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mischiefmanagers · 1 hour

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Rage, rage | five

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: nothing that I can think of, just some fluff and nimue and azriel bantering

Two days had passed since Nimue had been there, in that house, in that city.

She spent the day inside her room, in silence, talking to herself or to The Voice, when that entity deigned to honor her with its presence. She wondered how it was able to overcome the magical guards that surrounded the entire house, how it got there without alerting Rhysand or any of the others.

Food simply materialized on a small desk in the room assigned to her. Clothing too.

Sometimes she heard the others talking through the walls: she heard them gathered in the living room discussing strategies or plans; she heard Feyre crying at night, lamenting the fate of her sisters and the guilt that consumed her; she heard Cassian and the blonde female, Morrigan, talking in the living room about trivial matters.

What she didn't hear was that dull noise on the other side of the bond. She hadn't heard the voice or the steps of this Azriel fellow. She hadn't smelled his scent, of cedar and mist, the same scent she had smelled on the dead spies her father had sent to Prythian.

In her head, she had begun to imagine stories about each of them. Her own observant nature had told her that Cassian must be some kind of warrior, a commander or general in Rhysand's army; Morrigan, on the other hand, must be involved in politics, as her contributions in those small meetings she heard on the other side of the house were purely rational and theoretical observations, worthy of a brilliant mind; Azriel, she assumed, would be a spy, hence that distinctive aura surrounding him, and the fact that her father's dead spies were imbued in his scent and that of his pretty dagger.

She spends her days like this, locked in with her own thoughts.

Until the third day, when someone knocks on her door. Sitting in a small armchair, Nimue simply waits for whoever it is to decide to come in: it's not her house, she has no right to prohibit anyone from entering.

When the door opens, the petite figure of Feyre slips into the room, closing the door behind her. They both look at each other, in silence, Feyre standing by the door and Nimue sitting in front of her.

Nimue knows she has nothing to say, however, Feyre seems to be struggling to find the right words.

"You're not our prisoner, you know that, right?" Nimue nods, but says nothing more. "You're free to roam the house, go out, and do whatever you do in your free time. We're not your jailers."

"I know, this is what I do in my free time," and with her hand, she simply gestures around, towards nothing. Because that's what she does in her free time: nothing. It's either train or wait for something to happen, nothing more. "I've considered it would be best to stay here. My presence is not welcomed in this house, and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. I know it's not a good time."

Nimue didn't want to tell her that she heard her cry at night, but nevertheless, Feyre's gaze was filled with understanding.

"It's not a good time, you're right, but you've helped us to make it not even worse. Don't judge them by how they treat you, they're a bit short-sighted. That's what happens when you've been living the same life for five hundred years," a small laugh escaped Feyre's lips, and Nimue couldn't help but smile herself. There was something about that woman that softened her heart, like Ferlan, the old cook who told her stories. "They'll accept you, sooner or later. Give them time."

Feyre directed her a smile so warm and friendly that for a moment, Nimue felt breathless.

How sad it was, to shrink in her place at such a small act of kindness, because in her life she had never known such a thing.

Nimue nodded, trying to return the woman's smile.

"Come with me."

She was surprised, but she obeyed and stood up. The brunette woman walked through the halls of the house, with Nimue trailing behind. She pointed out each room; to the right, a beautiful office; to the left, a smaller second living room; downstairs the kitchen and the living room where she had already been, and a little further down the hall, a huge library.

Nimue couldn't wipe the constant look of amazement off her face: yes, she had seen libraries, offices, kitchens, living rooms. But nowhere had she felt that warmth emanating from the walls, that sweet smell, a mixture of all the scents of those who inhabited it.

She felt Feyre's eyes on her, with an amused expression on her face.

"You have the same look as a child who has tried candies for the first time."

Nimue frowned, tearing her gaze away from the shelves full of books to look at the brunette, puzzled.

"What is a candies?"

Feyre placed a hand on her chest, letting out a small cry of indignation. With her hands outstretched, she loudly asked for some candy and they immediately materialized in her palms.

Nimue looked at them as if she were looking at a six-legged horse: balls of all colors, with shiny wrappers and all kinds of scents. She took one and opened it, imitating Feyre, who popped one into her mouth without hesitation.

When the princess put it in her mouth, she could swear she had never tasted anything so delicious in her life. Yes, the food at her Palace was good, but that... That was a whole new world.

As she savored it and let it roll around in her mouth, she reached out her hands into the air.

"More," she said aloud. Feyre let out a genuine laugh that, once again, softened her heart. "More, please. I've never tasted anything so delicious in my life, I want more."

Candies began to sprout from the palms of her own hands, overflowing and falling to the ground. Before she knew it, a small pile of candies and many more things had formed at her feet: there were lollipops, spiral-shaped candies, candy canes. There were even small buns appearing at her feet and in her hands.

Feyre couldn't stop laughing. The innocence and naturalness of the princess had fallen upon her like sunlight, after being immersed in her own shadows for the past few days.

"The house really likes you, it's not willing to please everyone like this."

"I know," said Nimue, "sometimes I feel like it's trying to talk to me. It's such ancient magic, it must be a very special spirit."

A last and enormous bun appeared in her hands, as if the house itself were appreciating Nimue's acknowledgment.

She looked up at Feyre, with a silly smile she couldn't wipe off her face. It even hurt her face, as she couldn't remember if she had ever smiled so much in her life.

"Come, let's go outside."

Feyre took her hand, and while Nimue took one last bite of the bun, they left behind that small pile of sweets. She glanced back, and in a low voice, she thanked the house again.

Before she knew it, Feyre had pushed her out into the same courtyard where they had landed days ago, just after escaping from Hybern.

The sun was high in the sky, and Nimue had to squint to see anything. She found herself in the same situation as three days ago, completely overwhelmed by the light, the sounds, the smells, the vastness of the sky above her.

She took in as much air as her lungs would allow, and allowed herself to enjoy it all: the blue sky, the cool breeze coming from the mountains, the smell of the sea and salt that reminded her so much of home, when the sea breeze would sneak through her windows.

Twenty years locked away. And now, she felt that not even a whole lifetime would be enough to see it all, to feel it all.

She still held Feyre's hand, who couldn't stop watching her by her side.

"I believe you. I see in you a scared child who has managed to escape the clutches of an evil man," she said, carefully and in a low voice. Nimue felt a breath of fresh air, which tangled in her hair and danced around her face. "I choose to trust you because I see goodness and light in you, fighting to do something good."

Nimue brought a hand to her face: she found that, once again, she was crying.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, for your trust. I understand what it's like to be in your place, I would also be suspicious of me. But I will prove to you that I can be useful to win this war."

Feyre nodded and smiled.

"I hope you'll be useful to us for much more than just the war."

And then Nimue felt it.

After three days of dead silence, something in her chest began to vibrate again.

She looked up at the sky to see two winged shadows approaching them. Instinctively, she covered Feyre with her body, prepared for anything.

Azriel and Cassian landed carefully on the courtyard, under Nimue's watchful gaze. Those wings were something impressive.

"What are you doing here alone with her, Feyre?" Azriel asked. He walked threateningly towards the two females, and Nimue felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, like a cat ready to attack. "It's not safe, she should be under surveillance."

"Azriel-"

"I'm right here, don't talk about me like a dog," Nimue interrupted, taking a step forward. Azriel was tall, yes, but so was she. Face to face, she didn't feel the least bit intimidated by him, and she even realized how surprised the male was by the indifference she felt towards his intimidation. Nimue smiled. "That thing of spreading your wings like a bird and seeming bigger might work with others, not with me."

She didn't know what prompted her to act like that with the winged male. Perhaps it was his anger, which through the bond infected her with that anger and rage that left her seeing red.

Azriel growled.

"Give me one reason to trust you. Then, I'll let you roam freely around my house and my city."

"I saved your life. Shall I remind you?" Nimue takes another step forward, getting so close to him that she can see the tiny specks of dark brown in his amber eyes. "If I hadn't taken you out of there, who knows what my father would have done to you. I also remind you that it was me who pulled the arrow out of your chest without poisoning you."

"But something tells me you're doing that to win our favor and trust. Who says you're not a spy for your father? Only a fool would trust you."

"Hey, I trust her," Feyre says. She and Cassian look at each other, not knowing what to do.

They don't fully understand the situation either. Azriel had always been cautious and foresighted, slow to trust people and always suspicious of others' intentions. However, there was something about Nimue... They couldn't quite put their finger on it, but it was a kind of blind trust.

Azriel ignores Feyre and continues accusing and accusing.

"What I really can't wrap my head around is how we've never known anything about you. My spies have been in the Court of the King of Hybern for years and I've never heard a whisper about a princess. If you're so powerful and important, explain to me how not a single person on the other side of the sea knows of your existence."

"Maybe you're not as good at your job as you claim to be."

Azriel feels like he's about to explode, now more than ever.

He has to fight against all his impulses not to kill her on the spot. But at the same time, there's something in him that dies just imagining her bleeding.

His own mind contradicts him, and he feels like he's going to split in two. So before any of that happens, he lets out one last growl and leaves, flapping his wings and causing a gust of wind that tousles Nimue's hair.

There they stand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nimue, watching Azriel enter the house.

They look at each other, not knowing what to say, and the princess feels her heart racing.

It was so complicated, dealing with all those pure and unfiltered emotions that came to her from the other side of the bond...

Cassian snorts and then smiles at the two females.

"Would you like some tea?"

Nimue furrows her brows and looks at Feyre, then at Cassian.

"What is a tea?”

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @krowiathemythologynerd @annblvd @annamariereads16

#acotar #azriel

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mischiefmanagers · 6 hours

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Dancing with Eris Vanserra Headcanons?

Sway

Dancing with Eris Headcanons

Warnings - none.

A/N - I have a whole playlist for this subject. Writing Eris dancing is honestly becoming an obsession.

P.s. You'll get a detailed scene of that in Kissed by Fire.

Eris learned to dance from his mother. His father did not see if as a necessary skill, but Mama Vanserra saw it as a necessary outlet.

She has had him dancing since he could stand on her toes. She would count the little steps out to him while teaching him the story and meaning behind each dance.

It soon became an object of pride Beron used. Another way to brag about the son he was not actually proud of.

He would use Eris's skills to seduce females for information, or Mother forbid a father upset the High Lord and had a pretty daughter. Then it was a warning.

Until, you, that is.

Your father is one of Eris's spies, planted as an advisor to Beron. Once you were of age, Beron insisted on a large ball to honor you and present you as an eligible bachelorette to the Autumn Court.

Beron had Eris offer you a dance. It was the first time Beron forced him to dance with a female where it wasn't a warning or filled with ill intent.

Eris will never forget that night. Your hair had been curled and fell into loose waves, a braid wrapped the back of your hair with pieces pulled through. Your father and mother spared no expense to purchase diamonds to decorate your hair with.

He remembers the way you flushed when he offered you his hand. The way you quietly squeaked when his hand rested on your hip once you two were centered on the floor.

He remembers the feel of the rich red velvet dress and its full skirt. He remembers the whispers of scandal over the sweetheart necklace decored with diamonds and sheer nude sleeves that matched your skintone perfectly and matched as well. It was a nod to your mother's Night Court heritage while still accepting fashion standards from Autumn.

The first dance you two shared was a traditional waltz.

It would be the same dance you two would share for your first as husband and wife one year later.

Eris never had a dance partner like you. Someone who was as trained as he was, who loved to dance as much as he did.

Nesta had been fun to dance with, but she did not hold a candle to you.

You and Eris spend most of your time dancing. Sometimes, it's alone with instruments enchanted to play in the ballroom. Sometimes, it's to absolutely no music, your head on his chest. Your arms would rest up his strong back while one of his wrapped your waist and the other cradled your head.

The two of you are the opening dance for every Autumn ball, a tradition handed over by Beron to Eris to allow him to drink instead of perform his duties.

It allowed you two so much more freedom to decide the tone of the ball. It was a symbol of power Beron unknowingly and stupidly handed his son.

It also allowed you two to bring back a dance Beron had banned. The tango. He had deemed it too sexual, too scandalous.

The dance was too ingrained in Autumn culture to allow it to rest and be forgotten.

When Beron died under mysterious circumstances, dancing became more common in Autumn again.

In the streets, in the pubs, in The Forest House.

It became all too common to hear you and Eris laughing as he spun and dipped you.

His body was more relaxed now, allowing the movements to feel almost Godlike now.

When you two finally have a family, the made tradition continues.

From the moment your little daughter holds her head up well enough, Eris holds her close, letting her hold his finger in her little hand and swaying her.

Then Eris echos his own mother, having your sweet girl stand on his feet as he teaches her the steps.

Her first dance presented to the court was a magic moment for Eris.

She was in your dress. That beautiful red velvet dress. He looked at you during the dance, eyes lined with tears as you held your young son.

You would always be his favorite partner. His perfect match. But his daughter, your daughter, she would be close second.

It was a fairytale for him. It healed that last part of dancing that had been so tainted by Beron.

He had spent the rest of the night dancing with you, watching closely as male after male approaches your daughter

You trailed his eyes, seeing the lights dancing off your daughter's flaming red hair. "A beauty, is she not?"

"She is exquisite. My finest work." His lips twitched in pride. Eyes beginning to water again. "I do not plan on letting her go gently."

"Perhaps you will have a dance off with whomever she decides is worthy of her love."

Eris smirked at the idea, the bond now glowing as he dipped you and kissed your neck. "And now I know how we replace the blood duels. I would never lose."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

#eris vanserra #eris fluff #hcs

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mischiefmanagers · 16 hours

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Babying Azriel Headcanon

Azriel x reader

A/n: just some hc about showing Az some love. I’ve missed writing just for Azzy so enjoy this

Warnings: none

In public and in front of the IC Azriel is very affectionate with you

He does not shy away from PDA

But behind closed doors this male CLINGS to you

Like he is so in love with you it’s not even funny and you make sure Az knows he is loved

You basically pavloved him into needing your touch

You always throw our self at him when he comes him, jumping into his arms and telling him how happy you are to have him home and in your arms

He doesn’t move from the entry way unless he sees you running at him

Az does understand that you won’t always be home when he gets there and he does come home late some nights

He does get sad when you can’t hug him first thing though

Whenever he frowns it breaks your heart. You always have to fix that immediately

Az came home from Windhaven with his brothers one evening, just in time for dinner. Nyx had ran up to his dad and uncle with you trailing not far behind. You waited until the little boy greeted them for you to throw yourself at Az. He looked so worn down you considered not throwing yourself into his arms. Once Az saw you his face lit up! He stood ready, arms open and knees bent a little, ready to pick you up and hold you tight to his chest.

You launch yourself at him, jumping and wrapping your arms and legs around Azriel. “Azzy! I missed you!” You place kisses all over his face. He doesn’t care that Cassian and Rhys are watching. Azriel basks in your love and attention. Once you’re done he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your calming scent. Cass and Rhys’s jaws drop as you talk to him in a babying voice that you use when you’re alone. You just can’t help it!

Kisses kisses kisses all of the kisses for Az always!

Frowning? Kisses all over his face until he’s giddy

Before bed kisses or he cannot sleep

Sometimes you’ll jokingly forget, just rolling over and saying goodnight sweetly. “AH” Az yells, “where is my goodnight kiss little miss?” You giggle, “Huh? What are you talking about?” Az pulls you on top of him and he kisses you hard, never letting up until you hold him back

Morning kisses and goodbye kisses before he leaves for training/work. “Bye Azzy, I love you.” You say pecking his lips quickly. Az isn’t fully satisfied with your little peck, pulling you by your waist flush to his front he kisses you deeply

You’re the own who’s supposed to flustering him! When he lets go your cheeks are pink and you’re out of breath, waving goodbye as he sends you a wink while leaving

Packing him lunch if he’s out all day even if it’s just at the house of wind

You add a note with his food telling him how much you love him

Az swears his teeth are going to fall out if you keep baking him treats. But he would be so sad if you ever stopped baking or packing him lunches with little notes he would cry his eyes out

You make sure all of his weapons are clean and organized

I know for a fact Azriel likes things clean and organized and if he had a label maker he would use the shit out of it

When he comes home from long missions you don’t let him lift a finger! That is unacceptable, he’s just spent days Mother knows where, in an uncomfortable spot and is disgusting

You always have a bath ready for him along with a towel that you warmed by the fire

You wash his hair and massage his neck and shoulders. He washes himself though, he doesn’t want you doing all of the work

Most nights you insist on him laying on top of you because you like holding him close and running your fingers through his silky hair

When he’s sick Azriel really plays it up just to get more attention from you

You make him soup and tea, you even spoon feed him while he lays in bed

“I think I’m warm will you feel my forehead?” Az knows full well he’s burning up from his small fever he just wants to feel your cool hand on his skin. You make sure to touch his forehead and cup his cheeks

You tuck him in making sure he’s all warm and snuggly

When he’s feeling better he still acts sick for an extra day because he isn’t ready to leave the comfort of your care just yet

#acotar #azriel #azriel fluf #hcs

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mischiefmanagers · 21 hours

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The Shadowsinger: Four

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. mentions of abuse/violence, implied SA, aftermath of the Sangravagh attack, Tamlin is mentioned, mention of death, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your first day of training with Azriel ends with you helping priestesses heal after an attack on their temple.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three

After hours of training, you went down to the dining room with Azriel to eat lunch. “I think my legs might fall off.” You muttered as you sat down, wincing slightly as you adjusted your wings. You spent the whole first half of the day learning how to balance for a fight and then practicing fighting stances. You didn’t even make a fist until the last hour, and barely got into punches and jabs before Azriel called it for lunch.

He chuckled, sitting down across from you. “It can’t be that horrible, but if it is, I’ve got some good solvents for you to add to your bath. And a few oils.” He said.

“Are you suggesting you can give me a massage, Shadowsinger?” You teased, leaning forward on the table. Azriel flushed and his eyes widened. “Relax, I’m kidding. But I might take you up on those oils.” You said and started to dig into the food that appeared in front of you.

You glanced around, curious as to how none of the others were here. “They’re in a meeting right now.” Azriel said, as if he knew what your question was going to be.

“Oh… don’t you need to be in it?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Rhys will tell me what he needs to.” He said and looked at you for a few more seconds, frowning slightly. You could tell his shadows were talking to him, telling him something.

“I’ve gotta go.” He said and stood up.

You rose your eyebrows and looked at him. “Do you need-“ you started but he already vanished. Sighing, you slumped in your chair and started to eat again. You didn't even think to ask your shadows what was the matter.

Not even thirty minutes later, chaos erupted in the house. Dozens of priestesses were in the dining room, being healed by anyone who had the magic or the knowledge on how to do it. You helped bring clothes and water over, using some tonics and oils to help heal their wounds. None of them spoke and only whimpers and screams from the wounded could be heard.

Rhys said that their temple was attacked by Hybern soldiers, who successfully got what they came for. And left almost all the priestesses dead or badly wounded. And worse. So you did what you could to heal the wounded, using the training and your years of being the village healer with Sirona as best as you could.

Hours later, almost all of them had been taken back to the temple. Where they would heal and rebuild as much as they could. Mor was sent there with Amren to survey the damage and clean up everything they could.

Expect for one. An auburn haired acolyte who you saw Mor carry in. One of the first ones to arrive. You shot Azriel a look as if to question what happened and if she was okay, and he only shook his head in return. You saw Azriel’s jacket around her and guessed what happened.

She was the last sitting in the living room, new clothes and a blanket wrapped around her. She was still shaking even with the fire blazing. You brought a glass of water over to her, making sure to use heavy feet so you didn’t scare her as you set the glass down on the table next to her.

“If you’d like water, I brought some..” you said quietly. “Or I can have some tea made for you, it wouldn’t take long.” You offered and looked at her for a few moments. She blinked and looked at the water, reaching out for it slowly before taking a sip.

“Whenever you’re ready, I can show you to the library where a priestess will show you to your dorm.” You added and she took a deep breath.

“I- can you show me? I don’t… I don’t want to see anyone else.” She said and you nodded.

“Of course. Let me see where you’ll be staying.” You said and stood up.

“Can I… have tea, too?” She asked and you gave her a small smile.

“Is it okay if Mor brings it?” You asked and she nodded.

“It’ll be right out.” You said and walked over to where the rest of the Inner Circle were in Rhys’s office. “Mor, can you get tea for the acolyte in there?” You asked and she nodded, going to grab it.

“Rhys.. do you know where she’ll be staying?” You asked and he nodded, showing you where it was and giving you a basket of things that all the new priestess got. Robes, other clothes, towels, and a small pamphlet that let them knew their options for support and work.

“Thanks for helping, you were really good with all of them.” Rhys said and you nodded as you made your way back up to the living room.

“I used to help Sirona with healing at the village… and sometimes the Illyrians that came through weren’t too kind to the females. I treated more than I would have wanted.” You said and looked at the basket. “This program is amazing. I can’t imagine how many priestesses you’ve helped.” You said to him.

“They’re my responsibility to protect. And when I fail, it’s my responsibility to help them through it. And make them feel safe in their home.” He said and you smiled.

“You’re a good High Lord,” you said and patted his arm before heading to the living room, not noticing how stunned Rhys was as he watched you approach Gwyn and helped her to the library.

“Everything okay?” Cassian asked and nudged Rhys.

“She said I was a good High Lord. After everything she’s seen me do. She said I was good.” He said and Cass smiled.

“You are good, Rhys. Everything you’ve done was to protect your people. To help Prythian.” He said and squeezed his shoulder. “No wings tonight?”

“No… sometimes it’s too intimidating. I don’t want to scare the females further.” He said, Cassian leading him back to the office.

When you came back to join them, Gwyn, you learned was her name, settled into her dorm for the night, you saw the stark faces.

“Whatever the Hybern soldiers stole… it wasn’t good, was it?” You asked. “I know I’m new here, so if you don’t want to talk about it around me I can leave-“

“It was a part of the Cauldron.” Amren said and you frowned. You heard stories of what happened to the Cauldron. How it was broken into pieces so it wouldn’t be used again.

“I- what?” You asked.

“We believe Hybern wants to reform the Cauldron. And they just got closer to doing it.” Rhys said and you took a seat in one of the chairs.

“That’s not good at all..” you muttered. “What can we do?” You asked.

“Not a lot. We can try to locate the other pieces. But even I don’t know where they are. Az has his spies looking now.” He said.

“And we’ll have to come up with a plan on what to do if the Cauldron is brought to full power.” Azriel said and you looked at him, noticing that his shadows swirled around him more than ever now. And that his face was almost just that, a shadow of what it normally was.

“Can I do anything?” You asked and Rhys glanced to his Inner Circle.

“For now, keep training. I may ask you to fight with us if it comes to that. And… while you’re in the library, see if you can find anything on the Cauldron and its power….” He said and you slumped slightly. You thought he’d offer something more… useful. But you were new, and you didn’t have the same powers as the others in the Circle. You didn’t even have a Siphon or killing power.

“Alright, I can do that.” You said and nodded.

You sat through the meeting, each of the Inner Circle getting assigned tasks throughout. Each of them left to start that night.

“Rhys…” you said before he could leave. “You… you haven’t mentioned Feyre since we got back. And you haven’t called in your bargain for her.” You said and he sighed.

“I can’t call it in… I’m letting her enjoy the time with… Tamlin... She deserved to be happy.” He said and you nodded.

“Like I said, a good High Lord.” You said and stepped closer to him. “But a better male.” You stated before making your way to the stairs so you could get some rest. You had to be up early for your training tomorrow anyway.

A/N: Oof... this one was hard but I feel like it's important to highlight that the reader is also a healer and she knows how to help those who have been hurt. Also, I love her and Rhys's relationship sooooo much. Hopefully the timeline is correct, I’m going off of one I found on here when I started writing. If anything doesn’t add up, consider it a necessary change for the plot lol.

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#acotar #azriel

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mischiefmanagers · 22 hours

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Rage, rage | four

prologue | one | two | three | four

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)

Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...

It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.

She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.

Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.

She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.

She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.

His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.

"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."

Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."

Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.

So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.

But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.

"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."

Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"

And then silence fell.

Why had she helped them?

She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.

Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.

"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."

My father.

When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?

Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.

He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.

"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”

"Well, don't tell me."

Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?

Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.

But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?

And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"

There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.

"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."

"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.

"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."

"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."

Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.

"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."

Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.

With that mask she had learned to wear.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.

They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.

"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"

"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."

And they fell silent again.

The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.

She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.

"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."

"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."

"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"

“Elain and Nesta.”

"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."

Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.

"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."

And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.

Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.

He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.

"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."

Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.

"I didn't ask for this, princess."

Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.

"Great, neither did I."

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @donttellthecats @annblvd

#acotar #azriel

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mischiefmanagers · 1 day

Text

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader meet one day and the connection is instantaneous. Azriel becomes worried though, when Reader starts showing up late to their dates more consistently. When the truth comes out, they need to figure out how to keep moving forward.

Based on this request! Thank you for sending it in, I hope you like it! 🩷

Word Count: 3.8k

The market was bustling today and Azriel cringed slightly, pulling his wings in even tighter behind him. He had no idea why Amren had insisted that he be the one to pick up the items she needed for her new project. Perhaps because she knew that he would be the least likely to complain.

He was approaching the stall that carried what Amren needed when his gaze snagged on someone at a neighboring one and he stopped dead in his tracks, causing the people around him to curse and move around him, irritated.

Azriel barely heard it though, his attention fully on you. You had a simple dress on, but it accentuated your curves beautifully, your hair was loose, falling down your back in ringlets. The way you moved was graceful as you picked up an item to inspect.

But your smile as you talked to the owner of the stall, the way it lit up your face with such kindness… that is what made Azriel’s knees feel like they were about to give out.

He longed to approach you, but by the time that he had come to his senses enough to start moving, you too had moved, working your way through the market. It was so crowded that he lost track of you.

Crestfallen, he went back to the stall and got the supplies for Amren.

---

Days later, Azriel still could not get you out of his mind. That damn smile haunted his dreams and his every waking moment.

So much so, that at the earliest opportunity, he went back to the market, his eyes raking the crowd for any sign of you. He seriously contemplated flying up to a rooftop for a better angle, but that would probably be frowned upon.

He perused the market, feeling a bit foolish. The Night Court’s spymaster, reduced to wandering around the market on his day off like a lost puppy in hopes of finding a woman he didn’t even know.

His spirits lifted dramatically though, when he saw you. You were perusing a stall, inspecting a jar with a shiny liquid inside.

Azriel didn’t let himself hesitate this time, dodging people milling about as he strode for you. Eventually, he appeared at your side, and you looked up at him, so surprised to suddenly see a large, looming male next to you, that you dropped the jar that you were holding.

Smoothly, he caught it before it hit the ground and offered it to you. Your eyes sparked with recognition as you studied him: the wings, the Illyrian clothing, the shadows twirling around his biceps.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the jar back from him and you murmured, “Thank you.”

He nodded, offering you a faint smile, not sure what to say. He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“You’re the High Lord’s shadowsinger,” you said, looking up at him, sounding a little breathless.

“I am. But most people just call me Azriel,” he said, a note of humor edging his voice.

That smile you had offered the others before was now turned on him, and he felt as if the ground was swaying underneath him. You offered him your name, before saying, “I feel a bit like I’m meeting a celebrity.”

Azriel could feel slight heat in his cheeks, and tried to maintain the neutral expression he nearly always wore. He waved his hand dismissively, “Trust me, I’m not. Cassian is more of the celebrity. I mostly blend into the shadows.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, studying the hard line of his jaw, his hazel eyes, the curve of his mouth. “That’s a shame,” you said, a little wistfully.

Azriel’s heart was thundering now. “Do you want to get dinner?”

Your smile widened. “I think I can make that happen. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

You picked the restaurant and the time, and just like that, Azriel had a date.

---

The date was, in his opinion, nothing short of amazing.

He had arrived a bit early to dinner, and you waltzed up to the restaurant exactly on time, looking like a vision. Part of your hair was braided around your head like a crown, but part was still flowing down over your shoulders, curled. Your dress hugged the curve of your waist, the hem landing midway down your shin, perfect for the summer.

You beamed as you approached him, and Azriel had to concentrate to keep his breathing steady. The two of you were seated outside, watching the sun set over the river.

The conversation was easy. You kept it light and playful, grazing your hand against his bicep every once in a while when you laughed, the sound bright and beautiful.

Flirting, he realized. You were flirting with him. Laughing with him. Making him laugh.

Mother, when was the last time he had felt like this?

Had he ever felt like this?

After dinner ended, you stood up and gently took his hand in yours, tugging lightly so he stood up too, towering over you. “Do you want to take a walk?” you asked, your eyes sparkling under the stars that were out by then.

“Lead the way,” he said, one side of his mouth turning up into a smile.

You led him to the artists’ quarter, the lights vibrant against the night. He watched as your eyes lit up at the site, marveling at all the artwork, the people milling about.

“Oh, look!” you exclaimed, excitedly pulling him to a painting of the mountains surrounding Velaris. “It’s beautiful,” you told the painter, who nodded in thanks, smiling.

Azriel couldn’t help but stare as you took in the painting, your eyes alight.

“Are you a painter?” he asked.

“I try to be,” you grinned at him. “I’m not very good.”

Before he could respond, another painting caught your eye and you gasped, tugging on his hand, leading him through the crowd. Azriel laughed, and you turned back to smile at him, your whole face lighting up. His heart swelled.

On and on you went, his lifeboat pulling him through the sea of artists. He could have gone on like that forever, he thought.

You were about to pull him to another painting when you suddenly turned to him, flushed. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’ve gotten carried away, haven’t I?”

Azriel shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.”

You smiled, seeming shy all of a sudden. “It’s late,” you said. “I should probably head back.”

“Can I walk you home?”

Your smile grew and you nodded your head for him to follow. Your arms brushed as you walked, taking in the night air.

It was a short walk to your house, and you stopped before the door and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Azriel. Tonight was… amazing.”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile back at you. “It was.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek lightly before turning to the door, and Azriel said your name, stopping you before you could open it. “Can I see you again?”

You beamed. “Meet me by the Rainbow in two days?”

Smirking, Azriel said, “Absolutely.”

---

Azriel could hardly focus on anything else while he waited to see you again. His friends absolutely knew something was up with him, but did not pester him about it. Yet.

Two days after the initial date, Azriel was waiting in the Rainbow, where you had told him you wanted to meet.

He waited. And waited.

Trying to stomp down his growing anxiety that you wouldn’t show, he gazed at the art around him. You had been right on time to your first date. Had you changed your mind about him?

He was about to walk through the artists’ quarter, wondering if he had not remembered correctly where you wanted to meet, when you finally arrived, your cheeks flushed, but you looked beautiful as ever.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a little breathless. “Something came up -- it’s hard to explain. I swear I tried to be on time.”

Azriel was just glad that you had come. “It’s alright,” he smiled reassuringly.

Your eyes twinkled under the stars, relieved. “Thank you.”

His smile widened and he lightly squeezed your upper arm, trying to soothe you.

You smiled slowly and arched an eyebrow, mischief written all over your face. “So, I had an idea.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

Laughing, you said, “Let’s go dancing.”

Azriel’s smile dropped. You laughed even more. “Dancing,” he repeated.

“Dancing,” you grinned.

“I can’t dance.”

“Oh, please. Everyone can dance.”

“Not me,” Azriel said, smiling despite himself.

“Please,” she murmured, taking a step closer to him and looking up at him from under her lashes. “For me?”

Azriel sighed, raking a hand through his hair. You knew you already had him wrapped around his little finger. “Fine.”

You squealed with delight, taking his hand in yours and walking in the direction of the Velaris night clubs. Azriel tried to focus on the positives: your soft hand in his, how happy you were, how your hair bounced as you walked.

By the time you got to the nightclub, Azriel’s felt like his heart was in his throat. He really did not dance.

But you strode right in, glancing back at him with the biggest smile on your face. You led him right into the middle of the crowd of people pulsing with the music.

He stood still and watched as you moved your hips, your arms up above your head, twirling around like you didn’t have a care in the world. I could easily fall in love with this woman, he thought. Easily.

You turned back to him and laughed brightly, placing your hands on his hips, trying to make them move. He didn’t budge, which made you laugh even more. “Come on, shadowsinger. Live a little!”

He wanted to, if only to make you happy, but he couldn’t focus on anything but your hands on him and that smile that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Studying him for a moment, you said over the music, “Okay, I see we need to try a different tactic,” you said, taking his hand in yours and leading him to the edge of the dance floor, where it was less crowded.

You stepped right up to him then, so your bodies were barely an inch away. You took both of his hands and settled them on your hips, then placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t think so much, just move,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

He towered over you, watching as you moved your hips, lightly pushing and pulling on his shoulders so he would move with you. It took nearly a full song, but eventually his body relaxed, letting himself be guided by you.

“There you go,” you grinned.

Suddenly, the song slowed significantly, and you looked up at him, becoming slightly shy again.

He gazed down at you, smiling faintly as he pulled you in closer to him, keeping one hand at your waist and taking one of your hands in his.

Azriel swore he saw your breath catch as you studied his face, eyes slightly wide. Azriel tightened his grip on you slightly when your eyes dipped to his mouth and lingered there.

Holding his breath, he leaned in slowly, stopping a breath away from your lips, giving you a moment to back up if you wanted to. But, you surged forward, connecting your mouth with his.

He smiled into the kiss, bringing a scarred hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, and as the music swelled to a crescendo, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You gasped into his mouth, bending your knees as he held you in the air.

Gently, he set you down a few moments later, and when he pulled back, you were smiling, your cheeks dusted red.

“That might have been the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me,” you said, your tone teasing, but your eyes alight.

“Me too,” Azriel murmured, unable to tear his gaze away from your beautiful face.

The two of you spent hours together, and Azriel found himself unable to keep his hands off you. You seemed the same way, always placing a hand on his arm, on his shoulder, while he rested his hand on your hips, the small of your back, or held your hand in his.

For hours, he watched you dance, and willed his body to move with you, only because your eyes shined, your smile bright, when he did so.

At the end of the night, he walked you home once again, this time pulling you in by the waist and kissing you until you were breathless, twining his hand into your soft hair, your hands on his face.

---

Weeks passed, and the two of you kept meeting as often as your schedules would allow.

Azriel would have been on cloud nine… except that he was starting to have his doubts. When the two of you were together, it was amazing, a connection and energy that he had never felt with anybody before. In the privacy of his own mind, he was even willing to concede that he had absolutely fallen for you.

But he couldn’t pretend that everything was perfect. You had been late to nearly every date. He would always be unnerved waiting for you, thinking that this would be the time that you would leave him hanging, never to be heard from again. But then, you would come, always breathless, like you had rushed to get there, and would apologize profusely, but never giving an explanation. Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if you were not as interested in him as he was in you.

He considered talking to Cassian or Rhys about it, but had a suspicion that they would not be very helpful.

So eventually, he decided just to talk to you about it. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to keep seeing him if you didn’t want to.

There was clearly movement in your house as he approached. He took a deep breath before knocking.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, but not unhappy, when you opened the door. “Azriel,” you smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, quietly.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before anything could come out, a little boy, a toddler came running to the door, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Azriel hulking in the doorway.

The boy gaped at Azriel, his mouth hanging open in shock, before turning to you, “Mom! That’s the shadowsinger!” he squealed, running up to said shadowsinger and wrapping his tiny arms around Azriel’s legs, his head not even meeting Azriel’s knees. The boy looked up at Azriel in awe, “you are so cool.”

Azriel’s head spun, trying to process the information in front of him, but he couldn’t focus over the feeling of his heart absolutely melting as he gazed at this boy, full of such joy. He patted the boy’s back, smiling. “You think so?”

He nodded vigorously, his curly hair that matched his mother’s flicking over his eyes. “I wish I could be a spy.”

Azriel grinned. “I can teach you, if your mom says it’s okay.”

The boy gasped, and Azriel looked at you for the first time since your son had made himself known. You looked like you were about to cry, your hands clasped in front of you. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

“Honey, why don’t you go play for a little bit?” you said, your voice slightly shaky, steering your son into the other room. “Mom has to talk to Mr. Shadowsinger about grownup stuff for a little bit.”

He pouted a bit, but did as he was told, reluctantly untangling himself from Azriel and toddling into the next room.

You sighed when you were alone with Azriel, searching his face.

“This is why you’ve been late,” Azriel said, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel took your hand in his, trying to ground himself. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Your eyes filled with tears, and Azriel’s heart cracked. “Most males aren’t interested in raising someone else’s kid. And I liked you… I was too scared to lose you.”

There was no breath in Azriel’s lungs. He ached for you, for what you had no doubt been through with other males who you tried to date. He wanted to rip them to shreds. Slowly, he leaned down, gently kissing each tear away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not unless you want me to.”

You sniffed, looking up at him through damp lashes. “I don’t want you to.”

Azriel smiled softly. “Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You stayed like that for a while, holding each other, before he asked, “What’s his name?”

“Jax.”

“Do you think Jax has it in him to be a spymaster?”

You laughed against his chest, and Azriel smiled into your hair. “I think he can be whatever he wants to be.”

He pulled back to look at you, tilting his face down to meet your eye. “Do you want me in his life? If it’s too soon, that’s okay. But I would love to get to know him, eventually.”

That beautiful smile shone on your face as you said, “I would love that.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Azriel taught Jax how to be a spy. They ran around the house, ducking behind furniture, following invisible enemies.

Azriel glanced at you periodically, reveling in the bright smile on your face, your eyes shining.

---

Jax became an important fixture in Azriel’s life, often accompanying your dates around Velaris. One day, Azriel had recruited Feyre to help get you all into a painting class for all ages.

You grinned as Azriel led you and Jax into the studio set up with paints and easels. There were a few other families there, setting up their work stations.

“Azriel, will you make a painting with me?” Jax asked, his green eyes wide as he looked up at Az.

“Are you sure you don’t want to make your own?” Azriel asked.

Jaz nodded. “I’m sure,” he said, taking Azriel’s hand and leading him to the paint station to pick out colors. Jax chose color after color, handing them all to Azriel, who was grinning, trying to keep hold of all the paints.

You beamed, your heart full as you watched your son and Azriel together, laughing as they painted together. The easel was set up for Jax to reach it, so Az was sitting on the floor in order to reach it whenever Jax demanded that he contribute to their painting.

Azriel was smiling and laughing with the boy, adding in elementary looking trees and bushes wherever Jax instructed him.

By the end, they had a painting that looked very much like a toddler made it. It was nearly impossible to tell who had painted what: Jax or Azriel.

You laughed as Azriel showed it off to you with a flourish, Jax excitedly bouncing on his toes. “Mom, can we hang this up at home?”

“Of course we can,” you grinned, your heart swelling at Azriel’s soft, loving smile.

Azriel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder to look at your painting while Jaz was busy admiring his own painting.

“I thought you said you weren’t very good,” Azriel murmured, his heart swelling as he took in the painting that you had created.

It was of that day, of Azriel and Jax painting together. Jax happily paints while Azriel sits on the floor, grinning at him, holding the palette of paint up for Jax to use.

“Do you like it?” you said quietly.

“I love it,” he said, nuzzling your neck. “I love you.”

He felt you stiffen beneath his fingers and froze. He had just realized that was the first time he had told you.

You twisted in his arms, turning to face him, your eyes shining. “I love you too, Az.”

Azriel’s knees nearly buckled with relief. He gave you a quick, sweet kiss, wishing he wasn’t in public.

---

By Starfall, the three of you were really starting to feel like a family, and Azriel had never been happier. Cassian and Rhys teased him about it relentlessly, but he knew it was because they were happy for their brother who had finally found happiness like they had.

Azriel kept by your side, his hand on the small of your back as you navigated the crowded balcony on the House of Wind, Jax holding onto your hand.

The three of you had spent the beginning of the celebration with the rest of Azriel’s family, and even though they had met before, Jax remained completely enamored with Feyre, Rhysand and Cassian, asking them a million questions about being the High Lady, High Lord, and the commander of armies, respectfully. The three just laughed, going along with it until Azriel deemed it was time to give his brothers and his High Lady break.

The three of you stood together, holding hands, looking to the sky as the music started and the spirits started to move across the sky, slowly at first, and then thousands of them, shooting across the world like shooting stars.

Jax watched awestruck for a few minutes before he noticed that there were children playing a game on the far side of the balcony, and he looked to you excitedly, running over to them after you had nodded.

“Stay where we can see you!” Azriel called after him.

You turned to Azriel, hugging his waist, gazing up into his eyes lovingly.

“What?” Azriel smiled, sliding his hand down your back, making you shiver.

“I’ve just never been this happy,” you murmured.

“I haven’t either,” Azriel said softly, leaning down to kiss you.

Azriel pulled your body into his then, leading you into a slow, romantic dance underneath the falling stars.

“Happy Starfall,” he said, gazing down at you with all the love in the world.

“Happy Starfall, Az,” you said.

#acotar #azriel #azriel fluff #favorite

381 notes · View notes

mischiefmanagers · 1 day

Text

Territorial

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel was busy with work and Reader decided to go out alone, much to the males dismay

4.4k words

"Az?" I call, peeking my head out the doorway. "Azriel?" I sing, padding down the hall when I don't hear him reply. I follow the golden tether connecting us to his office, only half-clothed with my unzipped dress dipping off my shoulders.

"Hey," I spot the male at his desk, eyes scanning over a form. He doesn't spare me a glance but replies with a quiet, "Hi."

"I called for you and you didn't answer," I take a few steps closer, leaning against his desk and holding the neckline of my dress up. "Yeah?" He mumbles as he continues writing, clearly not listening to what I am saying and filling the silence. "Can you help me?" I ask and he freezes, then finally turns to look at me, ears perking at the question. "The corset," I point to the back of my dress. "Ah," He nods but doesn't move from his seat.

Instead of his hands, it's shadows that move to my back, tightening around the strings and then pulling them tight. I frown slightly but don't move as I allow the darkness to tie the strings. When they're done they return to Azriel's side, swishing around like they were trying to get his attention too, but Azriel seemed busy.

We've been staying in the Hewn City for the past few days, Azriel had interrogations to see to, then paperwork, then more interrogations. So it was easier to stay in the Moonstone Palace for the time being.

My mate was busy quite often but he always made time for me, always. So what's so different now? It might've been shallow that I continued to hover at his side, waiting for him to give me some attention.

I watch what he's so intently writing, frowning at the way he didn't even spare me a second glance. "Take a break Az, we could go to the evening markets?" I suggest and it's like the words don't even reach his ears. "Or I could open a bottle of wine and we could cuddle in bed," I add in a light tune, running my hand down his arm.

It takes a few seconds for him to reply, for the words to even register. "Maybe another time," He brushed me off and my frown deepened. "I understand, sorry for bothering you," I grumbled, then left his office and closed the door with a particularly hard force.

I told him I understood, except I didn't. He worked for Rhysand, and of course, the High Lord is still his boss but if Azriel turned in an assignment a few hours late I doubted he'd get reprimanded in the slightest. If he was anyone else it'd be fine, but this is Azriel, the male who always makes time for me and never makes me feel like a burden.

But now I was standing in the hallway alone, and a little defeated.

I curse myself for being so sensitive and walk down the hall and into the kitchen. I open the door down to the wine cellar but before I can take the descent to the basement I realize I didn't want to drink alone. I sigh, closing the door.

It wasn't that I needed Azriel to be able to enjoy myself but he's got in my head, and now he's all I want.

I decided to pass the time by going to the evening markets on my own, he couldn't be mad at me for doing it by myself when I'd already offered to include him, right?

I scribbled down on a note that I was leaving and signed it with a heart before leaving through the front door without so much as a proper goodbye.

The evening markets were much different in the Hewn City than the ones in Velaris. Every vendor seemed to be trying to con or scam me.

I came across a cart, a skinny pale woman with thinning black hair stood behind the counter with dead eyes. I notice a young pair of twins huddling beside her long, ripped skirt.

She was selling gemstones. They were all fake, you could tell by the way they gleamed under the moonlight but that didn't make them any less beautiful. A specific blue stone caught my attention. I smile softly at the woman and give her my entire pouch of gold marks, enough for a month's worth of food if spent right. She begins shuffling through the coins and only takes what's owed out as I pluck the sapphire up.

"No, keep all of it," I brush her off with a wave of my hand. Her eyes widen as she stares at me in shock. I give her a kind smile. "Get them something nice," I gesture to the two girls the height of her waist. "Thank you," She bleats out and I nod with a gentle smile, pocketing the gem before waltzing away with a small pep in my step.

I come across another stand, this one with aisles of flowers leading towards the shopkeeper. I smile as I gaze at a bush of jasmine, the scent reminding me of Amren. I continue walking down the aisle, spotting moonflowers as big as my palm, and bouquets of chocolate daisies that somehow smelt like the enriching cocoa flavor I was so familiar with.

The clerk seemed busy so I didn't buy anything, just continued to walk until there was a snag at my skirt. My brows twitch and I look down to see one of the twin girls from earlier fisting the cloth in her hand. She doesn't say anything, just holds out a white rose. "For me?" I smile gently and she nods shyly.

I bend down and take the flower, breaking off all the thorns before reaching towards her and tucking the rose behind her ear. "There, beautiful," I compliment and she flushes pink. "Thank you," She whispers and my smile widens. "Thank you, too," I say, standing. She stared up at me in wonder. "Why don't you go snatch one for your sister as well?" I suggest and she nods before scurrying off back toward the flower market.

I turn on my heel, walking with my skirts in my hands as I continue my route down the dimly lit path, shops slowly dwindling away and mage lights flickering the further down the alley I go.

I grip the material of my skirt in my hands at the shift in the atmosphere, my steps speeding up, eager to get out of the eerie ambiance.

Hyena-like laughter echoes down the stretch of the brick road and my entire body tenses. I looked to where the sound had come from, three men sat on upside-down trashcans all talking amongst each other with shit-eating grins. It was rude to assume they were of any danger to me, but I was better off paranoid than ignorant.

I reach through my mental bond towards Azriel only to be met with unbreakable, obsidian walls. I frown, flattening my palms to the cold rock but it was entirely solid and I was locked out. I huff and thrust my own shields up, blocking him out too. Instead of passing by the three men, I step into the building at my left, a bar.

I enter the tavern with a slight panic in my step. I hadn't realized how safe Azriel made me feel until I no longer had his company.

The place was packed, every night in the Hewn City was a night for a drink, there were crowds but it was eerily quiet and I had eyes from every direction staring at me. I ignored the eyes and tried not to catch anyone's gaze as I walked towards the bar top, settling into an empty stool with torn leather that creaked when I put my weight on it.

A bartender immediately comes over to me and I order something light, only planning to pass the time here until I think Azriel learned his lesson and noticed that I didn't need him to have a good time. It was petty and something he probably already knew but I had to solidify that fact.

"What's a girl like you doing all the way out here?" A gravelly voice asked and I turned to the male beside me, his long, graying beard thick with what looked like food sprinkled throughout it. I fight back a grimace.

"A girl like me?" I arch a brow, not interested in telling him where I'm from. "Sure, the fancy clothes, shiny hair," He utters. "I bet that bracelet on your wrist costs more than my house," He scoffs. I look down at the bejeweled bracelet that I wear at a constant. "Well? How much?" He asks and I shrug. "It was a gift from my mate," I utter, not knowing the exact price— but with the amount of diamonds glinting on the piece of jewelry, the stranger wouldn't be far off with the estimate of his house.

"Mate?" He grunts and I nod. "Why aren't you with him now?" He demands, sticking his nose into my business. I nearly roll my eyes. What does it matter to him anyway? "He's working," I swing my legs back and forth. "And what's this male do for a livin' to be able to afford gifts like that?" He gestures to my wrist. "He's the Spymaster of the Night Court," I say, the male gulps down whatever fear bubbled up inside him at the title.

The bartender hands me my drink and I thank him with a gentle smile.

The stranger next to me turns away from me, instead going towards whatever poor girl is on the other side of him as I silently sip my sweet drink, swinging my legs back and forth as I gaze up at the ceiling, running my eyes along the cracks and crevices, attempting to think the way Azriel does, how he notices every single thing, analyzes every movement, every breath. I wish I could observe things like him, read him the way he reads me. I huff in defeat after growing bored from one minute of observing, instead sinking into my stool.

A few males throughout the night approach me but I tell them who my mate is and they immediately back off. I liked the idea of Azriel being so feared in places like this, how he had me blocked from his side of the bond and yet was still protecting me from every male who engaged.

There was a slight commotion behind me, mumbles and synchronized footsteps like everyone was rushing out of someone's way. I ignore it, keeping my eyes pinned to my half-full glass, debating on finishing it or just going home and cuddling up with a book, perhaps Azriel is done with work.

There's a sudden presence behind me, one that's vaguely familiar but nothing too keen. A hand comes down onto my shoulder and my spine straightens at the familarity. "For the last time, I have a mate—" I begin but then I feel shadows twining up my ankles, the scars on his hand, the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar.

"I know," He started and I whipped around, wrapping my arms tightly around the back of his neck. "Az," I greet, and even if I was just annoyed with him, it felt refreshing to have his eyes on me again. "I just had the most wonderful evening," I say as he intertwines his hand with mine and pulls me from my stool. I follow, forgetting about my drink while Azriel pays the bartender with a bill too large for what I ordered.

"I wish you had come with," I say as he pulls me through the crowd, well it wasn't much of a crowd anymore, his wings gave him a large enough frame that groups had simply split in half to accommodate for him, me in tow as he guides me through the path.

"And I went to the markets and bought this pretty gem," I pull out the blue sapphire. "Remind me of your siphons, don't you think?" I hold it up in the moonlight. He looked at it and gave a dip of his head, his mind still reeling as he pulled me away from the alleyway while I continued blathering on. "And there were these twin girls who were so adorable, and later one of them gave me a flower—" I was cut off as I was completely consumed by a familiar darkness, Azriel's hand tightening on mine as he pulled us through the shadow realm, the real world seeming so bright in comparison.

"Az," I pause, looking around at our house as we land, standing in the center of our bedroom. Not in the Hewn City, but Velaris. He had taken us all the way home. "What are we doing here? Did you finish your assignments?" I say, striding up to him and realizing only now that he had yet to say anything this entire time since the bar, I've just been prattling on about my evening while he only nodded, which was typical but, it felt different, there was something cold about him.

"Azriel? You okay?" I reach up towards his face but he catches my wrist before I can make contact. "Do you know how worried I was about you?" His tone is warm but there's a certain deathly flicker in his eyes that sent a chilling shiver down my spine. "There was nothing to be worried about," I mutter, pulling at my wrist but his hold doesn't yield. "You believe that?" He arches a brow but I was too undermined to nod.

"Love," He sighs, his hold loosens and I'm met with relief. "Do you know how many people in that court want me dead?" He tilts his head and I swallow thickly, I hated thinking about stuff like that and he knew it. "How many people want to hurt me the way I've hurt them?" He adds and all I can do is shake my head no.

"I need you to understand the only way to hurt me is by hurting you, make sense?" His hand comes to my cheek, angling my head to look up at him. I meet his stare and nod bashfully.

"I do understand, but, I’m fine," I argue. "I can handle myself, I promise I was safe," I stress and his gaze hardens yet again, now I've done it.

"I know you can handle yourself, but, just let me protect you," He sighs. "Why? I don't need your protection— in fact, you had me blocked out all night, so if I did need you, you wouldn't have even been able to save me," I express and he bristles. I shouldn't have said it, I know it'd hit him where it hurt but, gods, I was so sick of feeling so dependent, like I relied on him every waking hour since we mated.

Azriel never shouted, barely ever raised his voice. But when he did, he was a different male. Animalistic and feral, and entirely uncaged. Some sick part of me found it insanely attractive. His power was so immense I couldn't help but let it turn me on, shadows flooding the room as a vein bulged at his neck as he explained why I need to be more careful when on my own, but I was barely listening to his words, just his voice, his passion. The spine-shivering tone reaches the wrong parts of my body and leaves me clenching my legs, staring up at him helplessly as the smell of my arousal becomes apparent and he shutters, his words halting as he stares at me.

"Are you fucking serious?" He scoffs and I look down at the floor with a bright flush, attempting to hide what's already known. He takes a menacing step closer, hand coming to my chin and tilting my face up dauntingly slow, I avoid his gaze. "Look at me," He snaps and I do as he says immediately, eyes staring up into his, that familiar hazel analyzing every part of me like it always did. "You like it when I yell at you?" He asked and I swallowed thickly. "Answer me, love," He says, hand tightening on my jaw and I nod with creased brows. "Yes," I confess and I could already tell my panties were a mess.

"You gonna be a good girl and take your punishment?" He tilts his head and my pussy throbs in anticipation at the promise of discipline. Again, I nod. "Yeah? On your knees then," He commands and I waste no time before dropping onto the floor before him, staring up at him with shiny, wide eyes. "Open," He says and I part my lips, tongue lulling out. Two of his fingers immediately plunge down my throat while his other hand works at the ties of his pants. I move my own hands up, attempting to offer assistance but shadows are quick to twine around my wrists and pin them useless behind my back.

I close my lips around his hand, sucking on the two long, thick, and calloused fingers. I dip my tongue between them, coating them in my saliva as he curls them into the back of my throat, forcing me to gag on them, loving the sight of my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

He gets his pants down and his cock slaps up against his abdomen, hard and leaking pre-cum, his tip red and angry. I whimpered at the sight of it as he removed his fingers from my mouth, using my saliva to further lube himself for easier entrance. He strokes himself once, then another. "Please," I rasp out, needy for his cock. He knew just how badly I needed him inside of me.

He continues pumping his cock just in front of my lips, groaning out at the intense feeling of his hand. "Open," He repeats and again, I obey. The head of his cock slaps onto the flat of my tongue and I nearly moan at the salty taste of him, tears brimming the edge of my eyes as I run my tongue up and down the underside of his member, tracing the bulging vein.

I pulled at the restraints on my hands, whining in need of more as I suck on the head of him, swirling my tongue around his tip and pressing my tongue to the sensitive slit as he grunted in pleasure.

His hand finds the back of my head, gripping my hair roughly as moans slip from me. "Three taps, remember?" He asks and I nod urgently, remembering the safe code in case he went too far, but I knew I wouldn't be using that any time tonight.

He then thrust all of his length down my throat and I gagged on him, adjusting to his size of him was impossible as he continued to abuse my mouth, tears now free-falling onto my cheeks as his other hand found my neck, squeezing occasionally when I choked on him.

I struggled to breathe as he continued to pummel into my parted lips, his head tilted back in pure ecstasy as I sucked on him hard, bobbing my head. "Gods, you suck me off so good," He praised and I rub my thighs together for any form of friction but nothing could compare to his cock. I seal my lips around his base, jerking my head as I swirl my tongue underneath his cock, drinking every drop of his pre-cum, savoring the taste and eager for more but as he twitches he pulls away from my mouth, keeping himself from crossing that fine line of release. I cry out a whine, wanting the salty taste of him on my tongue now.

"Please, Az," I sob but he ignores the whine. "Get up, on the bed," He nodded his head toward the mattress as I rose from my knees, my wrists unbinding and allowing me to crawl up towards the pillows with shaky limbs. I go to turn around to face him but he stuffs my face into the pillow before I get the chance. My back bows as I struggle to breathe and his hold ceases, allowing me to lift only slightly from the bed. His hands come to the curve of my ass, my dress pushed up by shadows. He doesn't even bother with the ties of my corset and instead tears me free from the material, shredding the gown into pieces and discarding it onto the floor. I whimper as my panties follow without any other foreplay, the cold air breezing against my soaked cunt.

"Count five then I'll let you have what you want, okay?" His hands grope at my ass and I rise onto my elbows, my back arching up into his as he leans over me. I nod with a needy moan, reveling in the feeling of his scars on my skin.

His hand rises then comes down onto my ass, a loud smacking sound filling the room, my mewls quickly following. "One," I gripe, clenching the sheets in my fists as he gives me the second one, harder, the sting lingering and sending shockwaves up my spine. I stuff my face into the pillows as I call the number, so caught up in the pleasure of it all.

His third strike is joined with a cold shadow brushing against the apex of my thighs and I scream at the friction, the neglecting had grown so strong that I could feel myself dripping down my thighs, sopping wet for him. On the fourth smack, the shadows return, this time to stay, swirling around that familiar bundle of nerves and all thoughts leave me, completely consumed by the pleasure of it all. "What number was that?" He purrs beside my ear and I shutter. "Fuck— I, I don't know," I whine. "Oh c'mon, think hard you can do it," He directs, trailing kisses up the side of my ear but it was impossible to think about anything but those damned shadows circling my clit.

"Four," I reply with a hopeful lift to my voice. "Good, such a good girl," He hums, kissing just below my ear before landing one final slap to my ass, the skin red and stinging in pure pain, and I doubt I had ever been more turned on.

"You want me inside baby?" He asked with barely anytime for me to recover, biting at my earlobe as I cry out my reply, "Shit, Az please."

I feel the head of his cock press against my folds a beat later, lathering himself in my fluids as I clench around nothing, legs jolting as I arch up higher for easier entrance, showing just how much I wanted him.

His tip aligns with my entrance and I beg for him, for every inch of him. "Need you, please," My voice shakes and he rises from behind me, his hands coming down onto my thighs, gripping them tightly. Shadows pin my legs to the bed, restricting me from moving as his tip enters me only slightly. "Don't move," He commanded and I nodded, then he thrust all of him inside of me and I felt like I split in half.

I screamed, clawing at the sheets at the intense pain yet pleasure that quickly followed. My brows knot as his base slaps against mine and without much adjustment he begins to pound his length into me, pulling strings of moans from the base of my throat. "Fuck, you feel so perfect wrapped around my cock," He sighed out, head tilting back in pure relief, continuing to pummel into me with an unrelenting force.

"You ever g'na leave without me again?" He asks in a cold voice and I shake my head no. "Use your words," He tells, and my back bows at the tone of his voice, so fucking demanding. "No, never Az," I swallow the lump in my throat. "That's right, 'cause who do you belong to?" He asks, his lips on my neck. "You, all yours," I manage to say, words not coming easy as I was too distracted by the feeling of him thrusting up to what felt like my ribs. I moan his name loudly, head hanging low into the pillows as I arch, pushing further onto his cock, his tight balls slapping against my folds while he twitches against my sensitive walls, shadows coming to contact with my clit and doubling the amount of pleasure.

"Az I can't, I can't take any more," I rasp out as he places sloppy kisses on my shoulder, biting and sucking and licking on any bare skin he could get his mouth on. "You will though, won't you?" He said and I couldn't help but agree with him, knowing it'd feel close to death if he pulled out now.

The tip of his cock brushed over my most sensitive area and I shout in euphoric pain. He smirks against my skin and continues to toy with the area, easily hitting that deep place inside of me, molding me to him, stretching my walls to fit his cock and his alone.

Marking me like territory.

"Az, I'm gonna cum— I can't," I struggle to breathe at how tight my lungs felt, the knot in the pit of my stomach threatening to snap any second now. "Go ahead baby, make a mess all over my cock," He allows and his shadows pinch my clit, forcing me into that orgasmic high.

Warmth blooms in my hips as I find release, tears falling down onto the pillows as my legs shake in pure relief, pleasure racking through me like a wave of ecstasy.

His release followed mine, as I clenched around him from my high it forced him into spilling out his warm seed into my cunt, painting my walls white and making me his entirely. "Fuck," He grunts out. "You did good baby," He whispered softly, pecking my tear-stained cheek while slowly pulling out, his cum flowing out of me and down my thighs as I slump down onto the bed, exhausted.

"No sleeping yet, I won't be able to live with myself if you don't get proper aftercare," He ushered me out of the bed as I sat up with a whine. He smiles softly then picks me up, carrying me princess-style towards the bathroom. I marvel at how easily he switched personalities, shifting between Azriel and the Spymaster so easily.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you cleaned up."

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Not Again - Part Twelve

Summary: Y/n is desperate to save her mate, they keep telling her he will be fine, but she knows something is wrong

Warnings: ANGSTY!!!! Madja is a good healer I swear, it’s solely for the plot

Series Masterlist

-Part Twelve-

Wake up, please wake up. Faint, desperate words in his mind. Not his shadows, the voice was female, with a soft, swirling accent like the mountain breeze running through his hair. There’s a feeling, like this female is everything, that he needs to get to her, to tell her something. Fight, Az, come back.

He tried, so hard, it hurt to much.

Mate, mate, mate.

The word beats in her head in time with his heart. She could feel it, beating in time with her own, across the bridge between their souls, the shadowy tether that she could feel like another limb connecting them.

Mate, mate, mate.

Azriel was her mate, this male, laying before her, thick bandages wrapped over the wound on his chest from the arrow he took because of her. Because of a broken goddess, because she knew the anger, the ferocity caused by a mate being hurt, would unlock that fire in Y/n, Mala’s own power, the only thing strong enough to finally kill her. Her mother had only a drop of it left, Y/n had inherited a deep well of it, deeper than she thought she had, a final gift from Mala.

Amren theorized that Deanna had opened the gate that brought Y/n to them. That she was trying to bring Y/n to whatever world she’d been trapped in, to use the power in her veins to gift her the death she desired, but something happened when the gate opened, the bond between her and Azriel had altered her course, had brought her to him. A gift from the Wyrd, to find her mate all the way across the stars.

Mate, mate, mate.

The gate Y/n had opened had been hijacked by Deanna before it could find Terrasen, and the goddess was able to take the Walking Dead and open her own gate. Amren assumed that, without Deanna’s interference, the gate would work as it should, that they would be able to try it again. She could go home now, could see her parents, her family, Terrasen.

Mate, mate, mate.

It had been nearly a week, since Deanna, since that arrow had pierced Azriel’s chest and she had felt that mating bond between them. Felt it thin as his heart slowed in his chest. It had felt like she was dying with him. A healer, Madja, had tried to lay her hands on him, Y/n had been so deep in a furious red haze that she almost burned the female alive. A red shield had surrounded her as Cassian had ripped her away, she’d almost killed him too, Madja had to heal the burns left on his arms. Feyre had been the one to finally calm her down, arms covered in cold water so she could hold onto Y/n’s scorching skin.

“He’s okay!” She had screamed, when the water had started to boil. “She’s healing him, Y/n look! It missed his heart, he’s okay!”

Y/n had watched the arrow clatter to the floor, the blood coating it, and the wound slowly stitching together beneath the healer’s hands. Feyre let her go, only when Y/n had gone practically limp in her arms. She’d crumbled to the floor, no longer supported by the High Lady, and she crawled towards him, laid down beside him, and pulled on that bond, refusing to let him go.

A week had passed, and she hadn’t attempted to open a gate, to go home, she’d barely even left his room. She couldn’t, not when he was still asleep, not when this bond in her chest was the only indication that he was still alive. Would she still feel it if she left? Will it feel like when he’d almost died, that thinning, that pain, that fear? The thought was so terrifying, so painful, she couldn’t even attempt it, wouldn’t step in that room that still smelled of his blood.

Wake up, shadowsinger, please.

He didn’t.

The inner court checked on her and Azriel periodically, rotating through, Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, Nesta, Elain, Lucien, over and over again. Even Amren had visited a few times, she’d been the one to finally drag her to the dining room to eat with the rest of the court.

“You can come back and wallow in your misery after you eat, girl.”

Amren didn’t practice kindness, not in the way many would. Forcing her out of that room, quite literally dragging her down the hall, was her form of being kind, of reaching out to make sure Y/n was okay. She wasn’t, she was far from okay, but she let the tiny female force her into her seat, met the concerned eyes of each of the court members, and ate whatever the house forced onto her plate.

“He’ll be okay,” Cassian says gently, his own voice weighed down by his concern for his brother, “Madja has healed worse injuries, he’s had worse.”

She didn’t want to know what those injuries were, “I know.”

“Y/n-“

“How long did you all know,” she cuts him off, looking between each of them, “That he and I were mates? I’m assuming you all know.”

A few of them had the decency to look ashamed. Feyre especially, who gives her mate a hard stare, no doubt speaking to him in his mind. By the way he winces, Y/n assumes it’s not a pleasant conversation.

“After the fight you two had,” Rhys starts, “I had Amren ask the Book of Breathings for more answers, she wrung the information out of it. I told Azriel what it had said, I left it to him on how to tell you.”

After their fight, when he’d disappeared for hours and hours, when she’d felt so lost and miserable, an echo of how he felt. He’d come back, had known exactly how awful she was feeling, called her a coward.

“I wanted to tell you,” Feyre says, glaring at her family around her, “I know how awful it is to be left in the dark-“

“He should have told me,” Y/n says, no heat, no anger, “Azriel should have told me.”

Cassian winces at the cold emptiness in her voice, “He wanted to, but he didn’t want to burden you with it, to hold you back from getting home.”

“He should have told me,” she says again, voice so cold, “He doesn’t get to call me a coward, while he was hiding this.”

“Y/n,” Mor’s gentle voice, “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Of course he didn’t, that’s not why she was upset. She knew that Azriel cared about her, cared enough that he would suffer beneath the weight of this mating bond alone so she wouldn’t have to. He would take an arrow for her, again and again, and that was terrifying, that he would die for her without ever telling her why. That he would die and leave her behind knowing that she lost the mate she hadn’t even known she’d had.

Y/n stands, ignoring the pity in their eyes, the understanding in the eyes of the High Lady’s, the anger on her behalf from Nesta, the disappointment from Amren. She didn’t want any of it, any of them, she wanted her mother, her father, her family. More than anything, she wanted Azriel.

Days passed, Azriel kept sleeping. Something was wrong, so unbelievably wrong, he should have woken by now, he’d been asleep to long. Y/n couldn’t do anything, the panic pressing down like the mountain had crumbled around her, pinning her beneath the red stone. She yanked on that bond, begging and yelling for him to, wake up, wake up, please, Az, wake up.

Nothing, just that faint steady presence of his heartbeat, the bridge of shadows dark on his side like he couldn’t even dream in his sleep.

Madja looked him over, changing his bandages, she found nothing wrong, he just needed rest. That’s what they all kept telling her, he’ll be okay, Y/n, he needs to rest.

She wanted to scream, to burn the next fae that told her he was okay, he wasn’t, something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Please, Azriel, I need you to wake up.

He wanted to tell her something, needed to tell her something. He tried so hard to wake, to reach for her, but he couldn’t.

I’m here, Princess. I’m here.

“Help,” she’s screaming, “Help, please! Cassian!”

Azriel’s body violently shakes beneath her hands, his skin hot and coated in sweat. She’d woken to his limbs colliding with her own, part of her had thought he’d woken up, but when she’d shot up, seen his eyes still closed, felt the intense pain coming from him down the bond, she screamed and screamed for help.

A seizure, he was having a seizure. She’d spent time in the southern continent, at the torre with her aunt. Learning the basics of healing because she was fascinated with it as a young teenager. There had been a man who was yelling for help, his wife had collapsed in the street and she was shaking. The healers had helped her, her aunt had described the situation as a seizure, told her what to do. She knew what to do, but in this moment she was panicking to much to do it.

The door slams open, Cassian running, dagger in hand, “Mother above.”

“Get the healer,” she screams, “Get Rhys, Feyre, anyone, please!”

That far away look in his eyes, “They’re on their way, just hold on.”

“Help me turn him on his side,” Y/n pleads, forcing herself to breathe, to do what her aunt had instructed her to do.

Cassian rushes to her, helping her haul his brother up and onto his side, “How long has he been like this?”

“I don’t know, a few minutes maybe,” she says, “Where’s Madja?”

“Almost here,” he answers, that look in his eye, “Rhys is flying them up now.”

Y/n gently holds Azriel, his shaking form beneath her palms, whispering down that shadowy bridge between them, You’re okay, it’s going to be okay, it’s okay.

She didn’t believe herself at all. Not even when the seizure subsided, not when Madja had arrived with a frantic Rhys in tow, not when she checked him over and found nothing outwardly wrong with him.

“All we can do is wait,” Madja says, laying a gentle hand on Y/n’s shoulder, before leaving with Rhys and Cassian.

She couldn’t wait anymore.

The room is pitch black, the moon and stars covered by clouds in the sky, the only light comes from the small candle in her hand. It still smells of his blood, the whole room reeks of it, his combining with her own.

The cut on her arm was a dull ache, barely noticeable beneath the pain and fear in her heart. Her blood was warm on her fingertips, she pressed them to the floor and drew, drew the symbols she’d memorized, drew the name she had learned as a child, one of many.

Her voice sounded hallow in her ears, the painful words tearing through her vocal chords. The blood turns green, casting the room in its sickly light. Her hands shook as she finished, wide eyes staring into the darkness.

“What is that?”

She almost sobs at the voice, at the woman who comes into view, peering into the gate. The only person she could think of that would know what to do, to save him.

“Yrene,” her voice broke as the woman’s eyes landed on her, “I need your help.”

“Oh gods,” her aunt sobs loudly, “Y/n, my darling girl where have you-“

The door behind her aunt flies open, a man as familiar as her own father running through, sword raised to protect his wife, “What is it? What’s wrong-”

He spots the gate, sliding to a stop, “Y/n? My gods-“

“Please,” Y/n sobs, “I need help, please something is wrong, he won’t wake up, a seizure, he can’t, I can’t-“

“Y/n slow down,” Chaol lowers his sword, “Sweetheart breathe, calm down, who’s hurt, where are you?”

“Yrene please, he needs your help,” Y/n begs, she falls to her knees, her hands raised over her head, palms up, “Please, help him.”

There’s a shift in the air as Yrene steps through the gate, Y/n sobs when her aunt’s hands grasp her own. Yrene pulls Y/n to her feet, supporting her weight. Behind her, Chaol takes a step towards them but Yrene shakes her head.

“Get Aelin and Rowan,” she commands.

Chaol looks ready to argue, but a sharp look from his wife has him nodding once, “Be careful, my love”

“Where is he?”

Y/n runs, forcing herself to slow down, to keep pace with Yrene’s human form. She follows that bond, pulling on it, feeling the heartbeat on the other side and nothing more. It was like Azriel was barely there, blocked, hidden from her.

She felt then, a rumbling power, night kissed darkness. Rhys was coming, he’d felt the portal open no doubt, she didn’t care to stop, to explain to him what she had done. He could wait, Azriel couldn’t.

The door to his room is wide open, the house already knew what was happening, the room lit by fae lights. Yrene didn’t hesitate, just ran to the bed, to Azriel.

“What happened?”

It was a struggle to keep calm long enough to briefly describe what had happened, that he’d been shot in the chest by the goddess Deanna, that he’d been in a coma ever since. Yrene lays her hands over Azriel’s chest, faint warm light glowing from her palms. Her magic searching, washing over him and into that wound beneath his bandages.

“What is this?” That night kissed power explodes into the room, “Get your hands off my brother!”

Y/n throws herself in his path, a cold harsh wind blowing him back, “Rhys stop! She’s helping him, this is my aunt, I told you about her.”

“You opened a gate? Alone?” His voice is scathing, “What if something had happened again? You almost died last time! Damnit Y/n, you could have asked-”

“I needed to do something, I couldn’t keep waiting,” she snaps, her voice breaking, “Rhys I can’t- I can’t lose him.”

The anger in Rhys shatters, “I know, Y/n, I know, me too.”

“I don’t know what’s going on over there,” Yrene calls out, “But I could use some help.”

Y/n turns from Rhys, offering no translation, “What? what is it?”

“There’s something here,” Yrene says, hand hovering over the bandages, “Magic, it’s old, older than the valg. It feels similar though, to what was paralyzing your uncle, it’s attached to his heart.”

“What can I do?”

“Hold him down,” she says, “Get the angry one to help, this is probably going to hurt really bad.”

“Rhys,” Y/n throws over her shoulder, “Help me hold him down.”

The High Lord does without hesitation, “What’s wrong with him? What is she doing?”

Almost in response, Azriel screams. Arching off the bed, wings flaring beneath him, almost knocking Y/n over. Rhys throws his weight over his brothers kicking legs, using some of that power to restrain him. Y/n’s own wind holds Azriel down where she can’t reach, keeping his arm from swinging into Yrene.

His screams are so achingly painful, shouting down the bond between them, the first sign of him she’d had in nearly two weeks.

“You’re okay,” she shushes him, “It’s going to be okay. Just hold on.”

He screams and screams, tears streaming down his cheeks. Y/n can only hold on, can only cry with him. Every feeling is thrown down the bond, like it had been opened like a door between their minds, pain, fear, agony, Y/n could feel it all like it was her own chest, like it was being torn open, like her heart was being ripped out.

“I’ve almost got it,” her aunt says through clenched teeth, “Just a little while longer.”

Hold on, just hold on. She hopes he can hear her, he only screams in response. Roaring loud enough to shake the mountain beneath them. She screams with him, her already hoarse voice shattering, she could taste blood on her tongue.

A bright silver light shines through Yrene’s warm healing glow. It nearly blinds Y/n, she has to squint to see what it even was. Slowly pulling it from Azriel’s chest, it looked almost like a worm made of moon fire, writhing inside a bubble of Yrene’s magic.

Azriel slumps to the bed, breathing hard and fast, his eyes do not open. Y/n collapses against him, cradling his head to her chest, her fingers running through his hair.

“What is that?”

She looks up at Rhys, “One last fuck you from Deanna.”

The magic reeks of the goddess, a shred of her left in it, mocking, laughing. Y/n holds out her hand, and her aunt wordlessly drops the silver thing into her hand. It writhes in her palm, she glares at it, at the final shred of the wretched goddess.

“Go to Hel,” she spits, and her palm lights in the deepest, hottest blue flame, until there’s nothing left.

Wake, wake up, here, she’s here, wake up, tell her, wake up! The voices hurt his head, adding to the pain that radiates through his whole body. It hurt, his head, his chest, his heart, it all hurt.

He couldn’t force his eyes to open, so he relies on his other senses. He was laying down, surrounded by soft pillows and blankets, warm. From the scent surrounding him, he was in his own room, but there was another scent, pine and snow and embers, home. It clung to the pillows beside him, he wants to turn his face into it and inhale deeply. He tries, but the motion causes his already aching head to scream in pain.

“Az?”

That voice, soft and swirling air, the northern breeze that caught in his wings and lifted him high into the sky. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, her voice, the one he’d heard in his dreams, the one begging him to wake. He had to tell her something, desperately needed to tell her.

“Princess-“ he coughs, his throat felt like sand paper, felt like he had been screaming.

“Here,” she says.

He feels the bed dip beside him, something cold presses to his lips, water. The cold liquid slides over his tongue soothing the pain in his throat. He drinks deeply for several seconds, groaning when she takes the glass away.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” she chides.

He wanted to open his eyes, to see her, to tell her everything, “Princess, I-“

Her hand in his, so right, so perfect, “I know, shadowsinger, I know.”

Azriel finally forces his eyes open, the sunlight shines through the open curtains, settling over her like a blanket of gold. Beautiful, so achingly beautiful. He could feel her, that tether of shadow more like a solid bridge between them.

“You know,” he breathes, “How-“

“You should have told me,” she stops him, her hand shaking in his palm, “Gods, Az, you should have told me. Instead, I watched an arrow go into your chest, I felt you dying on the other side of the bond.”

The words send a shock of pain through his chest, like that arrow was finding home in his heart once again. It echoes the pain she felt, still feels.

“It felt like I was dying with you,” she says, her eyes burning with lingering rage, “I killed her. I didn’t think, couldn’t, I felt that bond in my chest, knew that you were my mate, and she had tried to take you from me. I burned her to nothing but ash.”

Azriel could only stare at the female, she had killed a goddess, an ancient terrible creature, for him. His mate, his viscous warrior of a mate, gods killer.

“You should have told me,” she repeats again, and Azriel can feel the anger and the fear she feels, “You almost died, and I- I didn’t- I couldn’t- You“

“I’m sorry.” The broken words tear into his heart, “I’m so sorry, Princess.”

“I know,” she takes a deep breath, “I know why you hid it, I understand that, I just- I almost lost you before I’d even known I had you.”

Her face falls, looking down at the hands in her lap that fidget with the loose black fabric. Night court black, it almost seemed like mourning black to Azriel.

“Hey.” It takes more effort than he��s willing to admit to lift his scarred hand to her cheek, turning her face back to him, “I’m okay, you still have me, if you still want me.”

Her eyes are lined with silver tears as she nods once, a simple gesture that breaks and rebuilds every part of his soul. He didn’t need some big mating ceremony, didn’t need a party, didn’t need her to offer him food, just that nod, that simple yes, was more than enough.

Despite the pain, Azriel sits up, cradling her face in the palm of his hand, marveling at the sight of her wide eyes, no cold, no heat, just full of wonder. A single tear runs down her cheek and Azriel leans in, kissing away the drop.

“You’re my mate,” he whispers against her skin, it feels like a weight lifting off his shoulders, off his heart, “Mine.”

She pulls back, just enough to look into his eyes and say, “And you are mine.”

Azriel runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek, “My beautiful, wonderful, vicious mate.”

She smiles and he could fall apart completely. He looks down at those lips, soft and sweet, and Azriel kisses his mate, and for once in his life, everything felt right.

Y/n had been the first to pull away from the kiss, so achingly gentle, “You must be starving.”

Azriel’s eyes were firmly locked on her lips as he said, “Yes I am.”

Every instinct in him was roaring to keep kissing her, to do more than that. His mate, gods this was his mate.

“You’ve been asleep for nearly two weeks, you need to eat.”

That gets his attention, his dark brows furrowed, “Two weeks?”

“The others are waiting in the dining room,” she says gently, “We can wait, we’ll go whenever you’re ready, but your family is desperate to see you.”

He’d been asleep for two weeks, they’d be beside themselves with worry, his brothers especially. There’s two voices in his head, one begging to see them, one that remembers that they’d also seen that arrow go into his chest, had watched as he nearly died. The other voice begs him to stay, to lay this female down and claim her in every way he could, his mate.

“You’re still recovering,” Y/n says, hand coming up to rest on the bandages over his chest, “Eat first, see your family. I’m not going anywhere.”

Yet. That unspoken word, she wasn’t going anywhere yet. He wonders if she heard it too, wonders if she could feel his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Azriel wants to scream, instead he swallows it down and says, “Food first then.”

Y/n smiles and Azriel memorizes the image of her, tucks it away for later, ignoring the feeling of sand trickling down an hour glass, like their time was running out.

“Here, let me help.” She stands, grabbing a shirt from the wardrobe.

Azriel throws the covers off, feeling the sore and stiff muscles throughout his body. He forces himself through it, to lift his arms as she pulls the shirt over his head, to breathe as her hands button the shirt beneath his wings. Each step he takes feels like fire lancing through him, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t complain, only holds onto her hand as she guides them through the halls closer and closer to his family.

“Hold on.” He stops, pulling on her hand just before they turn that final corner, “Give me a second.”

Worried eyes, searching him head to toe, “What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need to sit down?”

Azriel smiles, “I’m alright, Princess.”

“What-“

He doesn’t give her the chance to finish her sentence, his arms wrapping around her waist and tugging her to his chest. The smallest gasp leaves her lips and he breathes it in as his lips find hers. He needed one more kiss, to steady himself, to prepare himself for the overbearing love and care from his family.

Y/n holds tightly to his shirt, “Az.”

He squeezes her hips, his name on her tongue was one of his favorite sounds. He hums against her lips, memorizing the feel of this too.

“Az I need to tell you-“

It could wait, everything could wait. He needed her now, who knew how much time he had left with her. He kisses her like he was trying to steal the air from her lungs, so entwined with her, with the feeling of her mouth, of her hands, of her body, his defenses down. Not even his shadows warned him.

A blade pressed between his shoulders, between his wings, the sharp tip digging in just enough to sting, and a lethally calm voice, “I recommend you take your hands off my daughter.”

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#acotar #azriel #azriel angst

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mischiefmanagers · 1 day

Text

Longing Pt. 2: Azriel

Warnings: Suggestive

Part One Here

***

A strong body was pressed tight against your back, an arm wrapped snug around your waist. You took a deep breath of the morning air, comfortable and happy. You turned in the arm holding you to press a soft kiss to Cassian’s forehead.

Until you realized it was Azriel sleeping soundly next to you, and that it would never be Cassian. You shot up straight, feeling like you had just been doused in ice cold water. The sounds of Nestas moans replayed in your head as Azriel blinked up at you, your sudden movement waking him.

“What happened?” He asked, voice hoarse from sleep. You shook your head in response, not trusting yourself to speak right now. You slid out of the bed and walked quietly into the bathing room, preparing to take a long, sorrowful bath. You heard Azriel getting up as well, followed shortly by your bedroom door opening and closing. Yea, I wouldn’t want to stick around me either, you thought, tears pricking at your eyes.

Everything just felt too heavy.

You undressed and sunk into the warm bath you had drawn, a rather copious amount of bubbles covering you to your chin. You leaned your head back against the edge of the tub, gazing out over the early morning. Why did it have to be so hard? You had first felt the mating bond flicker when you met Cassian, and you thought all your dreams would come true. Certainly he would feel the bond as well, would feel drawn to you. You would fall in love, get married, and have ten beautiful babies. After that day there was never another option for you, not when you were so certain of your mate.

Why did it never snap for him?

Or worse, it did and he decided he wasn’t interested in pursuing that path with you.

Both options made you feel sick.

You closed your eyes and thought back to that very first meeting, the day you were so sure you had gotten what you’d always wanted.

***

“What if they don’t like me?” Your voice was full of doubt as you smoothed your dress down again, anxiety coursing through you. Azriel laughed, tugging you closer to the doors of the massive house in the mountains he had brought you to.

“I promise they will love you. Don’t you trust me?” He teased, poking your side.

You glared at him. “He is the High Lord, Azriel! My High Lord! Big, bad, powerful Rhysand! Am I not expected to be a bit nervous?” He laughed again and shook his head.

“Rhys is not scary. Do you think i’d bring you somewhere you’d be in danger?” A smile ghosted over his lips as he stared you down, daring you to ask to go back home. You sighed and ran your fingers over your dress again, sucking in a deep breath.

“Let’s just get it over with.”

“That’s my girl!” He cheered, looping his arm through yours as he pulled you into the grand house. You were quickly rendered speechless by the stunning room you were in, windows covering three entire walls to overlook Velaris.

“You live here?” You asked in amazement, still looking around the room.

“Sure do. Cassian and I reside up here most of the time. Do you like it?” There’s a strange undertone in his question, a shyness that he doesn’t usually have around you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, a smile breaking out across your face.

“I love it! I can’t believe you have never brought me here before!” You jabbed, smiling bigger at the relief on his face. Azriel had been your friend for some months now, and you occasionally wondered what it would be like to be more. That feeling crept up in your heart at this moment, standing with him in the home he had been so nervous to show you. You opened your mouth to continue before his eyes flicked to something behind you, the smile reserved for you changing to something more boyish.

“Cassian!” He called, and you turned to see a man just as large as Azriel. Right as you felt that golden tug in your chest. His eyes were bright as they took you in, white teeth showing as he smiled wide. Cassian.

Cassian.

Azriel nudged you and you suddenly realized you were staring at the male with your mouth wide open. You flushed and murmured a “hello” as your gaze drifted to the floor. You were thankful that Azriel started a conversation with him about training earlier that week, allowing you to steal glances up at the long-haired god in front of you.

Cassian.

The General of the Night Court.

Azriel’s brother.

Your Mate.

***

You opened your eyes, a deep frown on your face. You had always romanticized that memory, the magical moment of meeting your mate. The gentle tug you felt when you first laid eyes upon him.

But something was off about it.

You sat straighter in the tub, looking blankly out the window. You thought over the second you felt that bond twitch in your chest, the seconds before it.

When Azriel was smiling down at you.

No. No, you can’t have made a mistake like that. You shook your head as if to clear it, thinking back to other moments you felt the pull of the mating bond.

***

“Catch!” Azriel yelled, tossing a deadly sharp dagger at you. You yelped and dodged out of the way, watching the blade land point-down in the sand. You spun towards him, crossing your arms as you did.

“Are you trying to kill me?” You had agreed to come up to train with Azriel today, mostly due to knowing Cassian would likely be there. He had been on you about learning self-defense, adamant that the world wasn’t all safe like Velaris.

Azriel shrugged, another dagger in his hands. “Your reflexes are shit.” He stated, inspecting the blade he was holding.

“You gave me hardly any warning! It’s my first day!” You protested, knowing he wasn’t wrong. He shrugged again, eyes flicking up towards you. You noticed the tense in his arm a split second before the second dagger was hurtling directly towards your face.

This time you slid smoothly to the side, gloved hand shooting out to catch the handle of the damned thing. You turned back to Azriel, a wicked smile on your face.

“Did you truly believe I had never learned self-defense?” The slight surprise on his face was all he gave you before he was throwing another dagger your way. You again caught it with ease, throwing it back at him without missing a beat.

“Okay, color me impressed. You’ve never shown this side of you.” Azriel said, walking over to your side to take the other blades back. You handed them back, his fingers running over yours as he grabbed them. The same second Cassian walked into the ring, shouting about you starting without him.

The same second you felt the bond tug.

***

“No, no, no! That is not how you play!” Cassian yelled, looking down at the move you had just made on the game board.

“It’s not?” You asked innocently, batting your eyes up at him. He glared at you, hands waving in frustration at your game piece.

“You can’t move there! You are one turn away from winning, with a move like that. No chance left for the rest of us.” He sighed dramatically, looking in dismay at the board in front of you.

Azriel chuckled from next to you, leaning forward to look at the board as well. “Poor Cass doesn’t take well to losing,” he stage whispered, pulling a laugh out of you. You turned and looked at him, moving your face close to his as if you were two conspirators.

“He should get used to it if you keep bringing me to game night.” You loudly whispered back, Azriel laughing in answer. Cassian’s grumble dragged your gaze back to him, the bond pulling hard in your chest.

You missed the way Azriel was looking at you at the same moment.

***

The shot burned your throat, a welcome distraction against the sight of Cassian all over some random female. Azriel sat next to you, a pitying look on his face. “We don’t have to stay here, ya know.”

You shook your head, reaching for the cocktail you had ordered as well. “No, I don’t want to ruin your night. It’s not like he has to want me.” You looked down, hot tears sliding down your face. “Maybe he just doesn’t feel it.”

Azriel’s hands cupped your cheeks, dragging your face up to him. “Hey, hey, he just hasn’t realized it yet i’m sure. Don’t let this make you think you’re not enough.” His thumbs swiped away the still falling tears, now accompanied by little sniffles.

“I just don’t understand how it hasn’t snapped for him. What am I doing wrong?” You were mumbling, words hardly coherent. Azriel continued wiping away your tears, allowing your nonsense mumbles to continue.

“Hey,” he said soothingly, bringing his face down close to yours. “Don’t worry. He will come around, and if he doesn’t he was never worth it. Okay?” He gave you an encouraging smile, nodding for you to return it.

“Okay,” you said, sniffing one last time as you pulled away from Azriel and moving to place your glass back on the table.

The table that your drunken eyes severely misjudged the distance of.

Your glass shattered on the floor, the bright colored drink inside spraying all over you and Azriel. You blinked slowly at the mess, looking back up at Azriel’s equally shocked expression.

And then you laughed.

Loud, uncontrollable laughter.

Azriel stared at you for a second before joining in, grabbing napkins to help clean up the mess. The sound of your laughing drew Cassian’s attention back to your table, coming over to see what was going on. You looked up to him while Azriel carefully wiped the drink off of you, the bond glowing brightly.

***

Oh, gods. Every memory you went through of the bond calling to you, Azriel was there too.

Azriel was always there.

The broken pieces inside of you stirred, as if telling you to listen to your gut. You quickly pulled yourself out of the bath, unable to sit still any longer. How could you have made such a mistake?

You dried off and walked into your closet, blindly pulling out clothes while your mind raced.

Did Azriel even know?

You paused in horror, shirt halfway on. You had been going on and on about Cassian to him for gods knew how long. Had it been torture for him this whole time, trying to encourage you?

You quickly finished dressing, tying your hair up loosely as you headed to your bedroom door. You had to go find him, you had to see what he knew, you needed to explain-

Your door opened as you reached it, causing you to jump back in alarm.

Azriel was standing there, looking at you curiously. A large tray of food in his hands. “You okay?” He asked cautiously, taking in the panic on your face.

“Uh, yea! Sorry, I was just about to go look for you? What’s this?” Your voice was too loud, too bright. He narrowed his eyes at you as he stepped into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

“What happened.” It wasn’t a question. He set the food down on your desk, turning back to you with his arms crossed.

You shook your head too quickly, hurrying over to the tray he’d set down. “Looks delicious!” You grabbed one of the pastries on the plate, halfway to your mouth when Azriel’s hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What aren’t you telling me?” His voice was softer, eyes looking over you like he was making sure you weren’t injured.

“Did you know?” You asked quietly, mouth going dry. His eyes flicked up to yours, brows furrowed.

“Know what?”

You swallowed thickly, holding the pastry out towards him. He glanced between you and it, realization coming over his face. “Ah,” he said, letting go of your wrist.

“You don’t want it?” You were embarrassed by how pathetic the question was, arm falling limply to your side.

“No, no that’s not what I mean. I just, last night you were broken into pieces over Cassian. I just,” he swallowed, looking away from you. “I just want you to be sure.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice. You set the pastry back down, reaching out to grab his hands in yours. “Azriel,” you whispered, “it has always been you, hasn’t it? All those times I felt the bond pull, it was all towards you.” His eyes met yours again, shinier than they were before.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your thumbs over his hands, feeling the scars under your touch.

“I thought you would be disappointed. You seemed so happy that it was Cassian, the big, bad General. The hero.” Your heart was breaking, a pain deep in your chest spreading.

“Az…” You let go of one hand to cup his face, tears of your own pricking at your eyes. “I could never be disappointed with you. You held my heart long before I knew who Cassian was. It’s my own fault for misinterpreting the bond the way I did.” You let go of him, moving to pick up the pastry again. “I want you to take it,” you said, holding it out for him.

He looked at you for a long moment before taking the treat out of your hand, raising it slowly to his mouth. You watched as he took a careful bite, eyes locked onto yours while he ate. The shattered pieces of the bond stirred again, calling back out to the male you were made for.

Azriel placed the half eaten pastry down, silently looking back at you. You took a hesitant step towards him, placing one hand on his neck. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, heart racing.

He nodded.

You leaned up, pressing your lips softly to his.

The bond sung.

Azriel’s hands gripped tight around your waist, tugging you flush against him. He kissed you like it was his dying wish, his last chance to get to do so. You put the same emotion back into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He nipped at your lip, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. The bond glowed bright inside of you, causing you to gasp into his mouth. You felt his lips smile against yours, tongue sliding against you like it was meant to be there.

You groaned at his taste, the sweetness of the pastry still lingering. His hands slid up your back, gripping onto your shirt at the noises you made. You arched into him, his lips pulling from yours to trace down your neck. You moaned as he sunk his teeth into you, claiming you as his own. The golden power of the bond flowed through you, whole and pure. A beautiful golden tether, tying you to Azriel.

Azriel, your closest friend.

The Shadowsinger.

The spy of the Night Court.

Your mate.

***

I hope this was what you all wanted!! Thank you so much for your patience recently, I hope you guys appreciate this as much as I appreciate you <3

#acotar #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel

186 notes · View notes

mischiefmanagers · 1 day

Text

Longing Pt.2: Cassian

Warning: Violence, Suggestiveness

Pt.1 Here

***

Yelling woke you up early the next morning. You opened your eyes and took in the way the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet, the room still cast in shadow. You looked towards the cracked door, quickly discovering the source of the sounds that woke you.

Azriel and Cassian.

“Why should I let you in there? I had to give her triple dose of sleeping tea to get her asleep. Even then, she shook and cried all night! Because of you.” Azriel’s words sent a cold chill down your spine, before the heat of embarrassment took over. Oh gods. They were out there arguing about you.

“Well, maybe she needs me! I just want to help her.” Cassian is almost pleading with Azriel, his tone desperate.

Azriel scoffs. “If you truly cared about her you wouldn’t have had your tongue down someone else’s throat! I don’t know what’s going on with you Cassian, but figure it out. I’m not letting you do any more damage to her.” You shut your eyes again as you heard him walk back into the room, not wanting to discuss that you overheard some of their fight. The bed sunk down next to you and you felt light fingers brush your hair off your face, a deep sigh coming from your friend. You knew he had a fierce protectiveness over you, the sister he never had. He hurt as much as you did.

***

You would have rather stayed tucked up in your bed for the rest of your life, but Azriel was having that. “Come to training. I promise you will feel better to be out there moving again!” He pulled the warm blankets off of you, ignoring your cry of protest. “Come on. You have five minutes to get out of this bed and get dressed, or I am dragging you up there as you are.” You glared at him, crossing your arms tightly in front of you.

“I’m not going.” He crossed his arms as well, giving you the same glare you were giving him.

“It is not a choice.”

“You will not force me.”

“I will not let you waste away in this room! You will come willingly or I will drag you kicking and screaming, but you will go.” You fought hard to keep your eyes locked on his before groaning and falling backwards on your bed.

“Fine. Get out so I can change.”

***

You shivered in the cold morning air, thinking of all the ways you were going to get Azriel back for this. He had barely allowed you to get your training leathers on before barging back into your room and dragging you out to the training ring. You had no interest in being up here today, and especially had no interest in seeing Cassian all over Nesta. The rather innocent jealousy from before had turned into a vicious evil darkness, your vision going red every time you looked at them.

“I hate you.”

Azriel looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “No, you don’t.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the weapons rack, carefully selecting a gleaming blade. The sword felt sturdy in your hands, a symbol of power and strength. You usually preferred daggers, but you needed something more today. You turned to challenge Azriel, halting in your movements when it was Cassian who stood behind you.

“I’ll practice with you,” he said, not asking. You debated ramming the sword into his stupid face before you nodded begrudgingly. Fine. You supposed you couldn’t avoid him forever. You took up your defensive stance across the ring from Cassian, carefully watching his movements. You had trained under him for long enough to know his tells, unspoken warnings before he strikes.

The glint of silver through the sky was nearly imperceptible, but you met it with a quickness of your own. The blades clashed harshly, the sound making you feel a bit more alive. You loved the power fighting gave you, the raw energy that flew through your bones when you became a weapon. Cassian pulled back to strike again, aiming for your legs to make you unsteady. You jumped over his sword, enjoying his swear as your counter struck him in the arm.

The two of you battled fiercely, the unspoken anger and tension festering between you. You blocked and swung against Cassian as if he were a true enemy trying to kill you, not caring if you injured him in the process. In fact, some spilled blood may even make you feel better. You allowed your hurt to overtake you, pushing all rational through aside. You knew Azriel would yell at you for this later, for letting yourself lose control.

But you didn’t really care.

You swung strike after strike at Cassian, hardly more than a blur in the wind. You enjoyed the way your sword cut into his shin, causing him stumble backwards. You put a matching knick in his other one, watching him fall to his knees. A swift kick in the chest and you were hovering over him, your blade tucked tight against his neck as you pinned his arms with your legs. You watched a thin trickle of blood run down his neck, your sword unrelenting against his skin. You heard a faint yell of your name behind you, but you ignored it as you looked up to Cassian’s eyes.

You did not expect the fear and pain in them.

You shot off of him without a second thought, dropping your sword in horror as you stumbled back. Strong hands wrapped around your arms, pulling you towards the stairs to the House. You allowed yourself to be dragged away, gaze never leaving Cassian’s form on the ground.

***

“What the hell got into you?” Azriel seethed through his teeth, pacing in front of where you sat on your bed. You gave no answer, not even looking up from the cup of tea in your hands that had long gone cold. “You are allowed to feel whatever you need to feel about him and Nesta, but nearly killing him? Have you lost your mind?”

Perhaps you had. Maybe the shattered mating bond in your heart was poisoning your soul. Would you ever be able to handle seeing Cassian without feeling like you were being gutted? Azriel was still pacing around your room, stress radiating off of him in waves.

“Are you even listening to me?” The pacing ceased in front of you, two boots stopping in your line of vision. Azriel called your name, frustration palpable in his voice. While he may be your closest friend, Cassian remained his brother. And you had threatened his life.

“I don’t know what else to do for you. I’m going to Rhys to speak about this situation. We will see what he says.” The boots stormed out of your room, door slamming unceremoniously behind them. Rhys. You knew that should have instilled fear in you, or at least a general alarm. But you felt nothing. Maybe Rhys would demand you leave the Night Court, seek residence somewhere far away. Leave Azriel, and never see Cassian again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

***

It was late in the night when Rhysand came to your room. He was alone, no brooding Azriel or gentle Feyre with him. Perhaps it would be easier to dismiss you from court with no one around.

Rhys walked slowly to your bed, eyes locked onto yours. His movements were unhurried, relaxed, as he pulled a chair over and sat next to you. A deep sigh fell from him while he scanned your face, reading what he could.

“Can you tell me what happened?” His voice was soft, but no anger lingered in it. You blinked at him, still lying in the same position you had been before he had entered.

“I tried to kill Cassian.”

You spoke bluntly. There was no point hiding it, you knew what you had done. Lost in your own despair or not, you had tried to end his life.

Rhys nodded, looking carefully over you again. “I do not think that’s quite what happened. There is more to this story, is there not? What sent you into that blind rage this morning?”

You blinked. You had been so drawn into yourself after coming back to your room you had almost forgotten. You slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position, turning your body to face Rhys. Your stare was level when you looked at him, resigned to what you were about to tell.

“Do you know what happens when a mating bond is rejected unknowingly?” Your voice was quiet, but the words seemed to ring throughout the room.

“I do not,” Rhys answered, equally as quiet.

You nodded. “It shatters the bond inside into a million tiny pieces. Sharp pieces. You go about your day being stabbed in the very soul, every movement a reminder of what was lost. It’s enough to drive one deep into insanity, if they allow it.”

“And is that what has happened with Cassian?” He kept his tone light, eyes still locked onto yours.

“Yes. I walked in on him and Nesta, and it broke. I broke.” Emotion clogged your throat, the cold fog you’ve been in all day dispersing. “I do not know what to do, Rhys.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your body curling in on itself. Within a second he had moved to sitting next to you on the bed, wrapping his arms soothingly around you. Your head fell to his shoulder as you cried, letting out all the confusing feelings about what had happened. You had nearly killed Cassian, without even realizing it. What kind of a life could you live here without knowing if you were safe for him to be around?

***

CASSIANS POV

He paced back and forth outside her room, waiting for Rhys to come back out. He couldn’t stand the not-knowing, the endless wondering of what went so terribly wrong. He knew she had seen him with Nesta, and he knew nothing had felt right since that moment. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her to train with him this morning, should have given her more space.

He didn’t want space. He had finally decided that this was ridiculous, that if anyone should talk to her it should be him, when Rhys quietly exited the room. The look on his face took all the air out of Cassian’s lungs.

Something was terribly wrong.

***

He had never felt more uncomfortable sitting in his friend’s office than he did now. Rhys slowly stirred the tea in front of him, studying Cassian thoroughly. His head cocked to the side as he took him in, and Cassian had never felt more vulnerable in his life.

“You have made a grave error,” Rhys finally said, lifting his cup to his lips. Cassian’s head spun. What could he have done? He assumed now that she must have had some feelings for him, if all of this spiraled from her seeing him and Nesta. That did make him feel like a fool, as he had pined after her for decades now. The brave General of the Night Court, too scared to make a move on his friend. When the eldest Archeron was put under his instruction, he shoved his feelings down and replaced them with the mutual attraction he had felt from her. He thought she was doing the same with Azriel. How could he have read everything so wrong?

“I know,” Cassian finally replied, voice thick.

“I do not think you do. I think you have realized that all this time the two of you desired each other, yes. But I do not think you yet realize how deep that pull goes.” Rhys spoke as casually as if they were speaking of a recent training session, waiting for the words to fully hit Cassian.

Pull. He had always felt drawn to her, different than any other female he’d been interested in. He assumed it was from the years of friendship they had, nothing more. It couldn’t be anything more. It couldn’t-

Cassian sucked in a deep breath, feeling the golden string inside of him. No. It was weak, as if the other side that should pull it taught was broken. No. No. His eyes flared wide with panic as he looked at Rhys, who only nodded.

“Mates.”

Cassian ran.

***

READER POV

Rhys had instructed you to take a long, relaxing bath after he left. He had sent his favorite teas and oils up to your room, threatening that he would send a healer to do it if you wouldn’t. You would have argued if you weren’t so drained.

You had just finished with your bath, standing before your closet as you selected something to wear, when the doors to your room burst open. You gave a small scream, turning to face the assailant. You were stunned into silence to see Cassian, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, not moving from the doorway. You debated shoving him out and locking the doors behind him, but the tears threw you off.

“Come in. Close the doors,” you instructed, voice stronger than you had expected. He did as you said, walking to stand in front of you. You remembered then that you were clad only in a bath towel, one hand all that was holding it up around you. You opened your mouth to tell him to let you change when he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Please,” he whispered, red-rimmed eyes looking up at you. “Please, forgive me.”

You stared down at him. At Cassian, on his knees in front of you, begging your forgiveness. While you wore only a towel. The fractured shards of the mating bond stirred inside you at the sight, the edges not quite as sharp as they were a minute prior.

“You do not need my forgiveness. You are allowed to be with who you wish, Cassian. Do not ruin your happiness for me.” You lied through your teeth. You would act as if it was no big deal, as if you didn’t feel insurmountable pain with every movement. A mating bond didn’t mean you would be endlessly happy together, and if he hadn’t felt it by now you certainly wouldn’t force him into it.

His hands reached out and grabbed ahold of your waist, holding onto you like you were his lifeline. “No. I do not wish to be with Nesta. I never did.” You shook your head.

“I will not be your second choice, Cassian. I will not let you come to me out of pity.” You spat out the last word, the broken mating bond turning deadly sharp again.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he begged, fingers digging into your sides. “You have always been the only choice for me. I allowed male pride to get in the way, assuming you felt nothing for me. I…distracted myself with Nesta, yes. Anything between us was purely physical, a way to use each other to forget what we couldn’t have.” Tears flowed freely down his face now, a vulnerability you had never seen from him. “I didn’t feel the bond until today. I feel it, I feel it broken. I don’t want that. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Your head was spinning. The broken bond inside you began stirring once more, the edges of it smooth. Forming back into a solid string at his confession. Allowing you the choice, to accept Cassian or not.

“Get up,” you said hoarsely, pulling yourself out of his grip. He hauled himself up onto his feet, towering over you. You took another step back, hoping that increasing the distance would clear your head. “This-I don’t-Cassian, why hide it?”

He shook his head, looking down at you. “Why did you?”

Why did you? The fear of rejection? That nothing would ever be the same again? You hid your feelings deep down, only to end up in a possibly worse position due to it. Cassian had done the same. You had damned each other.

He took a step closer as you took another one back, a fierce determination now in his eyes. You moved back until you hit the desk behind you, Cassian following your body with his own.

He stood directly in front of you now, every breath causing his chest to brush against yours. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed out, hand ghosting over your hip. You opened your mouth to respond but no words came. You couldn’t think with him this close to you, with the mating bond reformed in your chest. Wearing a godsdamned towel.

“I want….” you trailed off, eyes studying his. He brought his head down closer to yours, breath ghosting over your lips with his proximity. “I want…” His hand rested fully on your hip now, drawing your body tight against his.

“I’ll tell you what I want,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to your mouth. Oh, gods.

You let all rational thought leave you as you surged up and pressed your lips to his. Cassian’s other hand cupped your neck, angling you up to him. The kiss was full of all the words you couldn’t say, of all the feelings you didn’t know how to voice. You wrapped your free arm around his neck, pulling him closer against you.

“I love you,” he said against your lips, kissing you with each word. “I’ve loved you for far too long. I’ve allowed pain to come to you, when I could have had this the whole time.” He growled that last part, kisses trailing down your neck. You arched back against him, body on fire under his touch. At his confession.

“I-I love you,” you gasped out, Cassian all tongue and teeth over your bare skin. “I- Cass-Oh let me get rid of this damn towel.”

***

im sorry this took SO LONG to get out!!! i hope you guys enjoyed it, and the Azriel ending will be out soon as well <3.

#cassian #cassian angst

278 notes · View notes

mischiefmanagers · 1 day

Note

Hi, hi! Can I request an unrequited love with Cassian x f!reader? I feel like I need some angst, but at the same time I'm afraid of angst hahaha.

Longing: Cassian x Reader

Warning: Angst, 18+

Pt.2: Cassian Here | Pt.2: Azriel Here

***

You stood at the corner of the ring, sharpening your knives. Every swipe of the blade against the stone was harsh, loud. You forced yourself to breathe in time with each rhythmic swish of metal and rock. Your eyes weren’t watching what your hands were doing, instead focused on the duo sparring across from you.

Cassian and Nesta.

“You’re going to whittle those away to nothing.” You didn’t move your gaze from the pair, instead sheathing the knife you were working on and picking up the next one.

“Leave me alone, Az.” You knew why he had come up to you. It was the same reason he always did when he caught you staring at the General. To tease you for your unreciprocated feelings. The knife hit the stone especially hard.

Azriel shook his head next to you. “You aren’t very inconspicuous.” You tore your eyes away from staring at where Cassians hands touched Nestas arms, showing her a better defensive maneuver, to glare at your friend.

“Fuck off, Azriel. I see the way you sulk after Elain.” You turned back to your sharpening, knives sliding against stone again. “For a spymaster, shouldn’t you be better at that?” You could almost hear the way his eyes rolled. You were sure he was about to hit you back with a witty retort, but the blade you were working on slipped against the stone, a clean slice going through your palm. You cursed and dropped the knife and stone, other hand coming up to try to stop the blood. Azriel grabbed your injured hand before you could, the nauseating sight of blood dripping onto the ground making you dizzy. You’ve seen your fair share of war and carnage, but something about your own blood made you ill.

“Come on,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you while applying pressure to your cut. You leaned embarrassingly hard against him, made only worse when you caught the devious smirk on Nestas face as she and Cassian watched you be practically carried away.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at the latter.

Azriel dragged you down to the kitchen, setting you gently in a chair while he rummaged the drawers for some healing supplies. You stared blankly at the blood running off your hand, dripping onto the stone floors below. Azriel was quick with pulling you up to the sink, washing the wound out. He applied some healing salve onto it before wrapping your hand tight with bandages. “There,” he said gingerly, curling his fingers around yours. “All better.” You looked up at him, shame coursing through your body. You’ve fought by his side for decades, one of the Night Courts deadliest soldiers.

A bit of blood should not affect you so.

Azriel pulled you in for a hug, running his hand soothingly through your hair. You wrapped your arms tight around his middle, burying your face in his chest and breathing deep. His chin came to rest on the top of your head as he breathed with you. You hated how panicked and small you would get when you were suffered an injury, but Azriel was always there to help.

Even when you wished that it was Cassian instead.

He was your friend too, just not quite in the same way. You loved and cared for Azriel as if he were your brother, and you were in love with Cassian. Cassian who would never look at you in that way. Cassian who has become enamored with the oldest Archeron sister.

Cassian, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, fidgeting awkwardly at the sight of you and Azriel.

“Hey Cass,” Azriel said, still holding you close and running his hand through your hair. You tensed in his hold, further embarrassed that you had been caught needing such coddling for such a minor injury.

“I, uh, just came to see if everything was alright.” You could hear the discomfort in his tone, presumably at the way one of his greatest warriors needed babied after cutting their hand. You wondered if it was possible for you to melt through the floor and never be seen again. “I’ll just leave you guys, to it.”

You waited until you were certain he was gone before untangling yourself from Azriel, embarrassment all over your face. He looked down at you with a knowing smirk, enjoying this far too much. “You knew he was coming,” you hissed between your teeth, crossing your arms tight in front of you. Azriel shrugged.

“So what if I did?”

You groaned, titling your head back and closing your eyes. “He’s never going to want me if he thinks me nothing but a child.” You glared at him as he started laughing, shaking his head like you were making the funniest joke he’s ever heard.

“You don’t know that’s what he thinks. He is your friend, he worries just like I do.” You rolled your eyes but your anger softened, appreciating that Azriel doesn’t just ridicule you.

“Fine, whatever you say. Can we go back to training now?”

***

You pushed your food around on your plate at dinner, trying hard to ignore Cassian and Nesta. Azriel had nudged you with his knee several times throughout the night, reminding you to stop scowling at the pair. You couldn’t help the jealousy that consumed you over how Cassian looked at her, the desire in his eyes. You couldn’t judge him, Nesta was deadly beautiful. As she battled her struggles with alcohol and her trauma she was even becoming rather pleasant to be around. You enjoyed watching the way she argued with Rhys, a favorite pastime of yours and Azriel’s.

Truly, there wasn’t anything wrong with Nesta. You just didn’t want Cassian to like her. It was immature and selfish, sure, but your heart had ached for him for too long. You glanced over to them again, biting your tongue at the flirtatious smile she threw his way. You were going to be sick.

You stood from the table rather abruptly, stilling when everyone turned to look at you. Damn fool, you cursed silently. “Uh, something came up,” you mumbled out, before turning and practically running from the room. Way to make it worse.

You felt a cool shadow twirl around your ankle, Azriel stealthily making sure you were okay. “I’m fine,” you told the thing, sending it back to him quickly. The last thing you needed was your friend chasing after you. Especially after Cassian had walked in on him comforting you the other day. He doesn’t need anymore reasons to think you’re weak.

You were grateful that dinner was at the new Riverhouse and not up at the House of Wind. You easily slipped out the front door, walking along the edge of the water. The night sky glittered above, a warm breeze blowing through your hair. You were always calmer out by the river, the flowing water a soothing accompaniment to your walk. Why can’t I just act normal around him? You thought to yourself, eyes focused on the ground in front of you. Things were so much better before she came along.

Back when you thought you had a real chance with the General. Before painful envy and shallow hatred took over your soul. You shook your head, looking over into the water and contemplating letting yourself sink to the riverbed. “Hey, are you okay?”

Yea, sinking into the river seemed like a great option right now.

You turned slowly to Cassian, a weak smile on your face. “Yea, just needed a minute.” He looked you over like he didn’t believe you, but nodded at your answer. You were less than thrilled when he moved up to your side, silently telling you that he was joining you on your walk.

“You know, you can always talk to me too. Az isn’t the only one you can trust.” You really do almost fall into the water in surprise at the jealousy lacing his words. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, observing the way he’s pointedly looking anywhere but directly at you.

“Az is my best friend. It doesn’t mean he’s the only one I trust.” Cassian scoffed, making you turn your full attention to him. “What’s so wrong with that?”

He stopped walking and turned to you, a strange anger in his eyes. “Don’t act innocent now. You don’t have to hide it anymore.” You froze, blood running cold. No, how did he find out? I wasn’t that obvious, was I? “I know you and Az are together.”

You blinked.

And then you burst into laughter. “Me and Az?! Oh please,” you choked out, relief coursing through you. He has no idea.

Cassian crossed his arms and glared at you. “I saw the way he was holding you in the kitchen after you got injured. I’m surprised he wasn’t suckling on your wound himself.”

Now it was your turn to get angry. “Excuse me? What is wrong with you?” Cassian rolled his eyes at your question.

“I just don’t understand why you would start avoiding me because you had feelings for him. Did he tell you to?” He looked at you expectantly, like he wasn’t being completely out of line.

“Cass, please. There is nothing between Az and I. If you weren’t so far up Nesta’s ass maybe you would be able to think clearly!” You knew you crossed a boundary before the words were even out of your mouth. Cassian went eerily still, wings tucked tight against his body.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice was cold, a tone you’d never heard from him. “Nesta is…going through a lot. It is not a crime to help her.” He stared you down, an unspoken threat in his eyes.

“Have you considered, Cassian, that I am not avoiding you? That you are spending all your time with her, pushing your friends away?” You were shaking slightly, knowing that pushing him was a bad idea.

“You wouldn’t understand. I shouldn’t have tried to follow you out here.” He turned, preparing to fly back to the Riverhouse. “If you are happy with Azriel, that’s fine. You just don’t have to hide it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he had already taken off. Instead you turned toward the river, kicking a wad of dirt into the rushing water as you let out a frustrated scream.

Why doesn’t he see that he’s the one I want?

***

Things had been tense since your conversation with Cassian a few weeks ago. He had spent the first few days after completely ignoring you during training, along with being extra aggressive towards Azriel. You had informed your friend of the conversation after another particularly brutal session that resulted in Az needing a healer.

“He could be jealous,” Azriel had offered in explanation, your glare shutting him up quick. He raised his hands in surrender, wincing at the lingered wound in his side. You continued to carefully wind the new bandages around him, trying to do it as neatly as the healer did. “Maybe you are misreading how he acts with Nesta.” You tightened the bandages a bit more than necessary as you pinned them closed, ignoring his noise of discomfort. “Alright, hint taken. I’m just saying, why would he be so upset at the idea of you with me if he’s head over heels for her?” Azriel stood, pulling his training top back down before looking at you expectantly. You sigh, turning away to place the bandages back in their drawer.

“If he had feelings for me, why would he spend all his time with her? He’s chosen to push us away, Az. I think he’s really upset with himself.”

***

You couldn’t sleep. Typically you would go bother Az until he gave you some of his sleeping tea, but he had been gone for a few days. You had tried to find the concoction in the cabinets in the kitchen and were halfway to rummaging through his room when you noticed the library lights were glowing. Maybe you could find company in whoever else was awake.

You paused outside the door when you heard the sound of voices, not wanting to interrupt. Through the crack in the open doors you could see Cassian….and Nesta. Great. You were about to continue heading for Azriel’s room when you took notice of their proximity. From this angle you could really only see Cassian’s back, but her legs on either side of his hips were unmistakable. Oh. Everything in you screamed to run, to look away. You couldn’t.

She gave a breathy moan as his head dipped down her neck, allowing you to see the way her eyes fluttered closed. The sound shot through you like a bullet, ripping your very soul apart. No. This isn’t happening. Hot tears slid down your face as you stood there in stunned horror, any hope left in your heart crumbling to dust. You watched Cassian’s hand slide up her thigh, slipping under her dress like he’d done this a million times. He probably has. Nesta’s nails dug into his shoulders and her cry of his name finally broke you from the hold of your fear. You ran from the library as quick as you could, tears blinding your vision. You weren’t looking where you were going, crashing into a familiar body.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s happening?” Azriel asked, wrapping his arms tight around you as you started crying even harder. You heard a faint noise behind you, drawing his attention.

“What’s happened?” Cassian demanded, ever the protective General. You happened. You buried your face in Azriel’s chest, wanting to disappear from this moment.

“That’s what i’m trying to figure out. What are you doing up?” You felt Azriel tense against you, presumably spotting Nesta and putting the pieces together. “Ah. Well, I think I will take her to her room. You have a…nice night, Cassian. Nesta.” He was dragging you subtly backwards, nodding to the pair before scooping you into his arms and heading towards your room.

“Just throw me off the balcony, Az,” you sniffled, tears still flowing freely. His hold tightened in a silent absolutely not. He pushed into your room, setting you gently on the bed and pulling the covers up around you. You felt a slight dip as he sat next to you, a hand running the familiar soothing path through your hair.

“I take it you saw them, then.” There’s no judgment or pity in his voice, only gentle truth.

You nodded against your pillow, your tears soaking the fabric. “I feel like i’ve been physically wounded. As if he stood in front of me and ran a sword through my body.” Azriel hummed from next to you, unsure what he should do. “Will you bring me some of your sleeping tea? A heavy dose.”

“Of course,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Let me bathe and change, and I will be right back.”

You sunk into your bed, begging the blankets to swallow you up. The pain of years of longing for someone who has chosen someone else was too much to bear. Azriel returned with a very strong cup of tea, warning that it may be a day or so before you woke up. You took the cup gladly, sucking the drink down without a second thought. Your mind emptied of all emotion as you began to drift to sleep.

The only thing left was the faint golden shimmer of the mating bond, shattered into a million tiny pieces.

***

Thank you for your request!!! I apologize that it took me SO long to get this out, I had to take a step back from requests for a while. I hope this is angsty enough for you<3. i went back and forth on how this piece should go, so please give me your thoughts!

#cassian angst #cassian

549 notes · View notes

mischiefmanagers · 1 day

Text

Replaced

Type:one shot

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Based off of this request

Hope this is heart breaking enough anon!

Trigger warnings- slight mention of ED behavior, torture, and implied violence

I stare out at the gardens, I used to think they were beautiful, I tended to them everyday, watered and checked all the plants, made sure the soil was perfect and they got the proper mix of shade and sunlight. I walked in them, sat on my bench under the giant cherry blossom tree and read my book. The gardens were always my space my place. I loved those gardens, always marveled at their beauty.

But not now. Now as I stare out at the gardens I’m disgusted by what I see, I hate the new flowers and the soil. I hate looking at it and I refuse to walk in it. I hate that my family simply gave my place to her. That Azriel gave it to her. That he sits out on my bench all cuddled up with her. Deep down I think that’s what disgusts me. Seeing him with her. No. Disgust isn’t the right word. It makes me sick, fills me with agony that spreads through my bones and boils in my blood. Sends jealousy spiking through my body like bolts of electricity.

When the middle Archeron had come into the family with her older sister- it was fine, everything was fine. My family was happy and although I always felt off about the female, I was civil. It was fine as my family turned to them, it was fine. They needed time and attention, like new animals. I let my family give them that. It was fine when I was asked to let her work in the gardens she ‘loved so much’. It was all fine.

It was all fine until they asked me to let her simply take over the gardens, ‘just so she can keep distracted and busy whilst adjusting’. It was fine till I came crying to Rhys about a vision I had, one of the first in nearly a month- I had seen something, I heard people screaming and blood everywhere, but ‘Elain hasn’t seen anything. It’s fine.’ It was fine till Azriel- my best friend for the last 500 years, the male I harbored feelings for. The male I loved for at least 450 years, turned to her. It was fine till she became all consuming. It was fine till ‘Elain needs me Yn.’ ‘Yn I have to go- Elain needs me right now. You know this is hard for her.’ ‘ Yn, stop being selfish- Elain needs me.’

It was fine till she became all consuming. Till no one listened to me, till Azriel- my mate, the man I loved with all my soul, left me for her. Turned a cold shoulder and left me. Till my family soon wrapped around the sisters and I lost them all.

Now I stare out at the gardens I once loved with disgust, nearly puking at the sight of the two cuddled up together, laughing about cauldron knows what. Now, as a headache comes on, the ones that always do before a vision, I simply slouch back in side, going to lay down on a couch. I want these seeings gone. No one cares anyway. If it doesn’t come from Elain Archeron, it means nothing. I mean nothing.

And it is now, as I lay myself across the chair that it truly sets in. He loves her. They love her. She is better. She is more beautiful and interesting and soft and she isn’t tarnished from years of fighting as I am, she is not the crazy woman I have become. She is Elain, she is all things soft and sweet, she is radiant and all consuming, she is powerful and all seeing. But most of all, she is the one Azriel wants. Not me. Her. He wants Elain Archeron.

———

I walk to the dining room for dinner, my head is a bit foggy and my eyes hurt. I keep my gaze down as I sulk into the room and take a seat next to Morrigan who talks idly with Feyre. It’s as if I’m invisible, no one even looks up to me as I walk in or sit, but of course, as soon as Elain comes in, everyone turns to her, conversations stopping. I simply look to my plate, fidgeting with my hands.

As everyone serves up their food, I sit, I’m not hungry. Plus, Elain is thinner, I want to be pretty like her and I have to be skinny to be like her. “Why aren’t you eating Yn?” Mor’s voice filters through my ears and it takes a moment for me to process them.

In a scratchy tone, caused by not using my voice, I reply. “Just not hungry I guess. Visions take it out of me.”

“You had a vision?”

“Yep. Third one of today.” My family pauses at that.

“Third? Today?” It’s Rhysand this time as his brows draw inward.

“Yes, they’ve been happening more and more often, I’m having at least 2-3 a day. I just want to rest.”

“Why haven’t you told me about them?”

“Because of two reasons. Rhysand.” His name is a hiss off my tongue as I speak, finally loosing my cool, “One, you would not care nor listen, haven’t for a single one of my seeings in the past month. And two- starting tomorrow I will no longer be working for this court.”

“What do you mean by that? Not working under this court?”

“I received a letter from Eris- he is ready to execute his plan to take over the autumn throne tonight and I shall be there tomorrow morning to begin my duties as his second in command.” The table is frozen, mixes of horror and sadness painting my ‘families’ faces.

“But-Yn you wouldn’t betray us like that would you?”

I can’t hold back the humorless, dry, laugh that leaves me. “Betrayal? I have Betrayed you?” My head whips to meet Rhysands as I stand and back away from the table. “Rhysand I have done nothing but support you. I was there for you three-“ I point to the three Illyrian males at the table, “in the war camps, I have been here sense we were learning to fly! I was there under the mountain! I lossed my gods dammed wings for you Rhysand. For you! Because you were my family.” Tears begin pouring down my face as I let everything I had bottled up out, “ I was there to support Mor after Eris’ ‘terrible acts’ and I kept my mouth shut about it being a half truth.” I look to the blond across the table who try’s desperately to avoid my gaze.

“I was there on the battle field. I told you my seeings no matter what they were. I stayed as I watched my family replace me, as I watched the man I loved fall for another over and over again. I stayed as my things were taken from me by her.” My finger points to the middle Archeron, Azriel moving slightly in front of her, “I have stayed as my family was ripped from me, I stayed and supported all of you even as my so called family replaced me, as the male I’ve loved as long as I’ve known him, as the male I have loved with my very soul, my very being, my mate.” I look into Azriels warm eyes, “left me for another, as my mate and my family left me in the dust for a new shiny toy.”

I breathe as I take a moment to survey the room, faces filled with shock and horror and sadness watch me. “So yes Rhysand.” It’s a sigh this time as I speak, tired, downright exhausted, “yes, I am leaving. But I am not leaving anything behind. I was already a ghost here anyway. I am leaving and taking my seeings and duties with me. You do not listen to them anyway, it will be no use to you.”

I snap and bags fall into my hands, I turn to the door, silence filling the room, “your my mate?”

“Yes Azriel- I am.”

“Yn wait let me-“

“Save it Rhysand.” I turn on my heel, “ I am leaving to a new kingdom, one that has much potential under their new leader. I am leaving to a court that I see thriving, I am leaving from the court I see crumbling- and it will not be my fault when it does.”

I turn back to the door, a gust of wind hitting me as I step out, taking the hands of the new high lord of autumn. Ignoring my family’s pleas and Azriels yells as I am taken back home.

—————

Okkkkk here it is! I hope you all enjoyed and thank you anon for the request!! Love y’all!

#acotar #azriel #azriel angst

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mischiefmanagers · 2 days

Text

Juice Stains

Summary: A day alone with the babe. What could go wrong?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: because @secret-third-thing's this post inspired me to have eris washing socks lol you can all thank her for inspiring me 🤭

anyways, enjoyy!!

No one told Eris that giving a two year old child a glass of juice would result in him cursing his own existence.

His wife had gone to visit her friend in summer court, only just getting the chance to leave Amelia in his care since her birth. Eris had forced her to go himself, practically spewing a speech to get her nerves to calm.

Oh how he regretted that now as he rubbed the tiny fabric against itself in his hands, the water constantly running proving to be of no help against the stubborn stain of the orange juice spilled on the sock.

And the culprit of this crime? She was happily laughing away as she watched her father suffer for her actions.

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Eris sighed, wondering how the hell Y/n handled situations like this. His back was screaming in pain, his fingers cramping after long moments of clutching at the tiny sock of his daughter.

The stain simply refused to come off, only adding to the list of things Eris was frustrated about as he leaned back, trying to straighten his back and get rid of at least some of the pain, his eyes wandering around the room.

It was a mess, and that was putting it lightly.

On the bed lay the heap of little clothes Eris had been looking through earlier to dress his little princess after her bath, wanting to pick the most comfortable and fashionable outfit suitable for someone so important.

On the couch and in front of it lay Amelia's toys, thrown around in the fit of rage she'd been before he handed her the juice.

Which, somehow, looked like the worst decision he'd made in his life.

The glass lay abandoned on the floor next to Amelia, who was chewing on her mitten like it was the tastiest fabric in the world, juice still pooled on the floor, slowly spreading.

Releasing a breath of frustration, Eris wrung the sock in his hand, then turned and stalked over to where Amelia sat, the mitten half hanging out of her mouth, her hand covered in saliva from when she had been trying to eat herself.

Cannibalism?

Eris knew it was ridiculous to think that, but how was he to shut his mind down when he was too tired to even blink?

"Come on, its nap time." He muttered lowly, leaning down to gather Amelia in his arms, who offered him a toothy grin for his suffering.

Despite her making him work so much, he could not stay mad. Hell, he could not even bring himself to be irritated or fault her for his tiredness. She was too adorable for that.

As he slowly set her down on her back on the fluffy mattress, uncaring that she was laying diagonally on the bed, he let himself smile at her.

"Are you happy after making daddy work so much?"

She squealed as he buried his face in her neck, giggling and trying to push him away when he tried to bite at her cheek.

"You deserve that punishment, you know that right?"

Her eyes twinkled back at him, and he sighed, settling down next to her, his body from the knee down hanging off.

"I'm resting a little before mommy returns. Remind me to clean up before then, will you?"

He patted her back, gently humming a tune to get her to sleep as she babbled out an answer he was too tired to even try and decipher. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, even though she was the one who should have been sleeping.

No, she stayed awake, talking to herself and playing with the wet sock he still had in his hand and giggling at the wet splat the material made when she slapped it onto her father's face.

She did not, in fact, wake him up before mommy arrived.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo

@sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

@starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat

Eris Vanserra Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3 @tele86 @caraaaaugh

#eris vanserra #eris fluff #acotar

265 notes · View notes

mischiefmanagers · 2 days

Text

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 3 - Vampire

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Elain and Azriel have a moment while Tamlin and Felina reconnect. Rhys winnows his sister away following a panic attack, leaving Azriel and Tamlin to face each other one-on-one. After poor decisions are made, Azriel must answer to his High Lady. If only Feyre realized how much danger she’s in.

Part 2 Series Masterlist

Warnings: blood, violence, self-loathing, panic attack resulting from past heartbreak and trauma, language

To Azriel, it felt like an eternity. An eternity of standing there watching his mate in the arms of a male he despised, reviled. And Felina, she looked like she was home. Like she’d just found solace after centuries of wandering alone and weary.

And fuck, it made him a bastard but it gutted him. He wanted, no, needed, to scoop her right out of his arms and carry her to a place where it was just him and her. They had so much to address. All they’d done was fed and fucked after Azriel had been turned, he thought there’d be plenty of time for talking once the bloodlust and mating frenzy settled but then everything had gone to shit.

He was so happy to have this female he adored back in his life - but to him, she was so new and he didn’t know how to feel. Because when he looked into those eyes, he still saw that swirling darkness. Not the dancing of stars he’d once adored when they were young but, the darkness of being trapped, locked away, tormented by those who should have been trustworthy. A darkness he could recognize all too well.

Where had she been all those years?

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked to find the brown doe-eyes of Elain, looking to him with concern - guilt.

“Can we talk for a moment?” She whispered.

Azriel felt the muscles of his jaw tighten. The thought of leaving Felina with Tamlin made him sick.

“Not now, Elain.” He grit a bit more harshly than intended. Her eyes cast downward and he saw the hurt flicker across her soft features.

Gods, looking at her now, he didn’t know how he’d ever thought the cauldron made a mistake. She was lovely, a kind soul, she was good.

But his mate - she was wild, curious about the world around her, stars eternal. At least, she had been in her youth. Somehow being turned only amplified her into a force that had yet to be reckoned with, dark and mysterious. She was fucking everything.

She started to turn away and the guilt struck Azriel. His words of “this was a mistake.” on that cursed solstice weighing heavily between them. He could give her a moment of his time.

So, he followed her. “Elain, wait.” He spoke softly, his long strides effortlessly catching him up to her. “Let’s speak over there.” Nodding his head toward a bistro set that was far enough away from the foyer for privacy, but close enough that he could monitor.

The Shadowsinger pivoted away from the situation just long enough that he missed Felina turning her head to search for him, just to see him walking away with the delicate female.

Elain seated herself at the small table, rays of sunlight shone through the window, casting a golden hue upon her hair, rendering the middle Archeron sister nearly blonde. Her leg bounced with anxiety as Azriel took a seat across from her, sending up his shadows to block the rays.

“I-“ Elain started. “Azriel, I am so sorry. This is my fault. Lucien and I have been writing, we’ve been trying to get to know eachother. I mentioned to him about the reunion between Rhys and his sister.”

Azriel pressed his lips into a line, shuffling through his thoughts and treading carefully. “It’s fine-“

“No,” she interjected. “It’s not. I only told him because I’d had a vision of blood, shadow, and night. It alarmed me but… nobody listens to me, Azriel. They don’t understand my visions, I- I don’t either. But Lucien, he listens. He tries to help. So when she showed up, and when we realized that she- and you- were turned, I realized what the vision meant. So I told him.”

Her glassy eyes looked to him. “I had no idea about Tamlin. And I think, I think I understand why Lucien told him. He knew, about the history between she and Tamlin. But I had never mentioned all that you were going through, that she’s your mate and that there are still so many unanswered questions. I’m SO sorry.”

Azriel shook his head. How could she have known? Azriel was the gods-damned spymaster, he’d always cared for Felina and made a point to look after her, and he’d never known. He had seen a note from “Peter” once but just assumed it was some crush she’d made in Velaris. How had he never thought to look further into who she was seeing?

He knew the answer though. He always had. It was the same reason he’d never looked into Lucien’s whereabouts, or Graysen’s.

But he wasn’t ready to face that right now. The jealousy he’d harbored in those days and the well of emotions and complicated histories that it would bring to light.

So, he took a steadying breath and softened his gaze as he met her wide eyes. “Elain, it’s okay. None of us knew about their history and,” he reached a scarred hand out to brush her arm, a friendly act of reassurance. “I’m happy that Lucien is helping. Your visions are worth listening to, your voice is worth hearing.”

Elain gave a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, he could see the guilt there. And while Azriel was certainly not thrilled to see Tamlin there, he harbored no ill-will toward Elain, or Lucien for that matter, for Tamlin’s appearance today.

A sharp cry pierced the air as Felina pulled herself away from Tamlin. And Azriel almost, almost, felt a twinge of empathy for the male at the look of pain crossing his features.

“No, no, no.” Felina whimpered covering her ears, tears falling from her eyes. Azriel was on his feet in a moment, winnowing to her side as her breathing increased, pulling her in close - Felina opened her eyes, glistening with tears, and Azriel felt an intense jolt of heartbreak tug on their bond.

“I remember.” She choked out, pushing away from his embrace. She looked so small in that moment, so broken. Azriel placed a palm to his chest, as if physically feeling the pain barreling down the bond. “What is it, Felina?”

“I- I don’t. I’m sorry. I can’t-” she cried, her voice barely audible. But her next word came out clear, “Rhys?” Her brother looked to her with such sympathy, such tenderness. “What is it little star?” He asked, stepping to her side, shrouding the two of them in darkness. Azriel’s shadows whispered in his ear.

“Sad.”

“Hurt.”

“Mate.”

He couldn’t make out what was said but one moment Rhys had her in his arms, and the next, they were gone.

Rage filled Azriel as his mate vanished. Fixing his icy gaze toward a downcast Tamlin, his shadows whirled, promising violence. Elain hurried out the front door leaving just the two males. And Azriel was going to kill him.

In an instant, Azriel tackled Tamlin, fists brutally making impact with his face. “What did you do to her!?” He roared, pain filling him. Tamlin didn’t make any effort to hit Azriel, only turning his head and freeing an arm from beneath the Shadowsinger’s weight to block what he could.

Azriel was going to make this brutal, ensure Tamlin felt every ounce of pain the past centuries had brought upon them. “Nothing!” Tamlin choked out, blood filling his mouth. “I did nothing. I swear.”

“No.” Azriel spoke, landing a fist to Tamlin’s cheek. “Nothing is what you did while Feyre was fighting for her life, for Prythian, under the mountain. Nothing is what you did when your family tried to kill my mate- and her mother.” Another blow landed, this time cracking Tamlin’s nose, the metallic tang of blood filling the air. “Nothing,” Azriel spat. “Is what you are.”

It was then that Tamlin went still. All attempts of defense dropping as the words echoed through the room.

“Fight! You fucking coward!” Azriel shoved at his chest.

Tamlin turned his head to the side, vacantly staring off to the other end of the room, eyes going vacant as the weight of Azriel’s words settled within him. “You’re right.” Tamlin whispered. “I am nothing.”

The sound of Tamlin’s ragged breaths and Azriel’s heavy gasps filled the space. More blood trickled down the Spring Court High Lord’s face. “I am nothing and she is everything.” Tears lined the males eyes. “But I didn’t say anything, today. She she looked to see you walking away, she saw you with the Archeron sister, watched you caress her arm, and then she crumpled.”

Azriel gaped, his heart shattering. He was the one who’d caused her pain? Azriel let out an enraged roar, so low and loud that it rattled the windows. At that moment, the front door flew open. Feyre and Lucien entered the foyer, taking in the sight before them. The blood running down Tamlin’s face, dripping onto his tunic and splattering on the floor; Azriel’s disheveled state, his shadows snaking around him angrily, the blood coating his knuckles.

“What did you do?” Lucien ground out, stepping in Azriel’s direction.

Elain stood outside the doorway holding Nyx, excusing herself to remove the winged babe from the confrontation.

“What did HE do?” Feyre scoffed. “He’s not the one intruding in our home.”

Lucien only gave her a side-eye, swallowing whatever smart retort he had at the ready. “What. Happened?” the youngest Vanserra’s russet eye bounced back and forth between the two, the golden one whirring with each motion.

Tamlin and Azriel both stood there, like petulant children before a reprimanding father, neither speaking.

Finally, Tamlin broke the silence. “It was my fault. I’m leaving.” Azriel didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes as he looked to Lucien and Feyre and left.

“Tam, wait.” Lucien called out, but he’d already winnowed away.

Feyre looked to Azriel with a frown. “Given the state of Tamlin’s nose and your fist, something tells me this wasn’t just Tamlin’s fault. What the hell happened, Azriel?”

“I’d like to know the same.” Lucien chided, tanned arms crossing over his chest. Azriel’s hazel eyes narrowed in his direction. “You don’t need to know anything else, considering you can’t keep your mouth shut, Vanserra. You’re the reason he showed up in the first place.”

Lucien gaped, a rare show of the clever fox being caught off guard, before muttering “Shit.” He looked to the blood splattered floor, shaking his head. “I need to go find him.”

With that, he was out the door. Azriel let out a sigh, looking toward the stairwell as if Felina were up in their shared chamber and not wherever the hell Rhys had winnowed her to.

Feyre, ever the High Lady, held her head high, waiting for her spymaster to explain himself. “I need to get some air.” He muttered, making to move past her. “Oh no, you don’t.” Her hand grasped his shoulder, bringing him to a halt. “We are not finished here.”

And damn it, if she wasn’t the one person who could get him to listen right now. Rhys was one thing. Azriel could toe the line with him, test boundaries, display that icy rage that so often flowed through his veins.

But Feyre, he had no doubt that she could handle his rage as well but she was different. She had given everything for Prythian, even when she had absolutely no reason to give a damn about the fae. She was a good and just ruler. Not that Rhys wasn’t, but five-hundred years of brotherhood would jade anyone’s view, if only slightly.

So, Azriel stayed, hazel gaze fixing upon his High Lady, awaiting her next command. “Can we talk?” She asked gently, moving her tattooed hand down his arm. Azriel only nodded as she led him to the sitting room.

Situating herself on a tufted arm chair, Feyre smoothed her paint splattered dress, patiently waiting for Azriel to take his seat in the adjacent loveseat. “Elain came to find me at the studio, asking to reach out to get Lucien. She said Tamlin had shown up unannounced at the River House, that you two had talked, and something happened with Tamlin that upset Felina. Is that correct?”

Azriel nodded. It was mostly true. Was there really need to go into detail?

Feyre’s brow furrowed. “Look at me, Azriel.”

He flicked his hazel eyes to her briefly before looking back toward the entry. “You’re not telling me everything. It doesn’t take my daemati ability to see that, Az.” Her words held firm but her gaze gentle.

Emotions warred within Azriel. He didn’t want to talk to Feyre about this, about the way his heart clenches at the thought of losing Y/N - Felina - the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing now where it originated from. At the same time, it was a support for her, a name that she held onto when nothing else made sense. He was a selfish bastard for resenting it.

However, he refused to feel selfish for the anger he felt toward Tamlin. He drew the line there. If she needed a friend, Azriel would be the first to offer that. If she needed Tamlin’s friendship, if somehow his presence were to aid in her healing? He’d swallow his pride and live with it.

He could support her, and her healing, while internally resenting Tamlin. For now it was the best he could do.

He knew he couldn’t lose control like he did this afternoon again. He’d likely have to make amends for that.

Consumed by thoughts he dropped his face into both hands, rubbing his eyes before leaning his head onto the backrest, arms crossing over his chest. Letting out a sigh of exhaustion. He couldn’t remember the last time he rested properly. Thank the gods for the unique design of this seat with indentions to accommodate Illyrian wings. The perfect spot for brooding comfortably.

A slight discomfort, however, began to set the Shadowsinger on edge. His body growing rigid.

“Hello?” Feyre’s voice invaded his mind, reminding him he still wasn’t alone.

“You’re rather persistent, High Lady.” he replied through the mental channel, that ache growing a bit stronger.

A soft laugh echoed. “Yes. Now tell me what happened.”

Azriel sent images to her, of Felina’s upset, Rhys winnowing her away, his own embarrassing outburst, the cruel words he’d spoken, the realization that he was the reason for her hurt and not Tamlin.

“That’s a lot to unpack. Speaking to you as High Lady, how you treated Tamlin was unacceptable - but, I know you are aware. From a political perspective, we should issue a formal apology at the very least. As a friend, however, you have been through a lot in a very short period of time and have so much to process. With such unusual circumstances and how new your accepted bond is - I cannot fault you for protecting her. We know so little about Vampyr bonds but I’m certain that also played a role.”

Azriel’s cheeks burned with shame. “Do you know where they went?”

His breathing increased, a metallic tang settling into his nose, seeping to his very bones.

A pause. “I do. She is safe but she needs to be with Rhys right now. Honestly, I think they both need it. He’s been on edge since she arrived.”

Azriel let out a huff, sitting upright and ending the mental connection to speak aloud. “I can understand that.”

Was the air in the house growing warmer or was that the increase in his pulse?

Sympathy flickered in those blue-gray eyes as Feyre reached out, placing a hand on Azriel’s knee. “I can’t imagine what this must feel like, Azriel, and I won’t pretend to, but things will work out in time. Perhaps the Mother knew what she was doing when she put someone with - today’s incident aside - such patience, when that is exactly what Y/N needs. What is it Amren used to tell Cassian about Nesta?” Feyre’s brows drew downward as she tried to remember.

Azriel’s restless state rendering him impatient as she searched for the words, he blurted out Amren’s saying, “Keep reaching out your hand.”

And fuck - he looked at his own hand now remembering the dried blood coating it, the blood that had filled his nostrils, when he rubbed his face.

Hunger. This was hunger. Oh gods-

His sharpened canines flashed as he looked to his High Lady, “Feyre-“

Her pulse fluttered deliciously.

Feyre’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh fuck.” She whispered, standing and stepping back from him. “Hold on, Az. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

And then he lunged.

———————————

Rhys sat in silence as his sister sobbed into his chest. He’d winnowed them directly to the cabin - the one that seemed at this point everyone used to avoid their own mate at some point or another.

Visions of past solstices danced in his mind. How she would sit and watch until her cheeks turned frigid. Cassian would tease her, telling her that any male that wanted to win her heart would have to take them all on in a snowball fight and come out alive. Rhys would chuckle and Az would wrap his scarf around her, or blow on her hands to warm them. He’d always cared for her. Rhys had thought in a brotherly sort of way, he knew for a fact that was how Azriel intended it, but now- he imagined it was the mating bond buried deep down, likely just starting to spark. He didn’t know whether to smile or cringe at that.

He’d become so lost in thought, holding his sister and running fingers through her raven locks that he hadn’t noticed her shutters slow down, her breathing evening out. “It looks different.” She whispered, shocking herself with the statement. “I remember this place. I think. It’s familiar, but not.”

Rhys smiled. “Well, that, my dear sister, would be because Amren and Morrigan went head to head and reduced the place to rubble a century or so ago. I rebuilt it the best that I could but made some changes - the tubs even accommodate Illyrian wings now. And Feyre darling, she added her own touches to the place.”

“Interesting…” she whispered. “I think our father would have keeled over had he seen that.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “You’re not wrong. Our father never was the type to appreciate the arts, though he did enjoy your love of it. Not enough to let you paint the walls of any of our homes but- enough to take you to the theater whenever he could, enough to ensure the Rainbow was well-funded and thriving.”

Smiling sadly, he continued, “When I first saw the paintings here, I thought of you. How if you’d have been here, you would have been right there with her, painting along.”

Felina looked to her brother, trying so desperately to remember her old self. Who she’d once been.

“I never forgot you, sister. I’ve carried you in my heart every day, there was not a sunset that I didn’t think about the way your eyes shone with wonder as the stars appeared, about the nights you’d beg me to fly with you….wishing I’d have been there more often, wishing I’d said yes every time you asked.”

“Our past does not define us. What we do with today does.” She whispered, puzzling at her own statement. Rhys whipped his head toward her. “You remember more than you realize.”

She thought on her words. “Azriel. He used to say that, yes?”

Yes. Rhys nodded grimly, remembering the treatment his brother received as a child. “Do you remember what else he would tell you?”

“I don’t think I do.”

Rhys wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her closely.

“It’s the courage to continue that counts.”

Felina’s hands shook and Rhys gave them a squeeze. She whispered to herself “I am Y/N.” Her given name felt less foreign than she’d expected. “I am courageous. I will not be afraid.”

Rhys’ eyes glazed over, his posture going rigid. The grip of his hand squeezing more tightly onto his sister’s cold hand.

Suddenly she was brought into Rhys’ mind, Feyre’s voice frantic.

“It’s Azriel. He needs Felina. NOW.”

——————————————

A/n: If you read this chapter and think “Wow, Felina is being pretty dramatic over Elain” Please hold. There’s more to it that will be unpacked later - she has been through a lot and is still harboring centuries old feelings/emotions that feel recent to her as her memory slowly comes back.

Tags:

General ACOTAR tag: @lilah-asteria

Series tags: @glittervame @julesofvolterra @saltedcoffeescotch @candyjaypoppins @st4r-girl-official @nocasdatsgay @gxdsmonsters

#acotar #azriel #azriel angst

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mischiefmanagers · 2 days

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Rage, rage | three

prologue | one | two | three |

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language

They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.

She feels naked, unprotected.

She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.

Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.

What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.

Father is going to kill her.

Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.

Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.

The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.

For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.

She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...

She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."

Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.

The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...

"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."

She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.

She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.

Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.

With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:

"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?

Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?

No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?

She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.

She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?

"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"

"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”

She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.

Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.

Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."

She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.

When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."

Nimue trembles.

What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?

Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.

Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.

She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.

Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."

By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."

Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.

The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.

Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.

Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.

Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."

Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.

The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.

What is that?

Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.

Is he hallucinating?

Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?

Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.

"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"

Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...

Something is not right.

The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.

She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.

Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?

"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.

Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.

What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...

She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.

And then everything suddenly calms down.

They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.

And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.

There's something, something pulling her towards...

Towards him.

Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.

"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"

Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.

Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.

"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.

Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.

Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.

The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.

What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?

Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.

However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."

Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.

What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.

And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.

"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats

A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 🥰

#acotar #azriel #favorite

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mischiefmanagers · 2 days

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Somewhere only we know

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel comes to visit you for the first time in a while.

Warnings: Angsty goodness

He could hear it now; your call beckoning him closer.

The dulcet tones of your laughter echoing amongst the evening birdsong as Azriel approached.

It was a path the shadowsinger had walked a hundred times before. The bowing oak trees and the familiar tune of the flowing beck all working to guide Azriel towards his final destination.

Towards you.

Yet even the forest wasn't safe from the golden hands of time. The gnarled roots and overgrown canopy a glaring sign that it had been far too long since Azriel had last come to see you.

Where he was once able to run freely alongside you, Azriel now found himself uncomfortably squeezing through the wild underbrush. Wings tightly curling into his back out of fear of catching them on the thicket of brambles which now lined the once clear path.

Perhaps a year was too long to wait.

Perhaps Azriel should have visited you sooner.

Your voice continued to grow louder with each step taken, the wind beginning to carry the recognizable scent of your sweet perfume.

Azriel inhaled deeply, allowing the delicate aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine to wash away his worries. A calming peace, that only ever makes itself known when in the presence of your company, began to warmly settle in his chest.

"Hello my love"

Azriel called softly into the air, the gentle twinkling of a wind chime greeting him in response as the evening sun broke through the canopy above to lay a welcoming kiss onto his cheek.

"I've missed you," the shadowsinger continued, moving towards the fallen trunk of a tree in order to take a seat, "I'm sorry I've been gone so long."

Another melodic chime answered, assuring Azriel that his absence needed no excuse.

"But I couldn't miss spending my birthday with you, I don't think you would have let me"

The wind laughed in reply, a soothing breeze coming to caress his smiling cheek as Azriel lifted a shaky hand to meet the ghost of your own.

Eyes beginning to water at your phantom touch, the male cleared his throat before reaching into the pocket of his leathers. "I've brought you a letter," Azriel started to explain, pulling out the carefully folded piece of paper, "of all the things you've missed since I was last here. I wrote it all down just so I didn't forget to tell you anything."

The orange sun glowed a little brighter, so as to provide Azriel with enough light to read his letter. The forest falling into a peaceful silence in order to ensure that you heard every word the shadowsinger had to say.

"Feyre is pregnant again, I think Rhys would kill me if I didn't tell you that first," Azriel grinned at the smile of excitement he could picture you wearing at the news, taking the time to burn the image into his mind before continuing, "Nyx is convinced it's a girl, and if it is her wants her to be named after you of course. He always talks about his favourite auntie."

Azriel allows himself to pause, needing a moment to calm his wavering breath before he could say any more, the harsh lines of a frown beginning to cross his face.

"Cas says hello. He'd come here if he could, you know that. But I don't think I'm quite ready to share this place with anyone else yet. He's fine, Nesta too. They're kept busy by little Sofia most of the time, ever since she learnt how to fly she's been wreaking havoc all over Velaris."

A robin flittered down from the trees, perching by where Azriel was sat, its small head tilted in silent understanding. Appreciating the company, a slight smile flickered across Azriel's lips as he turned his watery eyes back to the letter grasped between his trembling hands.

"Elain and Lucien are finally back from their trip around Prythian. They went to Spring - to that meadow I took you to for our anniversary. She . . . she brought me back some flowers, said they reminded her of you."

Azriel's tears finally began to fall as he carefully folded the letter once more, tucking it away into the safety of his leathers, placing it into the pocket right above his heart.

"And me . . ." Azriel started, voice cracking as he tried to recall what he had done since he was last here, his surroundings taking him back to a time when you had once been sat here with him, "Well I've not really done anything at all."

The male's hands move to clasp onto the two rings resting on a chain around his neck, thumb working to brush the cool metal in the hope of receiving some comfort, "Some days it feels like time has scarcely moved at all . . . On those days I like to close my eyes and picture you - us - here in the forest. Running through the trees like we used to do, hiding from our responsibilities for as long as we could."

Azriel deeply exhaled as he watched the robin fly away, tears still falling as he continued to speak, "And then I open my eyes . . . and remember you're gone" Azriel's words are interrupted by a harrowing sob falling from his lips, "I don't know how much longer I can do this. I'm getting old my love, sometimes I worry that one day I'll come back here and you won't recognize me anymore. That our love will fall victim to the hands of time just as the forest has."

The chimes twinkle once more, a gentle reminder that you are never truly gone, the ever-changing wind whispering promises that your love was one to last for eternity.

"I know" Azriel sadly smiles, letting go of the rings in order to brush away his tears, the thought of your heartbroken expression enough to dry his eyes, "I just miss you, that's all. Not a day goes by where I don't think of you."

The trees lightly rustle in response.

Azriel stayed to talk to you long into the night. The conversation never fading, nor growing dull, even when the moon had said its goodbyes and the sun had risen once more.

If time was all Azriel could offer you these days, then his time was what you would receive. For each hour spent in your special spot, was another hour of keeping your memory alive.

Another hour Azriel got to spend with you.

When the time came for Azriel to reluctantly leave the forest, his responsibilities too pressing to ignore for much longer, the shadowsinger whispered a promise into the wind that he would return once more. Swearing that you would not have to wait so long to see him again.

With each step he took, the scent of rosemary and sweet pea grew stronger, your calming aroma fading as Azriel walked further and further away.

And as Azriel turned to look at you once more, he could have sworn he heard you calling after him. Words unintelligible as your voice became lost amongst the birdsong.

But he could feel it, the assurance that he wasn't alone.

The piece of you that had been trapped here, now safely tucked within the confines of his heart.

So carry you home he would.

#acotar #azriel angst #azriel

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