than true, deep love.
Eris's next words came hesitantly, a rare vulnerability shadowing his usually confident demeanor. "There's something I need to share with you, something dangerous enough to threaten my life if it were spoken here. Until now, I’ve trusted no one with this knowledge, but I want—no, I need you to know."
The notion that Eris Vanserra, the heir to the ruthlessly pragmatic Autumn throne, could exhibit such bashfulness, such sincere openness, would have once seemed ludicrous. Yet, here in this quiet room, witnessing the softening of a man known for his sharp wit and sharper politics, you realized how deeply intertwined your lives had become. The trust he offered wasn't just a gift; it was a sacred bond, one that you now held as precious and vital, as he undoubtedly did.
Your decision to accompany Eris to the meeting was not made lightly. While the prospect of venturing out with him was enticing, the shadow of Lucien's potential presence loomed ominously in your mind. You couldn't shake the fear that he might discern the truth—that he might catch a hint of his child lingering on you—and unravel the fragile web of secrecy you had painstakingly woven.
"I'll go with you," you finally responded, forcing a soft smile to grace your lips, though your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Eris's grin widened in response, a radiant expression that never failed to warm your heart. It was a sight you had grown to cherish—the genuine happiness that danced in his eyes whenever you agreed to accompany him.
Upon entering the House of Wind, the grandeur of the Night Court's architecture took your breath away. As you traversed the expansive hall, your eyes were drawn upward to the soaring ceilings, where the natural rock formations blended seamlessly with masterful stone carvings. The room was a symphony of art and nature, each element curated to showcase the might and elegance of the Night Court.
The House of Wind was perched atop one of the tallest mountains overlooking Velaris, the city of starlight. Its location offered a panoramic view of the sprawling city below, its lights twinkling like stars in the dusky evening sky. The ethereal quality of the place lent an almost surreal atmosphere to the meeting, the high altitude isolating it from the bustle of daily life and imbuing the gathering with a sense of detached serenity.
As Eris had insisted, the change of venue to Velaris instead of the grittier Hewn City was a strategic one, especially with your presence. Hewn City, with its darker undertones and the unscrupulous characters it often harbored, was not the environment Eris wanted to expose you to, particularly not in your condition. His protective instinct had flared, not just out of a sense of duty but something more personal, a deep-seated desire to shield you from any potential harm or distress.
Rhysand and Feyre, though initially surprised by the request to relocate, were accommodating. They understood the delicacies of political alliances and personal comforts, especially when it came to gatherings that might sway the balance of power in Prythian. Their acceptance of the change also spoke volumes of their respect for Eris's growing influence and his priorities, which now, intriguingly, seemed to include you.
Upon your arrival, you were greeted warmly by the High Lord and Lady. Feyre's smile was both welcoming and perceptive, her artist's eyes quickly taking in your slightly nervous demeanor. Rhysand's greeting was cordial yet measured, his legendary strategic mind likely already pondering the implications of Eris's sudden protectiveness over you.
The Inner Circle of the Night Court, comprising individuals of notable power and close personal ties to Rhysand and Feyre, were also present. Their curious glances were tinged with an unspoken question, their minds likely whirling with the possibilities of your relationship with Eris and what it meant for the political landscape.
Once dinner commenced, the conversation flowed like the fine wines served—rich, layered, and occasionally sharp. Topics ranged from trivial court gossip to the weightier issues of territorial disputes and trade alliances. Through it all, Eris spoke with an eloquence and assertiveness that reaffirmed his position not just as a scion of the Autumn Court, but as a player on the larger political stage.
The atmosphere in the grand hall of the House of Wind grew increasingly warm and congenial as dinner continued. It was a sharp contrast to the initial wariness that had marked the beginning of the evening. You found yourself slowly relaxing, the initial tension that had gripped you upon your arrival gradually easing as the hours passed.
Seated next to Eris, you were acutely aware of his constant vigilance. His gaze frequently swept the room, subtle but protective, always returning to rest on you with an unspoken reassurance. His hand, discreetly placed near yours on the table, was a silent promise of support. It was a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it warmed a part of your heart reserved only for moments of true connection.
Across from you, Cassian—the General of the Night Court’s armies and the so-called Lord of Bloodshed—was proving to be nothing like the fearsome figure painted in the tales whispered across Prythian. His reputation as a fierce warrior was well-known, and yet, here he was, displaying a charisma and warmth that belied his formidable title. His questions were thoughtful and his laughter genuine, filling the space around him with an infectious joy that seemed to brighten the entire room.
Cassian’s interest in your thoughts on matters ranging from art to strategy was flattering. It was clear he valued intellect and insight, regardless of one’s position or power. His ability to make you feel seen and heard was a rare skill, and you found yourself engaging in the discussion with an eagerness that surprised even you.
The conversation flowed effortlessly as you spoke of your past experiences, carefully curating the details to avoid revealing too much about your true connections and current predicament. Cassian listened intently, nodding thoughtfully and occasionally interjecting with a question that nudged you deeper into the topic. His engagement was so complete and so devoid of judgment that you felt a genuine sense of safety—an odd feeling considering the circumstances under which you had arrived at the Night Court.
The discussion took a lighter turn as Cassian shared anecdotes from his own adventures. The tales were filled with humor and humility, showcasing his dedication to his people and his unshakeable honor. The contrast between the man before you and the stories told of him in hushed, wary tones across the land was stark. Here was a man who fought fiercely but loved deeply, whose strength was matched only by his compassion.
The wine and warmth of the room seemed to weave a spell of camaraderie among all present as the night wore on. You found yourself laughing more freely than you had in a long time, the sound mingling with the gentle music that floated through the air. Eris’s occasional glances filled with quiet amusement and pride as he watched you interact with his allies, and you realized how important this evening was—not just for political alliances but for personal revelations.
The connection you felt to these people, forged unexpectedly through shared smiles and stories, reminded you of the complexities of life in Prythian. Here, alliances were not just built on power but on the subtle threads of mutual respect and understanding—threads that, once woven, could form a tapestry strong enough to stand against the darkest of times.
“So, your plans are set then?” Rhysand’s voice cut through the chatter, his gaze on Eris poised with a strategic restraint as he sat close beside Feyre, their fingers intertwined under the table in a display of unity and affection.
“They are indeed. My father’s reign will end before the year is out,” Eris replied with diplomatic precision, his fingers subtly tightening around yours under the table, offering a silent reassurance as you chatted with Cassian and Mor, who had now joined your group.
“Do you still train?” Cassian continued the earlier conversation about combat training. You were known as a formidable warrior who had bravely fought in the war against Hybern, emerging with only a few scars to tell the tale.
“No, though I do miss it dearly,” you answered with a wistful smile, recalling the days spent wielding a sword and teaching yourself survival tactics against imminent threats.
“Why did you stop?” Mor inquired, her gaze sweeping over you as if searching for a physical reason for your hiatus from training.
“I’ve been busy adjusting to life in the Autumn Court, and while I hope to resume training soon, it seems unlikely until I'm more familiar with the intricacies of this new environment,” you said smoothly, concealing the truth of your pregnancy with an ease that belied the ache in your heart from withholding such vital information from these potential allies. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally behead someone,” you joked, lightening the mood and drawing hearty laughter from Cassian.
“Well,” Cassian began, wiping away tears of mirth, “if you ever need any tips or want to spar, you’re always welcome to join me here. It would be good to have a fresh sparring partner.”
Mor's laughter rang clear and bright alongside Cassian's, their camaraderie infectious, filling the air with a sense of light-heartedness that briefly lifted the weight of your secret. The offer from Cassian, so freely given, was a testament to the Night Court's reputation for valuing strength and skill regardless of court affiliations. It was tempting, the idea of swinging a sword again, feeling the familiar weight in your hands, the rush of adrenaline that came with the dance of combat—a dance you missed dearly.
"I might just take you up on that, Cassian," you responded, your voice lighter than you felt. "It would be good to shake off the rust."
"Consider it an open invitation," Cassian replied with a grin that was both mischievous and welcoming.
Beside you, Eris shifted slightly, his attention momentarily flickering back to you from his strategic discussion with Rhysand and Feyre. His hand tightened around yours, a gesture that you knew was not only for reassurance but also a silent reminder of the stakes at play tonight. His plans, so boldly stated, were a gambit that could change the face of the Autumn Court, and by extension, the delicate balance of power throughout Prythian.
Rhysand’s gaze, sharp and calculating, moved from Eris to you, sensing the undercurrents of your conversation. He was a leader known for his insight, and you wondered briefly what he saw when he looked your way. Did he detect the nuances of your situation, the unspoken truths that lay beneath your carefully constructed facade?
"As long as Eris doesn’t mind sharing some of Autumn’s finest warriors with us," Rhysand added with a subtle smirk, easing the tension that had started to coil beneath the surface of the conversation.
"Only if you don’t mind returning them in one piece," Eris quipped, his tone light but his eyes scanning Rhysand for any sign of true political intent beneath the banter.
Feyre, ever the observant High Lady, interjected with a grace that smoothed the edges of the strategic dance unfolding at the table. "I think we can all agree that sharing knowledge and skills can only strengthen our courts," she said, her voice a soothing melody that seemed to weave peace into the words themselves.
Her comment steered the conversation towards safer waters, and you felt a silent gratitude for her intervention. The night continued, with discussions ebbing and flowing from politics to personal anecdotes, each moment carefully layered with both overt and hidden meanings.
As the dinner neared its end, you felt the first definitive kick from within—a startling, wondrous sensation that drew a gasp from your lips, momentarily drawing the attention of those around you, including Eris, whose concern was immediate.
"Are you alright?" Eris asked quietly, leaning closer to mask the conversation from curious ears.
"Just a bit of discomfort," you whispered back, offering him a reassuring smile to alleviate his worry. The moment was fleeting but significant, a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a secret that bound you to Lucien yet remained hidden even from him.
You composed yourself, returning to the conversations with a calm demeanor, the reality of your situation settled heavily upon you. The ties you were forging here, under the guise of mere political alliances, were becoming more personal, more vital. The truth of your child’s paternity lingered like a shadow; one you knew would eventually come to light.
The sudden silence that fell over the grand dining hall was palpable, a stark contrast to the lively banter that had filled the air just moments before. Cassian's knife hitting the floor seemed to echo through the chamber, an unintentional signal that caused every pair of eyes to swivel toward you, expressions filled with surprise and curiosity. The subtle yet unmistakable scent of pregnancy had wafted through the air, a fragrance familiar to those attuned to the nuances of fae biology.
Beside you, Eris's body tensed, his grip on your hand tightening imperceptibly. His quick, calculating eyes darted around the table, assessing each reaction with a practiced eye, before settling back on you with a look that was both protective and probing. He was searching for cues on how to proceed, his usual confidence momentarily overshadowed by the unforeseen revelation.
Your own heart thudded loudly in your chest, the sound almost echoing in your ears as you navigated through the rapid thoughts and fears crowding your mind. The intimacy and warmth of the room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the walls closing in as you contemplated the implications of your condition becoming public knowledge here, among potential allies and friends.
Rhysand, always the leader, was the first to address the sudden shift in atmosphere. His voice was calm and collected, though you could detect the undercurrent of authority that underpinned his position as High Lord. "Is there something you wish to share with us?" he asked, his eyes locking with yours, a mixture of intrigue and concern lining his features.
Feyre, ever the empath and peacemaker, extended her hand across the table toward you, her gesture one of solidarity and reassurance. "Whatever it is, you're among friends," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm in the tense silence. Her assurance was meant to comfort, to remind you of the support system that surrounded you in this room.
The deafening echo of fear reverberated through your ears, a raw, unfiltered panic seizing hold of you. Lucien's intricate connections to each person in the room flashed before your mind's eye, a stark reminder of the delicate web of alliances and loyalties that surrounded you. Though they might assume Eris to be the father of your child, the mere possibility of your momentary lapse in concentration betraying the truth sent a chill down your spine, tightening every muscle in your body with apprehension.
With a gentle lean and a deep, calming breath, Eris closed the distance between you, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he spoke softly, his words meant for your ears alone. "We can handle this together," he whispered, the warmth of his touch a silent pledge of unwavering unity and support. In that moment, his commitment shone through, steadfast and resolute, a beacon of strength amidst the tumultuous currents of political intrigue and personal turmoil.
You took a deep breath, buoyed by Eris's support and the encouraging faces around you, and found the courage to speak. "Yes, I… I'm expecting," you announced, the words coming out in a rush, laden with both fear and relief. The table responded in a variety of ways.
Cassian, the warrior with a reputation as fierce as his loyalty, recovered from his initial surprise with a broad grin spreading across his rugged features. "Well, that’s cause for celebration, isn’t it?" he declared, his booming voice breaking the tension, his demeanor shifting the mood towards one of festivity rather than scandal.
Mor, radiant and ever joyful, clapped her hands softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. "Oh, that's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she mirrored Cassian's sentiment.
The unwavering support of your new friends had the rest of the table exhaling deeply, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the first light of dawn. It was as if a collective sigh of relief swept through the grand dining hall, washing away the discomfort that had momentarily lingered in the air.
“You must be thrilled, Eris, I had no idea you were with a female, let alone close enough to start a family, an oversight on my part,” Rhysand's comment, though perhaps inadvertently brusque, was met with a swift reprimand from Feyre, her scolding glare a silent reminder of the importance of diplomacy and tact. Her subsequent words, however, carried a genuine warmth and sincerity, a testament to her graciousness and desire to foster unity among the courts.
"I believe what Rhysand meant to say," Feyre interjected smoothly, her voice gentle but firm, "is that we are genuinely happy for both of you. Congratulations are in order, and we look forward to the potential alliances that may blossom between our courts. You have found a remarkable partner, Eris, and we are honored to welcome her into our midst."
Her smile was radiant, a beacon of acceptance and friendship that illuminated the table, and you found yourself returning it with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation. The queasy churn in your stomach persisted, a reminder of the weight of the secrets still hidden, but Feyre's genuine warmth and the friendly wink she directed your way offered a glimmer of reassurance.
“Thank you,” Eris's response was measured and regal, his acknowledgment of their well-wishes tinged with a silent understanding of the delicate dance they were all engaged in.
As he pressed a tender kiss to your intertwined hands, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support, you felt a swell of affection and gratitude for the man beside you. His steadfast presence, a pillar of strength in a sea of uncertainty, was a source of comfort and reassurance amid the swirling currents of political intrigue.
With a steady voice, you echoed Feyre's sentiment, expressing your gratitude for the warm welcome extended to you both. The queasiness in your stomach persisted, a lingering reminder of the secrets still hidden beneath the surface, but the genuine warmth in Feyre's smile and the camaraderie that permeated the room filled you with a sense of cautious optimism.
"I hope to be great friends one day, Lady Feyre," you said earnestly, meeting her gaze with sincerity. The prospect of forging genuine connections with these influential figures was both daunting and exhilarating, offering the promise of camaraderie and support in a world fraught with political intrigue and danger.
As the dinner resumed, the mood lightened further, the conversation flowing freely as newfound bonds were forged over shared laughter and stories. The weight of the secrets you carried remained, a silent undercurrent beneath the surface of the evening's festivities, but for now, in the warmth of acceptance and friendship, you allowed yourself to savor the moment, cherishing the unexpected connections that had been forged in the crucible of uncertainty.
TAGLIST
@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon
#fanfic#x reader#angst#acomaf#acourtofthornsandroses#ri#acowar#acotar#eris masterlist#eris vandaddy#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader#cassian#nesta x cassian#cassian acotar#nesta archeron#acosf#a court of silver flames#acotar fanart#mor acotar#mor x reader#amren#mor x emerie#sarah j maas#incorrect acotar quotes#lucien vanserra#lucien x reader#elain x lucien#lucien acotar
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Princess.
Azriel x f!Reader
One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!
Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?
Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse and trauma
Masterlist.
Princess Masterlist.
Chapter 2
Azriel was seething, he felt like he could kill Rhysand for how he played him. How could he do this to him? He despised you, he hated you. He hated the fact that you never got to see the slaughter that happened in the war, he hated that you never had to get your hands dirty with someone’s blood. He hated that you were raised in a warm house with loving parents, that you would have dinner every night with your parents -the table filled with love and care. He didn’t know why he felt like that, he knew he should be glad that someone else didn’t go through what him and his family did, he should feel happy that a beautiful and sweet female like you wasn’t defiled by the horrors of this world. He could see how delicate you were, you reminded him of a rare and unique flower and even though he loved that, he felt the urge to rip this flower from the ground and destroy it. Was he a monster? He wondered. He was sure raised like one, but did they manage to turn him into one too?
Lost in these thoughts he reached the roof, he removed his shirt and didn’t even bother to wrap his hands as he approached the training dummy. He kept punching and kicking, hatred was pouring out of him like a wave, smashing into everything that stood on its way and drowning anyone who didn’t run away.
The dummy snapped in half and fell on the ground. Only then he stopped and stared, his breathing plummeting and tears escaping his eyes.
Was he so broken that he could hate a soft creature just because she was raised better than him?
“Ouch” Cassian cringed as he walked out “what did it do to you?”
“Fuck off” Azriel growled making Cassian chuckle.
“Do you want a real opponent?” The warlord asked and amusement filled his eyes, it had been a while since he had a good fight.
Azriel pounced on him and so they began.
Cassian had never seen him acting like that before, the shadowsinger was mad, his eyes wide and red, his hair a mess, his shadows frantically flowing around and the two siphons he had on each arm cracking from the power. Azriel had Cassian on the ground in less than five minutes.
“I hate her” -punch.
“I fucking hate her” -punch
“I fucking hate me.” -he didn’t punch this time, he just stared wide-eyed, his shoulders rising and falling quickly with every breath.
Cassian was speechless, he just stared at his brother with a worried and confused look.
“How on earth can I be mated with someone so weak and naive”
Cassian choked on air “she is your mate?”
“Yeah I felt the bond snap the moment she walked in…” Azriel rolled his eyes.
“Does she know?” The warlord stood up and stretched.
“I don’t think so, and I don’t care” he shrugged.
“But…why? I mean she seems like a sweet and caring female she could make you happy” Cassian was really confused, his brother needed love and affection so why was he denying his chance to get them.
“How can I be with someone like her? She will never be able to understand me and what I’ve been through. She is trained to wed a high fae not an Illyrian bastard. I will corrupt her, I will defile her.” Azriel couldn’t breathe as he realised what he said. Everything was entirely true.
“Az, please don’t think like that, you deserve to be happy. She deserves to be happy too and you can make her happy…” Cassian spoke with a sad look.
“No I can’t. Don’t speak about this again.” Azriel said and picked his shirt up, ready to leave.
“What are you planning to do?” His brother asked him.
“Make her hate me.” He responded and left.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
You stayed in your room, when Mor came to ask you if you wanted to go out you told her that you couldn’t because you had to wait for Azriel to get you. She didn’t say anything and left with a curious look.
You didn’t know if Azriel was going to come, maybe he would avoid you and tell Rhysand that he showed you everything and you didn’t need to hang out together anymore.
Your hope didn’t last long as Azriel strolled in your room, his face was cold. He scanned your room and hummed. “Such a cute room for the princess” he scoffed.
“I didn’t choose it.” You whispered.
“Did I give you permission to talk?” He growled and you shook your head, you opened your mouth to say sorry but closed it again when he glared.
“Get dressed we are going out. I expect you to be at the balcony in five minutes” and with that he was gone.
You took a shaky breath and got up. You didn’t know what to wear, if you wore a dress he would scoff and be like “of course the princess is wearing a dress” so you picked a pair of pants and a shirt that looked way too big for you -At least this will cover my silhouette. You thought and got dressed. You felt kinda guilty for wearing pants, your mother would be so disappointed. But you needed to forget all the training you had and finally get a hold of your life. You needed to gain control of yourself in order to survive.
The pants were tight but the shirt reached your knees so you felt comfortable, with one last look on your reflection you hurried off not wanting to piss him more by being late.
The moment you walked out to the balcony and he saw you his eyes widened and his face became red. He looked feral.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” He growled.
You stared at him waiting for permission to speak, he noticed. “Speak”
“I found those in my closet” you whispered.
“Why would my shirt be in your closet?”
You gaped at him, this shirt belonged to him? And then it hit you, the smell seemed so familiar when you wore the shirt… it was his smell. Stupid, how did you not notice this. You reprimanded yourself.
“I can go back and change” you offered and he just rolled his eyes.
“I don’t have all day, and I don’t care, you already ruined it. Keep it” he made a look of disgust and flared his wings.
“Let’s go” he said and opened his arms.
Your jaw dropped. You would fly to the city? Couldn’t he winnow you there? What if he dropped you? This would solve his problem.
He noticed your hesitation and huffed.
“I won’t drop you come on my patience is running low don’t make me grab you”
And with that you moved closer to him and let him gather you in his arm. His smell was so toxic yet addictive and you had to use way too much power to keep yourself from leaning further into him.
He glanced at you and took off. You didn’t scream, you didn’t feel fear. You kept staring at the city so mesmerised by the view. You felt free and a smile appeared on your face.
Azriel noticed this and furrowed his eyebrows.
“You’re not scared?” He asked.
“No, I like the feeling” you whispered, you weren’t sure if he heard you over the wind. The corners of his mouth twitched, a smile was trying to emerge but he quickly covered it with a frown. He looked at you, mischief flashing in his eyes and he dived. You were descending so fast that you could feel your intestines rearranging themselves but you didn’t scream, you didn’t know why but at that moment you trusted him. Even though he despised you… you trusted that he wouldn’t drop you and… you laughed. The ground was getting closer and you were laughing. You felt like you had gone mad. Azriel was probably thinking the same because his jaw dropped and confusion filled his features.
He manoeuvred both of you to the sky again and he stopped. You were floating over the city . You glanced at him and he was staring at your face.
“You really aren’t scared” he noted.
You nodded and he shook his head, the cold expression coming back as he landed. He dropped you and started walking. You grunted as your back made contact with the ground and your eyes filled with tears, you weren’t hurt just embarrassed as everyone stared at you.
“Come on I don’t have all day”
Requests are open!
My laptop has left the chat and probably this life so I’m posting this from my phone. So please excuse any mistakes I might not have noticed. Getting a new laptop on Monday 🥲
Also if anyone wants to be tagged on this series please comment so I can make a tag list on my phone.
#acotar#acotar series#azriel#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel angst#azriel x reader#azriel fanfic#shadowsinger x reader#rhysand#feyre archeron#amren acotar#elain acotar#acotar fic#nesta acotar#acotar fanfiction#rhys acotar#acowar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#acomaf#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#acofas#cassian acotar#cassian
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Long Way Home [Part X]
[Azriel x Reader fanfic]
Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Read Part 1 here. Read Part 7 here.
Read Part 2 here. Read Part 8 here.
Read Part 3 here. Read Part 9 here.
Read Part 4 here.
Read Part 5 here.
Read Part 6 here.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Part X
My father had taught me that most illnesses could be broadly classified into two: diseases that had a tendency to spread, and the diseases that did not.
While treating a patient with a spreadable illness, there was a high risk of the caretaker getting ill. To combat this, we had made some discoveries like: covering the nose and mouth while in contact with the patient, washing hands with soap frequently and general personal hygiene. It didn't make the caretaker infallible, but it did lessen the risk of spreading.
Azriel didn't have a cold or any other illness that spread, so I was pretty safe from that. He had an unusually high temperature paired with aches, dizziness, tiredness, and a minor stomach issue.
Rhys and Cassian winnowed Azriel to my bedroom and I helped them get him under the covers. Father had fetched a couple of bags of his clothing and other supplies which I'd need. They promised to visit frequently and left.
I sat beside him on the bed, tears threatening to spill over again as I took him in. His skin had lost its colour, his wings looked limp and he was murmuring deliriously as we settled him in. Now he looked like he was in some kind of fitful sleep, his arms and torso jerking now and then. I leaned over and kissed his forehead, sending waves of reassurance through the bond. His body instantly relaxed and the jerking stopped.
I let him sleep until I finished making lunch, consisting of steaming vegetable broth which was both light on the stomach and masked the taste of the bitter medicine he had to take. I toasted some bread for myself and took a tray upstairs.
When I gently woke him up to eat, he had trouble staying conscious at first, but when he figured out that it was me, he fought hard to stay awake. I cradled his head against my collarbone and fed him the broth from a small bowl. He hadn't eaten in days, and I didn't want him to throw up the food. I let him lie back down after wiping his mouth with the hem of the shirt I was wearing. Then, I placed a cold compress on his head to ease some of the temperature.
The medicine started working after a few hours. His body started sweating and the temperature reduced to a manageable level. It was just as Cassian had said: it was quickly healable illness, but it had come to this level because he refused any medicine. I gently wiped the sweat away with a damp cloth, then applied a soothing balm to help restore some moisture to his dried skin and lips.
As the sun dipped in the west, the villa's magic lit the candles and sconces for light. Azriel's ever present shadows weren't there, and his beautiful wings looked brittle and fragile in the candlelight.
His temperature rose a bit, though not to the previous unmanageable state. After I made him have another bowl of the medicine spiked broth, I stayed up all night trying to keep him cool with damp cloths and cold compresses. Throughout the night, there were a few times when he seemed to have awoken, but it was just his delirium talking. He was far more relaxed now, and I stayed beside him and held his hand as he mumbled my name.
I was waiting for the fever to break, which might help him return to proper consciousness. I kept a careful watch to make sure it was reducing and there were no sudden spikes in his temperature.
Somewhere in middle, he also had a nightmare, I think. I couldn't get him to wake up, so I held his hand physically and also reached out through the bond.
Finally, the fever broke on the cusp of dawn, just as the morning birds were getting ready to herald a new day. His nightmare also seemed to have eased, and he was now calm. I had the sensation that he had reached out to me through our mating bond, as we were holding each both mentally and physically.
After another round of wiping sweat, I laid down next to him for a quick nap before breakfast. I had to take care of myself too to take care of my sick mate properly.
My body was tired from the all the work, and the nap turned into two hours of sleep. The morning sunlight was spilling through the open French windows when I opened my eyes. Cassian, Rhys, and my father were on the other side of the bed, and Azriel seemed to be awake. He was propped by pillows and talking to my father in low tones.
They stopped talking and turned to me when I sat up and stretched. Azriel looked better now, not like a dead body as I had seen him yesterday. His eyes showed apprehension as he watched me.
I merely stood up and walked to the door. There was a long conversation to be had, but first, Azriel had to get healthy. It could wait until that.
"I'm making breakfast, hope you three will stay for that," I nodded at the others and made my way downstairs.
I made some savoury vegetable oats, buttered toast and put the kettle to boil water for tea. Rhys, Cassian and father made their way down just as I was finishing up. They looked a bit suspicious to me, glancing at each other and then telling me that they'll serve themselves, and I should go just ahead and take a plate to Azriel.
They wanted us to talk and clear it out. Sighing, I carried a tray upstairs.
Azriel was lying back down when those three had left, but he raised his head at my entrance. When he noticed it was me, he started to push himself upright. I moved to help arrange the pillows behind his back so he was comfortable and sat down next to him.
His body was still weak, and his hands trembled, so I fed him the food I had brought.
"How are you feeling?" I asked after a couple of spoons.
Instead of answering the question, he looked me directly in the eyes. "From the first time I saw you, I haven't had a proper night's sleep."
I exhaled audibly, returning the spoon to the bowl and waiting for him to go on.
"You were alone and nervous during Rhys's treatment without your father present. But still, you never showed it on your face and saved him. And when you shifted to the House, you were a ray of sunshine that brought a smile to everyone's face."
I looked away from his intense gaze. "Never on your face, though."
"You've made me smile and laugh so many times that I've lost count."
I wasn't buying it, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? And somehow I happened to not see even one of those alleged smiles?"
He replied to this statement with a goddamn smile.
I wasn't amused. I wanted to smash the bowl I was holding into his face.
I reined in my rising anger. Maybe I wasn't ready for this conversation yet. I needed more time to sort out my thoughts.
I shoved another spoonful of oats into his mouth before he could say another word. Placing the bowl back on the tray, I pushed it onto his lap and stood up. He could eat on his own.
"Finish eating and take rest," I started towards the door.
"Y/n, please, wait. Listen to me—"
I whirled on him so fast that he instantly stopped. "Say another word and I'll poison your next meal and shove it down your throat. You can't just ignore me for months, giving uninterested replies to my attempts at conversation, then reject me when we found out that we were mates. As if that wasn't enough, you have the fucking audacity to FALL SICK AND HAVE ME TAKE CARE OF YOU! JUST FUCKING SHUT UP AND LET ME BE!"
I banged the door shut behind me and stomped down the stairs, breathing heavily from my outburst.
Rhys, Cassian and my father were at the base of the stairs, trying to eavesdrop on our conversation, I guess. They scattered like mice when they saw my murderous expression. Rhys started wiping down the table, Cassian was furiously scrubbing at the dishes and father was straightening things up.
I was amused at Rhys and Cassian. Never thought the High Lord and his commander would be doing a domestic chore in my house out of fear.
Fetching a bowl from a cabinet, I scooped some food in it and sat down at the table after Rhys was done. I set the bowl down hard enough to make the table rattle. The anger was still present. They all started inching towards the front door.
"You're welcome to my house anytime," I said in a low, controlled voice, making them stand still. "But the next time you even attempt to patch things up between me and Azriel, I'll poison your food and turn your dead bodies into compost for my fruit orchard. And that includes you, father."
They all nodded wordlessly and tripped over each other trying to hurry outside.
Well.
Good thing to know that my anger rattled even the best of the High Lords in Prythian.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Tags:
@kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @impossibelle @sourapplex @brujitafantomatico @venuseuripedis @darling006 @fightmedraco @lees-chaotic-brain @thesunloveschips
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Read Part 11 here.
This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home
Happy reading! <3
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
[Thank you for your patience as I know I was late in uploading these parts. I love you all very much <3]
#writing#creative writing#acomaf#acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x yn#cassian#fanfiction#wattpad stories#wattpad fanfiction#writers on tumblr#fiction writing#azriel x reader#azriel x femalereader#acotar fanfic#Elaine archeron#nesta archeron#amren#rhysand#prythian#Sarah j maas#short stories#azriel spymaster#azriel angst#text posts
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The Unrighteous Knight Part 2
pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader
summary: After the events that occurred between Azriel and you, nothingness seems rather appealing. (Also some insight into readers past, and how becoming fae has affected them)
warning: su**ci*al thoughts, canon typical violence, nesta slander…inner circle slander?
word count: 1.3k
a/n: Sorry for delay, my drafts got deleted! This chapter is a little slow, but necessary for character development. Turns out, reader isn’t such a meek character after all…
Part One Part Two Part Three
To be, or not to be.
That is the question. The simple question, as mortals would insist. But what hold do the claws of mortality have upon an immortal being? How far must a cauldron made fae go to completely rid themselves of their humanity, with no guarantee that they will find solace in immortality?
Nowhere.
That is the answer, the simple answer your youngest sister and her dashing mate insist upon.
You must go nowhere, because simply put, the act of searching for serenity is sure to attract confusion.
But the answer is surely not so simple. Is nowhere not anywhere when you have been dragged to a land different from the one you’d grown to love?
The soil of Prythian feels foreign beneath your feet. Then again, your own skin feels foreign against your blood, which feels volatile within your soul.
Prythian, the continent home to Feyre Cursbreaker, Lady Death, and the most beautiful of the three sisters, Elain, cannot possibly be home to you, (y/n) Archeron, the sister who stands out for no reason other than her own lack of brilliance.
While the cauldron may have lent your younger sister the power of a seer, you were left with nothing.
Not brave enough to take it for yourself, you have come to terms with the fact that you are once again, left behind.
The forgotten sister. Perhaps that is what you are. What you always have been.
They insist that this is your home, that Velaris will bathe you in its light and rid you of your struggles. But you have found that you quite hate the light. It is darkness that you seek. It is nothingness you yearn for, the absence of everything in its entirety.
You try not to let these thoughts fester for too long.
Writing, for all you know, is the only way to remedy the situation. After all, it is considerably easier to distract yourself when you have something to look forward to.
Something that you enjoy.
Perhaps it is the nothingness within your leather bound notebook that brings you peace. The unfilled pages are not lonely, but instead, freeing.
The cruelty of your reality leaves no mark on the pages of your worn book. Nothingness, or in this case, fiction, is all that lines its pages.
Stories of the past, present, and future are maimed into something foreign. You are the narrator, you are the creator, you are in control.
Control.
That is your answer. Supplied by none other than yourself, of course.
It is control you seek. The ability to lead a life you choose, without ever having to bow down to forces external to your own psyche.
Forces beyond the harsh stare of Azriel, the Night Court's Shadowsinger, and the bane of your eternal existence.
In the many years you’ve known him, he has never failed to remind you just how deep his hate for you went. Like a raft sailing down an empty river, your efforts to mend your relationship are continuously shut down.
Not that any of it matters, not anymore.
The second his blade made contact with your abdomen you knew, just knew that the two of you would never make peace.
Even now, days since the incident, a phantom pain remains, pulsing within the thin scar below your left rib.
It’s frustrating really, how do you move on from something you never want to forget?
Staring down at the tea stained pages of your journal, you let the question linger.
A whole bunch of nothing.
That is the answer you arrive at.
It should be familiar now, this nothingness within you. This nothingness you embody.
Your sisters, bless them, will never grasp the emptiness that resides within you. But how could they, for all they know you appreciate solitude, find serenity in the freedom this world has provided you.
But it is not freedom you embody, it is loneliness; nothingness in its purest form.
“What is it exactly you are working on?” Nesta’s cool voice asks you. Had you not known her better, you’d surely mistaken her inquiry for judgment. But you do know her, so you send her a hum too weak to be mistaken for one of contentment and forbid your eyes from leaving the shadow filled paper below you.
“Nothing,” you are working on absolutely nothing.
Had you looked up, you would have seen the two cups of tea in her hands.
Had you looked up, you would have seen the sheer weight of determination resting on her shoulders.
Had you looked up, perhaps the shadows moving slowly across your hands would have stopped their movements and removed themselves from your proximity.
But alas, your eyes remain on the dark creatures, hoping, praying, that they leave the library and take your loneliness with them.
“I know what you're doing,” she spoke once more, clearly set on making her presence felt.
“And what may that be?”
“You’re overthinking,” she moves across the shelves, elegantly placing herself onto one of the cushioned chairs in front of you.
“I can assure you, that is not the case.” Nothing, that is what you are doing, and have been doing since you were forced upon this planet.
“Come back to the training ground tomorrow, I’d like for you to be there,” her voice is sincere but it is dissatisfaction that overtakes you. Of course that is what this is about. You’re foolish for assuming she had come here with the answers to the questions you seek.
“I’ll consider it,” you say dryly, reverting back to the page below you, noticing the shadows have seemingly disappeared.
Whether or not Nesta is satisfied with your response means nothing to you.
It means nothing, really.
Nothing does.
“I don’t think he meant it.” And so Lady Death strikes again. As is if her words tore open your jugular, you find yourself recoiling into the chair. Of course she would think that, it’s not as though she were present to witness the hatred in his eyes, the malice within him as he raised his sword, the eagerness of his actions against the vulnerability of your torso.
“Oh?” The paper crinkles under your tight fist, its sound serving as a reminder of your demeanor.
“He was wrong to do what he did. He hurt you and I hate him for that,” she halts, carefully thinking of what to say, “That said, I don’t believe he meant to hurt you. Had he known your skills in combat, I think the situation would have been avoided.”
It’s your fault really, you should have guessed as much. The path of wrongness will always lead back to you. You shouldn’t have expected Nesta, of all people, to see through the situation.
“I’ll see you on the training grounds before sunrise tomorrow, because from what I am gathering, I cannot trust anyone here to not kill me if I don’t refine my skills.”
For a moment, guilt can be found on the face of your sister, though it is quickly replaced by something akin to anger.
Looking as though she intends to say more, Nesta rises from her chair and makes her way towards you. You find comfort in this, it reminds you of home, or something that once was home.
“If you despise your life that much then perhaps it is best you leave.” Too far, she’d gone too far. In typical Nesta fashion, she expresses her guilt through absence. The two filled tea cups serve as the only indicator she had even been present.
This is on you, completely your fault. You dared to welcome presence into nothingness and allowed for tension to fester. How foolish you were.
So with that, you begin to write.
tags: @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl
#angst#fanfiction#fanfic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#rhysand#rhys#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#elain archeron#eris vanserra#lucien vanserra#fluff#books#reading#azriel x reader angst#nesta#elain#feyre#feyre cursebreaker#feysand#cassian#amren#morrigan#mor#acotar x reader#sad
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𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐎𝐂
♡ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | ♤ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 | ♞ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | ☆ 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 {𝟏𝟖+} | ♛ 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞 {𝟏𝟖+}
Chapters: {01 / ??}
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Arya Darling, The Princess of the Night Court.
Arya Ashford, The chosen mother of the Archeron sisters.
Both were created to be the Salvation of All.
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•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
» [ Nuvole Bianche ] «
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Chapters: {01 / ??}
Disclaimer & Trigger Warnings
Prythian & The Lands
Seven Courts & High Lords
The Inner Circle
The Archeron's
Playlist
Prologue
01 , 02 , 03 , 04 , 05 ...
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Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list :)
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☾ 𝕐𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐫𝐞-𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝔸ℕ𝕐 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝕀 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝔸𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. ☽
Disclaimer: All characters and the storyline of the acotar characters belong to Sarah J Maas. My OC's (Arya and a few others) and their storyline/anything to do with her, belongs to me.
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#azriel x reader#azriel angst#azriel smut#azriel shadowsinger#acotar x oc#a court of thorns and roses#night court#inner circle#rhysand's sister#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#elain archeron#cassian#morrigan#azriel#azriel fanfic#a court of rebirth and salvation#acotar#amren acotar
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Word count: 3200+
Warnings: a bit of violence
Part XVII | Part XIX
You jolted awake, heaving, skin sticky with a cold sweat. Your trembling fingers found the pendant safely hidden under your clothes. It was dream, another nightmare, you thought at first as your sight focused on the light colored chiffon curtains around the bed.
You tried to calm down, inhaling deeply. But it didn't work, panic gripped on your trembling heart that beat too fast. Why it was harder than usual? Your throat was closing, you couldn't breathe. Why hadn't you forgot it as soon as you opened your eyes?
"Y/N!" A males voice cried out. Before you were able to comprehend what's happening, mattress dipped and strong arms wrapped around you. "Thank the Mother."
You finally breathed in. You had to repeat it several times to be able to speak out.
"Rhys," you whispered, your voice hoarse. Your brother was with you. You were safe. The panic began to dissipate. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you weren't the only one crying. Rhysand sobbed, his grip growing stronger.
You stayed like this until both of you calmed down. You didn't speak, just held each other.
"I'm so sorry," Rhysand whispered as he pulled away to look down at you. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have revived those memories."
No dreams, but memories. That's why it didn't disappear after you woke up. You closed your eye and immediately opened them because the horrors started to play out behind your eyelids again.
For the first time in your life you saw Rhys struggling to find words. He was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. You finally looked at him properly.
Rhysand looked terrible. Red eyes with dark circles under, dishevelled hair, wrinkled clothes that remembered better times. He was a mess, much messier than after all-day training in the camp.
For Cauldron's sake, you were so confused. You pressed palms to your face. The horrible headache was back, too.
"Y/N, are you okay? Tell me what should I do? Do you need something?" Rhysand was immediately cradling you.
"I have just this insane headache," you rasped.
"Do you want that powder from Madja?"
You nodded without thinking twice. Small bottle and glass of water appeared on the nightstand. Rhys added a spoonful of powder to the glass, mixed it and handed the glass to you. You gratefully drank it. It worked almost immediately. You sighed with relieve.
"You okay?" You asked Rhys. "You look.. tired at best."
"You were unconscious for last five days. I couldn't leave you alone. It's all my fault.."
"Five days?" you choked on water. "It doesn't matter. Anyway. Don't you dare to blame yourself. I was the one who asked you to do that."
"It was so.." Rhysand fisted on his hair. "If those bastards weren't already dead, I would.." He was so angry that air around him crackled with power.
But you didn't have a chance to talk with him more as a roar came somewhere from the hallway. "Where is she?"
Both of you turned to the door at the same moment, eyes wide. Rhysand was about to stand and go to see what was going on down there when the door flew open and hit the wall hard.
On the threshold stood Azriel. His eyes dark, face full of rage, body ready to strike. The shadows wildly swirled around him, wings stretched behind his shoulders. He was so scary, looking like the embodiment of death itself. If you didn't know him, you would be so panic-stricken, unable to even blink. His hazel eyes scanned over you still in the bed.
In a blink of eye he had Rhysand pinned to the wall, his feet in the air. "What did you do to her?!" he growled, baring teeth at him. Blue siphons on his leathers shone dangerously.
Your brother struggled against his grip, his lips turning blue, but he didn't use any magic to protect himself. Azriel was so blinded with the rage he would kill him and Rhys would allow it. You had to stop him somehow.
You leapt from bed and tried to pull his muscular arm away from Rhys' throat. "Az, calm down," you whined, but you didn't make him move for even an inch. "Azriel!"
Rhysand's eyes began rolling back, now whole his face was bluish.
"Azriel! Let him go!" You were pulling on his arm even more furiously now, your nails digging into his flesh. You drew blood. Only then his gaze moved to you and his arm fell back.
Rhysand fell to the ground gasping for air and coughing. You knelt beside him, rubbing on his back. "Rhys, are you okay?" He just nodded still panting and coughing.
"Are you crazy?" you turned to Azriel. "You could kill him."
"That's exactly what I wanted to do," he retorted, glaring down at his High Lord angrily. "He promised to not push you further. You weren't ready for that and he fucking knew it."
"I asked him to do that!" You shouted back.
At that moment Feyre appeared in the door. She was dirty from a paint, apparently somebody ran to her studio in the city to alert her after Azriel arrived.
"Rhys," she cried out when she saw him panting on the ground and ran to him.
You both helped him stood up and get to the door. Feyre gave you a worried look. A silent question. You just shook your head and smile and so she took your brother to their room, leaving you alone with Shadowsinger.
Azriel glared after him, promise of death in his eyes.
"Don't even think about that," you warned him. "It was my decision. I went to him. If you need to vent your anger on someone, here I am."
He grumbled something you didn't understand and stayed silent with hands crossed on his board chest, hazel eyes watching you.
You gazed back at him.
"How do you feel?" he asked much calmer.
You raised a brow at him.
"What?"
"You were about to kill Rhys. Don't I deserve the same?"
His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. "It's different."
"How?"
"Simply different."
You angrily glared at him until the spymaster did unthinkable thing. He backed and disappeared in his shadows without another word.
Exhausted you sat down and pulled knees to your chest. As it became your habit, you took the pendant out and played with it. Now you knew. You regained the last bit of your memory. You had everything as you'd planned. You were trying to avoid thinking about the horrors of the last night your mother was alive and rather tried to focus on finding a way how to get to Spring Court.
That night you couldn't sleep. You aimlessly wandered through the house until you found yourself in front of Rhys' and Feyre's bedroom. You were about to knock on the door, but you changed your mind at the last second and decided to go to the garden.
The door behind you opened quietly and Feyre came out. "Oh, it's you," she smiled tiredly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."
She just waved a hand. "I was about to get some tea. Will you join me?"
You nodded and a few moments later both of you were seated in the sitting room with steaming cup of tea in hand.
"How is Rhys?"
"Oh," Feyre smiled. "You don't need to worry about him. They're fighting quite often. He's fine, sleeping like a baby at the moment. By the morning he won't have a single bruise."
You shook your head. "It's my fault. Azriel burst out like that because of what I asked Rhys to do."
"You did nothing wrong. Anyway, it was up to you to decide that. Azriel can't be angry for that."
You sipped your tea while Feyre watched you, face tense with worry. "Are you okay?"
You tried to smile, but it turned into grimace. "I will be."
Feyre sighed. "I guess you can't sleep. Rhys showed me what happened there. It was.. well.. more than terrible. If you would like to talk about it.." she offered gently.
You thanked her and this time you managed to smile properly. "It's enough that you are here."
She nodded. You finished your tea mostly in silence, just occasionally doing some small talk. That's how you found out there would be Starfall in a week.
Starfall, the biggest and most beautiful celebration in Night Court. How could you forget about that? An idea began to form in your head.
"Who will come?" you asked subtly.
"As usual. It will be us, my sisters, some friends and people from the city," Feyre smiled, already imagining the party.
"Friends?"
"Yes, Winter Court's High Lord with his wife and few generals. Helion will come and a few friends from Summer Court. Lucien should be here, too." Feyre was counting on fingers, roaming through the list in her head, but you stopped listening.
You already heard what you needed. Lucien would be here. Such a big party was a good occasion to disappear without being noticed for hour or two. It should give you enough time to speak with Tamlin, if things went in your favor.
Thinking about all possible alternatives you even forgot about the horrors of your past and spent that week mostly peacefully.
Evening of Starfall
You stood in your room in front of the tall mirror, admiring yourself. Mor convinced you to go shopping dresses with her and this was what you ended up with. The dress she'd chosen for you for this event was beautiful. It was very simple long dress made of dark blue almost black velvet, the hem of skirt was decorated with shiny little stones that in narrowing chains rose up to your waist. It reminded a night sky full of shooting stars. Indeed, very fitting for today's evening.
She also insisted on helping with your make-up and hair. Since she left a few minutes ago, you had been standing in front of the mirror looking at your reflection. It wasn't like it didn't suit you. To be honest, it suited you a lot, you felt almost beautiful, but this wasn't you. It was too much.
You were snapped out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. "Are you ready?" Rhysand's voice shouted from behind the door.
"Yes," you answered. Door opened and Rhys strolled in.
As soon as he found you, his eyes widened. He froze on the spot, in silence gazing at you.
"What?" You raised a brow at him. "Is it too much?"
He slowly shook his head looking for his voice. "No, it's perfect. You're beautiful. I've never thought I will get a chance to see my baby sister like this. Tonight you'll be the most beautiful among the stars."
You frowned at him, blushing fiercely. "You are such an ass."
"I'm just honest," he grinned. "I can't wait to see Azriel's expression when he sees you."
You rather said nothing to that. Ever since he revived your memories, he kept making small remarks about Azriel and you. No need to say that the very next day after Azriel almost killed him, they were again brothers, talking as if nothing had happened.
"Let's go. I can't wait to show my Starshine to my friends," he teased you.
Party was held as always in the House of Wind. This was your first time visiting here since you came back, but you had to say that although Rhys had changed the furniture and decorations, the house itself hadn't changed that much. You still could easily navigate through narrow halls and numbers of rooms here.
Rhys' family was gathered in a big private sitting room. As soon as the two of you walked in all eyes turned on you.
Mor had already seen you, so she wasn't so surprised and sent you just a cheeky grin. Cassian's sonorous voice was the loudest one. He left his mate at the bar and hurrying to you he lifted you up, spinning with you.
"Our lil' sis finally joined the gang," he laughed as he put you down. "Look at you! You're so pretty, dove."
Laughing you pushed him away when he tried to kiss your cheek. Your face felt even hotter than after Rhysand complimented you. "Stop that, you big bear. You'll destroy Mor's hard work."
"You look amazing," Feyre hugged you. Even Amren nodded approvingly. Next to her stood male you'd never seen before, but it wasn't hard to guess he was from different court and had a thing for her. He smiled politely at you, which you returned.
Elain stood with her sister at bar. She frowned at you and turned away. As long as she didn't make another scene, you didn't mind. Nesta, on the other hand, winked at you and smiled, sipping from her glass. It was surprising.
Balcony doors opened and Azriel walked in with a glass of whisky in hand. "What's -" When his eyes met yours he forgot what he was about say, gaping at you. Hand that held the glass dropped and its content spilled onto the floor, splattering his shoes and pants.
Rhysand and Cassian boomed with laughter, others turned around and hiding their amusement pretended to be occupied.
You spared him an embarrassing situation and walked away to Mor. You hadn't talked with him since he attacked Rhysand and honestly, you were still a bit bitter about that.
As the evening progressed, the party was in full swing. Rhys and Feyre disappeared, certainly having their private party on one of the smaller balconies. Cassian with Nesta also disappeared together. They visibly needed an alone time. The rest went down to have fun with the other guests.
You were alone on the higher balcony, pretending to observe the crowd below you. True was you were looking for a certain redhead. Feyre said Lucien would come, but you hadn't spotted him yet.
"Drink?" A deep voice spoke to your right. Shadowsinger waited just a few inches from you with two glasses of wine in hands, offering you one. You hadn't heard him to come.
You gave him a tight smile. "I don't drink."
"Oh," his cheeks tinted with pink. Both glasses disappeared. "You are stunning tonight." You ignored that comment. He leaned against railing, looking down. "Are you still angry with me?"
"Little bit," you answered honestly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Well, at that moment I guess I did, but..I was angry. And so worried for you. Rhysand sent me on some damn mission that took weeks to accomplish. I couldn't see you for so long and the first thing I heard after returning home was that you aren't well, that you're unconscious because he returned you the last bits of your memories. He promised me to wait."
You placed your hand on his big scarred one. "As I already told you. It was my fault. I asked him to do so."
"Now I know. But back then.. I think I would react the same way even if I knew," he admitted."
"The three of you grew into brutes," you rolled your eyes.
He laughed, the sound so rare that you couldn't resist and had to look at him. He was handsome in the tailored suit. Even more than usually. Despite all hardships and wars that he survived, he still seemed young and innocent, just as you remembered him. Your heart stuttered, breathing became labored.
He had to hear that because he stopped laughing and looked down at you. Suddenly he seemed to be too close. The crowd below you gasped and went silent, all eyes turned to the sky. You did the same.
The show had began. Hundreds of spirits travelled above you. A warm wing wrapped around your shoulders, big hand landed on your waist. You turned to Azriel, his shiny eyes already on you. Now he was even closer than before. You could feel his warm breath full of freshness and woody smell of whisky on your face, strands of his hair tickling your forehead.
It threw you centuries back, when the two of you stood on the exactly same spot in the exactly same position. You were just a young female, still teenager, crazily in love with the handsome young male, best friend of your older brother, who loved you deeply. Your knees buckled just like they did back then, breath caught in your throat. His full lips brushed over yours. A moan made its way through your parted lips. You felt so lightheaded and drawn to him.
But..
This was wrong. You weren't that young female anymore. You didn't feel the same way anymore. Your heart changed. You were here on a mission. You blinked the haziness of your mind away.
"I'm sorry," you breathed out and ran away, leaving confused Azriel behind. He didn't try to chase after you nor he stopped you.
You ran until you got two floors lower and only then you stopped in one of the alcoves in the hallway to catch your breath. You forbade yourself to think about what just happened on the balcony.
You were upset. You needed to find Lucien quickly, before the party would be over and you miss the best chance. You walked down the hall and turn the corner just in time to see hair as bright as a fire disappear in one of the doors.
You stalked closer and carefully peeked in. You were lucky, it was Lucien. He stood with his back to the doors, pouring some alcohol to the glass. He was alone. You slipped in and closed the doors behind you.
Startled he turned to you. "It's you? You should have said something. You move around like a ghost. One day somebody gets a heart attack because of you." He turned his attention back to the drink. He seemed to be in a bad mood.
"I was looking for you."
"Really?" He took quite big gulp of liquor grimacing. "So congratulations. You found me."
"Are you okay?"
"Nothing I couldn't solve myself," he snapped. "What do you want from me?"
"I need you to take me to Spring Court." His brows raised, both russet and gold eye snapped back to you.
"You what?"
"You heard me."
Lucien laughed. "Sure. And next time I meet Rhysand, he will chop me into small pieces and feed me to some beasts. Thanks, no."
"He doesn't have to know you helped me."
Lucien tsked, but he listened. "All I want from you is that you take me to Tamlin. That's all. After that you can return to the party and pretend you haven't seen me at all."
"Why?"
"You said it yourself. Tamlin needs help and I can help him. Do I need any other reason?"
He looked you over from head to toe with narrowed eyes, thinking. A muscle pulsed on his tightened jaw. "Okay. How do you imagine we get out of here?"
It surprised you. You thought he would be harder to convince to do something so crazy and dangerous.
And so you presented him your plan. It was very simple: find unused balcony far away from prying eyes and winnow. You already had an idea which rooms with balconies would be safe for your escape.
Lucien agreed and obediently followed you through halls. You were already so close to the one of the empty rooms when a deep voice came from behind you.
"Where do you think you are going?"
Taglist:
@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot
#english isnt my first language#tamlin fanfiction#tamlin x reader#tamlin acotar#tamlin#pro tamlin#azriel angst#rhysand#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel#feyre#elain archeron#nesta archeron#morrigan#cassian acotar#amren#lucien vanserra#acotar fanfiction#acotar#sarah j maas#sjm fanfic
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Always pt 1
Azriel x Reader
Authors note: okay so this was my first time writing anything so I am sure this is a mess. If you have any advice, let me know and please be kind. Also idk why this is spaced out weird, so sorry about that!!
Part 2
Warnings: angst, first time writing so please be gentle with any criticism.
Word count: ~950
Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?
Rhys had invited all of the members of the inner circle to the house of wind to watch Starfall. Just as you were finishing your shift, stitching up a young boy’s forehead after he had fallen and bashed his head on the cobblestone street, Cassian strolled into the healing center to fly you up to the house. “You work even on Starfall, do you ever relax Y/N?,” he grinned, announcing himself. “Much to your disappointment Cass,” you turned towards him, shooting him a grin of your own, “I am always busy trying to heal people, especially idiots like you.” You realized the both of you needed to head out soon if you were going to make it to the house on time. Mother help you if you were late; Mor would have your head, especially after her warning you about being late. You still needed to take a bath, and then Mor would help you do your hair and makeup.
After packing your things, you both waved at Majda, saying your goodbyes, strolling outside only to see Velaris was in a state of celebration; the shops in the Rainbow were filled with males and females doing their last minute shopping for gifts, children were running around with sweets in their hands, parents shouting at them to slow down, and the cafe’s were filled with boisterous laughter and conversation. “Are you ready for tonight y/n? Do you need to pick up anything from your apartment before I take you to the house?,” Cass prodded. It was almost strange seeing him be so careful with you, usually being the loud and outgoing person he normally was. He had caught you drowning your sorrows at Rita’s and pleaded that you tell him what was going on. You confided in him of your feelings toward Azriel. About how you have known for a while how much you love and adore him. About him first pining for Mor, and now pining for Elain. About how hard it has been coping with seeing Elain and Azriel together. About how it has never been you that Azriel has been interested in. About how you understood why Azriel would pick Mor or Elain over you. About how you were literally breaking from the inside, and you didn’t know how much more you could take. Thereafter, Cass had been extra cautious and gentle with you, and had promised not to spill a word to anyone about anything after you practically went on your knees begging him not to.
Usually, any struggle or problem or pain you had would end up with you at Azriel’s door in the middle of the night, where you would end up laying in bed and talking and talking and talking until one of you fell asleep. He was your source of comfort; his scent of spearmint and eucalyptus, his shadows that always seemed so excited to see you, quickly wrapping around your wrist with a cool touch before he reigned them in, his calming and quiet aura that soothed you to no end, his everything. He never turned you away either, always welcoming you in with open arms. Whether you needed someone to talk to or someone to just sit in silence with, he was there. And it was always the same with you; after difficult missions, he would show up at your apartment silently entering with the key you had given him years ago. You would heal him from any injuries he had, standing between his feet as he sat on your counter without so much as a whisper coming out of either of your lips, and eventually you would end up on the couch, or the bed, or even the floor and fall asleep after hours of discussing absolutely nothing, after hours of discussing absolutely everything.
That’s how things had been for decades up until Elain and Nesta showed up; suddenly, Azriel was too busy for you. Too busy to stop by in the middle of the day and take you out for lunch on the Sidra. Too busy to come to you after missions Rhys would send him on. Too busy to acknowledge you whenever you were in the same room as him and Elain. It was almost as if your friendship never existed, and he had no idea how much it was hurting you. And honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Elain was this soft and ethereal beauty who had been nothing but kind to everyone, even you. She struggled to adjust to fae life, and Azriel being the compassionate male he was, helped her in every way he could. And whenever you saw them together, the smitten look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. Everything you didn’t want to know. Everything you wished wasn’t true. Everything that you wished for yourself. And all you could do was sit back as you watched the love of your life fall for another.
“I’m okay Cass, seriously, don’t worry yourself about me. All my gifts are at the house, and I think Mor should have everything set up by the time we get there,” you sighed, already dreading the night that was to come. He grasped your shoulder, pulling you into a tender hug. Resting your head on his chest, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stifle the lump that was developing in your throat. He held you for a couple more seconds before pulling back and whispering, “It is going to be okay, whatever happens tonight, you will be okay. I promise.” Nodding, you let him pull you in again, this time spreading out his wings and pushing off the ground to fly you back to the house.
Tagging @fieldofdaisiies in case you have any tips or comments. Wrote this just because you encouraged me so hopefully you like it a little 🤞🏽
#azriel x reader#acotar fanfic#acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#azriel#rhysand#rhys acotar#nesta archeron#elain archeron#cassian#azriel fanfic#angst#first time writing#please be gentle with me#feyre cursebreaker#morrigan#amren acotar#i suck at writing i’m sorry#writing#fan fiction#acotar fanfiction
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Moth To A Flame
Summary - Azriel has a new friend in the form of a diary to talk to, and you are completely enchanted to find out exactly what they talk about.
Warnings - F L U F F F F F F F F F F, pining, wholesome all round
Word Count - 4.1k
Based on this ask
Winter Solstice was a magical time of year, one that had become even more meaningful with the additions of your ever-expanding family.
Before Feyre, it had just been you decorating the house and instructing Cassian to help you, scolding him when he would inevitably pop open a bottle of wine and find a nice couch to perch on whilst he barked unhelpful comments in your direction. The only good thing about Cassian's laziness was that Azriel would always show up to help you, whether that be resting his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you strung up the garlands, or getting on a ladder himself to reach the higher points that were beyond your reach, he was always there to assist.
Since Feyre, you were gifted with a band of women who wanted to help, Feyre reached the highest corners of the room, Elain made fresh garland rings from whatever she could find in the gardens of Velaris, and Nesta was meticulous in the placement of all of the decorations. Wine flowed and music played, and your heart had never felt so full and content.
That solstice had marked Nyx's fourth year within your special little family, and each year, the gifts had become more extravagant for the little one.
You had opted to stay in that morning and skip the annual snowball fight, choosing to watch it from the window with Elain as you both spent the morning preparing the meal you were going to feed to three huge Illyrian bats a few hours from then. Lucien had also opted to stay behind, his reason being to make sure that your wine glasses stayed full which earnt him a teasing glare from Azriel before his eyes flickered to you in silent conversation.
Snow floated down softly from the skies and you watched with a quiet giggle as you noticed Nyx reaching his little limbs upward to the sky in Feyre's arms, grasping at the flakes that were just in reach for him to capture. Then your watchful eye moved to Azriel, the male you were so irrevocably in love with who had no idea of your affections.
It was odd, for Azriel, a male who dreamed of a mate so badly, of real true love, to not see what had always been right in front of him. Though you had to give it to him, you weren't exactly forthcoming with your feelings in fear of being rejected.
Presents had been neatly arranged in piles, thanks to Lucien, and you had made sure to make everyone aware that each person had a certain coloured wrapping paper, you had told them it would make life easier since the family was too big now to spend time reading labels. Rhys had rolled his eyes at you, but pecked your cheek with a smirk at your usual perfectionist antics before agreeing and stalking off to make sure it was imperative to your plans that they do as told.
Life hadn't always been so perfect.
You had come from nothing, no family or title were bestowed to you, and you had unfortunately found yourself being sold to the Illyrian camps to entertain the males there before Rhys and his brothers had found you and taken you in. There was something about you that captivated them, and the more time they spent with you, getting to know you, the more they fell in love with everything that you were. Kind. Selfless. Loyal. Fierce. Their family wouldn't feel nearly as complete without you in it.
Azriel had smirked when they had re-entered the house, basking in the glow of another victory whilst you barked the exact place where they all needed to sit in front of their towering piles of presents. You had gone overboard again, you always did every year, showering them all in gifts which you never expected to be returned. That was the gift of you, all you wanted was for everyone else to be happy.
The house smelt divine. Baked chestnuts and cranberries, pine and candied oranges, and whatever honey you had put on the meat. All of their mouths were salivating at the thought of sitting down at that table and turning into feral beasts at the platter you had spent weeks planning and preparing.
A seamlessly planned gap had been created, a perfect moment for you all to sit down together and open your gifts before you bolted back into the kitchen and ordered Rhys to keep your wine topped up. It was the least he could do after all.
Your pile was nestled between Azriel and Mor's separate towers, the space on the deep seated sofa between them left free for you also. Azriel's eyes roamed your figure as you dipped into the kitchen and returned with a fresh glass of red wine, your bare feet padded along the floor and the short silver chrome dress that you had chosen to wear swayed with each step, grazing against your naked thighs.
Azriel thought that you were absolute perfection, to pure for their world, too pure for him to foolishly believe that he stood a chance with you.
Your scent drifted past him as you shimmied through the gap between his knees and the table, molten caramel apples and basil, a smell he could scent from any place he stood, no matter how far or near he was from you.
All of the piles were as you had ordered, in specific coloured papers, and the beaming smile on your face made all of the hassle of running about town worth it.
Everyone began opening their gifts in turn. Mor had flung her arms around you when she had opened a glittering red floor length dress that you had custom made for her. Feyre was beyond happy at the paintbrushes that you had inscribed her name into, Nesta was thrilled with her books, and Elain's bright eyes sifted through the cookbooks and ornate garden tools you had imported from Dawn. Another jewel for the firedrake and she was content, Cassian was audibly grateful for the armour you had gotten him which held a bit for flare than his current leathers, with golden sockets for his siphons which melted into the taut black leather of the skin.
Azriel shouldn't have been surprised when you went as far as to import delicacies from the Spring Court for Lucien, an assortment of baked goods and herbs that almost brought a tear to his eye. You knew how much Lucien missed being able to have a home, and you knew that Spring was the closest thing to a home he had ever had bar Elain.
Rhys howled in laughter when he unwrapped his matte black lint roller with a violet handle, promising to use it often before opening his real gift, a piece of art you had commissioned of himself, Feyre and Nyx at Starfall a year prior, covered in stardust and smiling brightly. Thoughtful as always.
Then you turned to Azriel, noticing he had opened most of his gifts apart from the ones that were clearly from you by the state of the perfectly wrapped edges and cobalt blue ribbons. He felt your eyes on him, pools of adoration he always found himself searching for, and he met your gaze as you handed him a small square box that rested in his palm.
Unwrapping it, navy velvet welcomed his eye and he looked at you with a small frown, listening to your silent urge to open it to find a thin onyx leather bracelet with a hot white glass pendent at its centre. The light swirled and danced like it was alive, growing more active as he inspected it. "What is it?"
Smiling, you took the bracelet from the box and secured it around his wrist, your touch alone sending electricity coursing through his veins, "I've been experimenting with my power," you told him softly as the room continued unphased in its own conversation like neither of you existed, "It's a piece of my soul," your fingers rested on his wrist and he felt his heart thump in his chest, "It's just so you know that you know I'm with you to light the way whenever you need it."
Azriel exhaled with disbelief, feeling unworthy of such a gift. A piece of your soul. So that you would always be with him.
"Y/N," he breathed, "This is- Thank you," he would give anything to be able to lean forward and capture your lips in his, but instead he restrained himself and reached for your own gift from him in your pile, wrapped in shiny silver paper with intricate embellishments of flower petals.
You hadn't opened a single gift yet, too entranced in everyone else to take a moment for yourself, but you obliged the man you adored so much and ripped open the paper that encased a long box.
Opening it, your eyes widened as you took in the blade in your fingers, an exact match to Truthteller but with a hilt of diamonds and beautifully forged embellishments, "I realised that you didn't have your own, I hope you never have to use it but just thought you'd like one," your stunned silence made him fidget with his fingers and he watched you carefully pick the blade up and turn it in your hands, "Do you like it?"
"I love it," it was beautifully lethal, just like you, "Thank you, Az. Really."
The afternoon continued and you couldn't stop glancing to the open lidded box on the table as you sat nestled under Azriel's wing, sipping from your wine as he opened his last gift, from Nesta, who was busy placing the new hairpins you had gotten her into her staple coronet. Azriel tore open the paper and tilted his head, looking up at the eldest Archeron sister who raised a brow and smirked, "It's a diary, Az. People use them to write down their thoughts and feelings, some people draw in them," you snorted at the condescension in her tone to which Azriel nudged your knee playfully before thanking her and thus wrapping up the present exchange.
It had shaped up to be the most perfect solstice any of you had ever seen.
In the weeks that followed solstice, the snow melted away to give new life to the earth below, and the sun peeked out from the mountains to cascade Velaris in its heavenly glow.
During those weeks, you noticed a subtle change to Azriel, how he would fly away at dusk with his diary secured to his side, to only return an hour or so later seeming lighter and more determined. The subtle changes and the increases of his affection only made you more intrigued to find out exactly what he was writing in that book.
He had caught you far too many times tiptoeing into his bedroom, curtly telling you with a smirk that the diary was nowhere to be seen before pecking your forehead and sending you on your way.
Azriel had been much more attentive since solstice, he rarely took off the bracelet that you gave him, and you liked to think that the glow of your soul coaxed him into sleep, a thing you knew he struggled with often. Even Rhys had told you that Azriel had left his door open one night, only slightly ajar, but enough to Rhys to see him reaching to the ceiling and looking longingly at the pendent which contained your essence atop his pulse.
It was frustrating for your family to see it, to see your mutual pining but watch the other be clueless to it. Azriel had brought you flowers, brought back trinkets from his travels, he would brush up behind you and allow his shadows to feather across your lower back, he'd even cooked for you, something no one had ever seen before. Then there was you, giving a literal piece of your soul to the male, and even that wasn't enough for Azriel to see how in love with him you were.
"I'm calling it," Cassian panted as he rested on the stone pillar of the training ring beside Nesta, watching Azriel jog to catch up with your retreating form and his shadows drawling over your shoulder, "They're mates. They have to be."
"You're too late to that bet," Nesta quipped, wrapping her mate's hands up tighter in the leather straps, "We've all put money in, we bet on how long it would take for them to realise and for the bond to snap."
"And you didn't tell me?!"
Nesta scowled playfully, "You'd cheat," she prodded his armoured chest with her finger, "It has to be natural. They deserve that much."
Weeks ticked by and the group were getting restless, even Nesta, who was stubborn to let the pining play out, was getting annoyed.
Nesta knew exactly what Azriel wrote about in his diary each day, he wrote of you, she had caught a glimpse of a passage when he had stupidly left his diary in the library one night and he had sworn her to secrecy since then, but also sought her out to speak about you, about what he should do.
And Nesta no longer saw a problem in nudging him in the right direction.
"Is she still sniffing around your diary?" Nesta had asked, they were splayed across the seating area in the River House whilst you and Mor had disappeared to Rita's for the evening.
Your essence glowed on his wrist, he heard the whispers of your voice emit from it and sighed with a faint smile on his lips, "Everyday," he told her, looking upward at the ceiling and wondering what you were doing in that moment, "She's too good for me, Nes."
Humming in disagreement, Nesta sat up and craned her neck to look at her friend who was clearly thinking of the woman dancing the night away in the centre of Velaris, "Azriel," she deadpanned, "Y/N gave you a piece of her soul so that she would always be with you. Show her what you wrote. I assure you it can only go in the way you want it to."
Hint? No. Spelling it out for the dumb Illyrian? Yes.
Realisation hit him and he bolted upright, he gathered his diary in his fingers and raced upstairs, stumbling past a confused Cassian who stared after his brother before turning to his mate, mouth full of one of the cupcakes you and Elain had baked that morning with wide eyes and a accusatory tone muffling his words, "You cheated!" Crumbs flew from his mouth and Nesta flipped him off.
"You know the money is ours right?"
Cassian flopped down beside her with a grin, "I knew there was a reason why I loved you."
Painful throbs growled at the balls of your feet as you walked up the path to the house with your heels stabbing at your thigh. Intoxication hadn't found you but you still had an amazing time dancing the hours away with Mor and Feyre, giggling and talking about men until you were all talked and danced out.
Golden firelight greeted you, and your dreary eyes scanned the room to find Azriel sat before the fire but turned toward the door where you stood in a floor length black dress, with two long slits that kissed your mid thigh and a plunging neckline held up by two thin ropes.
Azriel's hair was tousled, his hazel eyes were warm pools that beckoned you to dive in, his skin was golden and glowing in the light, and he sat there with a look of wonderment that you had never seen before.
"Az? Are you alright?" You closed the door behind you and made you way over to him, noticing his neck crane to keep his focus on your face as you approached him.
Azriel had pulled the table toward him and a familiar black leather bound book lay open on the table in front of him, "Come here," his voice was low but soft, pleading but not commanding, he patted the space beside him and you sank down into it, "I wanted to show you something. I know I've been hiding this from you, but I want you to see it now."
The book was soon in your hands, and closed, the thing you had been after for so long, "Are you sure?" The idea of his diary in your hands felt wrong, like a delicious invasion of privacy.
"More sure than I've ever been," he nodded downward, giving you the permission you needed to open it.
The pages were filled with words and charcoal sketched, and you took a moment to flick through the filling book before you focused on certain pages.
Bright eyes, unbound hair, and a toothy smile greeted you over a two page spread, your eyes followed the curves of black, and you gasped when you noticed what, or who, you were looking at. It was you. Azriel had drawn you on the pages of the diary Nesta had gifted him. In the time he had disappeared at dusk to be alone with his thoughts, he had chosen to let them wander to you.
You looked to him and noted how he had shuffled closer to you, the warmth of wing draping over your smaller form and his shadows dancing across your shoulders.
"I think in a way this diary is for you," he urged you to carry on, watching carefully as you flipped through to the beginning and scanning the words he had littered on the pages.
To anyone else, they were just a bunch of randomly littered words across the page, a waterfall of sayings and phrases that had come from your lips. Words and phrases that you said often enough for Azriel to take the time to write them down.
On the next page was two lists, one of the things you loved and another of the things you hated with small scribbled beside certain ones depicting when exactly Azriel had noticed.
Flicking through, it dawned on you that the entire diary was full of you, your jokes and mannerisms, the things that made you laugh, passages of your favourite poetry, drawings of you.
"Az, I-"
"Keep going."
So you did, you kept flipping the pages, allowing your fingers to graze against his written word as you read through his thoughts until you reached one page in particular.
Y/N,
I may never have the courage to tell you how I feel, and maybe writing it down will give me the courage to let you finally see what I have been hiding.
I tried to remember the day when everything in my life began to make sense. I went so long feeling lost and alone, of feeling destined to a life of solitude, and then you happened. You brought a joy to my life, to all of our lives, that we didn't know we were missing. I don't think you realise just how amazing you are.
I am in love with you, Y/N.
When you're around I know everything is going to be alright, and when I'm away, all I think about is you. I look at that damn bracelet all of the time, hoping that it was just some thoughtful gift, but a sign of something more. You are fluent in me, you speak my language in ways that even I cannot, and I can't walk this earth without you by my side. I refuse.
I may not tell you everyday that you mean the world to me but you do. The day you entered my life, even when you were petrified, you changed my life into something so beautiful and meaningful, you make me feel seen. I may not be the first man in your life but I intend to be the last, I intend to be the only one who can make you feel loved to your core.
There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I will love you in your weakest moments and brightest of days, I will love you when you don't love yourself, I will love you even when you don't want me to, I will love you until the earth swallows me and even then I will follow you to the next life. There is nothing on this earth that can take me from you, not even death can force us apart.
Between universes, oceans and moons, I am so lucky that I got to step onto the same land and dream under the same stars as you; and I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of any reality, I would find you and I would choose you.
I love you, Y/N. I'll write it and say it as many times as you need me to, whether that be verbal or not, in whatever way you need me to say it, I will.
You have me, until the last star in the galaxy perishes, you have me.
You didn't realise that you were crying until you saw your tears splatter onto the page. In an instant, Azriel was cupping your face in the hands that only you found comfort in, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks as he felt your longing and love flow through him.
Felt your longing and love flow through him.
Azriel tensed, his eyes went wild and wide as he searched your soul for a sign for anything to confirm what he had just felt pang in his chest. The pressure was building and his actions confused you, he was panting, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.
You reached for him, resting your fingers over his heart and feeling the world flip on its axis at the singular contact, energy exploded around your forms, white oceanic waves rippling with intertwining shadow, shrouded in a golden shimmer.
The sight was beautiful, so beautiful that it stole your attention and you watched as your essences danced with one another, and his shadows rallied to join in the celebration. Azriel's breath was warm against your cheek and you tore your gaze away from the display above your heads to meet his tearful eyes.
"We're mates," his voice was soft, so gentle, and he ran his fingers down the side of your face, sighing with a smile when you nodded.
"Nesta is going to be thrilled that she won the bet."
Azriel threw his head back and laughed, tears of pure happiness spilling from the corners of his eyes as he fell back to your level, "Bet?"
"They all betted on how long it would take us to realise that we love each other. They thought I didn't know."
"Beautiful smart creature," Azriel purred to you and you felt a blush creep to your cheeks, a blush that was soothed by his shadows curling over it, he slowly closed the gap between you, his lips hovering just before your own. "How rude of us to keep them waiting."
Azriel noticed your line of sight flicker between his eyes and downward at his lips, "Extremely," you breathed and Azriel wasted no time in pulling your face toward him and connecting your lips in something that could only be described as universe shifting, like the entire galaxy was holding a collective breath and watching you fall into one another.
There was a hunger behind it as his tongue danced with your own, you felt those golden threads snap into place, you heard the string connecting your souls hum in appreciation and yearning for what was no doubt going to occur behind closed doors.
Just as Azriel was about to scoop you into his arms and take you somewhere more private, a shuffle of feet and a groan sounded by the stairs.
Pulling apart, you saw Cassian stood there with giddy eyes, "GUYS! NESTA WON!"
The house and its inhabitants collectively snarled, "FUCK!" Rhys cursed from somewhere upstairs followed by Nesta's victorious chuckle whilst Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you both, you buried your head into Azriel's chest to contain your red cheeks.
Azriel shrouded you with his wings, forcing you to look up at him, "Let's get out of here? I'd like a night alone with my mate."
"Say it again."
"Mate," he kissed you, "My perfect, incredible mate," he mumbled onto your lips with a smirk, cradling you to his chest and growling at Cassian for whatever crude remark he had made before soaring into the sky with you pressed to his chest with plans to make you his over and over again.
Authors Note
Got a little carried away but this has given me life x
I'm drafting the next parts to some of my series tonight for tomorrow, what do we want prioritised? New Pages? A Fate Inked In Starlight? Can't Keep My Hands To Myself? When I Kissed The Teacher?
Let me know x
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine#azriel x reader#cassian#rhysand#mor acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#acotar azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#feyre archeron#feyre x rhysand#nesta x cassian#nesta#amren#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#rhys acotar#acotar oneshot#acotar fluff#azriel fluff#azriel fic
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Coming Home Series Index
Summary: Azriel x Reader series. You’re Rhysand’s younger sister and the person who’s been in love with Azriel for, like, ever. After an entire century running away from your feelings for the Shadowsinger, and the sting of his rejection, you decide to finally return home to Velaris for Winter Solstice. You’re older, more mature — and still totally enamoured by him. Chaos is bound to ensue…
✨ - indicates smut.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six ✨
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen ✨
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen ✨
Bonus Chapter 1 - Starfall
Bonus Chapter 2 - Lucien’s Cottage ✨
Bonus Chapter 3 - In the Dead of Solstice Night ✨
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#acotar fanfic#rhysand#mating bond#a court of thorns and roses#cassian#feyre#amren#morrigan#nesta#elain#azriel fluff#acotar fandom#acotar series#shadowsinger#spymaster#fluff#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#sarah j maas#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar writing#acotar fluff#acotar x reader
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I have a concept for a fanfic that I have to share with someone because I can't get it out of my head, so here goes:
I always see the trope of Amarantha and Rhysand having a daughter, but what if they had a SON.
So, the son was born and died Under the Mountain, Amarantha killed him when he was very young and Rhys never even knew he existed. But, because of the magic that his mother used to trap the High Lords (which is said in the books she doesn't even know what it is or what it does, only that fulfills it's mission) he doesn't die but ends up breaking the barrier between world and falls into another world.
Things happen in between and the boy by chance ends up with his friends in Prythian, and he and Rhys meet. The son ends up living in the Town House, but just part-time because he still spends time with his friends doing their business as people traveling around the multiverse.
To all this, Nyx was already born, the son has hair the color of Amarantha; she killed him leaving him to bleed after tearing off his wings, so now he has scars on his back and since she did not take them out well he suffers from chronic pain because they did not heal well. Rhys doesn't know this, until he sees the scars on his back. Imagine the anguish, his relationship with Nyx which would be a "I wish I had what you have but I want you to have everything at the same time", the drama of succession (because the son is by law of conquest Amarantha's heir and thus could theoretically claim the title of High King of Prithyan if he wishes), And his powers are a consequence of the magic that his mother used when he was born to absorb/eat power and is nicknamed the Cannibal because of that, because he can absorb EVERYTHING from a person if he wants and leave them in ashes.
I CAN'T GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD and I'm thinking about writing it. Any opinions?
(Character Concept Here)
#malakai the cannibal#acotar fanfiction#acotar#rhysand#rhysand headcanons#amarantha#under the mountain#feyre archeron#feyre cursebreaker#high lady feyre#feyre x rhysand#feysand#a court of thorns and roses#angst with a happy ending#total drama#azriel#cassian#amren#morrigan#elain archeron#nesta archeron#night court#court of dreams#court of nightmares#High King of Prithyan#acotar fic#acotar fandom#acotar fluff#acotar angst#fanfic concept
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Long Way Home [Part VIII]
[Azriel x Reader fanfic]
Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Read Part 1 here. Read Part 7 here.
Read Part 2 here.
Read Part 3 here.
Read Part 4 here.
Read Part 5 here.
Read Part 6 here.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Part VIII
Since winter was settling in, there wasn't much work to do outside. My father had cast a powerful spell on the surrounding grounds to keep the water pipes from freezing, and the dead branches to always find their way to our wood stores.
There was no work to do outside in the gardens, except harvest the fruit(if any) of the already existing plants and trees.
It was the season of oranges and strawberries, though, and they had grown abundantly. I kept what I needed for myself, then windowed the rest to my father to sell in the market or make wine. He sent me the wine bottles which I stored in the basement underneath the villa. Father had dug it out for storing wine and made a cold storage partition for other items.
When I was working outside, Azriel remained at a respectful distance and watched me. I had become used to it by now, and there were a couple of times where I had left some of the oranges and strawberries by the front door for him.
It was my third round of harvesting oranges and I had put up a ladder against a tree, balancing on the rungs with a basket in one hand. I carefully plucked each fruit and deposited them in the basket. There was one fruit just out of my reach, and I leaned a bit further to try and grab it. Before I knew it, I had slipped off the rung and was tumbling on my way to ground. I didn't even have the time to scream, but Azriel intercepted just in time and scooped me up, gently landing on the ground. The ladder had fallen on its side with the basket, the fruits spilling out of it.
"Careful," he breathed in my ear, and let me stand.
In Cassian's arms, I had felt excitement rush through me and made my heart race. Like I was standing on a cliff and about to jump.
Azriel's arms held me like they wanted my body to understand that I was safe, and my body responded by making me feel like I was in a tranquil bliss.
I quickly gathered the fruits, not acknowledging his presence. Leaving the ladder on its side, I entered the villa and closed the door shut.
That night, as I sank into the hot bath, I laid my head on my forearms and watched him through the window. It was almost a month now, since he started hovering around. I didn't understand it. Why did he run away like that when we discovered we were mates, and why did he come now?
I wanted to let him in and hear the answers from him, but not yet. I wasn't yet healed from the helplessness and humiliation I felt during the last meal we had together.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Two days later, I was harvesting the remaining oranges from the first bloom. Winter rains were frequent around these parts, and I could see storm clouds gathering in the horizon. They predicted a thunderstorm later on. Azriel hadn't arrived yet, and I didn't want him to get caught in the storm.
It began that night as I settled into bed. Azriel hadn't come at all, and it was good. The heavy rain lashed mercilessly against the windowpanes, and I fell asleep to the sound of it.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Tags:
@kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @impossibelle @sourapplex @brujitafantomatico @venuseuripedis @darling006
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Read Part 9 here.
This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home
Happy reading! <3
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
[I am overwhelmed with the amount of responses I've received for this fanfic. Thank you very much. This will be my last post of this year, as I have exams in my midst until January 7th, 2024. That's why I double posted today. A very happy new year y'all, and see you soon!]
#writing#creative writing#acomaf#acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x yn#cassian#fanfiction#wattpad stories#wattpad fanfiction#writers on tumblr#fiction writing#azriel x reader#azriel x femalereader#acotar fanfic#Elaine archeron#nesta archeron#amren#rhysand#prythian#Sarah j maas#short stories#azriel spymaster#azriel angst#text posts
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The Unrighteous Knight Part 3
pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader
summary: an argument with nesta sends you reeling, so what better place to escape to than your own room? and what worse fate to be bestowed upon you than azriel intruding your solitude?
warning: canon typical violence
word count: 1.2k
a/n: writer's block is a menace and I like crystals so please feel free to send in suggestions for a potentially witchy reader. also, I am experiencing INTENSE throne of glass withdrawals and need something else to latch on to.
Part One Part Two Part Three
What is it to live?
Must one feel to live? Or does life only exist in the fleeting moments of feeling?
Feeling and living. Can someone composed of nothing attain either of the two concepts? Or are life and feeling limited to those composed of something.
You are, in the biological sense, alive.
You bleed red and you bleed often; usually at the hands of yourself, and sometimes by the fury of Azriel.
But what does blood matter in any of this? It signifies you are alive, but fails to determine whether or not you are truly living.
It's a peculiar thing, really.
Living.
Is it meant to be defined, can it be? Or is it just something that is felt, never objectified, only ever theorized?
And can someone filled with nothing live?
Would you be no more than a soul, rotting away in the shell of your lifeforce? Dead in all ways but anatomical?
Is that what you are? A shell, hollow enough for the winds of change to pull back your exterior and expose the monotony that brews within you?
Your answer comes in the form of wake.
Like a rose ripped from its stem and forced into a bouquet, you are plucked from your slumber and presented to the world once again; with the expectation that you live, even though you have long since died.
It’s degrading, really.
It makes you feel like a prop.
You are not y/n Archeron, and you have not been for quite some time. You are the Night Courts underutilized doll, tucked away in a gloomy room and laid across a rose pillared bed.
Adjectives fail to encapsulate your essence, for adjectives require substance. And you are lacking in everything one could possibly possess.
It is questions like this that plague your thoughts, tying you to your bed, holding you hostage from the lives playing out behind your bedroom door. You’d like to believe you lived a more fulfilling life as a human, but you are well aware of the fact that despite the mortal blood that had run through your veins, you were never living.
And despite it all, you remain placid, crestfallen on the stairs of yearning, praying for contentment to shine upon you. As fate would have it, contentment is not what arrives in seek of you, for it is Azriel looming over your unkempt silhouette.
The thought of words being shared has a wave of nausea crashing against you. So you, in spite of your resentment for the winged manipulator, turn away from the closed curtains and lean onto your right side.
His eyes are what you take in first. Had he not raised his blade against you, perhaps you’d dream of swimming in hazel. But life, never quite kind to you, has you drowning in the golden irises you cannot help but revere.
“Good evening, Shadowsinger, I do hope you’ve come in peace,” you drawl, never tearing your eyes from his own.
Peace.
The prospect of it has you scoffing.
“I’ve come to you as I am,” he replies blankly. His face, that damn face. Had he looked any less regal then perhaps you’d have an easier time listening to what he had to say, but all you can focus on are his unemotive eyes and formidable wing span.
“...I do recognize the situation is less than ideal, but it is a direct order from Rhysand, and we have no choice but to conform.”
“Ah,” you begin, not quite sure what he had been explaining to you for the past few minutes.
He raises an eyebrow but quickly lets a scowl overtake his features. His arms cross and his eyes look as piercing as they feel. “You know nothing of what I just said to you. I don’t intend on repeating myself for I do not find you of all beings to be worth the effort,” he exhales sharply, “meet me at the training grounds tomorrow, bring no weapon and arrive no later than the sun.”
Training grounds, with him and not Nesta?
It’s hard to imagine your High Lord caring very much for your well being, even with Feyre’s convincing. Still, you cannot help but feel that you are being overlooked once more. Exploited and deceived, never allowed to make decisions for yourself. You do not wish to train, you do not wish to learn the art of bloodshed, and most notably, you despise the prospect of Azriel being the one to teach you, for his blade is still wedged in between your flesh each and every time you close your eyes. Even today, he did not come in peace, for peace is a concept entirely unknown to him. He, despite his success as the Night Court's spymaster, is a creature of torment. An unrighteous knight, a commander of cruelty, the bringer of despair. And yet, in his own twisted way, he is still a savior deserving of accolades.
The clearing of his throat removes you from your trance, commanding your attention to his being once more. As though he expects an answer, he nods in your direction, encouraging you to say your part. You are once more a character in a play, for your lines are being fed to you and the individual you embody is a stranger to the soul inhabiting it.
“Very well,” you say, letting nothingness consume you once more, “I will see you tomorrow, no later than sunrise.”
Seemingly content, or something akin to it, Azriel’s gaze falls upon your own and his scowl deepens to the point where it seems permanently etched to his features. It is moments such as these that you wish you could retreat into the air and never return. Of everyone to have ever despised you, the hatred that Azriel emits is entirely unprecedented. Since you’d been turned into a creature of myths and legends, he has taken it upon himself, treating it like a mission of the utmost importance, to tear you apart until absolutely nothing remains. His words are venomous and his actions bleed true, never once have you felt like such a waste.
Feeling is a fickle thing because before this most recent encounter, you’d been convinced that it was a language lost to you. But no, you are capable of feeling in the same ways you are capable of living. Hope is not lost but it is frivolous because the promise of feeling and the potential of life cannot stop your soul from rotting away. According to your own philosophy, you are dying, little by little with each passing day. And yet, it is Azriel who stands before you, seemingly content with making you his prey.
“Do not disappoint me,” he says as he walks further away, through the door and down the stairs, effectively leaving you to bathe in your own grievances.
He speaks of disappointment as though they are old acquaintances; or, in simple terms, as if you’d never be capable of recognizing such a thing had he not identified it for you. But a fool he is, for you and disappointment are the dearest of friends and loveliest of lovers.
“Until next time, Shadowsinger,” you say to no one in particular, staring at the chandelier above your sprawled form. Its crystals, sharp, precise, and devastatingly beautiful are what spark something in you. Even if it is only a spark, the reminder that you are not yet dead is all that matters in this very moment.
So alas, a crystal is the muse that has called to you, and a crystal is the very thing your desires shall embody.
taglist: @aetherl0l @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl
#angst#acotar#fanfic#azriel x reader#a court of thorns and roses#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#rhysand#cassian#feyre#nesta#elain#archeron#reader#sad#witches#fantasy#sarahjmaas#sjm#azriel x reader angst#nesta archeron#elain archeron#feyre archeron#rhys#gwyn#emerie#mor#morrigan#amren#lucien
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𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐒 - 𝟎𝟏 || 𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐎𝐂
{gif not mine}
♡ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | ♤ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 | ♞ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | ☆ 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 {𝟏𝟖+} | ♛ 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞 {𝟏𝟖+}
MINORS DNI
Series Masterlist || ACOTAR'S Navigation
Disclaimers / Trigger Warnings
Previous Chapter - Next Chapter
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Arya laughs loudly as she chases her older brother down the hall of their townhouse, "I'm coming to get you!" Her wings flap a little making her slightly bump into the wall. "You'll never catch me Arya!" giggles a teenager Rhysand.
Arya scrunches her face in concentration with the tip of her tongue out on the corner of her lip, her eyes zeros in on the center of her brother's back before she flaps as hard as her 4-year-old wings can. A few more inches and I can tackle him.
Rhysand continues to jog while laughing until he realizes the sudden quietness behind him, worried that her sister accidentally winnowed out, he turns around to check only for the wind to get knocked out of him as his little sister tackles him onto the floor.
"I got you, I got you, I got you!" Arya giggles while Rhys tries to catch his breath with an amused smirk.
"What did I say about running and flying indoors?" their mom scolds as she stands at the end of the hallway with her hands on her hips. Though, you can see the smile threatening to take over her face. Vera's favourite sight is seeing her children just be children, something she was ripped off of at such a young age and now that her oldest is soon to be nine years old, she knows his time as a child will soon be limited, if there was free time to be given to him at all.
As soon as Rhysand turns nine, the High Lord of Night, his father will be sending him off to Windhaven for Illyrian training, therefore Vera savours these moments when she watches Rhys hold his little sister instead of holding a sword. The night heir was supposed to start his training at the ripe age of eight but Vera had begged her mate to give him a year more to be a child before sending him off to train.
"I'm sorry momma, it's raining outside and Rhy's and I had a lot of energy to burn out," Arya pouts up at her mother while rolling off of her brother and laying beside him on the floor.
"Oh is that so little one?" Vera smirks as she slowly walks over to the two and before they know it she attacks their sides making her smile widely as the two erupt in laughter.
"Wait- no!" Rhysand laughs as Arya tries to wiggle away. "How's this for burning energy?" Vera laughs before showing mercy and letting them breathe.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Arya sips her cup of tea before placing it on the window ledge as she finishes the agreed amount of history she has to read for the day.
"I would rather go flying than read all these history books every day, I finished school years ago but I'm stuck reading to catch up on politics that happened thousands of years ago. I would take training over this momma," Arya whines as she finishes the last chapter for the day.
Vera, ever the graceful beautiful Illyrian female, sends her daughter a teasing smile, "I'm sorry little one, just be glad you were able to compromise with your father. Learn history for a few hours and then you can train in fighting and flying. You know he wouldn't have allowed the two to happen to his daughter unless he can exchange something for it."
Arya sighed as she stood up and walked to her mother who was working on a beautiful dress, "I don't even know why he's making me learn all the political ins and outs when Rhy's is the heir to the crown."
Vera's spine immediately relaxes under her daughter's soft caresses on her back. "Can you trust your brother to run the night court all on his own one day? He can barely organize his room as it is, Do you think he can organize correspondences on his table in the future?" Vera teases as she ties her last stitch on the dress.
"I'm sure Mor would love to do that," Arya chuckles before carefully lifting the dress her mother was working on off her mother's lap. "This is beautiful," the princess of night admires.
"Rhysand's future wife is lucky and she better appreciate every one of these or else I'm telling Rhy's she's not the one and I don't care if they even end up as mates," Arya comments as she hangs her mother's newest creation with the rest of the dresses she finished recently.
"Oh speaking of your brother's future wife, I need you to go to the weaver sometime this week when your brother gets here," Vera states making Arya scrunch her nose in confusion.
"Why is that?" Vera only smiles as she cleans her supplies around the room. "I want the weaver to hold onto my engagement ring for safe keeping and I want your brother to have his future wife to be one to retrieve it one day."
"Let me guess, his future wife is only worthy if she can retrieve this ring from the weaver?" Arya laughs, she loops her arm around her mothers as they walk to the dining room to prepare for dinner. "You're lucky the weaver likes me," she giggles before putting on an apron.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Amren watches with an almost bored expression as Arya narrows her eyes at the ancient one across from her, concentrating on trying to get past the ancient's thick mental shield.
Amren's shield was a thick dark grey fog that went from top to bottom of her mental field, Arya could just about see the shapes of tall pine trees behind it, it was a vast forest surrounded with mist and fog swirling around which almost represented her silver eyes.
After almost a decade of practicing with Amren, Arya has only recently managed to walk through the forest of the ancient's mind and find the actual mental barrier. For years Arya kept getting lost in Amren's mental forest. Every time she got stuck and took too long in the forest the silver-eyed ancient locked her in there, for a minute or two to teach her that time was of the essence and to be careful using her daemeti skills.
Now the princess of the night court can get through Amren's mental forest in record time, even faster than her older brother, but the real challenge was finding a crack in Amren's shield and Arya has been trying for months with no luck.
Today, Arya woke up with more determination and she vowed to her reflection in the mirror this morning that she would get through the ancient's shield no matter what she had to do to get through it. She should have asked to train with Cassian first to get some anger out but there had been no time to ask Amren and Cassian to switch training time. No time when it was only this morning that Arya's father barged into her room talking about how she is required to spend some time with one of Beron's sons as she is scheduled to be betrothed to one of them when Autumn comes.
Vera was livid when she heard her husband's command. The High Lord of Night had sold her off to Beron's son in exchange for their alliance in the coming war.
"Come on, girl, I don't have all day," Amren tells her annoyedly. Arya scoffs before once again concentrating on the impenetrable shield in Amren's mind.
Arya focuses on the bottom of the ancient's shield, she conjures thick purple smoke from the bottom of the shield and with a quick flick of her wrist, the purple smoke covers the entire shield. The half-Illyrian female clings her smoke onto the shield, making her smoke act as a second skin to Amren's shield.
Before Amren could even grasp what was happening, Arya forced her smoke to bend along with the shield that her smoke now clung to. Arya smirks as she watches Amren flinch with a hiss and half a second later the ancient's shield cracks and Arya wastes no time before her purple smoke seeps through the cracks.
Arya conjures her purple eyes into Amren's mind before quickly retracting herself from her brain. The night princess gets a growl from the silver-eyed fae which only results in the princess' smirk growing.
"Only took me almost a decade," Arya says triumphantly. "I was honestly tempted to blast your shield once I heard it crack, luckily for you I took pity."
"I could kill you right now just for saying that," Amren hisses as she rubs her temple trying to stop the headache that was slowly starting.
"Please, you know you love me," that statement was true. Even Arya's father was afraid of the ancient one, but anyone can easily see how much Amren adores and cares for the princess of the night.
"You are a pain in my ass."
"Well, my sweet Amren, wait it out a few more months and you'll be rid of me," Arya shrugs crossing her arms over her chest.
Amren narrows her eyes at the princess, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, so the news isn't out yet?" Arya says with a tone of disbelief, "Interesting. I thought the news would've been known by every fae and creature of Prythian by now."
"What news?" Amren growls, not liking the implication of what this news could be.
"I'm to be betrothed to one of Beron's sons," Arya says just above a whisper.
Amren shoots out of her chair with a growl that shakes the ground under Arya's feet, "You're lying."
Arya says dejectedly closing her eyes, "I wish I was Ams, I wish I was."
"Did that idiot of a High Lord not see what the Autumn court did to Morrigan?" Arya's eyes shoot open wide at the boldness of Amren calling her father an idiot in the open air. No one disagrees with the statement but no one dares to say it out loud. And apparently, Amren knew exactly what Arya was thinking.
"Please, you think I'm afraid of your father?" Amren shakes her head before she starts pacing again. "I will not let that male sell you off to those despicable males."
"There isn't anything any of us can do unless we want me dead because I assure you, if I did what Mor did, I won't make it out alive and I will die in the hands of my father."
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Taglist: @saltedcoffeescotch ; @skyjasper ; @inloveallthetime ;
[ if your name is crossed it's because tumblr won't allow me to tag you ]
#fxckmiup#acotar x oc#acoras fanfic#acotar#amren acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader#elain archeron#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#rhysand's sister#rhysand fanfic#cassian x reader#cassian fanfic#morrigan x reader#morrigan acotar#morrigan fanfic
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