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kayjayjwrites · 2 months

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

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daycourtofficial · 8 months

Text

Solstice Celebrations

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel realizes you’re pregnant before you do and tries to figure out what he’s going to do.

Azriel has been off for days now. He can’t explain it, but something is off. Not necessarily bad, but off and he needs to find the source.

It all came to a head tonight when he could hear a very subtle additional heartbeat in the room. He spent ages searching the room, trying to locate the source of the heartbeat, but it’s so subtle he can barely hear it when he’s not in bed.

He scours the room, the adjoining hallway, he even takes a short flight around the perimeter, but he is coming up completely empty. Even his shadows are telling him everything appears fine. Azriel eventually admits defeat and climbs back into bed, holding you tight to him. Even though he’s accepted he can’t find a threat, he’s still suspicious.

This becomes his nightly routine for the next three nights. He’s just been telling you he hasn’t been sleeping well, and you’ve been preparing him some teas to help him relax before bed. On the third night you draw him a nice soothing bath that you hope will help him relax enough to sleep.

“Mmm” he moans, getting into the tub, “you are too kind to me, my love.”

“Not kind enough if I’m not able to soothe your worries enough for sleep.”

You leave, too tired to help him bathe. Azriel spends a long time in the bath, trying to relax and eventually unwinding enough to feel the bed beginning to draw him in.

He steps out of the bath, drying off, and he comes to meet you in bed, finding you fast asleep. He laughs, because he’s never met anyone who falls asleep as quickly as you do. He climbs into bed, holding you close to him, pressing his head to your chest, hoping your heartbeat will help lull him to sleep.

The soft rhythm of your heart slowly drifts him away, until its rhythm is disturbed by that softer heartbeat. He pulls his head away, listening intently, but the beat becomes imperceptible. He puts his ear next to your chest again, listens to the slow brag of your heart, and listens to the soft beat of a much smaller heart.

He realizes immediately what the soft symphonies of heartbeats mean, and he is almost brought to tears. He never once considered he’d fall in love, let alone have a mate, so children were never something he thought the Mother would allow him to have, but he was wrong.

The Mother has made you a mother. He has made you a mother.

You worked under Azriel, taking on random missions whenever you’re needed. And the thought of you going on a mission while with babe scared the cauldron out of him.

He slowly untangles from you, puts on some pants, and shuts the door behind him. He has a certain high lord to see immediately.

“Azriel.”

The shadowsinger continues his pacing, holding a hand up to Rhys, “I’ll explain once Cassian arrives.”

Rhys sighs dramatically, “Azriel it’s the middle of the night, no one is dying or dead, please explain to me why I’m here with you and not in bed with Feyre.”

Azriel gives Rhys a look “brother, I’ve never once brought you out of bed before, this is… very important to me. But I need both of you here.”

Rhys sighs and while not happy, he knows Azriel is serious. The male won’t stand still, silently pacing, which is very unusual for him.

“Fine”, Rhys replies.

After a few more moments of silence, Cassian’s wings announce his presence. Before Cassian can start his round of complaints, Azriel begins immediately.

“She’s pregnant.”

Cassian and Rhys still, smiles slowly stretching across their faces.

“Wow, wow, I’m so happy for the both of you. Oh, Nyx is going to have a built in best friend.”

Cassian goes to hug Azriel, and the shadowsinger grips him in a tight hold. “I’m so excited for you, brother.”

“I just figured it out when I called you two to meet with me.”

Rhys and Cassian exchange glances.

“What do you mean you figured it out? She didn’t tell you about it?” Rhys asked.

“I don’t think she actually knows.”

Rhys and Cassian still as Azriel continues.

“I heard the heartbeat, and then I could smell it in her scent. It was very subtle and hard to detect, but it was there. She’s very early into it.”

“And you told us and not the mother of your child because..?” Cassian asks.

“I just need the week to figure out how to tell her and to figure out what we’ll do from there.”

“Well, as exciting as all this is, now I have to go back to Nesta and pretend I don’t know this massive secret and that this meeting was for something bad.”

The males hug Azriel again, excited to see his future with a babe.

“Good night, brothers.”

Rhys and Cassian didn’t even try to keep it a secret, those bastards. The way Feyre is looking at him this morning, he knows that she knows. Mor came into town later in the afternoon, and she obviously knows. During lunch she kept looking at you with stars in her eyes and the biggest smile on her face. Azriel’s death glares at her did nothing to curb her happiness for the shadowsinger.

Azriel takes you to walk around Velaris during the afternoon, and unfortunately for him you’ve noticed all of the special attention coming your way.

“Mor was only gone for a week, but maybe she shouldn’t be gone for more than 3-4 days. I think she ends up missing me too much. She was so happy to see me during lunch.”

“Well she’s spent the week in the Huen City, anyone would be happy to see your lovely face after that week.” Azriel smoothly replies.

You’re walking around Velaris, searching for last minute Solstice gift ideas. You were having a hard time finding a gift for Feyre, and it was eating you alive.

“Everyone always gets Feyre some kind of paints - maybe she’d like something different for once.”

“I’ve already received her specialty paints, so it’s too late for me to change her gift,” he replies.

You were walking in and out of shops, bundled up in your winter coat and scarf, holding Azriel’s hand “to keep warm”, when Azriel sees it. He sees a shop that specializes in baby clothes, baby furniture, maybe even baby knives if he’s lucky. Seeing the shop, he looks at you, and the idea pops directly into his head.

You both go into a clothing shop, Azriel tells you he’s going to get some drinks at the shop next door, and he bolts down the street to the baby store, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Or as inconspicuous as a massive male with wings can be.

“Hello” he says, startling the clerk, who looks over this tall, muscular man with massive wings, wearing a very cozy sweater. “I need something for a solstice gift.”

Azriel paid the shopkeeper, even paying extra for her to be discreet, and ran into the coffee shop to order the two of you some hot chocolate to keep you warm in this chill.

Walking back to the store you’re in, he’s consumed by thoughts of “can she have hot chocolate while pregnant? Feyre did, and Nyx seems fine. Besides anything wrong with Nyx would just come from him being Rhys’s son.”

His inner turmoil is interrupted by you grabbing your hot chocolate from him. “Thanks, sweetheart” you say.

He notices a shopping bag, and you reply “I found a gorgeous sweater that had stars knitted into it with beautiful shiny yarn. It reminds me of Starfall, and I think Feyre would love it.”

Azriel has been dying. It’s now been 4 days since he figured out about your pregnancy and it’s been a monumental task not to tell you. Every moment of every day all he can think when he sees you is “you’re pregnant! With MY babe!” He wants to shout it from the rooftops. But that would ruin his carefully crafted plan.

It also doesn’t help that he has been watching you even more carefully than before, constantly asking Madja “are carrots safe? What about meats? Is milk safe?” Madja has officially banned him from asking her these ridiculous questions until he tells you that you’re pregnant.

He manages to keep it in until Solstice, despite the constant asking from every other member of the Inner Circle. Cassian is convinced he’ll never tell you - that Azriel will let it go until you’re going into labor.

By some luck though, the inner circle haven’t told you. He told them it would be known to you by Solstice and they are keeping him to that promise.

He wakes you up the morning of Solstice preparing to leave for his annual snowball fight.

“My hero, off to vanquish evildoers with his compacted balls of snow,” you croon at him while he’s getting dressed.

He kisses your cheek. “I have a title to defend, if I lose it’ll be bring shame to us for decades to come.” You giggle at the absurdity of it.

The brothers wouldn’t let any of you watch their snowball fight, but you and the other ladies love imagining how ridiculous they look.

He starts to head out the door when you say, “If you win I’ll have to provide you with a hero’s welcome, we’ll have to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah?” He kisses you.

“You better hope you win or the hero’s welcome goes to the victor. Would hate to have to celebrate with Rhys or Cassian.” He growls at that, rolling his eyes.

“Good thing I’ve crafted the perfect strategy this year.”

And he did. He won, beating them in the shortest time they’ve ever seen.

After his hero’s welcome, Azriel started getting nervous. The two of you exchange solstice gifts in private before seeing everyone else. You’ve talked about kids before, but what if you’ve changed your mind? What if you decided he wouldn’t be a good father?

His insecurities start eating at him, when you present him with a present.

“Open it,” you say, buzzing with excitement and nerves. He unwraps the small bundle to open a box containing a small, thin chain with your first initial on it.

“I got us matching ones, see” you say, pulling an identical chain with the letter A on it, “so even when we’re apart the world knows you’re mine and that I’m yours.”

Azriel envelops you in a bone-crushing hug. “I love it,” he mumbles into your hair, kissing your forehead a million times as you giggle.

“Sorry that my gift was so small compared to yours,” you say, peaking over at the package behind him.

Azriel pulls back, completely forgetting about his gift to you, getting nervous again to tell you.

“Please, open it.”

You open the package to find a beautiful mobile for a baby crib. It is made of twinkling stars that shine ever so softly, and as you look at it, some of Azriel’s shadows push the mobile so it spins. The shadows mix with stars, creating an absolutely stunning recreation of the night sky.

“Wow it’s gorgeous, but aren’t these usually for babies-“ the look on Azriel’s face stops you immediately.

“Am I-“

“Yes.”

“Pregnant?”

“Yes.”

He wants to give you a minute to digest it, soak it in, however you take him by surprise and tackle him to the ground in a hug so full of love it takes his breath away.

“We’re having a baby!” You say, a little louder than intended. Cassian bursts through the door, yelling “we’re having a baby!” as he comes over to you, picking you up off of Azriel and spinning you around.

“You nosey old fool!” You yell in delight at him “were you listening behind the door?”

Cassian puts you down as he says “well I had to make sure he told you otherwise none of us would have been able to keep the secret any longer.”

“Who knew?” You say, seeing the guilty look all over Azriel’s face. And with that question, everyone else pours in to congratulate the two of you. You turn to Azriel “so am I the last to know?”

Azriel reddens a bit as he says, “to be fair, I only told my brothers, they are the ones that couldn’t keep a secret.”

He turns and gives Cassian a death glare, which Cassian responds to by tackling Azriel in a hug. By this point the other members of the inner circle have come by, offering their congratulations and happiness with you. Mor envelops you in a hug while she cries that is so tight Feyre has to pry her off of you.

Looking around at your family, you think if your babe is loved even a tenth of how much you are, they will be so so so happy.

It was the best Solstice gift - spending time with your family and being excited for your new addition.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #I love me some inner circle dynamics :)#please be nice this is my first writing 😭#acotar writing #acotar fanfiction #azriel fluff

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azriels-shadowsinger · 3 months

Text

Fix You (Azriel x healer!reader)

summary: Azriel falls for the healer and finds new random reasons to see her, but he never let’s her help when he’s truly hurt.

wc: 3.8k

a/n: warnings: mentions injuries and blood

Never in a million years would you have dreamed of such an opportunity presenting itself to you, but after the battle of Velaris, your healing magic became rather well known among the locals. Eventually, word of your abilities reached the high lord, and he requested to meet with you. Now, ten months later, you are learning about tonics, salves, the anatomy of illyrian wings, and so much more to use along side your magic.

“One last thing. Rhysand said that Azriel is requesting assistance. Could you go tend to his injuries before you go home?”

You hide your laugh and agree to go. This is the fifth time this month that Azriel has requested a healer. It would make sense that the spymaster of the night court would need healing after missions, but he never asks for help with that. Most recently, he came by the infirmary to ask you for a cream that will help with sore muscles. Sometimes he asks for healing after training when Cassian roughs him up a bit too much, but even then, its minor injuries. One time he even used Cassian as an excuse, claiming the general needed some medicine for a cold, but later that day Cassian seemed perfectly fine to you.

Your friends think Azriel must have a crush on you and that’s why he always seeks you out, but that’s crazy. And besides, you heard a rumor that he has feelings for the high lady’s sister, Elain. But who could blame him, she's perfect.

You arrive at the House of Wind and head for the shadowsinger’s room. The house was quiet, meaning Cassian and Nesta must be gone. As you walk towards his room, you see a shadow dart across the floor, brushing against your ankle as it flies by and making you giggle. Before you can even knock, Azriel opens his door, apparently alerted by the shadow.

“Good evening. You requested a healer?” He nods and opens the door wider to invite you in and sits on the corner of his bed.

“Cassian accidentally cut me with his sword when we were sparring this morning. The skin has healed, but it’s still hurting. I figured you could use some of that fancy healing magic on it so I’m not slacking at training tomorrow.” He extends his arm, and just like he said, theres a jagged pink scar running up the length of his tan, muscular forearm.

You agree and sit next to him, taking hold of his arm and placing your hand over the scar. A warm sensation spreads from your palm to his arm, and moments later, the raised scar is nothing more than a faint line. You hold on for a few moments longer than necessary, your eyes fixated on his hands. There was something you found so beautiful and alluring about the scars, you didn’t even notice your fingertips slowly trailing towards his hands. As soon as your fingertips brush against the edge of the scarred skin, Azriel jerks his arm away and stands up.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ you trail off.

“It’s fine.” He snaps, avoiding your gaze to look at the wall behind you. “Thanks for the help.” His voice is softer now, but you can tell he’s upset. You hesitate, trying to figure out how to resolve this uncomfortable situation, but inevitably, you decide it’s best to leave.

“Happy to help. Have a good night.” You leave quickly, trying to avoid making things more awkward.

The entire way home, you berate yourself for doing something so foolish. One of the first things you learned about healing is to not make your patient more uncomfortable when you heal them. And there you were, touching something that obviously would make him uncomfortable. You don’t know the details about how his hands got so scarred, but with his fae healing, it can’t have been pretty. It reminds you of a patient you had a few years back with similar burns. You were constantly making cream to soothe the residual pain for them. You wonder if Azriel’s hands still hurt from time to time…

———

Azriel’s POV

“Do you plan to injure yourself again during training today, brother?” Cassian teases. “I see yesterday’s cut has healed already. Did a certain healer come by your room last night?”

“Shut up. It doesn’t matter.” I say gruffly and continue eating my breakfast.

“Why won’t you just ask her out?” He speaks with a mouth full of food, earning an annoyed look from Nesta.

“Because there’s no way that someone like her… it doesn’t matter. I’m over her now. Moving on.” I keep my gaze locked on the plate in front of me.

Last night, I tried to work up the courage to say something—anything, really. But when she touched me and I felt that magic run through me, I couldn’t think of anything but how beautiful she looked. I can’t help but remember the feeling of her hands on me, warm and comforting. And then, when she touched my hand, every horrible thought and insecurity ran through my head. How could someone so perfect ever want to be with someone so… damaged?

That’s also why I never seek her out when I return from missions. I don’t want her to see who I really am when I leave Velaris. One look at me with enemy blood on my hands and my own blood on my body, and she will run scared just like everyone else does. I’m just not ready for that rejection yet.

“I don’t believe that for a damn second, Az. You’re just scared. Take a chance, it could work out.” Nesta tries to be supportive, but she doesn’t get it. None of my friends do. I pretend to agree, but only to end the conversation quicker and move on to a new topic. Cassian gives a skeptical look, but moves on to discussing the evening’s plans.

———

Your POV

Two weeks pass, and you haven’t seen or heard from Azriel. It shouldn’t bother you this much, but you can’t help but miss his occasional visits, the way his shadows swirl around your ankles, the sound of his voice, the way he towers over you. Maybe you should find a reason to visit him. After all, he’s spent months coming up with ridiculous reasons to see you, you can do the same, right?

You look around your workstation at the various creams, tonics, and salves, eventually finding some that he would maybe find useful. Heading to the House of Wind, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous.

When you arrive, you see the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, walking through the foyer. “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me find Azriel. I have something for him.” You try to sound confident, but her smirk tells you she sees right through you.

“He’s at the training ring. The Valkyries and I just finished training, so it’s probably just him and Cassian up there.” You thank her and head that way.

When you arrive at the training ring, you are immediately stopped in your tracks by the sight of Azriel and Cassian sparring. You had always known the general had a nice body; you had healed it several times before. But Azriel… you have never seen such a glorious sight. The way the corded muscles of his back ripple when he moves and the way his wings, which were much larger than Cassian’s, were spread wide, you couldn’t help but stare. Eventually, Cassian notices you. He smirked, and then immediately moved to disarm Azriel, nicking him with the tip of the blade.

“What the hell, Cass? Why did you-“ Azriel turns and sees you. He turns back to Cassian, who has a shit eating grin on his face.

“Good thing your favorite healer is here to help.” You can’t help but blush at his words. Did Azriel talk about you to Cassian? “I’ll leave you two to it.” He saunters off, leaving you alone with Azriel. Azriel stands quietly for a moment, just staring at you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the silence is killing you, and it’s taking all of your strength to not stare at the sweat dripping down his muscular body.

“I brought you something. You had mentioned once that you get headaches a lot. I have this tonic that can help with that. I figured I would bring it by.” You awkwardly fumble through your bag for the bottle, handing it to him. He looks at the bottle, then at you, a confused expression on his face. “Did you want me to help with that cut or…” you trail off, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks. And thanks for the tonic. I’ll be sure to try it next time I get a headache.” He sits on a nearby bench, and you sit next to him. Reaching towards the cut, you realize you need to avoid what happened last time and ask for permission to touch him.

“May I?” He nods, and you place your hand over the small cut on his jaw. You feel his shadows swirling around your hand, almost curious about your actions. Your fingers trail over his sharp jaw line in admiration. “All done.” You stand and step away, waiting to see if he will say anything. You were about to leave, but you apparently can’t leave well enough alone, so you dig through your bag again.

“I have this other stuff you might want.” You find the soothing cream. “I had a patient a few years ago with burns similar to yours. She told me her scars would hurt occasionally, so I would make this cream for her. I don’t know if that happens to you as well, but if you want it, it’s yours.” You reach out to hand him the cream, but he just stares at you.

After a few moments, you awkwardly set it on the bench next to him. “Okay then. I’ll see you around.” You turn to leave, eager to end this train wreck of an interaction. You hurried out so quickly, that you didn’t hear the faint “thank you” coming from Azriel.

———

Several days pass without seeing Azriel. Gods, you were definitely so out of line with the cream. He probably doesn’t like to talk about the scars. You shouldn’t have gone to find him in the first place. He was obviously avoiding you. The bell above the door rings, indicating a patient has entered.

“One moment!” You call from the back of the workstation. When you make your way to the front room, you are surprised to see Azriel.

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly.

“I’m sorry for my rude behavior the other day. I didn’t know how to respond to your kind gesture. No one has ever…” he trails off, setting the empty container of hand cream on the counter. “It helped a lot. I was wondering if you had any more?” Your face lights up, causing him to smile as well.

“Of course! Wait right here, I’ll go grab it.” You rush excitedly to the storeroom. It was always such a wonderful feeling to help a patient feel better, but having been right about this made you feel so happy. You return with three containers of cream. “This one is the same as the one I gave you. This one is infused with lavender. And this one is infused with eucalyptus.” You explain excitedly. He chuckles at your eagerness.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know which smell I like best.” He smiles softly. “And thank you for before. For noticing. No one has ever taken notice like that before. People usually don’t like to even look at my hands, nonetheless, ask about it.” You blush.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get the burns? It may help me formulate a more customized soothing cream for you in the future if I know how you got them. Only if you’re comfortable sharing.” Azriel sucks in a deep breath and looks at his hands.

“The details are… unpleasant.“ He hesitates. “Oil was poured over my hands and lit on fire. My bro-“ he pauses. “The people who did this ensured that I healed as they burned, so that the scarring was worse. Now I’m stuck with these ugly scars.” You try to hold back the tears in your eyes. How could somebody be so cruel and vicious as to do that to someone? “The pain is usually a sharp ache around my knuckles and fingers, if that helps.” He mutters quietly, avoiding your gaze. You hesitantly reach for his hand. He looks surprised by this, but lets you. You hold his large hand in both of yours and look deep into his eyes.

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. No one deserves such treatment. And your scars are not ugly, they represent what you have overcome.” Azriel blushes. A small shadow glides over your hands as you hold his, pulling a giggle from you. “The shadows are kinda cute.”

Azriel looks at you with surprise again. “Most people are afraid of them.” You watch a shadow weave between your fingers, letting go of Azriel’s hand to play with the shadow.

The two of you talk for a while longer before he eventually leaves. A smile stays on your face for the rest of the evening.

———

A week later.

You’re awoken late in the night by a chilly feeling across your skin. Assuming you forgot to shut your window, you groggily open your eyes to stand, but when you do, you see several shadows swirling around you and your room.

Panic immediately sets in. You have never seen Azriel’s shadows move in such a way, almost frantic. And the shadowsinger himself is nowhere near Velaris, supposedly on a mission, according to what Cassian said days ago. The shadows swirl around you, tugging you to stand. You throw on your coat and follow the shadows, praying to the gods that you don’t find what you think you will.

Upon arrival at the House of Wind, you hear panicked voices and yelling. You rush towards the commotion, finding a bloody mess when you arrive. You run towards Cassian and Nesta, trying to see what’s wrong, but when you look down, you see it.

Azriel. Covered in blood. Several arrows sticking out of his abdomen and wings, reeking of faebane. You immediately crouch and begin to inspect the damage.

“Cauldron, what happened? How long has he been hurt? Where is Madja?” You fire off a string of questions, not bothering to wait for an answer. Azriel groans in pain, barely conscious, with his eyes shut.

“He just winnowed here like this. We don’t know what happened, he pretty much passed out as soon as he got here.” Cassian looks at you nervously. “I tried to pull one of the arrows out, but the wounds won’t heal. The arrows are dipped in faebane.”

“Go get a bucket of water, a washcloth, and bandages.” You order to no one in particular before assessing the best plan for removal. When Nesta returns with the materials, you begin to remove the first arrow from his abdomen. Luckily, it didn’t hit any vital organs. When the arrow finally is removed, Azriel yells in pain.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just stay still and it will be over soon.” You try your best to use a soothing voice, but the shakiness is still evident. You get the second arrow out of his abdomen and begin to clean the wounds, working your healing magic as you go. Cassian and Nesta are standing over you, watching nervously, which only makes you more anxious.

“I got the worst of the injuries handled, he’s going to be fine. I still need to work on his wings, which may take a while and won’t be pretty. You two may want to go for now.” You say, not looking away from Azriel. Cassian and Nesta reluctantly leave, promising to return with the others in a bit.

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry.” You warn Azriel, who’s still unconscious, while you grip the arrow in his upper left wing and work to remove it. As soon as the arrow moves slightly through his wing, his eyes open wide and he howls in pain. He looks at you, just now noticing that it’s you tending to his injuries, and looks panicked.

“Wh-what… how are you here?” He rasps, wincing as the arrow is fully removed. He tries to sit up, but you force him to remain laying down.

“Your shadows found me. I figured you sent them.”

“No. They’re supposed to find Madja or Feyre if I get badly injured. I don’t know why they went to you.” He says gruffly. You try not to get upset by his words as you begin to stitch and heal the wound. Something about his demeanor is vastly different from how he usually acts, colder even.

"Well, you got me instead. Sorry to disappoint.” You mutter, trying to hide the hurt in your voice. You can tell he wants to say something else, but as soon as you grab ahold of the second arrow, all he can manage is groans and curses.

After you remove the third and final arrow, Azriel speaks. “You’re not supposed to be the one who handles my major injuries.” You can’t hide the pain in your eyes, so you look away to focus on working your healing magic on the final wound and bandaging it.

“I can handle more than basic tonics and minor injuries, you know.” You say quietly, cleaning away some of the blood with a washcloth. You gather the bloodied cloths and arrows, moving quickly to dispose of them.

“I know you can. I just don’t want-“ his words are cut short by the high lord rushing in, immediately requesting a status update. Azriel didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was about to say. He doesn’t want you here. You turn from Azriel to give Rhysand a full briefing on the injuries and the expected recovery process. After calming a bit, he begins to help Azriel up and to his room.

“It looks like you’re in good hands. I’m going to go update Madja on the situation so she can manage your recovery.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact. Before he can say anything else, you’re gone.

———

You avoid Azriel for a couple weeks. Every time he tries to come to the infirmary, you send another healer to take care of him. You couldn’t help asking Madja how his recovery was progressing, but she refused to tell you, stating that you were perfectly capable of asking him yourself. You know that you aren’t as skilled as Madja in some aspects of being a healer, but you never thought that Azriel would doubt your abilities. You guess that’s why he never asked for your help after missions. Maybe those months of ridiculous requests were just a joke to him, something to laugh about with his friends.

The sun goes down, signaling that it’s time for you to head home. You say goodbye to Madja and leave out the front door.

“Y/n.” You immediately turn toward the voice. Waiting by the door, you find Azriel. You look him up and down, assessing for injuries and observing his healing progress. The scars on his wings are only faint marks now.

“You look like you’re healing well. If you need medical attention, I suggest asking a more skilled healer, like Madja.” You say bitterly, walking past him. He sighs heavily.

“I didn’t mean to upset you that night. You weren’t supposed to see me like that.” He follows behind you, catching up quickly due to his long legs.

"Yes, you made that very clear. You didn’t want me there, you don’t trust me to handle your manor healing. I heard you loud and clear.” You refuse to look at him.

"No, that’s not-“ You turn down a side road suddenly, trying to evade him. “I know you can handle healing my more serious injuries, I just didn’t want you there.” You stop and stare at him, slightly in disbelief at his words. Is he really this cruel, or is he just really this bad at speaking to people? He reads your expression and backtracks.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want you around, I just don’t want you there.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Gods, I’m just making this worse. Can I start over?” You don’t respond, but he takes the fact that you aren’t walking away as a yes.

“I didn’t want you to handle my major injuries because, when I’m focused on my missions, I am a completely different person. I hate who I am outside of this city. I hate what I have to do, but I do it to protect my court and protect my family. When I get back, it sometimes takes me a while to get back to normal. I didn’t want you to see me like that, so I wouldn’t scare you off. It seems I managed to do that anyway, so I guess I was right to stay away.” You finally look at him. Who treated him so poorly to make him think so low of himself?

You take a step closer to him and look into his eyes. “I wasn’t scared of you that night. I was scared that you could’ve died. I was scared of the way you pushed me away. But never of you. I’ve healed fae from all over with horrible histories, grusome wounds, and severe PTSD. You’re job is hard, but you shouldn’t handle that burden alone.”

“You spend enough of your time fixing people, I don’t want to be another person you feel like you need to fix.” He says in a self loathing tone.

“You aren’t broken, Azriel. You don’t need fixing, just support.” You take his hand. “Let me be there for you. Let me be your friend. Please.” He stares at your hand holding his for a few moments.

“What if I don’t want you as my friend?” You frown, and he immediately realizes how that must have come across as you attempt to pull your hand away. He tightens his grip on your hand. “What I mean is, will you go to dinner with me? Like, on a date?” You look at him surprised, blushing hard. “Cmon, y/n. I thought I was pretty obvious that I have feelings for you with my dozens of ridiculous injuries and requests.” He chuckles.

“I would love to get dinner, Azriel.” He gives you a wide smile. The two of you begin to walk side by side down the street. After a few moments of silence, Azriel speaks.

“Now that you’re no longer mad at me, can I have more of that soothing cream? I’ve been out for like a week, but I’ve been too afraid to ask you for more.” You laugh.

“Of course you can.”

Have a great weekend everyone!!

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #fanfic #bat boys #my writing #acotar x reader #azriel angst

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lady-of-tearshed · 2 months

Text

The Monster Bed

Cassian x Reader

Summary: You're enjoying your mate's presence after he just came back from a two days mission with Azriel, until an intruder makes its way into the bed.

Warnings: Spiders? Spiders.

A/N: This is chaos, pure chaos. But hey, it's Cassian. We wouldn't expect less from our dramatic General now, would we? 😌💕

The nights were starting to get cooler in Velaris at the approach of Solstice. You were tucked tightly in bed, trying to keep your body warm without your favorite bat boy.

You had managed to fall into a light sleep after a while, until you heard familiar footsteps quietly making their way to the connected bathroom of your chamber. You smile through your sleep at the general failed attempt to be discreet with his big-ass boots reaching his destination. The distant sound of the shower running made you lull back into your slumber.

You purr when you feel the mattress shift behind your back, and feel a strong pair of arms wrapping around your body, heating it up instantly. You feel your mate gently kissing the back of your neck, his large hands traveling on your skin to caress the curves of your body. “Mh… Welcome home, General…” You grin and slowly turn your head to look at him through half opened eyes. You scan his face and body quickly, making sure he hadn't been too injured in his recent mission. He kisses your lips and groans in content at the feeling of you in his arms, enjoying the feeling of finally getting home, in their bed, with you laying at his side.

Him and Azriel had been away on a mission for only two days. Those two days, he had slept on a mat without anyone to cuddle, since Az strictly refused to act as his body pillow. Cassian had missed you so much that these two days had felt like years- no, decades to him. “Did you miss me, princess?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully and trails a path of kisses on her neck, taking a big sniff of her sweet vanilla scent. Cassian loved your scent so much that he could bath himself in without any shame about his brother teasing.

Your mate's usual playful and flirty behavior makes a tired chuckle fall from your lips. You caress his hair gently, too tired to scold him on the fact that he should have dried them before getting into bed, especially with the cold weather that pierced through the wall of the House of the Wind. “Mh… I did. It felt weird to fall asleep without anyone snatching the sheets off of me in their sleep...”

He giggles against your neck at your teasing response and gently starts nipping at the skin of your neck when the scent of your arousal starts to fill the bedroom. He moved his kisses to your collarbone, making you roll on your back with the palm of his hand. You bury your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, but as he rolls you on your back, something cold brushes against your leg. Something cold and… fuzzy. Cassian halts everything he was doing when he feels you suddenly flinch, and he frowns, worried. He lifts his face off your neck to look into your eyes and ask softly. “You're okay, princess?” You try to move your leg slightly, checking if maybe you had imagined that weird feeling. But the thing seemed to climb up your leg at the movement. You squeak and stand up straight on the bed, Cassian doing the same without even knowing why he was panicking too.

“What?! WHAT?!” Cassian eyes are wide as he's up on the bed, holding you close to him and watching the duvet as if a monster was about to come from underneath it. The two of you were screaming like idiots, standing up on the bed, Cassian holding you close without even knowing what they were scared of. The door of your bedroom slams open as the both of you are still screaming and squealing in panic. “What the fuck is happening?! Are you naked?!” Azriel asks from the bedroom door, his eyes covered as his shadows rush to the bed and tangle with the sheets to figure out what was happening.

“NO! SOMETHING TOUCHED MY LEG!” Cassian screams even louder, not a manly scream, a high-pitched squeal. “IT’S BRYAXIS!” “SHUT UP CASS! IT FELT LIKE A SPIDER.” You say as you jump into your mate’s arms, making him almost lose his balance and fall off the mattress. Az opens his eyes and scans the room, but his shadows are quick to report the bed intruder. He snickers and pulls off a pillow from under the duvet. He brushes the cold zipper of the pillow against your leg, and you shiver, cheeks reddening.

“Well, guess I found the intruder… My job’s done now. Good night.” Azriel snickers as he heads out of the bedroom quietly. You shyly move down from Cassian's arms, and you both lay back in bed, in silence. An awkward lapse of time passes as the both of you stare at the ceiling, your faces burning red in shame to have disturbed the shadow singer for something as stupid as a pillow zipper brushing against your leg. “No more zippers in the bed.” He finally breaks the silence and turns around to spoon you close to him, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. You simply nod your head, wiggling closer to him. “Yeah…”

He kisses the top of your head and strokes your arm as he starts to drift to sleep. He hears you chuckle, so he groans. “What.” “You thought it was Bryaxis? Seriously, Cass?” He nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck and growls in annoyance. “Shut up… sleep.” You smile and bite your lip, trying not to burst into laughter about how scared the General was of Bryaxis… “Alright, good night Cass, love you.” He smiles and whispers, his voice full of love. “Love you too princess…”

☆•☆•☆•☆

Bryaxis had almost peed on himself from laughing too much when you told him about you and your mate's eventful night the next morning. Bryaxis's ego was inflating when you told him how scared the General still was of the beast even after all these years.

A/N (again lol): I forgot to mention: Based on true events... 🫣

#acotar #fiction #fluff #light angst #my fic #acosaf #x reader #acotar fandom #cassian x y/n #x y/n #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian acomaf #cassian #cassian x reader #general cassian #writing #bryaxis

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illyrianbitch · 4 months

Text

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway.

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy.

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air, "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

"I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice.

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

"You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up."

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch.

"Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod.

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 4 months

Text

Warm Me Up

Summary: Illyria is cold, Rhys has some ideas on how to stay warm.

Content Warnings: Smut; dirty talk; little bit of cursing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Illyria was a wasteland, nothing but frigid mountains and harsh winds, you'd never understood how anything survived here. Your mate had flown you in an hour ago, you'd immediately had to sit in front of the cabin's fireplace, smothered in blankets, a warm cup of tea in your hands to avoid your teeth chattering and your fingertips from turning blue. The boys were somehow training outside shirtless. You could see them from the window, sparring, even as the relentless wind continued to beat against the windows.

You furrowed deeper into your mountain of blankets, still so damned cold. How were they managing that? How had Cassian survived his childhood, alone and hungry in this for so long? Was there something built into Illyrians to help them survive?

You tapped a mental hand against the bond hesitantly, worried you might distract your mate and he'd get hurt... again. Rhys had gotten used to your random questions, but thd first couple of times had been so sudden he'd lost focus, Az had clipped him across the shoulder, drawing blood. It hadn't even scarred, had healed with the help of his powers in less than hour. He'd probably forgotten about it. You hadn't.

Your mate responded with a gentle caress against your mental shields, like he'd brushed a hand over you mind, urging you to come forward.

"Do Illyrians run hot?" You asked.

A dark chuckle ran across the bond, sending a shiver over your spine. "Why don't you come out here and find out?"

You rolled your eyes. "And freeze to death? No thank you."

"It's not even snowing yet.," he let your peer through his eyes, the landscape dripping from yesterday's rain, but it was more mud than anything.

"I've seen warmer places in the Winter Court."

"There are plenty of ways to stay warm up here," Rhys purred, his voice a playful caress against your mind. "You're welcome to join us in the birken when we're done."

"And leave the safety of my little nest by the fire? I'll have frostbite by the time I make it there."

"Give me five minutes." The bond snapped closed and then Cassian was screaming obscenities from where they were sparring near the side of the cabin.

"THAT'S CHEATING YOU BASTARD!" Azriel shouted.

"RHYSAND I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!"

You pulled the comforter off the top of your head to try and get a good look through the closest window, but there was nothing but darkness against the glass. It was still too early in the day for the sun to be going down, the darkness outside rattling against the windows like a harsh wind. Rhys very rarely unleashed that much power, but you felt your own flare to life in your chest at the sight of it. Like calls to like, and your starborn powers had always risen to the challenge it found in Night Triumphant.

It wasn't even a full five minutes before the back door was thrown open so fast the old wood cracked against the wall. The wind came in with it, making you burrow deeper into your mound of blankets to avoid it.

Rhys must have kicked off his boots at the door, because you heard it slam shut and then nothing until large hands settled on your blanket clad shoulders.

You jumped with a shriek of surprise that had your mate bending over the back of the couch to kiss your barely exposed forehead apologetically, his skin colder than the wind beating against the walls.

"Ack! You're an ice cube!" You hissed, twisting to get away.

He chuckled as he pulled away and went to the closet near the front door.

"Don't bother, I've already raided it," you warned.

He opened it anyway, then frowned at all the empty shelves. "You weren't kidding." His next move was to go to the stack of wood neatly organized by the fire place and throw more in, the blaze illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, training leathers hanging low on his hips, a fine sheen of sweat making his bronze skin glow in the firelight.

Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped right on him, ran your tongue over his abs, traced the swirl of ink across his chest. Something about him in leathers made you weak in the knees, all rational thought out the window. The only thing keeping you in place this time was the thought of loosing the little pocket of warmth you had created.

He felt your gaze of course, turning away from the fire to look at you. "Better?" His voice had gone down an octave, his pupils dilating.

"Little," you admitted, though him being so close, looking like that might have been more of a reason for the heat you were starting to feel than the fire.

He walked to you slowly, intently, violet eyes fixed on you.

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as he knelt in front of you.

"Think you can make room for me in there?" He kept his hands on the top blanket of your little cocoon, waiting for permission.

"I don't know, how cold are you?" You teased; this would be the last little bit of your resolve.

He slid a hand under the blankets, fingers dragging up slowly, intently over your calves.

"Cold," you whimpered, but the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the temperature, not as he traced his way up your thighs, only stopping when he found the hem of your sweater.

He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose first, then the corners of your lips, his breath warm against your face, the contrast between the two temperatures making your head spin. You wanted to reel away and lean in all the same time.

"Just for a second," he promised, "then I'll get you nice and warm."

You opened the blanket, and that intense violet gaze took stock of your attire: His old sweater, so loose and baggy it looked like a dress on you, and knee high, fuzzy pink socks. Pants had felt like a waste of time, not when sifting through the dresser meant time spent away from the fire.

Rhys all but jumped on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions, the blankets tangling between you as he crashed his lips against yours.

Rhys, as High Lord, was always so poised and put together, everything about him calculated and curated to create the necessary masks of court duties; but alone, like this, when it was just the two of you, no masks necessary, he let that unending restraint slip, kissing you and running his hands over your body like a man starved. His tongue swept into your mouth as he slid a hand under your sweater, deft fingers dragging up your skin to cup your breast.

He'd kept his promise about the cold, you'd only felt it for a moment before he'd settled between your legs, using a bit of magic to untangle the blankets and rearrange them over the two of you. You ran a hand through his hair, scraping your nails lightly over his scalp as he playfully gave your nipple a tug.

"Better?" He rasped, lips barely off yours like he couldn't bear to be that far from you.

The warmth of his weight on top of you would have been enough, but the way he kept running his hands over any bit of you he could reach, the way he kissed you again and again and again was enough to make you forget you had ever been cold in the first place.

"Much better," you confirmed as he broke away to nip at your neck.

He chuckled as you arched into his touch; whimpering lightly as his tongue laved over the sting of his teeth on your throat.

"Can't decide," he murmured into your skin, "if I should fuck you in my sweater or not?"

Heat coiled between your legs, even further when he rocked his hips into your center, even with the clothes separating the two of you, the friction was enough to make you moan.

He nipped under your jaw, "Look so pretty in it, but I gotta get you all warmed up don't I? My poor little mate, not used to the cold."

Now that he was with you, you wanted, needed, every bit of contact with his body you could get. The sweater, so warm and comforting before, now felt like a tremendously itchy obstacle keeping you from him. "Want it off," you complained, trying to find your voice around another moan as he rutted his hips into you again, hard even through his leathers.

He chuckled as he fisted the hem and started pulling it up your body. "Wear it again for me later?"

You nodded as he pulled it over your head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Distantly, you hoped Rhys had the good sense to send his brothers away for a little while since you had stopped hearing them moving around outside, but had no time to ask as he started kissing his way down your body, pausing to give some attention to your peaked nipples. A whine tore from your throat as he swirled his tongue over one and then the other.

"Love when you make those little noises for me," he purred into your mind, not wanting to remove his lips from your body to speak.

"Rhys," you whimpered, body arching into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.

"You're gonna look so pretty, all marked up under my sweater later," he sent an image of you, covered in hickeys from your throat to your hips down the bond as he continued to move slowly down your body.

Rhys liked to push you, liked to see how worked up he could get you, first with that silver tongue of his, then his hands, he could keep this up for hours. You, however, where so desperate for more friction, to fill the ache now burning between your legs, bucked your hips, squirming underneath him now. "Please. Need you."

He scraped his teeth along he hem of your underwear, humming his approval. Rhys grinned against your skin, all male satisfaction as he held your hips in place. "So impatient. I thought you were freezing to death in here? Don't you want to get warm, Darling?"

Warm? Your skin was on fire in every spot he had touched, the warmth of his body spreading to every point of contact he gave. It was becoming too much and not enough, you needed more, more, more.

"Please!"

He caught the hem of your panties in his teeth and pulled them slowly down your hips, hands skimming your hips and thighs, kneading soft skin. Your legs widened for him automatically, instinctively, despite the fact that you were now uncomfortably wet from his ministrations.

He ran his tongue against your center, humming his approval, blasting it down the bond. "So wet, and I've barely even touched you."

You pinched your eyes shut, overwhelmed already. He really was too damn good at this. No amount of time would ever be enough to satisfy the well of need you had for him. You blasted that desperation, that ache for him right down the bond as words failed you, as he continued his exploration of your dripping core with his tongue. Stars erupted behind your closed eyelids as he chuckled down the bond, pleased with your reactions to his body.

You were sure you were begging for him, whimpering and pleading nonsense as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, but the words faded in and out of your consciousness. There was only Rhys, the movements of his tongue, the feeling of his fingertips digging pleasantly tight in your hips, the heat of skin wherever it touched you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body arching, hands tangling in his hair as the edge rose up to meet and you and you toppled over it with a scream that sounded an awful lot like your mate's name.

"Such a good girl," he purred as he lapped up the evidence of your pleasure.

You're whole body shook as he kissed his way back up your body, grinning against your flushed skin the whole way. He was so warm, when he kissed you again, the taste of your release still on his plush lips, your only thoughts were on how you could get more of that warmth, until it has seeped into your bones, erased any trace of the cold that had laid so deep beneath.

You threaded your hands in his hair, now a mess across his forehead, whimpering. "Need you still."

He grinned as he caught your lower lip between his teeth in a playful nip. "I know, love."

You moved a hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer.

"You'll have me until there are no longer stars in the sky." The bond flooded with more warmth and affection, as deep as your need for him ran, his was equal, there was no end to what he could give you.

You kissed him again, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, a bit of magic finally removing those damned leathers. Maybe you'd ask him to put them back on later, so you could enjoy the sight of him in the aftermath as much as he would you, but those were questions for later.

"I love you," you whimpered as he finally slide into you, slowly, casually, like there was all the time in the world for the two of you to enjoy each other.

He fit like he was made just for you, the stretch just uncomfortable for a moment before the pleasure made your back arch and your toes curl. He moaned into your throat, pushing his nose into your sweat dampened skin, inhaling your scent as he pushed all the way in to you.

You wondered, distantly, if the stars you were seeing were his making, or something that appeared for him too. The way he panted into your skin as he rocked his hips, testing you, made you think he saw them too.

"So perfect," he moaned as he slid almost fully out.

Your nails clawed at his shoulders, begging for him to come back and he plunged back in a little more forcefully this time, the couch groaning beneath the two of you.

You rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, hands still trailing down the contours of his spine in a move that would be sure to leave marks of your own. He nipped at your neck and shoulders when you pushed too hard, skin breaking beneath your fingertips, but you knew he didn't mind, know he relished in being marked up by you, like it was a badge of honor. You'd leave hickeys on him afterwards, when the pleasure building between your legs wasn't so white hot, when you could focus your attention somewhere other than the need burning it's way through you.

His hand snaked down between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to the edge again.

"Rhys," a prayer, a mantra, the only thing that made sense as pleasure turned all rational thought to mush.

"I've got you," he rasped in your ear, every muscle taught as he rocked into you again and again and again. His pace was quickly becoming more frantic, his breath hot on your throat as he moaned into your skin. It was that sound, so desperate and low right beneath your ear, coupled with the movement of his deft fingers, the angle of his cock inside you, all hurtling you so quickly towards the edge that you didn't notice it was there until you toppled over it. Your mate followed with a roar, his own release warm inside you.

You clung to him, trembling, panting, as you came down from your high, the familiar weight of him atop you grounding in the aftermath. He snaked an arm around you as he positioned the two of you on your sides, sharing the couch now. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed the top of your head, gently.

"Warm now, darling?" He asked softly, a hint of teasing still there, even as he recovered his breath.

He hadn't pulled out of you yet; you bit your lip in thought as you tossed a leg over his, bringing you flush against his hips. You were sensitive, the movement made you wince a little, but even after all that, you still wanted more of him. Perhaps it would never be enough. Like the Illyrians that called this frigid place home, there was always going to be something that pushed you back towards the fire, that damned insatiable need to get warm.

"I think I'm still a little cold," you purred, eyes glinting playfully.

Your mate chuckled at the challenge in your tone, violet eyes narrowing into where you were still joined. "Can't have that, can we?"

The fire roared in the fireplace, a bit of your mate's magic flaring, making sure there was more heat in the cabin, before his lips were on yours again, chasing away any hint of cold before it could touch you.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar smut #rhysand smut #fanfiction #i'm so downbad for this male as you can clearly tell #my writings

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erissheiress · 1 month

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eris who isn't used to displays of love. when you and him are finally mated, madly in love, he quite simply doesn't know how to handle all the love you throw at him everyday. when you kiss his jaw first thing in the morning and nestle into him, all he can do is blink at you because somehow he's still surprised that you're here. in his bed. it takes a while for him to accept that you're here. you're his. and you're always going to love him, no matter what

#eris vanserra #acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #a court of thorns and roses x reader #my writing #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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websterss · 4 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 — 𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You and Azriel had dreamed of nothing more than to be parents. You were ready for it, you just weren't prepared to have that dream be ripped away.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, mentions of death, mentions of slight blood not really, mentions of stillbirth, grievance, and mourning, just angst all around really...

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3,038

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Azriel x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you like it! I work with children so sometimes I get a cute teacher!reader idea fics. I was asked to help out in the early head start classes last week and well, being around 1-3 years old made me emotional, also I've been sad lately so this fic was the end result of how I've been feeling...also this is my first azriel fic and I'm fucking nervous...anyway let me know what you guys think!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had dreamed of a life worth waking up to…in the room down the hall. Dreamed of the cuddles and nose kisses that would cure your bad woes away. Dreamed of the giggles and laughter, ones you’d hope would be replications of yours and Azriels combined. Dreamed of the late-night cries and restless nights of sleep. You wanted it…more than anything else. You wanted the life you were ready to live that awaited behind the door with the blue and pink butterflies.

The room you spent countless hours parading around and holding up color swatches to. It drove Azriel mad, having you make him repaint and coat with a new color you fell hopelessly in love with, but you knew he’d do it all over again to hold onto the hope you shared that was now gone.

Azriel stood at your bedroom door, his chest closing in on itself as he felt you hurt. He felt your hate, your grief…he felt empty knowing that the stillbirth wasn’t felt one-sided. He felt the loss of his two unborn babes.

You spent the days in your bed crying. Your bedsheets and pillowcases had long since turned soggy, and you no longer had the energy to cry any harder. Azriel took the brunch of your earlier breakdowns. holding you as you wept and pleaded to have them back. It had taken Rhysand to shut down your mind. Having you fall head forward into Azriel's neck as he held you.

“Rhys…please! I beg of you!” Azriel had cried out to his brother for help. Your pain had gone right down to his side of his bond and as much as he didn't want to he needed a moment's worth of quiet. Rhysand had only nodded cupping his brother's crying face, knowing Azriel wasn't doing this out of anger, but because he wanted you both to stop hurting for just one night, but that pain would never stop coming.

“Don’t you dare…don’t you dare! Rhysand no!” You wept as Azriel held you in his arms. “I don’t wanna sleep…I don’t wanna sleep yet…” It only took one glance at Azriel and Rhysand had pressed his forefingers against both your temples. Azriel eyes shut, and the last thing he heard was your whimpers dying out quietly.

His betrayal hurt, but your body ached more, your heart throbbed, and your stomach twisted into knots. You had done everything to prepare for their arrival. Had spent hours selecting their names, stocking the nursery, and speaking to them every day. Now you barely had the strength to get up and eat. Much less Azriel but he was doing his best to hold it together for you both. He lost two precious gems, he didn’t want to end up losing his beautiful diamond too.

He watched with a heavy heart as Madja checked your pulse for the umpteenth time this week.

“It would be best to start eating child.”

“I did everything you asked of me...” You murmured staring off into space.

“You need to gain your strength back, little one. Don’t tell anyone but you’re my favorite apprentice I've ever had. I’d hate to see you go so soon.” Madja brushed back your hair.

“I did everything right Madja…” Your breaths growing labored again.

“I know child. I know you did.” Madja's heart ached for you both. “Unfortunate and unfair circumstances.” She mourned for the beautiful twins she had to help you deliver. She looked up at Azriel as he hastily wiped a tear from his cheek.

“Child, when is the last time you’ve eaten?” She directed her firm tone at the Shadowsinger.

“I don’t want to eat.” You muttered.

“I won’t eat until she does.” You and Azriel spoke at the same time.

“Stubborn…” Madja cursed amongst something else you couldn’t comprehend.

Madja let out a small sigh before she pulled you into an embrace and pressed your head into her shoulder as she rubbed your back. In your moment of vulnerability, your emotions grew even more intense. You felt the tears on your cheeks mix with Madja's as she kissed your temple. Madja's heart broke seeing the once vibrant young woman that filled rooms with joy and energy, turn into a lifeless zombie of her former self. She broke seeing Azriel lose himself even further, falling back into his shadows for comfort. He resembled that of a scared lost babe, trying to find his way home again. When she received the call from Feyre, she knew the whirlwind of emotions that was going to follow.

"Where is she?" She called out as soon as she and Rhysand winnowed in. She didn't even think about it when she stuffed her bag with everything she needed.

"Third door down. The girls are trying to keep her calm... nothing's working." Rhysand followed right on her tail.

"She's having twins Rhysand of course not child!" Madja cursed as she hurried her footsteps.

The scene before her was a mess. The house a disarray, and the living room thrashed, probably where the panic started. She heard Feyra and Nesta ordering Cassian for more towels from upstairs. She climbed up to the second landing. Her eyes immediately fell onto Azriel's, finding him holding his stomach in pain with tears in his eyes, as he sat with his knees to his chest.

"Madja I can't feel them-" He could barely get out before she walked right past him.

"Get him up." She called over his shoulder. "I need you three in there."

"Why?" Rhysand asked as she followed the cacophony of your wails of anguish.

"I need you three to help hold her down, the girls won't be enough."

"Hold her down?"

"Get him up!" Rhysand had scrambled to haul him up on his feet. Ushering him into the room he had half a mind to go into. Azriel cried harder seeing your blood stain the sheets.

"Madja-" You cried out to her. Slightly relieved she was finally here to help you. "I-I can't feel—feel them. I can't feel—" You choked up.

"I'm here child. I'm here." Madja cleaned her hands and then checked under your nightgown. Your heart sank as she tried keeping her eyes at bay from watering. She hovered her hand over your stomach and as she paused, you knew it wasn't a good sign.

"M-Me or them?" Your lips quivered. "Madja? W-What's wrong? Are they okay? If you can...save them please. S-Save my babies please!" The healer only continued to remain silent. She looked up briefly at Feyre and Rhysand, her mind opening up to them.

Madja? Rhysand bent his chin in concern.

I cannot feel they're heartbeats. She thought. Feyre shed a tear at the news.

"Madja?" Azriel's voice pulled her thoughts away. "Are the babes okay?"

"Child..." She began somberly.

"T-Tell me..." You inhaled deeply, gripping Azriel's and Rhysand's arms tighter.

"...I can no longer feel their heartbeats. The twins I'm afraid are stillborn my child." A tear shed down her cheek.

"N-No." Your grip loosened up, as Azriel's grew stronger.

"And I need you to be very strong for me for this next part because you need to push them out."

"I-I can't-" You began to protest.

"You can! I know you can. You, my dear are the strongest person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing...and I will be here with you every step of the way. We all will."

You had barely mustered a disheartened nod before she told you to begin pushing.

“You both are a pain in my ass…a beautiful pain…but still a pain.” Madja shook her head, hearing Azriel scoff at her choice of comforting words. “Can I be honest?”

“You always are…” Azriel grumbled now shifting to the end of the frame of the bed.

“I do not care if you don’t want to eat. you need to eat. Precisely because I don’t want to have to receive an urgent call from Rhysand or Feyre telling me you idiots gave out on us. I refuse to have you leave this world so soon.” You looked up and met her arched brow.

“Madja—“ You began to protest.

“Eat. Both of you or I'll shove my hand down your throats and force-feed you.” Madja gestured to the nightstand with a tray stacked with two bowls and glasses. You’d been eating a few crackers, but she didn’t think that was enough. She had brought over soup from the kitchen in hopes you’d finally get some real food in your gut.

Azriel and you shared glances that told her you’d rather starve together than either of you eat at different times. Madja was about to argue but she knew she’d be arguing into the wind with you two. Your bond was too strong.

”I don’t want anything Madja...” Was your only reply as you hid your gaze from the healer and your mate, whose faces were so deeply etched with worry. Azriel was taking your pain on like he deserved it. Slowly withering away alongside you. It was you and him against the world, against death if that's how you wanted it. He wouldn't let you go alone. "It hurts..."

”I understand it hurts, but you gotta put something in your stomach or it’s gonna hurt even more.”

“Please…” You pleaded again, your voice hoarse and cracking as you spoke.

“Please Madja...” Azriel was soon echoing your pleas with the same breathless voice as tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

"Come." She motioned Azriel to sit on the other side of the bed.

Azriel met your somber gaze before he walked over and slipped into the bed with you. Shifting closer until his chest was pressed against your back. You slowly moved your head from Madja's chest and leaned it back against Azriel's chest. Madja looked between the two of you and gave a slight nod. The two of you both watched as she twisted around and then placed the tray down in the middle of your laps. She gripped both your hands before gesturing to the soup with crackers.

"Won't eat together, then you start together. Eat, I talk." You grumbled then let your shoulders fall at the two spoons she held out for you both. You took one from her, as did Azriel before allowing you to slowly sit up. Once situated, Azriel watched you slowly take the first spoonful then took one of his own from the bowl. His shadows vivaciously sprang to life as you both ate in silence together. "It won't pass...not for a long time." You both looked up at her for a moment before looking down again.

Azriel swallowed the soup without tasting it. It would take more time for him to start eating at a regular pace again. He took his time, enjoying the warmth of the soup as it slid down his throat. As you started to eat a little more from the bowl, he kept his gaze trained on you, watching every movement you made. He had not stopped worrying about you. You were weak and vulnerable in this state, as was he, but he refused to let you fall again. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your temple as a tear fell down your cheek. When you cried, he wasn’t far from crying too. Tears of his own soon fell at the feeling of that bubble of anguish building up in your chest again.

"This kind of loss…it stays with you forever. The empty hole in your chests." She puts her finger in the center of your sternum gently. "That my dear child will fill itself up again within time. I'm not going to give you my apologies because I know you both have had enough of everyone's condolences, but I can give you the reassurance as your healer, and your friend, that it'll happen again, and again, and if doesn't then you can try again another time."

Azriel listened but remained silent. He had always been one who believed actions spoke louder than words. He couldn't force himself to believe that the pain and sorrow would eventually pass, but he could trust in her words this time. Her actions had proven themselves enough, you wouldn't be sitting beside him without her. If there was anyone he would be willing to trust it was Madja. She had been another mother figure to him after losing the two he did have. Her words brought an empty comfort to him, but her love brought warmth and familiarity like that of a mother's embrace. He knew she meant well. Madja always tried.

Madja's words of promise brought Azriel some hope. You could see the worry in his expression as he chewed on a spoonful of soup and nodded to her words. He knew she was right. If it wasn't meant to be now then you could always try again in the future. Madja's fingers caressed your skin softly. She could see the grief that lingered in your eyes. Her hand grazed against your cheek tenderly and her thumb swiped your tear away.

“And if it doesn’t?” You asked, your head tilting to one side as she spoke. You felt so lost now, so confused about what was to be of your grieving family of two right now. If you’d be okay after this and how you were supposed to move on. She had offered hope to fill the empty gap, but that void of that missing piece in your heart ached. It ached for your twins that you wanted more than anything to be resting in a cradle next to your and Azriel's bed, or for that night to have been a promise of new life blooming from within you, instead of death taking it from within you.

Azriel's head fell to the side, his gaze drifting to your intertwined hands. He knew that Madja meant well, but it didn't make her words any less painful to hear. He wanted more than anything to see your belly swell again. To fall asleep each night knowing you were cradling two precious gems within you. The thought of that possibility made his heartache. He couldn't even imagine the thought of trying again, it was too much.

"I don't want it to happen again Madja…I don't want to experience this pain again." You whispered, your voice shaking as you let out another sob. The pain was only going to get worse, and you weren't sure what to do. To you, it wasn’t even about conceiving another baby, but the fact that you lost the twins you held so dearly within your womb. Azriel gently scooted you closer into his arms. Your bodies pressed against each other as he pulled you into a gentle hug. "I don't think I could go through that again." You shook your head.

“Neither could I…” Azriel whispered. He kept his eyes focused on you as he caressed your back and held you close. It wasn’t so much the grief that caused your hearts to break, but the thought of going through the journey again only to have the same results. Would you be able to handle losing your babes again? Azriel knew he wouldn't be able to. Would there be a point break in your hearts that you both wouldn't be able to take on any more pain? That thought alone scares him. Azriel pulled you into his body, burying his head into your hair. His body shook with every word he tried to hold back, but his voice gave way.

"I'm sorry my love..." He mumbled with his lips pressed against your forehead as he hugged you tighter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images of you almost giving out on him. You could feel the drops of his tears fall on you, but he refused to let go. Azriel held you close, his breathing becoming heavy as memories of the night flooded his mind heavily.

"I'm here..." You whispered sweet nothings of reassurance to him.

“I can't promise that we won't go through this again…” Madja’s heart skipped a beat at your tear-filled eyes. You both wanted nothing more than to conceive another precious babe in the future if you're both up for it again surely, but you both fear the heartache that would follow if it takes the same turn again. Madja is right, that kind of pain will never truly heal or leave you. You can only pray that it won't happen again. You both turn to her. "But I can promise you'll have many many beautiful babies. Your body will allow it my child that is my reassurance. I can't take away your pain, your grievance of your lost twins, but I can give you the hope for better days and the expansion of your little family that will continue to grow and grow." She brought her hands up and cupped the sides of your faces.

"Promise?!" Azriel's voice was filled with hopefulness as if he could already see the light at the end of this dark and twisted tunnel. You could finally see some relief wash over him as she explained. His hands reached up and rested against her palm as he focused on her every word.

Madja's words brought you comfort, at least for now. Her promise of conceiving future babies gave you hope that one day you'd still have your dream of a big family with Azriel. You wouldn't have to carry the weight of the twins' death on your shoulders alone. You had Azriel alongside you, and Rhysand, and Feyre, and Nesta, and Cassian, and Mor, and Amren, and Madja. She was right though, she always was–the hollow of sadness wouldn't go away, but it could be filled. You'd make sure to make that empty in ache that burned you whole again, if not now, then you and Azriel would have the future and many years to come. That was all you could hope for now.

"That I can promise you." You both nodded as she pulled you into her embrace. Your and Azriel's minds wander further down the hall, where the door remains closed. The door with the blue and pink butterflies.

#acotar azriel #azriel imagines #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x fem!reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel oneshot #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #writings by juls #my gif

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thedickgraysons · 1 month

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i dont have all of the words for it right now but there's something so gross about the way sjm chose to handle tamlin's trauma and his responses to being triggered post acotar. and it's not the fact that she writes it at all, but the way the narrative beats you over the head with the fact that tamlin was Wrong for being harassed by amarantha and not giving her what she wanted, Wrong for being affected by it, and then he was Wrong for not pushing feyre's clear boundaries (her insistence to not speak about what happen UTM) when that is a trigger for the both of them.

tamlin's not sleeping in the bed as a beast as he is also incredibly traumatized after being utm, its framed as him being possessive. he doesn't insist feyre keep her powers secret and not come with him to hunt beasts because he had just watched her die, its because he's controlling. there's no addressing of how feyre was using him sexually as much as he was indulging in her, because the fact of the matter is they were on a path of mutual self-destruction.

then there is his and nesta's fandom and canon vilification and over-criticism because their responses to their trauma are "ugly." the lack of empathy their characters in particular draw. the narrative (rhysand's) insistence that nesta needs to get on her knees and spend the foreseeable future Atoning while tamlin can never make up for his actions.

the justification of the ic forcing themselves onto nesta. the fandom insistence that its rehab when they need to assert control over her, but she can leave at any time when someone points out that rehab centers dont let the therapists sleep with their patients. the gross fandom theory about amarantha being tamlin's mate and how he went "crazy" after the mountain because of it.

all of it reeks of both the 'perfect victim' theory and victim blaming

#acotar critical #pro tamlin #pro nesta archeron #sjm critical #rhysand critical #so apparently i do have the words for it #but also im going to want to rant about this later so im leaving it open ended #the fact of the matter is my god sjm can NOT write mental health without demonizing what she cant romanticize #and the fandom feeds into it #its genuinely so concerning

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chichikoi · 1 month

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hiraeth.

part II. synopsis: she watches as cassian falls for another, grappling with her own hidden affections and their newly snapped mating bond in the process. pairing: cassian x fem!reader fandom: a court of thorns and roses (book series by sarah j maas) genre: angst warnings: none a/n: house of balloons/glass table girls, this is his song... i love him. fluff part two coming up OBVIOUSLY, im not fucking ending it like this i cant do this to my #1 loverboy babygirl kitty princess beloved. @joyseuphoria hi <3

Cassian had always been the beacon of power and resolve, with a demeanor rugged and unyielding. But beneath the surface was vulnerability, and she knew that it was written in the stars for her to remain by his side as his closest friend and confidante, never to become one to uncover that side of him.

But it didn’t make it easier. Watching him as he fell for Nesta’s every glance, every touch, every word that escaped her mouth seemed to throw him deeper and deeper into a trance. And she was fine with that, and accepted it. Accepted that she would never be the object of his softened glances, his featherlight touches, his-

Her thoughts halted as Cassian stormed into the room, frustration radiating off him in waves. She glanced up from her book, her eyes immediately catching the tension etched onto his features. Without a word, she closed her book and shifted, making room for him on the couch.

Cassian collapsed beside her, his movements rough yet familiar. He stretched out, his feet finding their place on her lap almost instinctively. Y/N didn't flinch; instead, she settled into the comfortable silence, waiting for Cassian to speak.

"It's Nesta," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "Training with her…it was like walking on eggshells. One wrong move, and she was tearing into me with those ice-cold eyes."

She listened attentively, her gaze soft as she absorbed his words. "It was like she was always testing me," Cassian continued, his voice growing softer with each word. "Pushing me to my limits, making me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Her fingers instinctively started to massage his feet as he spoke. It was a small gesture, one born out of years of friendship and trust. Cassian didn't protest; instead, he leaned back against the cushions, allowing the soothing touch to ease the tension from his muscles.

As the minutes stretched on, their conversation ebbed and flowed, the weight of Cassian's burdens slowly lifting with each passing moment. Y/N listened, offering words of comfort when needed, but mostly content to provide silent support.

Cassian's breathing eventually evened out, his body relaxing against the cushions. Y/N glanced down to find him fast asleep, his features softened by the serenity of slumber. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection.

Suddenly, chains, bolts, and locks shifted, loosening, their weight growing just a little more tolerable. A soul peeked through. Broken, scarred, and trembling — with fear, she realized, but it stretched further and further. Yearning, searching.

It was as though a tether had snapped into place, an invisible thread binding her to Cassian in a way she had never felt before. Confusion flickered as she processed the intensity of the connection, the undeniable pull drawing her closer to him.

She was aware that this was not happening in the slightest. A mind trick. A dream, she thought. betraying once, the jolt of real-time that pushed through her. Burning her cheeks and stealing her breath. How the waking world slipped past the knobby parts of her fingers like a whisper, barely there, because dreaming was just a fancier word for getting lost. It held her there, suspended in imagination and for every second, it felt real. Like she could grasp the outlines and the textures. Like she could touch the weather, drink the clouds, and taste the sunlight.

The gods who had her in a chokehold withdrew.

Death feared her too, it seemed.

He was soaring in the air, and she was on the ground. She tried to reach him but he was far, far out of her reach. Seconds ticked by, and then minutes, and every thought that tried to sneak its way in, through this thick veil, bounced off and dissipated into thin air.

Because she then remembered… that beautiful things shouldn’t be broken. And she had a knack for breaking things.

The soft rays of dawn streamed through the windows of the House of Wind, casting a warm glow over the sitting room where she and Cassian had fallen asleep. As she stirred from her slumber, she found herself alone on the couch, the imprint of Cassian's presence still lingering in the air. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her mind foggy with the remnants of… dreams? Visions? She felt as though the very fabric of her existence had been torn asunder, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, but when has that ever stopped her?

So she stood on the ground and longed.

part II here >>

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withclawandvine · 2 months

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i’ve seen some really cute headcanons and fics about elucien + the language of flowers, but please consider one in which elain doesn’t actually know it

i'm sure the library in the archeron estate had books on it, but for the sake of this lil scenario, let’s say it didn’t. so when she finally decides to break some of the ice between her and lucien by offering him some flowers she’d grown and picked herself, the choices were based on color and scent.

while lucien is in velaris to debrief with rhys, feyre insists on hosting a dinner. and instead of ignoring lucien or delcining the invitation altoghether, elain gifts him the small bouquet.

and lucien... i mean he’s been alive a long time and spent a lot of it in the spring court. i’d say he's at least familiar with flowers and their meanings.

we also know that lucien admittedly doesn’t know much about elain, but what information he does gather, he puts to use. so he takes what he knows — that elain loves flowers and gardening — and makes the assumption that she must be well-versed in the language of flowers.

which is why he ends up in his velaris apartment staring at the vase on his table like 🤨🤨🤨🤨 trying to figure out what in the fuck she’s trying to tell him. and just being hopelessly confused bc the ones she chose symbolize: eternal sleep, motherhood, hatred, fidelity, beauty, and..... conquest in battle ???

a hilarious image, if i do say so myself. also him getting all snarky in his frustration, grumbling to himself about how she might be committing to the becoming fae bit a little to hard with all the riddles.

but wait !! there's more:

next time lucien sees elain, she’s tending to feyre and rhys’s garden and he strikes up a conversation by saying he might need to brush up on his flower symbolism because he suspects he was wrong about some of the meanings and she’s like ????? and he explains and they get a good laugh about it. but then elain asks him to point out the flowers he knows the meanings for bc she’s obviously very interested in this information.

and when lucien points to some daisies and says they're known to symbolize new beginnings, elain plucks one by the stem and with a shy smile, tucks it behind his ear

#previously: a-novel-blog #ship: elucien #acotar #elucien #my writing: acotar #sort of. not a fic but like... it could be??#if someone else writes it anyway lol

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kayjayjwrites · 1 month

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter Two

(Previous Chapter)

Chapter Word Count: 7,500

Chapter Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst kinda, eventual fluff, anxiety/panic attack, vomit (nothing graphic), Rhysand being an ass, Nesta x Reader friendship, Rhysand slander lol, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), fluff, some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish Note: So is this fluff? Debatable. But there is still plenty of Az fluff in it, you just got to work for it a little more this time. You don’t need to read the first chapter to understand what’s going on here, but they are connected!

It took almost three years of employment with the Inner Circle for you to personally encounter the ‘Night Triumphant’ persona. You were not impressed. The most serious you’d seen your cousin was ‘High Lord Rhysand’, the fierce leader, but even that was limited to political business outside of Velaris. More so than not, it was just Rhys, your fun loving, sarcastic friend who so happened to wield an enormous amount of power.

The male sitting at his work desk was not your ‘Rhys’. Hell this wasn’t even High Lord Rhysand. The Night Triumphant held eye contact with you, gaze calculated and stern. You studied the authority in his expression, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Staring him down right back, you waited for the facade to break and reveal the male you had come to know as family. You searched his face for the guy who would rather face Amarantha again than put you in such a precarious situation. The very situation that plagued you with consistent nightmares since you left Hewn City.

You did not find that male.

Your gaze flitted to Mor, her body draped in a leather armchair off to the side, hoping to find a trace of humor in her expression. She tried to look nonchalant, but there was a sharp edge to her that betrayed her own trepidation.

Nesta stood an arm’s length away from you, uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of your High Lord’s orders. She seemed as if she was waiting to see who would escalate things first. Rhysand had summoned the three of you to his office to brief everyone on an upcoming…obligation. He prefaced the meeting by saying that he knew it wasn’t an ideal assignment. He wasn’t asking if you wanted to do it, it was non negotiable.

In two months time, you, Nesta, and Mor would be answering a summons to Hewn City. Kier had been requesting a personal audience with you for the last year. Mor and Rhysand could no longer postpone it, as you were a Night Court Courtier afterall.

Still, you did not want to believe that Rhys would ask this of you. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t very funny, Rhysand.”

“I know you can tell that I am not joking.” His flinty tone brook no argument.

Any hope of reasoning with the Night Triumphant withered away. He summoned you to his office well aware that you wouldn’t take kindly to being sent back. Here you’d been thinking Rhysand understood your trauma best, having been held captive and used while Under the Mountain.

It appeared that you had misjudged him.

Just as you were about to say as much, Mor spoke up for the first time since the meeting started. “Kier threatened mutiny at the last Council meeting. At first he demanded a private audience, even after I informed him of our bargain. When we still refused to send you by yourself despite his threats, he agreed on these terms. You and Nesta because you’re a team, and me because I oversee The Court of Nightmares anyway. He couldn’t argue with that logic.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. After 300 years of being nothing but a tool for your father, the idea of seeing Kier’s face again so soon had your lunch sitting heavy in your stomach. It was inevitable, he thought you were loyal to him, his spy on the inside. You had zero idea how you were going to handle a reunion with him, simply thinking about it made you short of breath.

Your nights were plagued with stress dreams about what it would be like to return to your old home. You avoided stewing on the topic during your waking hours. The inevitability of it all often sent you spiraling, you couldn’t ghost Kier forever, but you thought you had more time. There was no fucking way you were ready. “I can’t do this,” You said, “give me any other assignment, and I’ll do it. Just not this.”

“You can,” Rhysand enunciated each word, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure you would understand him, “and you will.”

Oh hell no. You did not uproot your entire life to be spoken to like that. “Do not speak to me like a child, Rhysand–”

“Then stop acting like one,” he scolded, like you were the one being unreasonable, “this is your duty to your court, what I pay you to do. If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here.”

Rhysand’s words hit like a blow. Your sharp intake of breath was echoed by both Nesta and Mor, but you couldn’t see them, they might as well have not been there, your world shrinking down to Rhysand as he regarded you coldly.

“So what will it be?” He addressed you, leaning forward over his desk, leering, “will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today?” He pressured.

Your hands fisted, ire rising up so fast it made your eyes sting with unshed tears. If you got kicked out of Velaris you’d undoubtedly end up back in Hewn City. And you couldn’t let that happen, not after you finally got a taste of freedom.

Rhysand may like to believe himself better than Kier, but how was this any different from how Kier treated you? Was this your destiny? Undeserving of kindness unless you proved your worth?

What about you made people forget that you were a living, breathing being? Just like everyone else in the room, you had feelings that mattered, and hopes for your future. You’d been stripped of your freewill for the first three centuries of your life. It was a wonder that you hadn’t gone mad.

Were you only allowed a taste of freedom? Was that Rhysand’s plan all along? Get you hooked on life in Velaris then dangle it in front of you like you were a simple mule, your freedom the carrot held just out of reach.

It made your blood boil.

“My apologies.” You sneered at him, gone was the meek, conditioned wallflower. You meant all the disrespect. In a dramatic flourish you bowed low to Rhysand, making sure he saw your contempt for him when he met your gaze.

You maintained direct eye contact as you hissed harsh sarcasm at him, “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

Rhysand’s eyes flared with something dark and aggressive. Time slowed, a pulse of his power cresting over you in a suffocating wave, a preview of how oppressive he could make it if he so wished. Dread replaced your anger, the confidence you’d displayed moments ago dissipating. You struggled to not show how he had shaken you, and by some miracle, you stood your ground. Still, he could probably hear your heart pounding from where he sat.

Amidst the theatrics, your own power had not been so keen on backing down. It had coiled around you like a viper ready to strike, protective, as Rhysand’s prowling darkness prodded your boundaries.

This version of Rhysand left you stricken, unable to reconcile the egregious behavior with the male you’d had breakfast with just that morning. It felt like his power was tearing you in half, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. He looked bored.

Did you escape the clutches of one villain, only to run into the hands of another? Were you really that foolish?

Mor stepped into your field of vision, mouthing something at you. You hadn’t realized your ears were ringing until the shrill noise faded enough for you to hear her calling your name. The frantic quality of her voice snapped you out of whatever daze Rhysand’s power had cast on you.

Right. Nesta and Mor had witnessed that entire thing. You’d forgotten about their presence in the heat of the moment, your attention tunnel visioned on Rhysand. He had humiliated you in front of some of the most important people in your life. The only thing that could have made it worse was if Azriel had been there too.

Intense embarrassment flooded you, a seed of distrust taking root deep in your heart. You felt so stupid, thinking you could trust Rhysand and his Inner Circle. Mor was still trying to get your attention, but you stared right past her, looking at Rhysand like you hated him.

Hell. Maybe you did.

Mor called your name once more with urgency, moving closer to you, half turned so she hadn’t given her back to her High Lord, but solely focused on you. “It’s the best we could do without inciting a civil war.” She tried to clarify, emphasizing on the ‘we’ as she gestured between herself and Rhysand.

“You have to know we wouldn’t put you in this position if we had any other choice. I personally promised I would never leave you alone in that city again, and there is nothing our father can say or do to make me break that promise to you. We will do this together.”

Rhysand’s power had receded, but you could still feel it loitering like a watchdog. Something you’d never imagined Rhys doing to you before the meeting. He’d always spun such pretty promises about your future in Velaris, and you believed him.

And now Mor was doing the same exact thing. More pretty promises, but no proof of her intentions to follow through with them.

Mor’s shoulders visibly sagged, “If you don’t believe me, then look.” She pleaded, offering her mind up for you to read.

You physically recoiled at her suggestion. “I will do no such thing!” You spat back in disgust, “You are my sister, this is supposed to be my family. I will not taint our relationship with my powers in a moment of weakness. You may not return the same respect, but I refuse to surround myself with people I can’t trust without rummaging around their mind for their truths first.”

Unlike some males went unsaid as you fumbled to tone it down for Mor. Your problem was not with her, and she didn’t deserve your harsh words. “I can’t…I won’t….I–”

Frustrated with yourself, you took a steadying breath, emotion burning behind your eyes. Despite your best effort to keep composed, your voice quivered, “I will not be like our father.”

The room was stunned silent, Mor regarded you with sadness, lips parting to respond, but then pursing closed in a tight line.

Rhysand was the one to break the silence. His power dispersed as he leaned back in his chair, acting like he hadn’t just wound you up tight enough to fracture you into pieces.

“So you accept the assignment then?” He inquired, brushing nonexistent lint from the cuff of his dress shirt.

His lack of remorse irked you. Did he not think he could have handled the situation better? Was this how he treated everyone in the Inner Circle? The list of things you wanted clarification on kept growing, so instead you settled on, “Yes.”

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement then.” He drawled, “We will go over details and strategy another time, when we are all more composed.”

You wanted to punch him in his goddamn face.

“For now, this meeting is dismissed.”

As soon as he finished speaking you stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with Nesta in your haste to get away from Rhysand. Originally you were going to visit the library after the meeting. Nesta had suggested a book for you to read, and you wanted to read it so you had something to talk to her about. But you were too worked up to do that now, you needed to get out of there.

You didn’t care where you ended up, so long as you put as much distance between you and Rhysand as possible.

XxXx

By step 174 your blurry vision cleared a smidge, too out of breath to cry for the moment. You didn’t have anyone to help you leave The House of Wind, so you took to the 10,000 stairs with the expectation of someone eventually coming to find you. There was no way in hell you’d actually be able to reach the bottom. You began the descent down the spiraling staircase so fast It was a marvel that you didn’t trip.

Any time you slowed down Rhysand’s words would play on loop in your head. The only way to drown it out was to pick up the pace, the exertion elevating your heart rate enough for it to overpower that nasty voice in the back of your head. If you ran fast enough the only thing you could concentrate on was counting the steps you took.

239 steps down, and you had no choice but to slow down to a more reasonable pace. It was a warm day, and you were getting dizzy. The last thing you wanted to do was pass out. In a desperate attempt to keep your mind occupied as you caught your breath you focused on the breeze cooling the sweat beading up on your forehead. You listened to the slap of your bare feet on the smooth, sun-warmed stone. You thought of the color of the sandals you left behind at the very top of the stairs. You pondered on which step you’d discarded your blouse on after it began to cling to your sweaty skin.

Your guess was step 148.

You hit the first landing platform at step 250, slowing to a walk as you panted, hands propped against your hips as you counted your next few steps. Woozy, you let your eyes fall closed for a moment, but the image of Kier sitting in his throne room beckoning you forward flashed across your mind. You flinched so hard you accidentally opened your eyes looking directly into the sun.

It felt like your head had a heartbeat of its own, vision blotching from the brightness. You didn’t know how your day could get any more bleak as you rapidly blinked the disorienting dots away. Glimpses of The Court of Nightmares throne room lurking behind every blink, Kier looked more like Rhysand each time you closed your eyes.

It made your stomach lurch, and you whimpered around a dry heave.

A particularly strong gust of wind ruffled through your hair, and you can almost hear Azriel’s voice reminding you to focus on your other senses. Your mind can lie to you, but it’s much harder for all your senses to be tricked at the same time.

The sunlight, the ever-present wind, the sound of birds, the smell of fresh air. Let nature ground you.

It just wasn’t enough. You’d only paused for a few moments, but your chest began to feel too tight for your lungs, anxiety squeezing the air out of you before you could properly inhale it. Two months. Just two measly months to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Kier–to your mom, after you’d gone no contact for almost 3 years. Two months to not be petrified of somehow getting trapped down there again.

So you continued down the stairs, pushing yourself harder.

251. 252. 253. Counting them like Azriel had taught you.

It had been after your first dinner with the Inner Circle at the House of Wind. Mor was a little too tipsy to winnow home safely, so the both of you decided it best to share a guest room. You were feeling antsy, Mor having fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The House of Wind was so different from Hewn City. Cozy and surprisingly casual in decor, but it was carved out of the side of a mountain. With the curtains drawn, in the dark quiet of the night, it almost felt like your bedroom in The Court of Nightmares.

You had thought a glass of water would do you some good, help you settle enough to get some rest. So you set out for the kitchen, taking care to walk quietly so as to not wake anyone. The hallway led to a flight of stairs, which brought you to more hallways that seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. The homey decor fell away, your balance wobbling with the sudden onset of vertigo. Closing your eyes didn’t help, dizzy and disoriented, everything felt like it was tipped on its axis. You couldn’t place where you were, where you were going, just that you were alone. Fear flooded your senses, and you swore you smelled the dank air of the streets of Hewn City like you were still there.

Azriel found you slumped against the wall on shaky legs, your pulse pounding so hard in your ears you couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. The touch of his rough hands on your bare arms was soothing enough to bring you back to yourself. You weren’t walking the streets of Hewn City. You weren’t alone. Azriel had you.

Each inhale had still felt like you were gulping in freezing cold water, your breath coming in irregular gasps. You thought you were going to die in that hallway, suffocating on fucking air.

Azriel took you to the training grounds on the rooftop of all places. You can still remember the brightness of the full moon that night as he coached you through breathing exercises. Then, coaxed you into walking laps with him around the perimeter of the huge training grounds. He counted each step aloud with you until you had calmed enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

And that was how you and the Shadowsinger bonded over Claustrophobia. An unfortunate thing to have in common, an even more unfortunate first thing to find you had in common.

In the moments after you’d come down from your panic attack you wanted to svirel up and fade away, so thoroughly embarrassed. But now, you thanked The Mother for sending Azriel to find you that night.

It was those same coping skills that led you to working out your anxiety after the meeting. 290 steps away from The House of Wind, and you were sure your legs were going to give out if you kept pushing yourself. You came to a slow stop, soles of both your feet planted on the same stair. Lulling your head back so your face was to the cloudless sky, you closed your eyes and pictured that moment with Azriel. Instead of Kier morphing into Rhysand, you saw Azriel walking laps with you around the moonlit training grounds.

You basked in the breeze against your face, your anger and fear still roiling in your stomach, but no longer all consuming. The relief was short lived, a concentrated pang of despair reared its ugly head, raw hurt so overwhelming it chased the warm memories with Azriel away. It made you so tired, so emotionally drained you felt it in the marrow of your bones. You wanted to just let go, collapse in a heap and never get up again.

Yet, by some stroke of willpower, you remained on your feet. You hadn’t warmed up before taking on the stairs, and you could already feel soreness settling into your muscles. Gingerly you sat yourself down on the steps, resting your elbows on your thighs as you rubbed your hands over your face, spreading fresh tears across the top of your cheeks.

If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here. Rhysand’s words burned the part of you that had always suspected as much. There was this nasty little voice that lived in the back of your head. It would mock you when you were too content in calling this place home.

You wondered if that voice would start to sound like Rhysand.

The thought broke your heart a little bit more. You wanted so badly to make him proud, to earn your place in the Inner Circle, prove that they hadn’t made a mistake taking you in. The worst part was that you thought you were doing good. Not that you’d believed yourself to be one of them, you were still so new, but you thought…you thought…

You don’t know what you fucking thought.

Curling into yourself, your knees tucked in close to your chest, you made yourself as small as possible. The full body trembling made your sobs shaky, your entire being wobbled from the weight of your failure, your naivety. This was what you got for wanting to do it the right way. You’d never built relationships without relying on your powers to sniff out their loyalty beforehand, never truly trusted on your own violation.

Your father always thought it was a stupid risk to take when you could know for sure. You thought it was an awfully lonely way to live, to never trust fully. Perhaps you’d been wrong.

This was what you get, you silly girl. Kier’s voice taunted from the back of your mind. Or was that Rhysand’s voice? Did the difference even matter anymore?

The telltale sound of approaching footsteps closed in on you from behind, you couldn’t tell who it was, all you could smell was the salt of your own tears. Maybe it was one of them coming to take you out of your misery, maybe Rhysand took your display in his office as a sign of disloyalty.

The killing blow never came, so you glanced up to see Nesta taking a seat next to you. The last person you expected to come looking for you if you were being honest.

She didn’t look at you right away, which you appreciated. You were humiliated enough without her seeing you wiping your own snot on your forearm. Her icy stare was focused on the view, the only indication that she had run to catch up with you, a few fly away hairs having been jostled loose from her braids.

“You were pretty hard to catch up to, you know,” She leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands against the step behind her, “for someone who doesn’t regularly train, at least.”

Her attempt at humor, which earlier in the day would have made you indignant, fell flat. Instead inciting a new wave of tears to fall past your lash line. You dropped your head lower to hide it from her, but it did little to smother the sound of your quivering breath.

She didn’t try again, and her presence grew awkward when you didn’t try either, but she stayed next to you regardless.

When it became apparent that she would stay by your side unless you sent her away, you found your words. “What if I can’t do it,” You croaked out, voice absolutely wrecked, “Face my father, return underground? What if I can’t do what’s expected of me? What if it’s too much, too soon? What if I lose everything because I’m not strong enough.” Will never be strong enough.

“Then we will figure it out,” Nesta answered without hesitation, “Together.”

You are alone. That damned voice insisted.

“But Rhysand said–”

“I know what Rhysand said.” Nesta hissed, and you startled, your bloodshot eyes meeting hers for the first time since she arrived. She looked pissed, lips pursed in a scowl as if the High Lord was right in front of her. “Rhysand is an insensitive jackass. He won’t send you away because you messed up one job.”

“How can you know that?” You whispered, already knowing that she couldn’t know for sure.

“Because I’ve pissed him off by doing far worse, and I’m still here.”

You shook your head at her reasoning, not good enough, she can’t know for sure. “You're his mate’s sister, and Cassian’s mate. He can’t exile you.”

“And you're The Morrigan’s sister, and his own cousin.” Nesta deadpanned. “You’re not going to get exiled over a visit to The Court of Nightmares.”

“How can you possibly know that?!” You shouted, one of your hands clutching the fabric of your sweat soaked chest binding as your heart ached. Frantic to believe her, but knowing that you just couldn’t.

“Because Rhysand hates me, we barely tolerate each other on good days. He once threatened to banish me to the human continent,” she rebuked, hands flying about as she grew impassioned, “He loves you. He’s just an overpowered ass on a power trip. You questioned his authority and it hurt his fragile little ego. And even if he was stupid enough to try to cast you out, the rest of the Inner Circle would never let that happen.”

Your nerves were fucking shot. Whatever remained of your bravado frayed with every hagrid breath, it was impossible to stay focused. It was like your powers were waiting for you to be distracted, taking the opportunity to thrash against your mental shields. You didn’t know if it was skill keeping your powers in check, or dumb luck.

Your headache spread across your temples, sharp pain panging behind your eyes. You were already so tired, but the tears would not stop coming. That damned voice, still whispering its poison, adding to the agony. Nesta can’t know for sure, but you could if you just gave in.

You looked Nesta over, her relaxed body language at odds with the determined fire in her eyes. She left herself wide open, she wouldn’t even know if you read her. You’d be in control, your fate wouldn’t be left up to a gamble.

Nesta tried to meet your gaze, and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning away from her. It was impossible for you to think with her piercing stare studying you. What reason did Nesta even have to care about what happened to you? She didn’t say shit while Rhysand was ripping your world apart, and yet she showed up here? To do what exactly?

There was a dull ringing in your ears as your power surged against your restraint, and maybe you screamed, maybe you didn’t. Your fingers went up into your hair, fisting at your roots as you pulled, rocking yourself back and forth because it would be so easy.

And maybe if you gave in, that stupid voice would stop.

Nesta called your name, “I wouldn’t let Rhysand kick you out of Velaris.”

The cry you let out sounded almost feral. “I don’t know that!” .

“No, you don’t,” Nesta acquiesced, “but do you trust me?”

Did you trust Nesta? The question cut you into you like the edge of a knife, your heart answering with a resounding yes.

Wow, did you want that to be true. But that sinister voice oozed like an oil slick in the back of your head. Will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today? You had trusted Rhysand too.

Even if Nesta wanted you here, did you think she would disobey her High Lord for you? You didn’t know, not for sure. Your power reared up again, and your head pounded at the onslaught. That oily voice so loud it was all you could hear. You could know.

“I-I don’t know.” You stammered, stomach churning into grotesque knots.

“Do you trust yourself?” Nesta continued her line of questioning.

That answer came to you quick, no, and it had you lurching forward, your balance lost as you scraped your knees sliding down a couple stairs. You wretched, violent heaves as your stomach emptied out on the stairs in front of you.

No. You didn’t trust yourself.

“There was a time where I didn’t trust myself either.” It was like you weren’t barfing up your guts right in front of her, Nesta spoke with such calm. “Didn’t let anyone close enough to trust, even myself, I didn’t know how.”

You wretched again, your hair getting in the way. Gentle fingers gathered the stray pieces that had fallen from your updo. You hadn’t heard her move over to you, but she was there, steadying you as you struggled through a bout of dry heaving. If you weren’t so miserable, the tenderness coming from Nesta would have shocked the hell out of you.

Her free hand rubbed soothing circles into your back as she continued her tale. “I hated myself,” Nesta confided, voice raspy with emotion, “so much that I drank myself stupid every night to escape the darkness of my own thoughts.”

Now, the random heart to heart did shock you.

Three years of trying to connect with the enigma that was Nesta Archeon. Three years of getting redirected when you asked something too deep. The most you got out of Nesta was what she liked to read, so you picked up reading just to have a reason to approach her outside of assignments. Three years of one sided heart to hearts, evaded personal questions, and turned down sleepover invitations.

And she decided that now was the proper time to trauma dump on you? While you were half dressed, ugly crying with vomit in your hair?

What a baffling female. The confusion helped you relax, so surprised you were by Nesta’s sudden urge to share. Her hand kept a slow, steady rhythm as she continued to rub gentle circles onto your back, you hadn’t realized how tensed you’d been until muscles you didn’t even know you had started going lax.

Whatever Nesta was doing, it was working. So you basked in the comfort her touch provided and listened.

“Someone taught me how to acknowledge those thoughts and let them go. To breathe, and still everything else in my mind, and let my mind think those things, but to not dwell, because that dark self loathing didn’t define me.”

The dark self loathing didn’t define you. Her words chipped at something that had been left festering for far too long. Had that been it all along, that terrible voice in the back of your head, had it been self loathing?

“Give yourself permission to feel, acknowledge it, and let it go.”

And it was so liberating, giving a name to what had been festering under your skin. Hate. Disgust. Cowardice. You cried, but not the agonized, tortured type of wails that had crippled you moments ago. This was a release, the type of ugly cry you do when something you didn’t know was broken starts to heal.

You hated yourself. And that was okay, because as you waited for that awful voice to mock you, it never did. You hated yourself, wept so hard you thought your eyes were going to fall out of your skull, but you had never felt lighter.

Nesta found your hand, gentle at first as if giving you time to pull away. Then she held onto you like the simple touch could convey what you were worth to her. “You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you.” She whispered, but the words resonated like she had shouted them at you.

The smile started as a small twitch at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Nesta saw it all the same. You searched for that dreadful voice, waited for it to speak something dreadful, but the quip never came. The smile that bloomed on your cheeks was wide with astonish.

You couldn’t believe it, after 300+ years of letting that nasty voice ruin you, there was peace. In its place was something new and bright.

Hope.

XxXx

The sound of beating wings announced the arrival of Cassian and Azriel a moment before the weight of their landing sent vibrations through the hard stone of the staircase. The two hulking Illyrian warriors made quick work of the walk up the stairs, their casual conversation trailing off once they were within earshot of you and Nesta.

“Ness!” Cassian’s voice boomed in greeting, cheery and boisterous, “I see why you asked for me to bring Azriel now. Here I thought you were acting on your ‘secret’ fantasies finally. The location left something to be desired, but I wasn’t going to be picky.”

Nesta sat shoulder to shoulder with you, so close, you felt her stiffen at Cassian’s offbeat comment. If you weren’t so drained, you’d be cross with her for summoning more witnesses, but the idea of having to walk back up all those steps upset you far more. The adrenaline high from your anxiety had long worn off, and without its numbing effect, you weren’t sure if you could even stand without your legs wobbling.

Nesta sighed, deep and long suffering, but affectionate nonetheless. “Your inability to read the room will always astound me.”

“Good thing we’re outside, there is no–” Cassian’s breath hitched, now close enough to get a good look at your downcast expression, haggard appearance, and odd attire. You were careful to keep your emotions under control, unwilling to let anyone in the Inner Circle see you in such a vulnerable state. Years of cautious composer, wasted, all because of a meeting that lasted less than 30 minutes. You expected disapproval, your emotions had only been met with ridicule in the past, but the apparent emotions flying across Cassian’s face were anything but cold.

Worry. Guilt. Unease. Cassian’s emotions were so boldly displayed, you didn’t need your powers to disconcert them.

Cassian paused in his ascent as he looked you over for injury, but Azriel closed the distance in the time it took you to blind away the tingle of the latest round of tears. Their concern was almost palatable, and being shown that type of care felt too good to be real.

These males had no reason to care so much, Nesta had no tangible reason to care so much. You were so… you, so replaceable and plain. You breathed through the thought, let it roll over you, maybe that was why they cared so much, because you are you. It had never occurred to you that you were someone worth caring for. Not when your own father never cared. Certainly not after Rhysand gave you the ultimatum to get useful or get out.

You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you. Nesta’s words repeated in your head, sending a zing of determination down your spine.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Azriel crouched down, his chest siphon reflecting the late afternoon sun. His questions made you feel queasy, but his presence soothed over you like a balm. This male simultaneously was the person you worried about disappointing most, and the person you felt most safe being vulnerable around.

Unlike with Nesta, you didn’t struggle with facing Azriel. He was inspecting the grime covered scrapes on your bare toes. “Where are your shoes?” He asked you, puzzled as he then took note of your sweat soaked bra, “and your shirt?”

A dark look passed over him, if his shadows could withstand the direct sunlight, you were sure they’d be writhing around you. He spoke your name like a whispered prayer, desperate. His gloved hands hesitated as he reached out to cup your face, only smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks when you didn’t jerk away, “please look at me,” and you did, meeting his amber eyes as he wiped remnant tear stains from your cheeks, “Did someone try to hurt you?”

You knew what he meant, but your explanation caught in your throat. A brief moment of shame overwhelmed you, because here you were blubbering over some harsh words from your High Lord, when people suffered far worse fates than your own every day. Azriel began to tense, an icy cold rage taking form as he mistook your silence as an affirmative.

You shook your head ‘no’, hating the troubling turmoil you had unintentionally sowed in him. His shoulders sagged, the sign of his relief so slight, many would have missed it. It was all it took for the remaining threads of your thin composure to snap.

Azriel all but scooped you into his arms as tears blurred your vision, and you crumbled into him, no further prompting needed. He held you so tight, it was like he was trying to hold all your pieces together for you. His wings flared to keep his balance, and maybe later you’d feel sheepish about almost tipping him backwards down those unforgiving stairs, but you relished in the comfort his strength brought you.

“I-I was–It was–” You couldn’t string the sentence together, “We were…I was–” you tried again but your breathing was off, your thoughts all jumbled, and Blessed Mother, you couldn’t do it again. Any words you’d thought about trying to say morphed into sobs, barely audible, but you couldn’t hide the way your body shook with them.

“Rhysand happened.” Nesta asserted, sparing what was left of your dignity by cutting off your senseless stuttering. She summarized the meeting, but touched on the major points that had triggered your anxiety. She was gentle with the recollection of your part in the meeting, scathingly critical of Rhysand.

“When I left Rhysand’s office, The Morrigan was getting in his face, and as much as I would have loved to see how that went down, it felt wrong to not check in with you.” Nesta explained like she was coming clean, “ I asked the house where you were.”

It was about as close to an apology you’d ever get from Nesta. You knew from experience that Nesta took her time warming to people, preferring to mind her business and stay out of Inner Circle drama. Once she’d made an offhand comment about being the center of the drama enough to last her the rest of her fae lifetime.

Keeping your head rested on Azriel’s shoulder, you turned your face to the side so your voice was less muffled, “Thank you,” your words carried on the wind, paper thin, frail, but so heartfelt, “for following me.”

Nesta didn’t respond, and you didn’t dare look at her out of fear of getting weepy again. But you felt it all the same, a shift in the relationship between the two of you. Like a bridge branching out, a new understanding solidified in place, and you knew Nesta had felt it too.

You shifted in Azriel’s arms, intending on testing your strength, but his arms tensed to keep you in place. In one graceful movement that had your head spinning, Azriel stood up right, adjusting to support your weight in a bridal hold.

“How about we get you home and clean you up?” Azriel suggested, loud enough for the others to hear, but the question aimed at you.

Home. As in the apartment you shared with Mor. He had called Velaris your home.

Your heart gave a painful throb, all choked up again at the sentiment. Going home sounded like the most splendid thing in the whole world in that moment. You didn’t want to think about Rhysand or Hewn City anymore, you wanted to go home so much it hurt.

There was some rustling, Cassian coming to stand near Nesta. “Wanna race me back up to the house?” His words were muffled as if his lips were pressed into the crown of Nesta’s head. “Winner gets head.”

The swift resounding slap Cassian received almost made things seem normal.

“Are you two good?” Nesta ignored Cassian’s taunting, and you nodded at the same time Azriel responded with, “Yes, I’ve got her.”

A beat passed in silence, all four of you waiting to see if anyone added anything else. Then rapid footsteps took off up the stairs, and you popped your head up from the crook near Azriel’s underarm to see Nesta sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey!” Cassian bellowed, charging after her, “cheaters never prosper, Nesta!”

“Prove it, you overgrown bat!”

If you weren’t about ready to pass out from exhaustion, you would have laughed at their antics. Azriel was watching them, an unguarded fondness in his hazel eyes you rarely got to see. The two of you stayed like that, Azriel watching his friends, you committing his soft expression to memory. By the time Azriel glanced down to you, Cassian had overtaken Nesta’s lead, their figures dots in the distance.

You were a melted puddle of female in his arms, all tension and stress slipping from your muscles as your eyelids drooped. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes open for another second. Paranoia nagged at you, fear of what you’d see when you finally rested your eyes.

Nothing. Blissful darkness. Peace.

“I’m going to take off now. Loop your arms around my neck and hold on tight, okay? Once we get up high enough, the rest of the flight will be smooth.”

You did as you were told, any other time you would have been a nervous wreck, but you didn’t have it in you to fret. You’d always winnowed with someone, even learning how to land the drop through the wards when Mor winnowed with you to the House of Wind. You’d thought no one had noticed how you avoided the topic, but surprise surprise, Azriel had noticed.

The thought of being up that high in the sky and dropped sure made your pulse spike. Growing up in an Underground City meant your feet were always planted on the ground. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to claim that you weren’t a fan of heights, you’d never flown with anyone before, but it would make a lot of damn sense.

Your musing was cut short. Azriel launched straight up into the sky, powerful wings effortlessly gaining momentum and speed. You clung to him, hands clasped together around his neck in a death grip, screaming bloody murder the entire ascend. Although you would deny it if anyone asked.

Things evened out once Azriel felt he was high enough, setting a leisure pace towards what you assumed to be the direction of Mor’s apartment. Your eyes were squeezed shut, wind whipping your hair out of what was left of your updo, tossing it across your face.

You must have been quite the sight, if the amusement in Azriel’s voice was any indication. “Are you going to look at the view?”

Your hair was a disheveled mess across your face, the wind burned your already sore eyes when you tried to pry them open. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t keep my eyes open,” It was probably beautiful, but you didn’t want to push your luck, you’d had enough panic attacks for the day, “Luckily, I don’t want to.”

He chuckled. “Next time then.”

Blame it on the fatigue, but you found yourself nodding in agreement. Something you may come to regret when he urges you to fly with him instead of winnowing the next time you travel together.

But maybe it won’t be so bad, if Azriel was the one carrying you. With your eyes closed, ear pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat lulled the residual tension and anxiety away until all you felt was the security of his arms. You could almost forget that you were hundreds of feet off the ground.

In Azriel’s care, it was easy to relax, he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It was in that half dozing state, snuggled up as close as you could get to him, that your sleepy mind realized moments like these were the ones you wanted to remember.

Ultimately, Rhysand’s nasty words were a small part of your day. The majority of your time was spent with Nesta, bonding with her in a way you’d never managed previously. Something that would have never happened if Rhysand hadn’t been a dick.

Yeah. You’d much rather remember the day as the Nesta heart-to-heart incident. Or the first time you flew with Azriel.

Drifting into a deeper sleep, you dreamt of the way Cassian’s laughter echoed with joy as he chased after Nesta up the stairs. You dreamt of soaring through the clouds with Azriel, the same fondness you’d seen in his eyes for Cassian and Nesta, but aimed at you.

It may take you the rest of your life, but you would replace all the trauma muddying up your memories with new memories you wanted to remember. New memories filled with laughter, affection, trust, and adventure.

One day at a time.

Rhysand could go pound sand though.

XxXx

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (coming soon)

A/N: Don't worry the next part is going to be more like the first chapter. There will be like two more chapters sprinkled in that have a more serious tone, but the rest will be fluff, drama, and tomfoolery a plenty. Stay tuned for cheeky Cassian in the next update!!

Tag List: @f4iry-bell @jediknightjana @microwaveallthedemons @olive-main

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @5onedirection5

@brieflyclassymortal @hauntedstudentobservationus

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #Like Bugs in a Rug #my writing #kayjaywrites #nesta archeron #the morrigan #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #cassian

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arson-09 · 2 months

Text

Rhysand really thinks his trauma trumps everyone elses trauma

Ofc i feel bad cause rhysand was obviously abused UtM but that doesn’t excuse the fact he 1- does shit things to other people 2- can act like since he was traumatized he is morally superior.

and i know the rhysand-ites will yap about how “he knows hes not good” or “he doesnt think that at all!” but the narrative certainly thinks so. sjm jumps through HOOPS to convince you rhysand is a great and amazing person no matter what and good god it’s annoying

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #anti rhysand #sjm #sjm critical #most annoying male lead and ive read some bad books #rhysand strikes pure anger in my heart #part of it are the literacy blind people who just believe everything they are told in the book #which i blame poor writing and the fact people didnt pay attention in english class #the curtains could be blue for a fucking reason #im tired of books that try to spoon feed you the point of the story #they try to take away the nuance and good god chill out

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azriels-shadowsinger · 3 months

Note

No. 13 for Azriel please ❤️❤️🤌✨

“Everything reminds me of you, it's driving me insane”

Azriel x Reader

wc: 1.4K

a/n: kinda inspired by cardan’s letters. if yall read the cruel prince series then u know. get ready for some angst yall.

prompt list

“This is the last straw Azriel. I can’t handle not being a priority in your life! You always choose Rhys, Cassian, Elain, work, or literally anything else over me. I have only seen you once in the past week, and we live together for Cauldron’s sake! I feel like I live with a ghost. You’re gone before I wake up and you return after I fall asleep!” You yell between tears. “I can’t do this anymore. I love you, but it is too painful to keep living like this.” Azriel realizes where this is headed.

“Y/n, please. I’ll be better. I promise!” He begs, desperation in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Azriel. You had your chance, multiple actually. It’s too late.” You turn away, unable to look at his heartbroken face without potentially giving in. You can feel his shadows attempting to reach for you as you walk out the door.

———

January 7th

Dear y/n,

Rhys won’t tell me where exactly you left to, but promised he would deliver this. I understand that you are angry with me and that you need some time to calm down. I hope that you will return soon so we can work this out. I love you and I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Azriel

———

January 29th

Dear y/n,

Point taken, dear. I know I messed up, but it’s been weeks and I miss you.

I know you are getting these letters. Rhys said he ensured they would be delivered. I guess that doesn't guarantee that you will read them. Nevertheless, I am sorry for my actions and I am taking steps to create boundaries in my life so that I can have more time for you. I can prove it, if only you would just come home.

With deepest apologies,

Azriel

———

February 14th

My love,

I had hoped you would return before Valentine's Day. You always loved celebrating this holiday. I know you won’t see them, but I still got you flowers. They're on your nightstand.

It's been over a month. I miss your voice. Please come home.

Azriel

———

March 7th

Y/n,

If this is your way of punishing me, then consider it a success. I’m a wreck without you. Please come home.

-Azriel

———

March 30th,

My heart,

I am begging you to come home. Come home and yell at me, come home and fight with me, just please come home. I love you and I’m so sorry.

Always with love,

Azriel

———

May, 15th,

Y/n,

I understand what you meant about feeling like you were living with a ghost. Everything reminds me of you, and it’s driving me insane. I am haunted by these traces of you around our home. Please end this torment and come back to me.

-Azriel

———

June 7th

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Why are you doing this to me?

I hate myself for causing this and pushing you away.

Do you still love me? Do you even miss me?

Please come home I can’t take it anymore.

I love you I love you I love you I love you

I miss you.

———

Y/n,

This is my last letter. I won’t bother you anymore after this. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy. I will always regret taking your love for granted.

Eternally yours,

Azriel

———

It was another sleepless night for Azriel. He was plagued with the memories of every single time he chose something or someone else over you. He’s past the point of beating himself up over it, but rather, he considers this the worst punishment of all. Being forced to relive each memory over and over, unable to change it. Hating himself and drowning his sorrows in whiskey.

He hears a knock at the door. It’s probably Cass or Rhys, doing their weekly check on him, since he rarely leaves the house anymore. Azriel chooses to ignore them.

They knock again.

“Fuck off, I’m not in the mood tonight guys.” He barks in the direction of the door, taking another sip of his whiskey.

Another knock.

Cauldron boil him, his brothers were relentless. He was going to open the door, but only to yell at them to leave. He grumbles angrily to himself all the way to the door.

“I said I wasn’t-“ It's not Rhys or Cassian on his doorstep. Instead, he sees you, holding a stack of letters. His letters.

This is another dream, he thinks. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. When he wakes you will be gone again, having torn the rip in his heart even wider. But until then, he lets himself indulge in the dream. Azriel doesn’t hesitate for another moment before pulling you into a tight hug.

“My dreams must be especially cruel tonight because somehow I am able to smell your perfume. I can feel your heartbeat.” He mumbles, face buried in your hair. His shadows encompass you two, whispering in Azriel’s ear y/n, y/n, y/n

“This isn’t a dream, Azriel.” You say softly, pulling away to look at him and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, but as soon as he does, he pulls you back into a hug, even tighter than before. You feel hot tears fall onto your shoulder as his shadows surge around you.

“My love, my heart, my star. You came back to me.” He sobs. Your heart breaks at the pain in his voice. You had known he was probably upset about the breakup, but in an attempt to heal and move on, you never opened his letters… until last night.

After several long minutes of intense bear hugs, he finally manages to let go. Well kind of, he can’t seem to let your hand go yet.

“We should talk, Az.” You say nervously.

“I will do anything you want if it means you will stay.”

Gods, you were the worst person in the world. This poor male, who you still love desperately despite your best efforts, is so broken over you leaving.

“I’m not going anywhere, Az.” You reassure him. He finally loses a small bit of tension in his shoulders a the words, but his hands seem to hold tighter. You take a deep breath, trying to prepare for what you have to say.

“I didn’t read your letters until last night. I was trying to get over you, and so I avoided reading them. In an attempt to move on, I had convinced myself you were happy without me. But I couldn’t move on. I couldn't stop loving you. When I finally read your letters, I realized you truly had changed. I should’ve read them months ago. I should've never left. I’m so sorry Azriel. I understand if you need time or if you can’t forgive me but-“ He cuts you off.

“I forgive you. I don’t need time. I only need you here.” He’s so quick to dismiss every mistake you made, it breaks your heart. It will take a long while to reassure him that you aren’t ever leaving again, maybe a lifetime, but that’s okay.

You take notice of his dark circles and how skinny he has gotten. Gods, has he eaten at all since you left, you wonder.

“Let me make us some dinner, then we can talk more, okay?” Azriel nods and reluctantly lets go of your hand, following you to the kitchen like a lost puppy.

———

After several long hours of tears and brutal honesty, you and Azriel lay in your bed, embracing each other.

You spent the next week holed up in the house, reconnecting and reigniting your love for each other. You even took extra time to apologize to his shadows. They were very happy that you were back and made sure to show you so.

True to his word, Azriel never took your love for granted for as long as you both lived. And true to yours, you never left again.

I think I may do this prompt again later with someone else in more of a rivals to lovers type scenario, but I kinda just felt like this was fun for this one and wanted to try it idk

prompt list

taglist: @fxckmiup

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #my writing

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surielstea · 2 months

Text

Love and Lust

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eris and Reader need to consummate after their public mating ceremony.

3.1k words

"Goodnight!" I shout to the guests as Eris drags me to our bedroom. They reply in a farewell but it's hardly audible because by the time they can get any words out, Eris had winnowed us to the top floor of the Forest house, tired of walking through the large sprawling complex.

I giggle as he pulls me closer, stumbling on my heels as I crash into his chest.

We had just had our public mating ceremony, there was a magical black ribbon twined around our intertwined hands that wouldn't untangle until after our mating was consummated, which left me connected to him. I looked up at him with a wild grin, the expression uncontrollable because I was overwhelmed with joy. "What's got you smiling like that?" He looks down at me with a raised brow and I bite my bottom lip slightly, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck. "I'm just happy," I shake my head in incredulity, rising onto my toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Fear settles deep in my stomach and I back away slightly, my smile faltering. "Are you?" My brows crease. "Happy?" I tilt my head anxiously. His grip tightens on my hand and he releases a small laugh in pure disbelief. "Of course I'm happy." He pulls me towards him yet again, snaking his free hand around my waist and my grin returns. "I don't think I've ever been more happy." He spoke solemnly, his fingertips warm me despite the fabric of my gown being a barrier.

I give him a saddened smile at the bittersweet sentiment. "You say it like it's a bad thing," I murmur, dragging my fingers through the Heir's russet hair. "Everything that's made me happy has been taken from me." He mumbled and a frown formed on my lips. "No one's going to hurt me," I promise, stressing my words so he knows it's the truth. "No one's going to take me either, I'm all yours." I hum, pecking his frown then fall back down my heels. "I know," He sighs, resting his forehead against mine, pressing a yearning kiss to my lips before backing away. "It's just— I can remember my father burning all my books while he made me watch," He swallows. "I can't shake the idea of him doing something similar to you." His voice shakes and my heart nearly shatters at the sound. "He's not here anymore," My hand comes to his cheek. "He can't hurt me, or you," I reassure. "I know." He repeats, this time with a nod.

I rise onto my toes again and press a soft kiss onto his lips, my heart aching as his hand wraps tighter around me as if he's afraid that I might disappear. His lips slot over my mind hungrily, not in any sensuous manner but rather just to get closer, to consume me entirely so no one could harm me without cutting him open first.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," I murmur against his lips, and a smile curves along them. "You didn't have to do anything, my pretty girl." He shakes his head and my arm comes back around his neck, pulling him closer as I drag him toward the bed until the backs of my thighs hit the mattress.

I smile up at him dreamily as I sit down and pull him down beside me with our connected hands. He shifts up to the pillows and I'm forced to follow, my chin coming to rest in the crook of his shoulder as I lay on his chest. His hand came to my hair, dragging his fingers through it as I wrapped an arm around his middle and hugged him close. "I love you," I mutter and he sighs softly at the three little words he's been waiting his whole life to hear. I prop my chin up on his collarbone to look at him. "I love you too." He says without hesitation, hand coming to tuck a piece of hair behind my pointed ear.

I grin and lean in, softly pressing our lips together in a senseless daze.

He pulls me closer, hand coming to my cheek so he can slip his tongue into my mouth, and have me deeper, now determined to get the black ribbon untied.

His hand trails along my waist, gripping me tightly and pulling me over him so I straddle his hips. I smile at the new position, my free hand sifts through his soft, red hair. While his hand works at the ties of my dress.

I grin wildly once he gets every clasp undone. I break the kiss and move back so he can pull the top off of me while I thrash the skirts off, leaving me bare in my undergarments only, the lacy kind I knew made him feral. Something entirely male shone in his eyes at the sight of the white lace doing little to cover my most sacred areas.

He flips us over with fervor, pressing me between his chest and the mattress. He kisses me from my jaw down to my collarbone while I rush to get his shirt unbuttoned.

Once I manage to get to the bottom he shucks it off, revealing his toned abdomen, and his defined arms that made me throb. My hand immediately comes up to them, nails digging into the muscle when he sucks and bites at a particularly sensitive area, soothing it with the warmth of his tongue when he drags a lick along it.

I whine out, legs clenching together in pure need of him. I hadn't been this desperate since our mating bond clicked, and with the way Eris' hand was traveling every bare inch of skin it could find— it appeared the same was true for him as well.

"Eris, I want you inside," I whimper, brows creased as I grind into my thighs but it's no use, no comparison when it comes to how he fucks me.

"Want what inside?" He hums into my neck. "My fingers?" Something at my side burns, but in an oddly pleasurable way— pure heat emitting from his fingertips that left me contracting at the power he held. "My tongue?" He asks, licking a soothing stripe down the column of my throat hungrily. "Your cock." I murmur greedily. "Oh baby," He tuts in a pitying tone. "We've got to stretch you out first don't we?" He hums and I thickly swallow before nodding. "Right, so fingers," That burning sensation returns. "Or tongue?" He arches a brow and my stomach does backflips. "Both," I whine, and something sinister flashes in his eyes. "Greedy girl," He leans down and presses a loving kiss to my lips, then dips down to my collarbone, down the valley of my breasts to my navel— until he's finally hovering right above where I want him.

My legs jolt in utter need and he just stares, watches as my own body betrays me all because it yearns for him. "Eris," I cry out and as soon as I start begging, his two fingers dip beneath my panty line and he drags the lacy thing down my thighs, revealing my arousal, already glistening on my thighs. I clench around nothing as the cold air breezes against my heat.

He shamelessly watches as I roll my hips upward eagerly.

My brows twitch together as two of his long, thick fingers drag through my silken folds. I whine out his name, hand coming to his hair and tugging at his locks whenever his touch got teasingly close to my aching entrance.

I look down at him, making eye contact as he dips lower and his tongue attaches right over my clit. A moan releases from my parted lips, his amber eyes glow at the sound and he sucks on the sensitive part harder. I grind my hips up onto his face, pulling his hair.

His fingers go lower, circling my core without caution. "Er—" I struggle to get out his entire name, because just as I choose to speak, two of his lengthy fingers push into my pulsing hole, soliciting uncontrollable moans from the base of my throat.

"That's it, Fawn," His deep voice reverberates through my core, the vibrations darting through my cunt. "Fuck," I mumble breathlessly as his fingers work like magic, curling in the loveliest of places, scissoring and toying with the bundle of nerves deep inside of me.

His tongue rolls through my puffy clit, dragging chains of mewls from me. My back arches up and he nips at my reddened clit for moving and I scream, he quickly licks over it soothingly, but that burn remains and only had me hurdling closer to that edge.

"Eris," I sigh out, still staring down at him as he feasted on me, taking every drop of my arousal he managed to lap up, his fingers not ceasing for even a moment as he continued his horribly pleasurable ministrations. "Close," Is all I can manage to get out without my voice breaking. "Yeah?" He hums and my brows crease at how perfect he is making me feel. "Mhm," I nod with a passion he recognized well. "Be a good girl and cum on my fingers okay?" He flicks his eyes up to me and I swallow thickly, shakily nodding in reply. He allowed me to grind up against his face, rutting into his sharp nose that flicked against my clit.

I mewled and he nipped at the area— causing my release to catch up to me without warning. My orgasm hit me hard, crashing over me like waves of heat and pure lust. When I came it was his name on my lips, eyes glued shut as I relish in the intensity of every touch.

He continues to pump his thick fingers in and out of me, bringing me down from that high at a leisurely pace.

Once his hand leaves me and I'm deprived of his touch I can feel myself needing another round, that after-orgasm high had me feeling like I was on fire, and I loved it.

"More," I beg.

"More?" He arches his brow.

I nod, eyes glazed over as my lip quivers, the depiction of pure need in my features. "You sure baby?" He drones and I nod hopelessly. The corners of his mouth sharpened and his hand soaked in my juices left my folds, bringing it up to his mouth and licking a long stripe between his fingers. My mouth waters as I stare unabashedly, toes curling at the way his long tongue dips through his fingers. "I'm sure." I rasp out and he removes his hand from his mouth. "Then be good and turn around." He commands in a voice that makes me remember he was the general of armies.

I suppress a whine and do as he says, flipping over onto my front, my knees folded under me as I hiked my ass up for his viewing, our wrapped hands intertwine, his over mine protectively as he slowly grinds the rough marital of his pants into the throbbing apex of my thighs.

"Good, so good for me," He whispers along my spine, shivers running along it at the praise. He removes his pants with a ruffle of clothing, his cock springing out and pressing against my slick. I sob in pure need, he curves over me and his abdomen presses to the small of my back, pressing me lower into a deeper arch, my head burying in the pillows as he aligns himself with me.

I whimper as I feel his tip prod at my slit, rubbing his pre-cum through it, making me drip down his shaft. "Be still baby," He instructs and my entire body locks up, afraid of moving in case he decides to punish me for disobeying. He lets out a teasing laugh, breathy against the shell of my ear. Then he presses into me and my stomach caves to fit nothing but him.

"Fuck," The low moan is muffled by the cloth of the pillow, tears prickling my ears at the foreign stretch. He goes deeper, only halfway, and already brushing against my most sensitive areas. "Eris," I cry as he pulls out only to roll his hips back into me with an articulated control. "You like being a good little girl for me don't you?" He surmises and I whimper. "Mhm," I nod into the pillow. "Yeah, it gets you off doesn't it?" He hums from beside my ear and I swore I was ready to release right then and there. I squeeze around him tighter at the hot feeling rushing through my body. He hisses. "Fuck, you're tight." He grunts out, pulling out and without warning, slamming all the way in, his balls slapping against my ass, his hips snapping to mine, and his cock molding me for him and him only as my walls expand around him like a perfect sleeve as I fit around every inch of him.

I scream into the pillows at the feeling, tears cascading down onto the pillow as he picks up speed in his thrusts, ripping moan and moan from me without caution. My back arches into his powerful body, attempting to feel him deeper. The peeks of my breast press against the sheets, my nipples overtly sensitive as they rub against the mattress while Eris pushes me up it with every forceful thrust, pounding into me from behind like he couldn't get enough.

"Eris— please," I whimper and he nips at the side of my neck in reply. "Want me to stop?" He taunts, knowing my answer because, gods, he was so fucking good at pumping me full of all of him, ramming into every point and stuffing every crevice. I pant as I feel my second release chasing closer, ready to snap at any point now.

"I'm— fuck, so close" I manage to get out and I feel his vicious smile curve his lips against the back of my shoulder.

His speed doesn't relent at my words, continues shoving into me with an unfathomable force. "Still want more?" He asks and I can only nod, dumbly agreeing to whatever he says.

"That's what I thought my fawn." He hums, then does something wicked with his hips that has his base rubbing in my clit. At the feeling I grasp the sheets and convulse around him, breath quickening as a second orgasm tears through me, euphoria rippling along my spine from my core.

But he doesn't cease his movements, if anything, he begins going faster.

I choked out a sob, I didn't think I could take any more. The overstimulation was too much. You buck and writhe at the feeling but still, he doesn't slow. "Eris I can't, it's too much." I cry out and the peppers feather light kisses up my spine. "If it was too much you would've said your safe word already." He muses. "But no, because you enjoy this. Don't you, my greedy girl?" He purrs into my ear and my stomach backflips, because he was right, it was pleasurable and he knew it.

"Say it," He hums. "Say you love being fucked senseless." He demands and I sniffle, the repeated sound of his balls slapping against my ass has slick dripping from my propped-up thighs. "I love it," I murmur. "Love being stuffed full," I add, hand tightening on his. He somehow pumps into me faster at inhumane rates, the sound of my voice getting him closer to the edge so I give him more, allowing every dirty thought to spill from my sensuous lips.

His hand comes to my lower stomach, pressing me into his hips, then applying the slightest pressure so he can feel himself inside of me, moving in and out because he was so fucking deep. "Eris, ah, feels good," I murmur, fisting the sheets and he presses harder, hitting an entirely new area that leaves me entirely breathless.

My third orgasm of the night approaches and I doubt I'll be able to last another, I need his seed inside of me. Need him, all of him now.

"You close baby?" He asks and I nod fervently. "Good, me too." He hums, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

"Please Eris, m' so close" I whimper and he presses another kiss to my sweat-slicked skin. "A little bit longer fawn, be good." His fingertips dig into my hip in warning and all I can do is nod, swallowing down my begs.

I clench around him as tight as I can, reveling in how good it felt every time he pulled from my cunt only to same back in, hitting home. My back bows, shoulders tensing as he pulls me apart.

"’Ris," I murmur. "Eris." My sigh is barely audible. "I can't, please." Tears prickle at my eyes. "Gods, I love it when you beg like that." He purrs and I mewl at the intense pressure of his heavy member inside of me, my third orgasm begging to be heard as I do everything in my power to ignore it. His breath becomes irregular and I know he's close as he twitches inside of me. "Fuck," He grinds out through his teeth. "Can I?" I whine and he nods behind me. "Go ahead, baby." He allows and it takes me less than a second to obey his command.

My third release finds me with vehemency, nails digging into my palms and pussy fluttering around his cock as his release injects me full of his seed, spurting out into every groove and crevice, slotting deep inside of me. I didn't want him to pull out, I didn't want the warmth of his seed to leave me.

The ribbon binding our hands snaps and magically unravels but he doesn't let go of my hand for even a moment, in fact, he squeezes it tighter, allowing us a moment to catch our breaths.

He kisses softly along my skin and after a few minutes of peaceful silence, he slowly drags his member from my cunt, earning him a pitiful whine, his release rushes out of me and down my slicked thighs and I clench my legs together, wanting to keep it nestled deep inside of me.

"Eris," I murmur as I slide down onto the bed, allowing my limbs to relax. "I'm here Fawn," He reassures, stroking a hand through my hair and I nod. "I'm tired." I rasp out and he presses a kiss to my forehead. "Let's get you cleaned up, then you can sleep alright?" He hums and I nod dreamily. "Mmkay," I drag out tiredly and he replies with a breathy laugh.

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