#Protective Azriel

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hi! I am so grateful you came across my feed! You also have an incredibly extensive prompt list which is amazing btw. Could I please get a 104 and 75 with Azriel?? I have been wanting to see how they would do with a fairy, considering they are like the opposite of a bat. They’re light and airy, gorgeous wings. Illyrian wings are gorgeous too but in a dark way and I think the contrast is cool without having to make them an angel. Ya know? Thank you if you end up doing it!

Thank you so much and thank you for the request! My prompt list is left over from an event I did when I hit 100 followers and I just kept adding to it. I love the idea of the difference in their wings. Because the books have already explored a few different types of wings and I think fairy wings are absolutely gorgeous.

The reader is half High Fae, half fairy.

Hope you like it! <3

Warning: Unwelcome touching (not by Azriel), Smut (18+), protective Az!!!!

WC: ~1.7k

Divider by @cafekitsune

My  wings had always been something I was immensely proud of, sure they weren’t the stark white feathered covered ones from Day or the gorgeous bat-like wings from the Illyrains but you loved them. Translucent but pink iridescent, the membrane golden in color. Compared to my stature, short by fae standards, they easily were half of my height. 

When I moved from the Spring Court to Night, I remember feeling slightly self-conscious about them. Before the mating bond had snapped, Azriel had spent many nights reassuring me how beautiful he thought they were. How they made me special. I would sniffle into his neck, “But they let everyone know I’m only half High Fae.” He would hold my head in his hands and try not to laugh at the absurd concern. “So is Rhys, so is Cassian. Most High Fae are. That’s not a bad thing.” Light kisses were pressed to my face, “If anything it makes you more special. Something no other High Fae has.” His words calmed my raging mind. Once the mating bond had snapped, he really began to worship them. He was the first person I had let touch them. The both of us learned they truly were as sensitive as his own. It became something he could tease me with, only in the privacy of our bedroom. One touch and I would melt into his touch. 

Now, I stood in the middle of the throne room at Hewn City. Dress in midnight blue, the same exact shade as my mates siphons. The floor length gown is skin tight and the velvet was smooth under my fingers as I tried to smooth it out. 

I fidgeted slightly out of nerves. I had refused the first time Rhys offered to glamour them away, they were too much a part of who I was for me to hide them even in this vile place. But I still felt very exposed around this many unfamiliar faces.

Azriel had stepped away to join the conversation Rhys was currently having with Keir. Placing a small kiss on my temple as he walked away, “Have fun, sweetheart.” I instantly started looking for Mor, desperate for some semblance of comfort.   

I found her on the dance floor. I gave her a low bow, hand extended which she returned with a perfect curtsey. I took her hand and we began to weave through the other couples as we waltzed around the ballroom, her head thrown back with laughter. 

A pair of hands on my hips swept me out of her grasp. I let out a startled cry, expecting to be met with my favorite pair of hazel eyes. The male that had grabbed me was certainly not Azriel nor anyone I noticed. I could smell the faerie wine on his breath as he spoke in my ear, “What pretty wings.” I thanked him, my voice getting stuck like gum in my throat. I tried to pull the unknown male's hands off of my hips, even to just push them up to my waist but he just dug his hands in tighter. I yelped at the pressure and he just gave me a cocky smirk. 

“I know how sensitive Illyrian wings are, and given the shadowslingers scent all over you, I bet you do too,” He laughed at my shocked expression, “I wonder if these are just as sensitive.” By this time, we had stopped dancing. I stood frozen, bile turned my stomach as he reached a grimy hand up to stroke the edge of my wings. His rough touch made me chirp in pain, he had pitched the fragile membrane between his nails and dragged them down. 

He went to repeat the motion again when I felt the heat of him disappear entirely. When I looked around for him, I saw large black wings in front of my face. The male that had been touching me was pinned to the dance floor. Azriel’s heavy boots, holding him there by his neck. The male was desperately clutching at his leg, trying to pull him off. Azriel scoffed.

“Doesn’t feel so good to have someone touch you when you don’t want them to?” He pressed down a little harder, the muscles twitching in his leg. 

“Now, if you ever think about touching my mate, or anyone else, without their expressed interest,” His hand went to rest on truth-teller’s hilt. “You will find yourself without hands.” He lifted his leg off the male's neck and didn’t spare him a glance as he grabbed my hand and started leading me out of the ballroom. 

People jumped out of our way and I didn’t even think of saying anything to him as I felt his fury down the bond. Not at me, never at me. But for not being there to stop the hands I could still feel on my wings. He pulled us into a room, no, a closet, and I could almost make out the shape of him from the light that snuck along the frame. 

“Did he hurt you?” He asked sternly. Fae Lights flickered on, giving the room a soft glow. I shook my head and he let out a heavy exhale. He placed his forehead against mine and we just stood there as both of our breathing evened out

“Az, you didn’t have to do all of that.” I finally spoke blushing, the dim lights of the room doing nothing to protect me from his gaze.

“You don’t understand, I will do anything to protect you.” The solemnity of those words made my heart lurch and heat pool in my stomach. 

“I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on.” His laugh echoed in his chest. 

“Look at my dirty girl,” He started kissing down my neck, “Does seeing me defend you turn you on?” I whimpered when his tongue started following his kisses. 

“I don’t know, you’re the one that dragged me into a literal closet.” He growled lightly. 

“Be nice, sweet girl.” Chiding me, I felt desire and defiance flood my veins. 

“Bite me.”

 “With pleasure.” He all but purred in my ear and he was on me. His lips captured mine. Teeth captured my lower lip when I moaned into his mouth. His tongue explored my mouth, brushing against the roof of my mouth and my legs turned into jelly. He hiked my leg up to rest on his waist, using the hand on my back to stabilize me. Trailing up my leg with his free hand. 

“Fuck” He groaned when he reached the center of my thighs. Blood flowed to my cheeks. I was soaked. He didn’t waste anymore time before he slipped my panties to the side. I cried out as deft fingers found my clit and started rubbing tight, fast circles. 

My hands started to trail down to reach for his waistband but his shadows pinned my arms to my side. 

“Let me make you feel good, my love.” I moaned at his words. My moans instantly broke into a scream as I felt two of his fingers plunge into me. He curled against the rough spot and I panted out his name.  

“Az…Please, I need more.” I begged him. He just started to kiss my neck again, sucking what I knew would be angry bruises. His kisses started to trail lower, his shadows once again helping him as they slid the top of my dress down to expose my breasts. My hands went to his hair as he wrapped his lips around my nipple. Sucking the perfect amount of pressure, mixed with his fingers pistoning in and out of me. I felt myself fall apart under him. My climax racked through me hard, I sagged against his hand still on my back. 

“There you go. Good girl.” He praised me. I expected his hand to pull away but he kept working me through waves of pleasure. I whined, “Too much. Az.” I panted out the words, chest quickly rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. 

“Can you give me one more?” His kisses started trailing lower and he unwrapped my leg from his waist. I was going to say something but it got lost on my tongue as he started to sink to his knees. He began to trail kisses up my leg as he went to throw my foot over his shoulder. 

He placed one of my hands on his head, my fingers instantly grabbing his soft locks. 

“Hold on princess.” Was the only warning I received before he dove in between my legs. I mewled at the pressure his lips sucked around my clit, still sensitive from my last orgasm. Broken versions of his name left my mouth and I tried to stop my hips from bucking. He used his free hand to guide my hips, letting me ride his face. It didn’t take long for him to have me at the edge. My eyes squeezed shut, white spotting the black behind my eyelids as he gave my clit a soft nip. That was enough to have my orgasm crashing over me. This time, my knees did buckle out from under me but Azriel’s hands were there instantly to hold me up. 

I blinked up at him. He was the picture of male satisfaction as he took in my glassy eyes. I once again went to reach for his pants but he pushed my hands away with a chuckle. 

“Later. I promise.” He said when I pouted at him. “Two isn’t enough for you, sweet girl?” I shook my head and he really laughed at that. He stood back up and smoothed out the lines in his suit. He helped me adjust my dress back into place. My hair was a lost cause, as well as my smudged makeup. He pressed a bruising kiss to my lips and when he pulled away he whispered in my ear

“Now we’re going to go back out there, covered in your scent and maybe that will remind people just exactly who they’re messing with from now on.”

[bxm-1012]

Matehood, Azriel x F!Reader

What I think being Azriel's mate would be like

Becoming mates...

It snapped for Azriel when he had joined you for a walk one evening in the city.

You opened the door to your apartment and he looked at you and that tug, that click happened for him.

You had no issue accepting it.

He took you to bed right away.

As a joke, soon after, when Azriel was still especially volatile Cassian makes a dig at you.

Azriel and Cassian had an afternoon-long brawl.

You clean up a few of Azriel's wounds.

It leads to the both of you in bed. You aren't sure how, but it checks out.

All you know...you are living on a high.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Risk and Reward

Summary: 

During a dangerous mission, Y/N finds herself in over her head, but Azriel arrives just in time to save her, reinforcing their bond and teaching her the importance of trust and partnership.

Word Count: 978

Warnings: This story contains scenes of peril and physical confrontation, moments of intense fear, and themes of danger. Reader discretion is advised.

Velaris was unusually quiet that night, the streets empty and the sky dark with an impending storm. Y/N stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, staring out at the city below. The mission she had just returned from had been dangerous—more dangerous than she had anticipated. Her mind was still buzzing with adrenaline, but a sense of calm washed over her as the first raindrops began to fall.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Azriel approaching, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. His shadows were restless, swirling around him like a dark storm of their own.

"Why do I feel like you enjoy getting yourself in danger?" Azriel asked, his voice low but edged with worry.

Y/N sighed, leaning against the railing. "I don’t enjoy it, Azriel. But sometimes, it’s necessary."

Azriel stopped a few steps away from her, his gaze intense. "You could have been killed tonight, Y/N. Do you understand that?"

She met his eyes, her own filled with defiance and a touch of guilt. "I know the risks, Azriel. I’m not reckless. I do what I have to do to get the job done."

He stepped closer, his frustration boiling over. "And what if the job gets you killed? What then? Have you ever thought about what that would do to me? To us?"

Y/N’s heart ached at the pain in his voice. She knew he cared deeply for her, but she hadn’t realized just how much her actions affected him. "Azriel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you."

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes were still filled with concern. "I worry because I care about you, Y/N. More than you know."

She took a step closer, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. "I care about you too, Azriel. But you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing."

He shook his head, his shadows wrapping around them both in a protective embrace. "It’s not about trust. It’s about the fact that I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the raw emotion in his voice. She had always known that their bond was strong, but hearing him say those words made her realize just how deep his feelings went. "Azriel..."

He took her hand in his, his grip firm but gentle. "Promise me you’ll be more careful. Promise me you’ll think about us before you throw yourself into danger."

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. "I promise, Azriel. I’ll be more careful."

Azriel’s eyes softened further, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with relief. "I just can’t bear the thought of losing you."

She held him close, the rain now falling steadily around them. "You won’t lose me, Azriel. I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere."

Two days later, Y/N found herself in the heart of Velaris, on a mission that required stealth and precision. The target was a group of mercenaries who had been causing trouble in the city, and Y/N had been tasked with gathering information. Confident in her abilities, she had ventured out alone.

But things had gone wrong. The mercenaries were more organized than she had anticipated, and she quickly found herself cornered in a dark alley, her heart pounding in her chest. She fought valiantly, but the odds were against her. Just as she was about to be overwhelmed, she felt a familiar, cold dread settling over her.

"Not now," she whispered to herself, her hands shaking as she tried to hold her ground. "Not like this."

As the mercenaries closed in, a shadow darted through the alley, swift and silent. Azriel emerged from the darkness, his wings flaring out menacingly as his shadows enveloped the attackers. Within moments, the mercenaries were disarmed and subdued, their weapons clattering to the ground.

Azriel turned to Y/N, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and relief. "I told you to be careful," he said, his voice low and intense.

Y/N felt a wave of emotions crash over her—fear, relief, and frustration. "I thought I had it under control," she replied, her voice trembling. "I didn’t expect them to be so organized."

Azriel’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hands gently cupping her face. "You don’t have to do this alone, Y/N. You have me. Always."

Tears welled in her eyes as she realized just how close she had come to disaster. "I was so scared, Azriel," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I thought... I thought it was the end."

Azriel pulled her into a tight embrace, his shadows wrapping around them both. "But it wasn’t," he murmured. "I’m here, and I’ll always be here to protect you."

Y/N clung to him, her heart racing as she processed the intensity of the moment. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you for saving me."

Azriel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his own heart pounding with relief. "You’re worth saving, Y/N. Every single time."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the rain continued to fall, washing away the fear and replacing it with a sense of safety and love. Y/N knew that she had a lot to learn about trust and partnership, but with Azriel by her side, she felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

And as they walked back to the House of Wind, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful for the bond they shared. Despite the risks and dangers, she knew that they were stronger together. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them as a team, united by their love and their unbreakable bond.

[blurbfics]

There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part eleven]

Summary: A shift in the wind and in her mind. He makes a vow.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: violence, heavy swearing, brief description of sex. drugging/poisoning, threats, skinning (brief), anger, angst

Minors, do not interact.

a/n: sometimes you just have to go out to a goth bar with your friend and make out with a random guy for research/inspiration purposes, you know? he actually gave me a great idea, right as i was leaving, i made eye contact with him and he rushed up to me, said "come here, dame un beso," and pulled my face to his for a goodbye kiss. he did the whole cupping-my-face-with-one-hand and slid the other one around my waist thing too, and then gave my bottom a quick smack when i pulled away. writing material indeed

part ten

masterlist

"A tear in the membrane

Allows the voices.

They wanna push you off the path

With their low frequency wiring."

Thom Yorke, Hearing Damage

The late afternoon air was brisk to all around her yet she barely noticed, skin flushed and damp with sweat as it was. 

“-it was a matter of misinterpretation!-”

“-but the leader of the last clan of lightsingers grew ever more arrogant and unforgiving-”

She rushed through the throng of people in the main avenue, uncaring as her shoulder knocked into those around her, not hearing their insults and name calling as she pushed her way through the blurring masses, letting out a breath of relief as she broke through the crowd and into a grim alleyway, closed off by a single heavy chain crossing from one establishment to the other. 

“Elain Archeron gives the Shadowsinger a powdered remedy meant to treat his headaches from-”

Eowyn easily stepped over the heavy chain, but stumbled slightly at that particular whisper. It wasn’t often they said anything of interest about anyone she cared about. Not having the right headspace nor the time to linger on it, however, she regained her balance and continued on, evading the occasional obstruction in her way as she walked further down the alley towards the other side of the street. 

Halfway down she huffed to herself at the shift in wind that was now so familiar to her, the whooshing sound of flapping wings echoing from above before his voice did. 

“A little late to be out here, isn’t it?” Azriel’s voice called out cooly, keeping a step behind her. Whether by his doing or by their own accord, she felt his shadows crawl up her skirts and under her veil, weaving affectionately through her hair.

Any other time she would’ve laughed at their gentle tickling, pleased to see Azriel again after a week long mission. Now all her mind could focus on was getting to where she needed to go before she lost it again.

“I don’t recall inviting you,” she shot back immediately, but she knew she lacked her usual teasing tone. She shook her head quickly, as if trying to shake the shadows out from her hair but regretted the movement immediately, both because of the piercing pain that stabbed through her skull and because of the incomprehensible droop of the one specific shadow that liked to ride along her wrist or cupped in her hand whenever they were around.

She didn’t have time for this.

“Must’ve slipped your mind,” he parried, either ignoring her unamused tone or not noticing. Likely the former.

“If you’re going to follow me, fine, but don’t get in my way,” she practically barked, and found herself rather surprised that he didn’t so much as flinch at her tone, as anyone else would do. He simply remained silent and unruffled, following close behind. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her curiously and attempting to decipher what had her in such a rotten mood, and although she regretted being so hostile to him, wishing she could simply greet him and converse with him as she did whenever he came back from missions, she simply couldn’t. Not now. 

She huffed and rounded the corner into the less busy street. 

Quick to surmise her intentions as she looked up at the sign outside the apothecary door, Azriel’s shadows rushed before her, opening and holding the door open for her to push her way through. Barely murmuring a short “thanks,” she stomped through the shop. 

“Don’t believe a single thing this bitch says,” she hissed at the young fae male who flinched in place, head whipping to look at her in terror as the herbalist merely patted his hand assuringly. “She’s a fucking charlatan,” she continued, finding herself being held back by Azriel who immediately rushed in after her to stop her from launching herself at the herbalist.

The fraud in question didn’t seem the slightest bit alarmed, much to her chagrin, as she only handed the young male his coins back, placing a hand over the tonic in front of them. “You give this a try, free of charge, sweetheart, and you’ll notice the difference immediately, Mother give you strength.”

The fae male– shooting a nervous look at the entirely veiled enraged female and the huge winged male holding her back– could do nothing but snatch the tonic and his coins and bolt out of the shop.

“You fucking cunt,” Eowyn seethed at the herbalist. She had begun to make monthly trips out into Velaris– a great achievement for someone who was something of a recluse for such a long time– and found her usual herbalist, Madame Loerma, growing increasingly suspicious of her use of sleeping draughts. She had thus begun to circle around other apothecaries, dabbling in a few only to get the products for twice Mme. Loerma’s price and half of its quality. Eowyn had thought that this particular herbalist wasn’t as bad as the others, however Aniika had royally and truly fucked her over. “What was in the fucking dwale?”

“You already know what was in the dwale or you wouldn’t be here, lovely.”

“Answer her question,” Azriel growled lowly, clearly wanting an explanation himself.

Eowyn ignored him.

“How do I get rid of it?” She shrugged Azriel’s arms away from her, stepping around the counter to face the herbalist who mirrored her movements, circling away while eyeing her and Azriel.

“You already know,” the grin the female sent her was unsettling, her eyes glinting brightly, almost reflective. If Eowyn didn’t know any better, she would say the herbalist was under the influence of some mind-bending nostrum, but alas she did know better. She had seen those glassy crazed eyes before.

“Oh quit it with the cryptic talk,” she snarled, “there must be another way to stop my head from fucking pounding.”

“Eowyn,” the way Azriel said her name, softly and only to her, yet firm and commanding of attention brought her face up to look at him, although he couldn’t see her under her veil. “Explain.”

She took a deep breath and held it before exhaling, trying to calm herself down. “She poisoned me,” no sooner had she spoken the words than he had the herbalist pinned to the wall, his shadows restricting her movements.

“And why,” he held Truthteller to her throat, “would you do such a thing?”

“She’s a witch!” The fae screeched, “I only put a little black hemlock in the dwale. It’s inoffensive to most High a-and lesser fae,” she said the last part quickly as he pressed the blade harder into her, “but it causes mild symptoms in witches.”

“What symptoms?” He pushed.

“Fever, headaches, body aches, visions,” she looked over his shoulder at Eowyn, but he deftly raised a wing, covering her from sight.

“And why would you do that?”

“I felt her,” her horrid breath shuddered in ecstasy that made his nose wrinkle in disgust, “I knew she was a witch when she came in for her sleeping draught last month and decided to add the hemlock to the batch she picked up last week— tell me, my Lady, have your eyes turned to their natural state? Can you feel her power coursing through your veins?”

“Fuck you,” she hissed, then placed an arm on Azriel’s shoulder, “let’s go Az, she won’t tell me anything.”

“I’ll make her tell you,” he gritted, the dagger beginning to cut deeper but not into the thin flesh and muscle, but rather slicing parallel in the slow beginning of a skinning.

“No! No!,” she yelled out in fear and pain, “you can either access your full power-“

“No.”

“-or you can just ride it out! There’s no other way, I swear it!”

“How long?”

“Two o-or three days, give or take— oh no, please!”

“Anything else?” Azriel looked over his shoulder and when she shook her head, if perhaps trembling and feeling drained as she crashed down from her explosive rage, he only turned back to the herbalist and hissed with icy cold rage. “Explain to me why you care if she’s a witch, and why I should let you live another miserable day.”

“Th-the Daughter… carries the wisdom of the Mother,” she stammered, but she looked at him confusedly as if she only shared common knowledge, “she will bring us salvation from the clutches of twisted thinking and shield us from—“

“Don’t listen to this bullshit, she’s just a cultist, she’s been brainwashed,” Eowyn insisted, pulling on his arm.

Az frowned at her but let the fae go.

Eowyn made her way outside, but the wind carried his voice out with her. “Tell the others I want that poison out of this city by dusk tomorrow. If I find just the slightest indication it’s still in Velaris, or that you told anyone what happened here, I’ll come back and finish the job,” he snarled lowly.

It wasn’t a threat. It was an act of mercy.

—

Azriel remained silent by her side as she leaned heavily onto the brick wall on the side of the street, barely managing to round the corner into the same alleyway before taking a deep shuddering breath. Uncaring that the walls were slick with an unknown sticky substance, she leaned her head back to the wall, squeezing her temples with her trembling thumb and middle finger.

“Eowyn,” he breathed softly, lowly, and she almost kissed him for it, for her head felt like it would explode if he spoke any louder.

“Can you take me home?”she asked, equally as soft and while on any other occasion she would’ve felt profoundly ashamed and embarrassed to ask for help— wouldn’t have dared to ask for it in the first place, too proud to be seen as weak, to feel herself become weak— she found she just could not give a damn.

Azriel said nothing in reply, yet she flinched slightly when she felt him approach her. Her eyes, hidden behind the veil but still closed with heavy tiredness, were both burning and felt like they didn’t belong on her body and she knew, without looking at her reflection that they appeared all-white. 

She was a monster. She was a burden. Why would he ever bother with someone like her?

She felt his large strong and oh-so-careful hand cradle the back of her neck at the base, his other powerful arm reaching under her knees to swoop her in his arms while not jostling her head. 

In sync, as always, she moved of her own accord in response to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and even went so far as to lay her head on his sturdy collarbone as his arm slid around her back, holding her firmly and steadily to his chest.

“You okay?” He asked in a whisper, much too used to the way their bodies seemed to just instinctively move in response to one another. She told herself it was due to their frequent sparring and proximity.

He flew them home in silence for a while, not rushing her response until she breathed out an “I will be” into his neck, resting her face there and inhaling deeply. She breathed in his soothing scent of cedar and night-chilled mist. What mist smelled like, she had no clue, but it was the only way to describe that specific scent that was true only to him. 

He smelled like the misty droplets of almost-nothing water suspended in the air just before becoming tainted with the smell of earth as it lands upon a leaf or strand of grass. He smelled like the anticipation of nature, of life.

She pushed her straying thoughts away, fearful of any resurfacing delusions after a long day of loud voices in her head—loud voices! So loud she could barely hear herself think!— and the haunting visions she’d been plagued with all day.

The visions that came to mind now were of a different nature, basing entirely on the feeling of him so close, so solid, so safe around her.

Finally, she breathed, settling into that cloud of him, her left hand grasping a fistful of his wavy hair behind his ear, the other arm pulling him close to her. She couldn’t help but bask in his warmth as he flew through the early night sky, allowing his scent to permeate her senses. She buried her nose into his neck and inhaled deeply once again, shuddering at his smell, at the sound of his solid heartbeat under his skin, his strong powerful body carrying her so easily. She couldn’t get enough of him, she needed to dig deeper, fill every millimeter of her lungs with his scent, needed to fill all of her with all of him.

“Eowyn?” his voice sounded like it was underwater and thus was easy to ignore; his voice only fuelled the rest of her senses; she saw him bare and hard and aching, begging for her to take him, to let him take her. Flashes of him pounding into her, of him pressing such a strong powerful body down onto hers— “Eowyn, you’re trembling, are you alright?” He sounded scared and concerned and so unlike her eternally unemotional Illyrian.

His evident fear was like a bucket of ice cold water being poured over her head, as she gasped and jolted in his arms, eyes snapping open and pulling away from the vision she’d gotten sucked into. Like all the other visions she’d been plagued with all day, it seemed so solid, so real.

While the majority of her visions often replayed memories deeply buried, often distorted and turned extreme to exploit and lay out her vulnerabilities, this vision was different, if only just as concrete. Familiar, although it had never happened, but with the certainty that it was somehow fact and inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut once again as she hugged him tighter. Tears slipped from her eyes, thick and viscous and burning, as if small trails of acid poured down her face. She panted as she tried to regain her composure, feeling her fingertips begin to tingle again, a telltale sign of her incoming episode, a sign she’d dismissed after her confrontation as lingering adrenaline. “Azriel, I can’t con-I can’t control them. Take me straight to Clotho and don’t- don’t listen anything I say-“

His jaw tightened, eyebrows furrowing as he frowned down at her, “I think I should take you to the house and have Madja look you over-“

“No,” she ground out through gritted teeth, “no, Clotho will know what to do, I—“ she cut herself off with a choked gasp, nails digging into Azriel’e shoulders, “please.” Then her voice changed like the flip of a switch, body falling limp and curling into itself. She spoke in a language he didn’t recognize, the consonants smooth and fluent but breathy and frightened. Her voice was barely a whisper in his ear as she spoke to someone in the recesses of her mind.

Nuunta caëderete

The next few hours came in blurry images to her. All out of order.

She knew she screamed and yelled and cried, but she couldn’t focus on anything at once as one vision turned into the next and twisted into a delusion.

She came back to consciousness, if only briefly enough, to catch a brief glance at Azriel rushing her into the library, calling out for Clotho. She remembered seeing Gwyn standing over her, face contorted with concern as she reached over to remove the veil from her head. Eowyn was only conscious enough to place a hand over her mouth to try to quell the wave of nausea that hit her, trying to cover her burning eyes with the other hand only to be stilled in place by Azriel who held tightly onto her hand.

Movement and the soft press of a mattress confirmed she had been put down in bed, but barely noticed it with the flurry of robed figures around her shuffling the large and angry winged male out of the room who refused to leave her side.

Somehow still aware of him– always aware of him like some kind of echo-location– she only had the presence of mind to snarl an, “out!” before the visions and the darkness took over again.

– 

She was not aware that the Shadowsinger paced outside of the healers quarters for half an hour until the High Lord himself came in to fetch him, finding his brother angry and concerned, his hair a mess from running his hands through it and eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears of worry. 

She didn’t know that that was the moment when he decided he couldn’t live without her.

No one was any the wiser to know that at that moment, he swore an oath, if only to himself– if the bargain ink that appeared in the shape of an unfamiliar rune on the side of his hip, in the exact same spot where Eowyn had her scar, confirmed– that wherever Eowyn went, Azriel vowed now and forever, to follow.

part twelve

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel, @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland, @adventure-awaits13

[illyrian-dreamer]

Overwritten – Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel. 

AN: It’s the final one! Day 5/5 stories for 500 followers. Thank you to lillithathecat for requesting trope 2. Amnesia, and thank you to anyone who followed this journey or who joined along the way 💕

Warnings: Violence, torture, injuries

Words: 2,232

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Part 1 ∇

Poison coursed through your veins, burning as it raced through your body. Screaming, you jerked against your restraints. Your mind was reeling, and you couldn't tell if this was a dream or a waking nightmare. Flashes of white, the memory of someone yelling your name, and the same male reaching for you over and over again.

That male – there was something about him. His hazel, almost golden eyes, the peaks of wings that reached above his handsome face, the pure panic in his voice as he reached for you…

Oh gods, it wasn’t just any male, it was Azriel. He was your mate!

Your heart leapt as your brain screamed at you to remember him, to fight for him. “Azriel!” you screeched, gasping as you were bought back into the dark and damp setting around you, thrashing against the leather bounds at your wrists and ankles.

“Give her another shot,” a cold voice spoke.

“No! No, please!!” you begged, trying to blink through your hallucinations and tears.

“Now remember, Y/N.” The voice drawled closer now. “This is what you will feel when you think of him. This is how much he can hurt you. The only way to stop it, is to kill him.”

“He’ll find you,” you seethed. “He’ll find you and kill you all!” Your were feral, thrashing again as you spat in the direction of the voice. Howling at the sharp sting at your neck, your eyes rolled back as another round of poison rushed through your bloodstream, the pain all consuming. Your veins were on fire, and you drooled through clenched teeth as your body spasmed this way and that. Heart pounding with adrenaline and fear, you succumbed to another round of torture.

It had been weeks, or maybe even months since Hybern’s army had stolen you in the night. Instead of killing you, they had taken to torturing you, hijacking your mind and using poison to turn you against the Night Court, your family, and your mate.

Everyday they tied you to that chair, and everyday they injected a poison while manipulating your visions, coaching you to become the enemy of your own home. You were terrified of what they would do to you, but even more terrified at the monster you were becoming.

The bond between you and Azriel frayed a little further each time, and you felt yourself slipping away. You're only hope was that he would find you before you completely disappeared.

————

3 months later

Azriel grazed his fingers over truth teller, his leathers strapped more firmly than they had ever been. He tried to calm his breathing, at least for the sake of his shadows, that now lashed and whipped uncontrollably. But it was no use.

“It’ll be alright brother,” Rhys said, placing a sure hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “We’ve found her, and we’re getting her out.”

“Let me join you.”

“No,” Rhys said tightly. “I know the urge to protect your mate, to kill for her. It’ll make a mess of things when we need them to go smoothly. You’re to stay here. That’s an order.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he felt Rhys’s power course through his words. He’d be here – waiting. He had no other choice.

“We’ll get her back,” Cassian chimed in, checking his leathers and stretching his arm across his chest. “I promise you brother.”

Azriel nodded tightly, unable to convey any gratitude over the gnawing anxiety and primal desire to burst into the prison and ripped the heads of every guard in sight. There, in that building, was his mate. His mate, who had been stolen from right under his nose, and he hadn't been wise enough to stop it. His mate, who’d been missing for months, and no matter how many sleepless nights he spent slaving over maps and records, he still couldn't find you. And every time you were hurt, he could feel you slipping away, the bond weakening every so slightly. He didn't know what state you’d be in, he only knew what he felt – the very last fragments of a withered bond, calling him from inside that building.

Rhys and Cassian gave Azriel one final nod before winnowing to the prison, leaving him in the silence of the night. A cold wind howled as he watched from the darkness, his shadows begging to follow his brothers inside. It could be minutes, it could be hours – every second was torture for the Shadowsinger.

————

Asleep in your cot, your ankle was chained to the metal frame as you slept completely still from exhaustion.

Each day ended like this, and they all blurred into each other. The guards would throw you into your cell, sliding a tray of greyish food and stale bread on the floor before chaining you to the bed. You were often too tired to eat, and while your first weeks had been spent clawing at the door, screaming and throwing your food in protest, you had weakened so quickly, and it now took everything you had to haul yourself up onto the thin mattress.

Tonight was as cold as the rest of them, the thin stained covers barely doing a thing to warm you. You shivered your way through a nightmare, the poison still active in your blood. A winged creature approached you, it’s hazel eyes glowing as claws grew at it’s fingers, it’s snarl ripping into a roar as it lunged for your throat.

Jolting awake, you heard sounds of commotion outside your cell. Your heart thumped as you pulled the covers over you tightly. They’d be here soon, to claim you from your bed. Then the pain would start.

After a few yells you heard a large thud, and then footsteps. They were getting closer and closer, and you curled up into a ball, clenching your eyes shut, begging to be anywhere else.

“Y/N?” you heard a male ask. Your body jerked at the sound of his voice, refusing to raise your head or even open your eyes. An uncontrollable shake quickly overtook your whole body.

“Y/N, is that you? Hang on doll, we’re going to get you outta here.”

You heard the male grunt as he pried and forced the cell door open. “Rhys!” he called, and you could now note two sets of footsteps. The sound of the metal door grinding open filled your ears, and you had no choice but to face the threat that awaited.

Sitting up in your cot, you clambered to the end of your bed, as far away from the males as you could get.

“Oh Y/N, thank the Cauldron you’re alive!” A male with dark hair wore a broken smile, his body sagging in relief as his purple eyes glowed in the darkness of your cell.

You used your legs to push yourself further back, unable to stop the quiver in your voice. “L-leave me alone.” It was not a voice you recognised – instead it was raspy, broken, and a little sick sounding. You wondered when the last time you actually spoke was.

You saw the purple-eyed male exchange a look with the other, his red siphons glowing as he stepped closer, reaching out a hand. “Y/N, it’s us, Cassian and Rhys.”

A white light filled your eyes then, clouding your vision as your ears rang. Furious visions filled your mind at the mention of their names, and a headache so painful pierced through your brain that you had to clutch at your head to stop it. You let out a howl, blinded by dangerous and violent visions. They must be the people Hybern had warned you about – they’re here to kill you.

You leapt from your bed, scrambling as far back as the chain would let you. You knew how you must look – hair a mess, eyes wild, your tunic stained and dirty as you shook like a meek animal. “Fuck off,” you spat, trying to sound as aggressive as you could.

The purple-eyed male stepped forward then, slowly making his way over with his palms raised. You pushed yourself against the chain, your ankle throbbing in protest. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you as the male knelt down, and you pulled your knees up and hugged them, your last attempt to protect yourself.

“It’s ok, we’re not going to hurt you,” the male said gently. He was close enough that you could smell him, his scent familiar, yet disarming. Your clenched your eyes shut, the headache piercing through again. “We’re here to take you home.”

Snapping your lids open, your eyes darted between the violet ones before you. Home. You didn’t remember having a home, you didn’t remember much before this.

“You’re lying,” you hissed, cowering into your filthy tunic. The male’s brow clenched in what you thought might be sympathy, and he cast another glance back to his counterpart.

“I assure you, you can trust us. How about we get you out of this chain?” You stared wide-eyed as the taller-male walked over, kneeling at your ankle and pulling a large knife from his side. You cowered at the sight, swords, knives and sharp things were all too familiar.

“It’s ok,” the long-haired male soothed. “I’m just going to cut the chain here.” You stared as he raised a strong arm, before swinging it down against the metal links. The chain broke immediately, metal clinking to the ground, and the male returned his weapon to it’s sheath.

“There we are,” the purple-eyed male said, and you remembered he had called himself Rhys. “Now we can get you out of here. Do you think you can stand, Y/N? Or perhaps you might let us carry you?”

Another flash of white filled your vision then, and as instinct took over, you found yourself clawing for the males face, trying to hurt him in any way possible. Rhys stepped back smoothly, his brow pulling in concern as Cassian quickly caught your wrists, pulling folding them over your own chest as he held flush against him, likely stopping you from hurting yourself more than anyone else. You continued to scream and thrash, trying to break from his hold.

“Put her out of her misery, Rhys.”

Rhysand shot you a soft look before gently placing the back of his hand on your forehead, his hand cool to your clammy skin. “I’m sorry Y/N. But it’s for your own good.”

It was the last thing you heard before a ring struck your ears, and the world melted to black.

————

He scented you before he saw you. Winnowing in front of his brothers the moment they arrived, Azriel’s body froze as he took in your lifeless form.

“Oh gods, oh gods, is she–?“

“She’s asleep,” Rhys answered, his wings disappearing as he caught Azriel by the shoulders, pushing him up as his brother sagged in relief.

Cassian handed Azriel his unconscious mate, your body slack with painless sleep.

Azriel’s couldn’t help his tears. “Oh gods, oh Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he cried, weeping into your neck as he rocked you. “There’s nothing left of her,” he claimed, noting your weak and disheveled figure. How light you felt compared to the last time he held you.

“We’ll get her the help she needs,” Cassian reassured him, clasping a tight hand on his shoulder. “She’s with you now, she’s safe.”

Azriel couldn't help the sob of relief that racked through him. He breathed in your scent, and while it was changed, underneath there was a hint of you. It was the scent he had longed to breath in for months now, the scent that had faded from your home, your clothes, your bed. Azriel’s wings flared as he soaked it in, pressing you tighter to him.

“She should see the healer. Let me winnow her back to our base.” Rhys reached for your body, unthinking of what he might be asking in a moment like this.

Azriel’s cries were immediately replaced with a predatory snarl as he stepped back from Rhys, snatching your sleeping body and pulling you closer to his chest.

“I just got her back,” he growled, his voice low and animalistic. You were the only thing stopping him from exploding, from launching at his brother.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look before Rhys gathered himself, raising his palms. “I know, Az, I know. I’m not taking her away, I can just see your emotional, and thought you might want to deal with those who remain in the prison.”

Azriel’s eyes glowed at the suggestion, the instinct to rip each and every guards head off was almost as primal as the one to keep you pressed against his chest and to never let go. His voice was thick as he stared past Rhys, straight at the prison. “I will be the one to see to my mate’s wellbeing. Round up the survivors. I want them alive and in my chamber.”

Cassian nodded at that, turning to do the work for his brother.

“Feyre’s called the healer to your tent, they await your arrival,” Rhys said.

Azriel steadied himself as he ran his eyes over your bruised and ashy face, bringing a gentle scarred finger to run down your gaunt cheek. “Let’s get you home,” he said softly, before evaporating into a winnow, Rhys close behind him.

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Part 2 >>>>

AN: Suuurrrprise! It’s time for another Azriel series. While I fully intended for this to be a one shot, I’m so excited to explore the idea of a brainwashed reader. Think Hunger Games Peeta being tortured by the Capitol (in fact, that was my direct inspiration). 

I so so hope you liked Part 1, please let me know if you’d like to join the tag list for this series in the comments. And as always, I love you, thank you for reading/liking/comment/reblogging or following – all of it means so much.

Tag list: Tag list:@kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468  @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars

[jinxdancer08]

You know what I’ve been missing from the ACOTAR books? The absolute ferocity that mates are supposed to feel when the other is threatened or in danger. I need to see some of these characters going bat shit crazy no matter who it is they’re up against.

Azriel slaughtering every single Hybern soldier in Sangravah within moments to save Gwyn? That’s what I want to see.

Lucien using his spell-cleaving powers for the first time to get to Elain after she was dumped from the Cauldron? That’s what I want to see.

I can’t wait to see Gwyn and Elain both having the “you touch him, you die” personality because they absolutely would and Azriel and Lucien deserve it.

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#2 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Cassandra decides to join the IC for dinner. Things feel weird and wrong but also…safe and comfortable. She opens up to them about her past traumas and gets to know more about them.

Warnings/Tags: mentions physical and visual sexual abuse in the recent past. describes physical violence. trauma. mute character. slow burn. protective!azriel. protective!IC.

Authors Note: All reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next part! Regular italics are inter thoughts while bold italics are her communicating with other people mentally.

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“Relax,” Nuala cooed as she helped Cassandra ease into the large bath, warm and floral scented.

Cassandra had never been in a bath like this. Only one suited for regular fae without wings. They had been cramped and uncomfortable and nearly impossible to bathe everywhere without hurting a wing. But this bath? It was huge and could easily fit multiple people with and without wings. It stretched all the way to one of those glassless windows where the water spilled over in a soothing stream.

She leaned back when Nuala prompted, letting her wings float in the water. It was so nice the way they felt so weightless. Nuala tilted her head back and their eyes met as she cupped her hands with water and poured it over Cassandra’s white hair. She lathered it with a nice smelling soap, massaging at her scalp.

It was difficult to lay there and relax while someone else washed her hair. It reminded her of the mistress, how when she bathed her and washed her hair it was rushed and rough and…and when she washed her hair like this she would sometimes push her head under the water and hold her there—

Cassandra bolted up with a gasp, hands coming up to wipe away the water that fell down from her hair and over her face, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She whirled around, wide eyes catching Nuala’s, trying to desperately apologize for what she had done. The female just shook her head gently.

“It’s okay,” She said, “would you like to be left alone for a moment?”

Cassandra considered this, she both wanted to be alone and have someone else around. But she nods her head. Cerridwen walked in then, a stack of something in her hand.

“Clothes for you,” she said, sitting the stack on a shelf across the room. “We will be back but if you finish with your bath and wish to dress before we return the clothes will be here.”

Cassandra nods. She doesn’t know what else to do, but the females seem to understand, offering her small nods in return before leaving the room—the heavy door closing as they leave the bedroom the bedroom.

She sinks down in the water once she’s sure she’s alone. So much has changed in such a short time and she’s still not sure if this is all real. These people…they could change any moment. Drag her from this huge room and throw her into a prison cell and use her for whatever they pleased.

Turning in the water she pushed herself towards the other end of the tub, the one that waterfalls over the edge. What she sees there takes her breath away, an audible gasp leaving her lips.

The first thing she notices is all the lights, it looked exactly like the painting she saw with Morrigan. There was so much to look at. But what she really wanted to see was the beautiful sight above that. The night sky. The thousands of stars twinkling above, surrounding a bright moon.

She could have cried looking at the sight. But not because she felt sad, she felt safe. Comfortable. Content. Like this was where she was meant to be.

Eventually she did get out of the bath, drying herself off with the fluffy white towel that was unnaturally warm. She stopped in front of the mirror, surprised at her own reflection. She looked so different from the last time she actually saw herself. Her skin that was once a golden caramel color was lighter and ashen, dark circles under her green eyes. Her white hair slicked back with water was thinner than when it used to fall in thick ringlets as a girl. Her rib cage and hip bones protruding in a way they always had but wished they hadn’t. She had wanted a thicker, fuller body like the girls she saw at the pleasure houses. A strong body like her mothers used to be. A body that could hold up her wings and maybe one day…fly.

She had gotten dressed before Nuala and Cerridwen returned. The clothes weren’t like anything she’d ever worn before. Cream colored pants that were lined with a fuzzy material that was softer than anything she’d ever worn before. The top was a matching cream, flowy top with sleeves that stopped at her elbows and buttoned up the back to accommodate her wings. The shoes were white, flat and slipped on her feet easily.

She chose not to attend dinner that night. She wasn’t sure she could stomach any food. The twins looked disappointed. Her decision had been made to gauge how she would be treated if she didn’t have dinner with this high lord male.

She didn’t leave her room the following day either.

Or the day after that.

No one bothered her. No one came to drag her from the room kicking and screaming. No one beat on the door or called her horrible names. No one held her down or forced the food into her mouth. In fact no one except Nuala and Cerridwen came to her room at all.

And when they came they would bring a small tray of food, she only ever drank the tea and ate the biscuit and left everything else. She didn’t want to take too much before knowing if she was expected to do something in return.

When she finally felt safe enough she agreed to dinner on her fourth night. Nuala bathed her again. She couldn’t help the panic that overcame her once again as the female washed her hair but she cooed at her, soothingly before getting up and leaving her to finish alone as she had the first night.

Cerridwen took on fixing her hair, drying and styling it into waves that fell over her shoulders. Once she was done and dressed Nuala put a cream on her face and spritzed her with something that smelled sweet.

When they were done she felt like a different person. She felt clean. Comfortable. Alive.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on her feelings of finally leaving the room before Nuala and Cerridwen pulled her up and escorted her down the maze of hallways.

“Just two doors down, you’ll find the dining room,” Cerridwen pointed down the hall with a small smile. Cassandra wanted to ask why they weren’t also joining but when she turned to face them they were just gone as if they disappeared into thin air.

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Walking into the dining room was a weird feeling. Cassandra didn’t feel like she belonged there. In the fancy room, with a huge table filled with foods…foods she had never seen before. The four people she had met three days ago—and another she hadn’t met, all sat around the table talking in hushed whispers.

Azriel was the first to look over. His eyes met hers and offered her a small smile. “Cassandra,” his deep voice greeted.

“I’m glad you decided to join us this evening, please come sit,” Rhysand said, standing and motioning to the empty seat next to him, where Azriel would be on her other side—Morrigan in front of her and Cassian next to her. The other female at the opposite end of the table from Rhysand.

Cassandra hesitated for only a moment before walking over and realizing that the chair was designed to accommodate wings. She wouldn’t have to sit at some weird angle to be comfortable. Her eyes meet Azriel’s, the gentle look on his face a comfort she needed. He stood from his spot, sliding the chair out and gesturing for her to sit.

She felt eyes on her as she scanned all of the food in front of her. She had never seen so much food.

“I trust everything went okay the last few days?” Rhysand asked as he took his own seat once again.

“I freaked out a little when Nuala was washing my hair…” Cassandra admitted, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.

“That’s okay, no need to be upset. You’ve been through a lot, it’s expected. Nuala and Cerridwen are understanding and won’t hold it against you. You have my word on that.”

She wanted to say thank you again but didn’t feel it was appropriate. She didn’t know what else to say so she nodded her head and looked towards that other female, freezing as she looked into glowing silver eyes. She had never seen anything so…beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

A snort to her side caught her attention and she looked at Rhysand.

“Sorry, I just heard that,” Rhysand said, Cassandra’s eyebrows pulled together before realization dawned on her. The comment about the other female… “Amren.” Rhys supply’s the name.

She looks back to the female, to those eyes that make her not want to look away.

“Hello, girl,” She greets, and it’s not a terrifying rumble, but a genuine greeting.

Cassandra offers a small smile, feeling a draw to the small female. No one else spoke so she reached for a plate but before her fingers could even graze it, it filled with food before her eyes. She blinked at it in shock, looking to Rhysand to see if he had done it.

There was a small smile on his lips as he shook his head.

“The house is enchanted, it does what it pleases. You wanted food so it filled your plate for you,” Azriel spoke, she looked over at him then back at the plate.

Oh, wow. She thought…the food had even been diced into smaller pieces as she had told Rhysand. Her eyes fell on the wine glass in front of her—she wouldn’t drink it, couldn’t, so she looked at Azriel again then around the room. Water. And just like that, a glass of water appeared in front of her.

Cassandra felt the corners of her mouth twitch up, eyes meeting Azriel’s again then Rhysands before she grabbed the glass of water.

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“It’s pretty awesome, right?” Cassian spoke, his long hair that had been pulled back earlier now fell to his shoulders.

Cassandra nodded in answer, sitting her glass back on the table. Rhys took his seat, grabbing his wine glass, silently observing the female as she reached for her fork.

“I’ve never had this much food before…”

Rhys isn’t surprised but he’s not expecting the words and they make his heart hurt.

“Eat as much as you’d like,” Rhys says warmly, watching as she scoops up some warm potatoes and brings them to her lips.

“Mm” she hums, eyes closing. “That’s so good!” Rhys doesn’t answer, he can tell she’s not speaking to him consciously, she’s just thinking, not a single mental shield to protect her fragile mind.

It’s the next bite that wipes the small mine from all the faces. No longer an exploratory bite but a ravenous one. One after another, eating quickly and without restraint. Eating in a way that meant she had been starving, had never had an adequate food supply, had never been allowed to eat more than what was given.

She didn’t speak and neither did they. None of them would tell her to stop or slow down, all having been there at some point in their lives. They had all known that hunger at one point or another. So they let her eat. And drink. And eat some more.

Potatoes. Greens. Fruit. Meat. Bread. A plate appeared next to her holding a slice of cake and she ate that too—she had never had cake before but no one else at the table knew that.

It’s only when her plate is empty that anyone speaks up. It’s Cassian that asks, “How do you feel you’re settling in?” It’s an attempt to bring about a conversation without making her uncomfortable.

Cassandra takes a slow sip of water, breathing deeply as she does before looking at Rhysand who nods in confirmation that he’ll give her answer.

“Honestly…I feel more comfortable here than I have ever felt anywhere else.”

“That’s wonderful! We want you to be as comfortable as possible,” Morrigan chimes in, excited as if she’d been waiting to talk to Cassandra for the past three days. “When we didn’t see you for three days we were worried—well I was. The boys wanted to give you some space.”

“I didn’t know what was expected of me,” she says, Rhysand repeats her and she’s met with confused frowns. “That’s why I stayed away, didn’t eat much. I didn’t know if anything would be…expected of me in return if I did.”

“You have no debt to us, Cassandra. Nothing is expected of you,” Rhysand speaks, his voice firm but gentle. “If you wish to come to dinner you eat your fill until you’re satisfied. If you need clothes you wear what you like and it’s yours to keep. Nothing will ever be taken or held against you as punishment of any kind.”

Cassandra blinks at him, feels the wetness in her eyes as she nods. There’s just one nagging question in her mind, one she needs an answer to before she gets too comfortable.

“Why am I here then?” She asks, setting her fork down on a freshly filled plate, half as full as before.

Rhysand lets out a sigh before telling the others what she’d asked.

“You are here because I received word from one of Azriel’s spies—I’ll give you a more in depth explanation on what that means at another time—that pleasure houses in my court were buying and selling females against their will,” Rhysand begins to explain. “See we have many pleasure houses in Velaris but it has always been law that consent is the main requirement for anyone involved. Those who work or visit have to be there because they want to be there.”

“So, when we got word this law had been broken, Rhys sent us out to patrol the pleasure houses,” Azriel said, drawing her attention to him, “he needed solid proof of the law being broken before he could step in. Cassian and I, we saw you there. Scared. Frightened. Clearly not there of your own free will and didn’t feel it was safe for you to stay there.”

Cassandra looked at him, taking in the shadows swirling around him. His kind hazel eyes, the blue siphons glowing on his scarred hands. Remembered how when her eyes first landed on him on the other side of those bars she had been absolutely terrified of him.

“What about the…Mistress?” She asked turning away from Azriel to look at Rhysand.

“You no longer have to call her mistress, her name is Kamari. She is still here in our cells, she’s not been harmed. We are working to gather some intel from her. Who her bosses are, where they are buying the females and any other information we can get from her. She’s been cooperative in giving us the information we need to stop this from happening to any other females,” Rhysand said, eying the female in front of him before looking to his second in command.

“Do you have any information that may help us, girl? Anything we could use against that female to get more information?” Amren asks, fixing her smoky eyes on the female.

Cassandra was quiet for a moment, thinking. Trying to piece together everything she could remember. She looks up and nods her head. Everyone seemed to sit a little straighter, their full attention on her alone.

“My father is the one who sold me to a male named Vale. Blue skin, a long deep scar across his face, black eyes…mean and very strong—”

Rhysand hold his hand up, relaying the information to Azriel and you watch curiously as one of his shadows darts away and out of a window.

“Cassandra, do you mind if I open up a channel for everyone to hear what you say to me? It will help us find these people,” Rhysand asks, she doesn’t need to think before she nodded. She wanted to help in any way she could. Help any girls going through what she did and stopping more from going through it.

“Please, continue,” Rhysand encouraged.

“The male, Vale, had bought other females. He kept me me in a dark room under his home with three other females. He—he raped one of the girls many time but not me or the other two girls. He said he would get more money for us if we stayed…untouched.” Cassandra’s stomach rolled at the memories. Nauseated, remembering the cries of that poor girl every time that man came down stairs and hurt her. She could see the anger in the eyes that surrounded her, could practically feel it radiating from them. Their fists and jaws clenched tightly, wings rigid and shoulders taunt. But she continued.

“I stayed there for a few months before he took me to that…pleasure house? I’m not sure what happened to the other girls. I think he may have kept the one he raped.”

“Do you know their names?” Cassian asks and she’s nods. How could she ever forget them?

“Seera, Juno and Neema. I believe Seera and Juno were sister but I’m not completely sure. We tried not to talk too much because it made the male very angry,” She took a deep breath, trying not to remember the time he had nearly crushed her throat for merely asking to use the bathroom.

Unbeknownst to her she had sent that mental image to them who were seething with anger at what this poor girl had gone through.

“Once I was at that place I was introduced to Miss—I was introduced to Kamari,” She continued, needing to get away from the memories of that male. “She was in charge of my training. She stripped me naked, told me I would never own a pair of clothes again. That I was to be naked and ready for any male to take me whenever they pleased. I was to learn things that would…please these males. Anytime I refused I was beaten. So, for months I watched other females pleasure males in many ways. But only watched. They said—she said I would be sold for a lot of money for being untouched. That whoever paid the most could do whatever they wanted to me. When I saw the two of you I thought—” She swallowed thickly eyes shooting between Azriel and Cassian. “I though you were going to—”

Her voice cracks and she looks away. Morrigan pushes out of her chair, walking around the table. “Can I hug you?” She asks.

All Cassandra can do is nod letting Morrigan wrap strong arms around her. Hugging her tightly. Holding her in a way that reminded her of her mother before she died. After a moment Morrigan pulls away offering a napkin to wipe her eyes.

“Cassandra, dear, we can be done for today if it’s too much to continue,” Rhysand offers gently.

She nods gently, feeling as if maybe she wasn’t much help at all. The rest of dinner is spent in silence, Cassandra hunched into herself while the other four fae think about killing everyone who hurt this innocent girl and many more.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

It’s later that evening when Cassandra slips from her room. The stone floor is cold under her feet and the satin nightgown doesn’t do much to keep the cold from her skin so she tucks her wings around her body.

She makes her way to the roof of the house, a training area the twins had told her was up here—they had also told her it was the best place to view the stars.

It’s a breathtaking sight. The wind whips her hair around as she walks to the edge. The lively city sparkling below while the endless sky shines above. Beautiful. She sighs gazing at the sight of the silver moon and tapestry of stars.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here at this time,” Cassandra spins around, sighing in relief when she spotted Azriel, she hadn’t heard him come out at all.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I always loved looking at the stars,” She said, grateful Rhys had made it to where she could communicate—at least with the few people here.

Azriel gives her a lopsided smile that makes her heart stutter. “No need to apologize, that's why I’m out here too. The night sky has always been…soothing.”

She turns back to the ledge as he walks closer.

“You know, my father he was ashamed to have children with wings,” Cassandra said, as Azriel watched her from the side, her white hair shining in the moonlight—those green eyes glowing again. “He kept us locked away, and didn't want anyone to see us. My mother had her wings taken when she was a teenager. She said normally they just clipped them but her father was especially cruel and completely took hers away. Well, when my father was drunk enough or didn’t come home some evening my mother would bring us out and let us look at the stars, she taught us the constellations. And I got to see Starfall with her only one time before she died. It was…the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. After she died I never saw the stars again—not until the night you and Cassian took me away from that horrible place.”

Azriel did his best to simmer his anger, to clutch his shadows tightly that so badly wanted to reach out and comfort the female—to wipe away the glistening tears on her cheeks. She looks over at him then and he looks up at the sky so as not to reach out for her.

“Your mother seems like a lovely woman,” He says, hoping the opportunity to talk about her mother may make her feel better.

The smile that came over her face wasn’t what he was expecting. The way it lit up her face had his shadows singing in his ear. Beautiful. She’s beautiful.

She wiped her cheeks with one hand and nodded.

“She was amazing. She tried to protect us from him but she was just as afraid of him as we were. She didn’t know how to get out. But she took care of us. She was still young when she died—he says she died from taking some kind of herbs, that she took her own life. But I—I always believed he did it.” Azriel took in a shuttery breath.

“I’m sorry,” He said, struggling to find the words to comfort her.

“Me, too. I wish I could have protected her the way she protected me. But now she’s up there with the stars looking over us. Watching me, I think she would be happy I got out. I just hope I can help protect someone else the way I should have protected her.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned away from the ledge. “I think I’ll try to get some sleep. Goodnight, Azriel.”

Azriel watched her walk away. Night gown blowing in the wind, the beautiful broken girl disappearing into the shadows.

tag list: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94

[florencemtrash]

The Artificer: Part III - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: More torture, violence, and death

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

But… memories of you rose higher than his nightmares... Memories of your gentle hands caressing every one of his scars reminding him what it meant to be gentle. Memories of your hands grasping at his back, nails scraping down and reminding him what it meant to be strong. 

Azriel kept close to the walls, feeling his boots sink into the soft soil that tinged the air with dampness and the heavy weight of decomposition. It was a miracle the walls didn’t crumple in on themselves, propped up by some magic that allowed the tunnels to sink deeper and deeper beneath the hill like they were sliding down an animal’s throat.

Azriel’s knees remained loosely bent, poised to pounce, fingers drumming against the hilt of Sunseeker in one hand and Truth Teller in the other. 

He hated this kind of darkness. It didn’t taste of freedom like the crisp, clean winds of the night sky did. It tasted like a torturous childhood and the film of medicine that had never been enough to heal his hands. He bristled with every flicker of torchlight that waved dangerously close to his face, casting a warmth and light that was just a little too hot and a little too harsh. 

Even Eris, who’d been born in flame and heat, seemed unnerved by the slithering tunnels that burrowed beneath the hill. But maybe that’s because he was unnerved by the dark Shadowsinger that walked five paces ahead and the equally imposing Illyrian that followed five steps behind. 

Eris ran through calculations in his head, sifting through the probabilities that they would all die here, and how, and in what order. His lips flattened. He didn’t like his odds. But there was still a sliver of hope that he would defy all the poor cards he’d been dealt and end up on top. Even if it took some manipulation and careful maneuvering… starting with taking advantage of the Shadowsinger’s obvious care for you. 

It was clear from the tightness in the Shadowsinger’s shoulders that he was still reigning in the fury he’d displayed outside, and Eris only hoped it would be properly redirected towards a more deserving figure when the time arose. 

Azriel didn’t hide the breath of relief that exited his body when the tunnels gave way to a larger cavern. Moss and ferns dripped from the ceiling, clinging on to strips of exposed stone overhead. Here he could stretch his wings and fly if necessary. But the relief of that knowledge quickly died out when the stench of your blood hit him. 

Cells, dank and grimy, were carved out of the walls, wandering bodies trapped behind like offerings to an ancient god. But that wasn’t where Azriel’s focus was. No. His eyes were focused on the single cell in the center of the room with only a thick, metal grate for an opening… and the High Lord leaning over with a crooked smile on his face.

Cassian swore, whirling upon Eris like a crack of thunder ready to break. The fucker hadn’t warned them that his father would be here tonight. Maybe he hadn’t known. Cassian might have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But that disappeared the moment his eyes fell on the empty space between them. The Lordling had slipped away when their attention was elsewhere, hurrying down any of the half-dozen tunnels that spanned the walls. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, grabbing Azriel’s arm and thanking him back before he could float too close to the edge and expose them both. 

“He’s coming for me.” Your voice called out, worn and rough and deep. 

I’m here! Azriel wanted to scream. He hadn’t left you. He would never leave you. Never again. 

Beron circled like a vulture, ready to split you in two. Azriel’s eyes went black when Beron took out a battle cane strong enough to shatter bone, and crashed it against the gate, tongues of flame licking out and sending you cowering as you pressed yourself into the dirt, desperate to escape the unbearable heat. 

Azriel sprang into action, Cassian following close behind without hesitation. Somehow, the Lord of Bloodshed had known this was how tonight would end. He whispered a quick prayer to the Mother, sent one last burning message of love to Nesta across the bond, and then slammed down his mental shields.

Shouts of alarm were quickly snuffed out as Azriel’s shadows flew out from his wings, trailing behind him and engulfing the cavern in darkness. 

Cassian dove to the right, narrowly missing the onslaught of arrows that sailed past his ears, whistling as they streamed around him. They followed the curve of the wind around his strong body but never hit true.

A flash of red broke through the darkness, followed by screams of pain as Cassian threw another burst of his power and took out the snipers. The hill rocked, dirt falling down on their heads like hard rain.

You gasped, your face still half buried in the ground as the flames retreated with some mixture of shock and satisfaction. The hill rocked again and you had to roll out of the way as a chunk of the ceiling came crashing down and burst into a black cloud reeking of rot.

Beron was a beacon of light, a tornado of flames spinning around him. A casual flick of his wrist transformed the cane into a battle axe that glowed as hot as the sun, but never buckled under the heat. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered with fear just once, memories of burning and pain rising like a flood in his mind. He’d never told anyone this, but his disdain for the High Lord of Autumn was only matched by his fear of him. Because who else had the power to make his worst nightmares come true? Nightmares of being doused in oil and set on fire with no amount of writhing on the floor able to save him. 

But… memories of you rose higher than his nightmares. Memories of the forge that cast warmth upon your skin when you were pressed together with nothing but the tangled sheets between you two. Like rose petals preserved between the pages of a book. Memories of your gentle hands caressing every one of his scars reminding him what it meant to be gentle. Memories of your hands grasping at his back, nails scraping down and reminding him what it meant to be strong. 

He roared, loud enough that the hill shook again. Blue light crackled out from his chest, filling the cloud of black shadows like lightning cutting through the dark, and slammed into Beron’s fire. 

You fell back as the thin squares of sky above you filled with light and darkness, beating at each other unrelentingly as flickers of Azriel’s blue power carved out his silhouette. 

A well placed shot to Beron’s chest sent him sailing across the room and crashing through the rusting metal of a cell. 

Azriel dove down, grabbing hold of the grate to slow his momentum instead of using his wings. The bars were ripped out of the ground like the felling of an ancient tree. 

“Az!” You shouted, scrambling to your feet. 

“Y/n!” His face swam into view, eyes like perfect stones made of seaglass. 

You stretched onto your toes, ignoring the pain in your back as Azriel reached down, shadows filling the empty space and linking him to you. He began to haul you up, eyes shining and desperate. 

You caught the flicker of movement from Azriel’s left before he did.

“AZ LOOK OUT!” 

Light exploded into being and Azriel roared with pain, burning heat flaring over his wings as Beron stalked forward with his hands outstretched. 

You were dropped back to the floor, landing with a grimace on your shoulder. Shadows still clung to you, wrapping around your body and shielding you from the worst of the fall. 

“Az.” You croaked. “Az.” Dust and debris coated your throat as you staggered to your feet. Corrosive bangs sounded above you, flashes of blue and orange setting the air alight with power. 

Warm hands grabbed your shoulder from behind, a pale face sprinkled with freckles like copper dust coming into view. You flinched at the sight of him. 

Eris. 

He looked too much like his father. 

But his voice was softer, kinder. That was some consolation at the very least. “We need to go. Now.” 

“How did you get in here?” 

A sickening crack exploded above, bursts of Cassian’s power joining the fray. It sent a rain of dirt onto both your heads. Eris smirked, pointing to the hole in the wall he’d crashed through. He’d dug the tunnel to the cell with his bare hands fifty-three years ago while Beron had been trapped Under the Mountain. He’d left many of his personal changes to Autumn in Beron’s absence, some of which had been discovered, most of which remained secret. He was glad this piece of work was still standing. 

You looked back at him in surprise.

“You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me.” He said, holding onto your arm and tugging you towards the tunnel. 

You were so wired up that his words didn’t register at first, chugging through your brain at a snail’s pace. 

You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me. 

You gasped, “Wait. What?” 

But Eris ignored your sounds of surprise and slipped into the tunnel.

You had no choice but to follow, the sounds of battle behind you transforming into a dull bass that sent your heart pulsing. Eris’s hand turned to flame, lighting the way for you both as you steadily climbed your way up through the layers of stone and earth to freedom. 

Cassian careened to the right, leathers and the skin beneath smoking. He nicked the side of a stone outcropping, talons snagging on the rock and pulling sharply so he had no choice but to crash into the wall and clatter to the floor with a groan. He rolled to the side, tucking his wing in tightly enough that the swing of a guard’s axe met limestone in a shower of gray crumbs. 

Shadows coated the weapon like a pool of quicksand, swallowing it with a hiss of warning as the male jerked back. His eyes blew open, a choked gurgle escaping his throat at the blade that burst out from his chest. The body sank to the floor to reveal Eris’s towering above. He tipped his head to the side, bits of grime and blood dripping off his scarlet waves and tracing the smile lines on his face.

You stood beside him, steely hands gripping a war hammer equally doused in red. You’d snatched it off the body of a soldier while following Eris through the chaotic fray, and it was comforting to have such a familiar weight in your hands.

“Who’s the useless one now?” Eris crowed, sneering down at Cassian. But he still extended a hand, heaving a bruised and exhausted Cassian onto his feet and propping him up on his shoulder. 

Prick, Cassian thought first, leaning against him with a groan, Azriel, Cassian thought secondly, Where’s Azriel?

The explosions of power had dimmed down, shadows eating away at flames like starving men upon a dead animal. But Beron remained unperturbed as he lifted the flaming axe above his shoulder and cut through the air in a burst of heat that scorched brighter than a million suns. 

Cassian wrapped his wing around you, bringing you to the floor and shielding you from the worst of it. Even from this distance you saw the light growing behind your eyelids, bright and blinding.

Eris was the only one who remained standing, staring down at his father with unflinching eyes. Whatever was to come next, he’d either emerge the victor or he’d be dead. Either way, Beron wouldn’t be able to hurt him any longer. At least there was that. “Cassian,” He called out. It was the first time he’d ever used his real name, “Have you got any fight left in you?”

Cassian rose to his feet with you, grumbling about the charred smell emanating from his smoking wings. “It’s in my blood. So long as my heart’s still beating, I’ll keep on fighting.” He vowed. “To the bitter end.” 

He peeled himself off your side, rolling his shoulders back like he hadn’t just held off the power of a High Lord and survived. So this was the Lord of Bloodshed everyone talked about. 

You couldn’t help but stare in awe as his wings flared out in a show of power, the faint tendrils of smoke lifting off of them completing the epic picture. 

“Always so dramatic.” Eris muttered, rolling his eyes. But he had to admit, if he was to die tonight, dying alongside a magical artificer and two powerful Illyrian warriors would not be such a terrible ending to what had otherwise been a tragic, forgettable existence. 

You shoved Eris to the side, any awe replaced by fury as you saw Beron march towards Azriel’s dark form. 

The Shadowsinger rolled onto his feet lightly, picking up a glowing sword that you recognized as Sunseeker. If you had any doubts about Azriel being your mate, they disappeared as Sunseeker and Hellraiser clashed for the first time. 

You sprinted across the cavern, soon falling behind Eris and Cassian with your shorter frame but chasing after them nevertheless.

Fuckers. 

You gritted your teeth, hands gripping onto the ugly war hammer so tightly you felt the metal buckle beneath your fingers with a groan of protest. 

Come on, come on. You hissed to the metal, commanding it to do what you pleased with whatever meager sprinklings of power you had left. With a little encouragement and much frustration you finally felt the weapon conform to your will, twisting its shape to become denser, more aerodynamic, and easier to throw in your hands.

Perfect. 

Your magic wasn’t flashy or flamboyant. You had no sparks, or rolls of thunder, or bursts of light to display like a brightly feathered bird. But you didn’t need all that to look impressive, not when your war hammer sailed through Beron’s flames where Cassian and Eris’s melted, and struck the High Lord hard enough to dislocate his jaw. 

That’s my mate. Azriel thought proudly, rolling out of the way just in time so only the tips of his black hair caught on fire. 

Beron at least had the humility to look surprised as he gripped his chin and forced the bone back into place with a dribble of blood. 

Eris jumped on the opportunity, shooting forward in a blur of orange flame and concentrating all his power on the space right below Beron’s sternum. It wasn’t enough to knock him off his feet, but he still staggered back in Cassian’s direction.

Cassian didn’t waste his chance, taking his spare sword in hand and plunging the blade as far through Beron’s chest as he could. 

Beron stilled.

And everyone held their breath.

It happened faster than an arrow shot from a longbow. Beron twisted around and grabbed Cassian’s arm, snapping it out to the side with a horrifying crack of bone you’d never be able to forget. 

Cassian roared in pain, dropping to his knees. The sword fell from his hand and clattered to the ground. Or what remained of it at least. The blade was nothing more than a pathetic, molten pool dripping off the hilt.

You darted forward, slipping into the space in front of Cassian’s chest.

“Y/N!” Azriel screamed out, dashing forward as quickly as his wings and shadows could. No. No. No. No. No. He’d come all this way to find you. He couldn’t lose you like this. 

Beron’s eyes flickered with something like disappointment, but there was no hesitation as Hellraiser came swinging down with a death sentence.

You called out to the metal. You are mine. You reminded him. I made you. And you cannot hurt me.

You weren’t proud of Hellraiser. He’d been forged out of desperation, not love, as you sought to please the High Lord for long enough for Azriel to come find you.

 You’d told Beron the weapon would be able to withstand any amount of heat. Any amount of power. It would serve him well, even if it wasn’t bound to him as a servant to a master. 

You hadn’t lied about any of that. 

What you had kept a secret was that Hellraiser did have a master: You

And you’d made certain that no weapon of yours could ever be used against you. 

You cannot hurt me. You said again and the air around the battle ax began to rattle.

Hellraiser blew apart in a crack of thunder and lightning, shooting through Beron’s flesh and dotting his trousers and bronzed vest with scarlet blossoms. 

This time you were the one to shield Cassian, throwing your body over him as flecks of burning hot metal fell in a neat outline of your cramped silhouettes. But not a single molten drop fell on you.

Now it was Azriel’s turn. And this time, he was going to finish things once and for all.

His eyes turned into chips of ice cold steel, flat and unforgiving and malicious. He became the fabric that nightmares were carved from.

The next time Beron shot out his wave of flames, Azriel didn’t dodge them, slicing through the heat like a blade through water before bursting through on the other side with Sunseeker gripped in his hands. She sang a triumphant and vengeful ring when Azriel pushed her into the flesh beneath Beron’s rib cage with a scream of fury, plunging her up so far up through his chest and throat, that the High Lord’s tongue was severed and fell out of his gaping mouth. 

But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more. No, he needed more. He braced one foot on Beron’s chest, unsheathing Sunseeker with a wet, thick gush of scarlet blood. Then he swung again, this time severing Beron’s head from his body. The body and the head that had once belonged to it toppled over, turning the ground below into a mud slick.

Icaryon Hill fell into silence, flames flickering out on an invisible wind that swept across all of Prythian. The kind of wind that only arrived when a new High Lord was coming into power. 

Eris breathed in the cold, feeling power pour into him so rich and decadent that he groaned. Some new feeling erupted with life in his chest - something warm and safe and his - and it had nothing to do with the body of his father cooling ten feet away. 

He was free.

He was finally free.

When he opened his eyes Cassian saw they burned like amber in sunlight. His scarlet hair pulsed with flames, skin shimmering like moonlight as he held his hand over Cassian’s broken arm and pushed the bone back into place without pain. 

“Az!” You cried out, sprinting towards him. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped up and he staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his arms and chest with the steady beat of a church bell. 

His eyes turned hazel again and the bloodlust left him, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread and hope. He didn’t want you to see him like this. He didn’t want you to see him for the monster he was. It had been easy to forget what he did - what he was capable of - when he was wrapped up in your arms by the light of the forge. It was easy to forget that he didn’t deserve you when you were alone and warm and softer than any bed he’d rested on. But even so, he couldn’t stop his feet from moving forward in a stunned daze. Sunseeker slipped out of his hands without protest.

If he’d learned anything in your absence it was that he was far worse than he could have ever believed. Capable of more danger, more cruelty, more fear, more-

You sailed into his arms, slamming into his chest so hard that he rocked back on his feet, forced out of his mind and back into the present. He wound his arms around you, holding you to him. Desperate to hold onto a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. 

“Y/n.” He gasped, “Y/n.” Buried beneath the blood, sweat, and dirt you were still there smelling of something warm and clean and pure. 

His hands flowed over you like water. His eyes stripped you bare under their intense gaze as he searched for injuries. You grasped at his arms with-

“Your hands.” He said, the words coming out strangled and dead. 

Angry marks, red and black and scabbing over, criss-crossed over your palms and over the backs of your hands. You flinched when he held them, trying to ignore the throbbing of the matching marks on your back.

“You’re here.” You whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. You hoped you weren’t still dreaming. You’d dreamed of him so often these last few months.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” He asked with a voice full of pain. 

You shook your head passionately, “No. No. I knew you would come.” 

You dared to look to the side. The High Lord looked pale in death, that glow of power sapped from his skin. 

I told you I’d have your head. You thought bitterly. You searched inwardly for any remorse and came up satisfyingly empty.

Tendrils of shadow cradled your chin, gently turning you away from the gory sight and back to Azriel’s tortured hazel eyes. 

“Good.” He whispered, “Never forget that, Y/n. Never.” He held your hands in his own, gentle but fierce, touching his forehead to yours in a gesture full of soft reverence, “I’ll always come for you, Y/n. Always.”

You swallowed thickly and felt your legs begin to tremble. And then the rest of your body was shaking as well. The only thing keeping you upright was the firm press of Azriel’s body against yours.

“Take me home, Azriel,” You whispered, burying your face in his shoulder and slowly letting the horrors of what you’d endured catch up to you. “Please take me home.”

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__________________

Taglist: @dr4g0ngirl @glitterypirateduck @i-am-infinite @brujitafantomatico @woodland-mist @coureurs-de-bois9 @aetherl0l @gorlillaglue25 @onlyangellh @huffleruffplant @just-m-2 @hnyclover @onlyangellh @queerqueenlynn @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mybestfriendmademe @emme-looou @nyotamalfoy @minnieoo @lees-chaotic-brain @acourtofbatboydreams @tothestarsandwhateverend

[washmchineheart]

the way that azriel did the bare minimum when it comes to nesta (not treating her like shit) and half of us was like “you know what? good enough” just shows how insane these people are. can we please get nesta a restraining order.

[elainsgirl]

[acotarmemes]

ACOTAR tweets // jujutsu kaisen

icons @copypastus

[foxcort]

listen its not that tamlin locking feyre in a manor is ‘not a big deal’. its that sjm parallels tamlin and rhysand way too much for rhysand to be a viable, healthy option for feyre.

rhys put a whole city under a lockdown so severe people forgot about its existence (and from what the wiki says, the city was kept hidden for centuries even before, for the safety of its citizens) but tamlin locking feyre in a manor, so she wouldn’t follow him into an unsafe situation was crossing a line?

[elrxiel]

each time a G/wynriel says "Elriels wants Elain to be Gwyn so bad!" I lose another braincell trying to understand how someone can be so delusional and absolutely blind to canon sequences repeated over and over by multiple characters, yet so passionate in looking for clues between the lines (which in most cases, are simply not there, dare I say) and twisting the most obvious scenes to fit their narrative

we're all entitled to our own opinions and preferences but I simply cannot take them seriously when all I see are those opinions absolutely misreading canon text and giving characters qualities they do not possess - or trying to take away the ones they do - because they do not suit some wild theories which have no reasonable grounds to back them up

if you fail to understand Elain's character, qualities and background even if it's stated blankly in the books, that's on you I guess, but don't embarrass yourself saying anyone would like Elain to be Gwyn - I can assure you that while most of Elriels like or even adore Gwyn's character and the others are neutral towards her, all of us here writing about Elain are here for her exactly how she is being portrayed throughout the whole series

we love her exactly how she is and frankly, none of us has to take away anything from other characters

maybe before stating something so profoundly stupid, take a look in the mirror and look up the word "hypocrisy" first

[small-z24]

One-Shot: A Dance with Danger

Summary:

Y/N and Azriel are forced to take shelter in a secluded cabin after a mission goes awry. As they fend off a surprise attack from Hybern soldiers, their long-hidden feelings come to the surface during a heated argument.

Word Count: 1713

Warnings: This story contains intense battle scenes, descriptions of injuries, emotional turmoil, and moments of vulnerability. Readers should be prepared for dramatic confrontations and raw emotional exchanges.

The mission had gone smoothly—too smoothly. As Y/N and Azriel made their way back to the Night Court, a sense of unease settled over them. The forest around them was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of nocturnal creatures conspicuously absent.

"We need to keep moving," Azriel said, his voice low and urgent. "I don't like this silence."

Y/N nodded, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword. "Agreed. Let's hurry."

They picked up the pace, their footsteps muffled by the thick underbrush. Just as they reached a clearing, a group of Hybern soldiers emerged from the shadows, surrounding them with weapons drawn.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" sneered the leader, a tall fae with a cruel smile. "The Night Court's spymaster and his little friend."

Azriel's shadows flared protectively around him, his wings spreading wide. "Stay behind me, Y/N."

She stepped forward, her eyes blazing with determination. "Not a chance. We're in this together."

The Hybern soldiers attacked, and the clearing erupted into chaos. Y/N and Azriel fought back-to-back, their movements perfectly synchronized. Y/N's blade flashed in the moonlight as she parried and struck, each movement a testament to her skill and training. Azriel's shadows lashed out like living weapons, disarming and incapacitating their foes with deadly precision.

Despite their efforts, the enemy's numbers were overwhelming. Azriel was struck by a glancing blow to the side, blood seeping through his tunic. Y/N's heart lurched at the sight, but she couldn't afford to be distracted.

"Azriel, are you alright?" she shouted, slashing through another attacker.

"I'm fine," he gritted out, his eyes never leaving the enemies surrounding them. "Just focus on the fight."

They fought on, but the tide was turning against them. Y/N's movements were slowing, exhaustion creeping into her limbs. She knew they couldn't keep this up much longer.

Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in her shoulder as an arrow found its mark. She stumbled, her vision blurring. Azriel's roar of rage and anguish cut through the chaos, and he surged forward, his shadows enveloping them both in a protective cocoon.

"We need to get out of here," he said, his voice tight with worry.

Y/N nodded weakly, her strength waning. "Lead the way."

With a powerful beat of his wings, Azriel lifted them both into the air, his shadows forming a barrier against further attacks. They flew through the trees, the wind whipping past them as they raced against time and danger.

When they finally landed near a secluded cabin, Azriel gently set Y/N down, his hands trembling. "Stay with me, Y/N," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Don't you dare leave me."

She managed a weak smile. "I'm not going anywhere, Azriel. Just... need to rest."

Azriel carefully carried her into the cabin, laying her down on a makeshift bed. He worked quickly to tend to her wounds, his hands steady but his eyes filled with fear.

"You're going to be okay," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "You have to be."

Y/N reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek. "Thank you, Azriel. For everything."

He captured her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Rest now. I'll keep watch."

As Y/N drifted into a fitful sleep, Azriel stood guard, his shadows coiling around them like a protective shroud. He couldn't shake the fear gnawing at his heart, the thought of losing her more than he could bear.

Hours passed, and Y/N awoke to find Azriel still by her side, his eyes red-rimmed but vigilant. "Azriel," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You should rest."

He shook his head, his expression fierce. "Not until I know you're safe."

She smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for the shadowy warrior who had risked everything for her. "I'm safe with you."

Azriel's gaze softened, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "And I'll always keep you safe, Y/N. No matter what."

The moment was interrupted by a loud crash as the cabin door was kicked open. Hybern soldiers flooded in, their eyes gleaming with malice.

"Found you," their leader sneered. "Did you really think you could escape us?"

Azriel's shadows flared to life, and he stepped in front of Y/N, his wings spreading protectively. "Over my dead body."

The battle was fierce and relentless. Azriel fought with a ferocity born of desperation and love, his shadows striking with deadly precision. Y/N, despite her injuries, found the strength to rise and join the fight, her determination unwavering.

But the odds were against them. Just as it seemed they would be overwhelmed, a blast of magic erupted from the doorway, sending the Hybern soldiers sprawling. Rhysand and the Inner Circle had arrived, their faces grim with determination.

"Need a hand?" Rhysand called, his magic crackling around him.

"Glad you could make it," Azriel replied, relief flooding his voice.

With the added strength of their allies, the tide quickly turned. The remaining Hybern soldiers were dispatched, and the cabin fell silent once more.

Rhysand approached Azriel and Y/N, his gaze assessing. "You both look like hell."

"Feel like it too," Y/N muttered, her legs threatening to give out.

Feyre rushed to Y/N's side, her healing magic already at work. "Let's get you patched up."

Azriel watched with a mix of gratitude and worry as Y/N was tended to, his own wounds forgotten in his concern for her. Rhysand placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

"You did well, Az," he said quietly. "She's strong, and she'll be alright."

Azriel nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. "I know. But I can't lose her."

"You won't," Rhysand promised. "Not if we have anything to say about it."

As the night wore on, the storm outside finally began to abate. Y/N, now fully healed thanks to Feyre's magic, sat beside Azriel, their hands entwined.

"You scared me," Azriel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I saw you fall..."

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes filled with love and regret. "I didn't mean to worry you."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just don't do it again."

Y/N laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I'll do my best."

They sat in comfortable silence, the events of the night a stark reminder of the dangers they faced. But in each other's arms, they found solace and strength, knowing that together, they could face anything.

As dawn broke, casting a golden light over the cabin, Azriel pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N's lips. "We'll get through this, Y/N. We'll make it through every storm, every battle. Together."

"Together," she echoed, her heart swelling with love and determination.

And as the new day began, they knew that their bond, forged in the heat of battle and the depths of their love, would guide them through whatever challenges lay ahead. For in each other, they had found not just a partner, but a soulmate, a love that would endure through any storm.

Weeks passed, and their bond grew stronger. They continued to face missions and challenges together, their partnership growing seamless. One evening, as they prepared for another mission, an unexpected argument erupted.

"You need to be more careful out there, Y/N," Azriel said, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can't keep putting yourself in danger like this."

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Azriel. I don't need you hovering over me all the time."

Azriel's jaw clenched. "I'm not hovering. I'm protecting you."

"Protecting me?" Y/N's voice rose. "It feels more like you're smothering me. I'm not some fragile flower that needs constant guarding."

"I'm trying to keep you safe!" Azriel shouted, his shadows flaring around him.

"And I don't need you to!" Y/N shouted back, her eyes blazing with anger.

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. They stood there, breathing heavily, staring at each other. And then, without warning, it happened.

A powerful, unmistakable bond snapped into place between them, a connection so strong it took their breath away. Y/N's eyes widened in shock, and she saw the same realization mirrored in Azriel's gaze.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The bond..."

"I know," he replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I've known for a while."

Tears filled Y/N's eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Azriel stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "I was afraid. Afraid of complicating things, of dragging you into my world of shadows and danger. I thought you deserved better."

"Better than my mate?" Y/N's voice broke, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Azriel, you're everything to me."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

Y/N buried her face in his chest, her sobs shaking her body. "I love you, Azriel. I love you so much."

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. "More than anything."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the bond between them solidified, a promise of love and devotion that would never be broken. They had faced so much together, and now, they would face the future as mates, united by a love that had defied all odds.

The next day, as they prepared for their mission, there was a newfound sense of peace and determination between them. They knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable.

As they flew over Velaris, Azriel's wings carrying them through the sky, Y/N felt a sense of exhilaration and hope. They were stronger together, and nothing could stand in their way.

"Ready for this?" Azriel asked, his eyes sparkling with love and confidence.

"With you by my side, always," Y/N replied, her heart swelling with joy.

And as they soared into the horizon, hand in hand, they knew that their love would guide them through any storm, any battle. For they were mates, destined to be together, their bond a beacon of light in the darkest of times.

[stargirlfeyre]

Acting like Feyre is closer to Lucien than she is to Azriel and Cassian is actual insanity.

Out of these three men only one of them has yet to hold her child (Lucien), out of these three men only one of them was left out when it was time to announce her pregnancy (Lucien), out of these three men only one of them curses out her in defense of her abuser and still wants to be friends with him (Lucien).

Azriel was one of the first people to hold Nyx, before Rhys even did mind you. He’s described as being super protective of him almost to the extent of his parents and he was there for all of it. The pregnancy announcement, the gender reveal, and the birth. Don’t mistake Feyre and him having a quiet relationship as them having a nonexistent one. When Rhys couldn’t get Azriel off of Eris at the High Lord’s meeting it was Feyre who he listened to, when Nesta hurt Feyre by throwing the death of her child in her face Azriel purposely overpacked her bag while knowing that she, who is suicidal, would be climbing a mountain.

When Azriel got upset with Feyre and disagreed with her orders they actually had a private conversation about it after instead of just ignoring each-other’s feelings, when Feyre was doubting where she belonged in the world it was Azriel, who is usually emotionally closed off towards even his friends of centuries, who opened up and connected with her about being confused on where he also belongs. When Feyre was insulted at the High Lord’s meeting, it was Azriel who threatened a High Lord over her before even her mate could say anything.

It’s him who’s flying all the way to the continent to get her rare paints for her birthday and it’s Lucien who’s trying to get in her face in the name of defending her abuser on her birthday.

And Cassian? Come on now. Not counting Rhys, Cassian is probably the closest person to Feyre along with Mor. Like do I need to bring up his monologue about how much he admires her? Do I need to bring up how he’ll just go to her studio to watch her paint? Do I need to bring up their entire Solstice scene in Acofas? How he got an attitude with her because she didn’t think she was as valuable as the rest of the Inner Circle members? How he said that she was his? How he said that in the weeks that she was in Spring, he felt the same way that he did when Rhys was stuck UTM? How he made his suicidal mate climb a mountain for hurting her?

Cassian is Feysand’s first child even even they know it.

Saying that Feyre has a deeper relationship with Cassian and Azriel isn’t really a diss because it’s true. Lucien isn’t going to be super important to everyone and that’s okay. Those two have been there for important milestones in her life the way Lucien has not. They’ve been there for her emotionally and physically (not like that) in ways Lucien has not. Probably because he was too busy being an emotional crutch for her abuser.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Stay with me

Azriel x reader

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by Hybern’s army, and Azriel gets injured during the mission to rescue you. 

Thank you lillithathecat for requesting 24. Soulmates - one risks their life for the other + 26. Tending to injuries.

Day 4/5 for 500!! Enjoy! 💗

Warnings: Violence, injuries

Words: 1,963

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“Azriel!!” you screamed, thrashing against the arms of the soldiers that held you back.

He had come to save you – just as Hybern had expected. Like an angel of the night, he swooped at the army below, slitting throats with his sword and choking others with his shadows. You tried to scream for him, to warn him this was a trap, but it was already too late.

Azriel spotted you then, hovering in the air for just a moment before making for your direction. He didn't get far as a quiver of arrows shot through the air, piercing his wings.

You knew those arrows would be laced with Faebane, and your eyes widened in terror. Azriel roared as he flapped against the pain, blood now spilling from multiple wound sites. You screamed his name again, watching your angel fall from the sky.

Cassian appeared in front of you then, and Feyre close behind him as she winnowed into place. He looked past you, grunting as he swung his sword at the guards, not giving them a chance to fight back as they fell to the ground. You heard more yelling, and turned to see Feyre’s water wolves unleashed onto the rest of Hybern’s men.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you tried to spot Azriel amongst the fight, panic rising in your throat as you could no longer see the troughs of his wings. On instinct, you launched into a sprint, heading straight to where he had fallen – before a strong hand caught your wrist.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Cassian’s ran his eyes over you with concern, his chest heaving from the fight.

“Azriel!” was all you could shriek as you pulled against his hold.

“I know, it’s alright. Rhys has winnowed him back to the camp.”

You stopped pulling, your eyes darting between Cassian’s as you tried to process through your panic. “Take me to him.”

Cassian flicked his eyes down to your bloodied lip and bruised face – Hybern’s army had showed you little mercy as their bait. “You’re injured.” was all he said.

“I’m fine,” you growled. “Take me to Azriel, please.”

Feyre appeared beside you both, and she placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “The wolves will finish the rest of them. Let’s go.” Air and wind ripped around you as she winnowed you back to the base camp.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you were running to find Azriel. You could scent his blood, bile rising in your throat as you raced against the clock.

Bursting into the medical tent, you saw him sprawled on his stomach, his grunts filling the tent as his body jerked in pain, the Faebane spreading. You broke at the site of his wings, the skin of them shredded and withered as the poison worked fast. Rhys was beside him, holding his brother’s hand as he spoke softly, likely working to ease his pain.

“Azriel,” you rasped, your face crumpling as you rushed to him. Closer now, you could see the way his brows pulled as he panted and sweat. “Y/N,” he gasped, trying to raise his head.

“Shh, don’t try to speak,” you said, eyeing his back and watching his wings twitch another time. Something snapped in you then, and instinct took over as you fetched ointments and bandages and got to work.

Your hands shook as you hovered over the first of many arrows you would need to remove. “This is going to hurt,” you warned, before pulling on the wooden stem, clenching your teeth as Azriel sounded a yelp. You cried for him as you discarded the arrow, pressing on the wounds to stop the bleeding and rubbing ointment to halt the spread of the poison. Sweat stung your eyes as you tried to focus, doing your best to ignore the voice that questioned if it would be enough to save him.

“Where is Madja?” you gritted, pulling another arrow which caused another jerk from Azriel. He had stopped yelling now, and you knew he was slipping further into exhaustion.

“She’s on her way,” Rhys said tightly, his eyes glowing as he continued to manage Azriel’s pain from his mind. Feyre stood beside you, replacing the bandages and dressings you needed as she watched your handiwork with a pained expression.

You didn't respond as you ground your teeth, pulling out the last of the arrows.

“There,” you said, moving to crouch at Azriel’s face, his eyes blinking in and out of sleep. “They’re all out.” You couldn’t help the instinct it was to softly stroke the side of his face. “Madja will be here soon.”

“Thank you,” Azriel said, his voice weak. ‘A-are you ‘k?”

“I’m fine, Az,” you said softly with a broken smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Good,” was the last thing he said before finally giving in to exhaustion.

Stepping back, your ran shaking hands over your face as you tried to breath. You were riddled with worry as you paced the tent. What if Madja doesn’t have the right antidote? What if she doesn’t arrive in time, and he dies in his sleep? What if his wings never heal?

“Hey, hey,” Rhys caught you then, steadying your shoulders. “It’s going to be alright.”

You broke then, falling to your knees as the events of the past day caught up with you. You had been snatched from your own tent and beaten by Hybern’s army. They had used you as bait, promising to kill anyone you would try to retrieve you. You begged Rhys mind to mind for him and the rest of the circle not to come – you would rather have died than risk their lives. But they had come anyway – Azriel now at death’s door because of it.

Rhys’s and Feyre were on you then, rubbing your back and reassuring you softly. You couldn't hear them over the sound of your own cries.

“He might die,” was all you could get out, your voice strained and broken.

Feyre held you close, as Rhys took your hands in his. “You’ve done an excellent job at removing the arrows, Y/N. Azriel is stronger than you think. Madja will be here soon, he’ll survive this.”

You looked back at Rhys, your expression longing, desperate to believe him.

Feyre pulled you up gently, her arms firm around your shoulders. “You’re injured too Y/N. Why don't we have you checked by a healer, hmm?”

She wasn't wrong, your body ached with bruises, blood crusted at your lips and nose, and you were sure you had a few broken ribs. But panic rose at the thought of leaving Azriel’s side, and you shook your head stubbornly. “I won't leave him.”

Feyre exchanged a look with her mate before nodding. “I understand,” she said gently.

Madja arrived shortly after, bustling over Azriel’s back while he slept. She came with a specially brewed liquid, and asked you to feed it to him while she reapplied his patches. You felt awful waking him from the rest he needed, but Azriel had grunted in acknowledgement, swallowing the liquid as you bought the vile to his lips. You gently placed his head back down on the cot, stroking his hair as you hoped painless sleep would find him again soon.

The rest of the Circle had come to the tent to hear Madja’s update – Azriel was stable, and she credited your work to remove the Faebane as soon as possible. His wings would take months to heal, but he would be able to fly again. Your body sagged in relief, tears falling once again as you glanced at the large Illyrian who slept through the quiet conversation.

You refused to leave his side, watching him take deep breaths in and out, each one a blessing. He was so brave, so selfless, and it shook you to think he had risked his own life to save yours. You were rather new to the Inner Circle – and Azriel, while polite, had always been quiet and reserved. While you had previously considered him a friend, the extent of his sacrifice showed you he meant so much more.

Slumped in a chair beside his cot, you finally nodded off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. You don't know how long it was before you jolted awake at the sound of Azriel stirring. Leaping up, you immediately went to him, crouching at his side.

“Y/N?” he coughed, voice hoarse.

“I’m here.”

Azriel blinked at you, trying to focus after hours of sleep. “You’re alive?”

“Alive and safe, thanks to you.”

“Thank the Cauldron,” he said gruffly, before trying to raise himself. A grunt escaped him, and he fell back down in his cot, not yet strong enough to sit up.

You bought a soft hand to his arm, rubbing it gently. “How’s your pain?”

“I’m alright,” he answered, an obvious lie.

“Madja says you’ll make a full recovery.”

Azriel hummed at that. You couldn't believe he was concerned with your wellbeing before his own.

“Azriel,” you said, blinking upwards to try and stop the tears that brewed. “I’m so sorry.”

He frowned at you then. “Whatever for?”

“You risked your life for my own. Your wings” you waved a hand to his back. You were glad he couldn't yet see the splatter of dressings and dried blood that covered them.

Azriel sighed, closing his eyes. “I had to get you back.”

You blinked at him, one slow tear rolling down your cheek. “I asked Rhys for you not to come.”

“I know,” he replied, opening his eyes again, their hazel glow boring into yours. “You’re a fool to have asked.”

You laughed then, clutching at the sharp pain at your ribs. Azriel smiled back softly.

“You’re smiling,” he said gently. You finished your laugh, returning his smile as you nodded. “You have a beautiful laugh.” You were sure it was the exhaustion that willed him to say it, but never the less, a blush tinged your cheeks so quickly you had to look away. Azriel reached for you then, and you clasped his scarred hand between your own.

“I was so worried about you,” you admitted, pain returning to your eyes. He closed his lids again, a hint of his smile still there. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

You frowned now, pulling your hands back to wrap around your stomach. “I couldn't stand the thought of you dying for me.”

“It’s my duty.”

“I know. But, what a waste.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You swallowed, guilt working its way through you. “Promise me you won't ever do something so reckless again.”

“No,” he said tightly. “It wasn’t reckless, Y/N. It was necessary.” Azriel took a quick breath before continuing. “You’re very important to me.”

You sighed at his response, shaking your head and placing one hand atop of his. “You’re important to me too Az.”

Azriel’s eyes bored into yours as you shared a silent moment. He cleared his throat then, flicking his gaze to your chest. “You need to see a healer,” he remarked, eyeing the way in which you clutched at your ribs.

“No,” you said quickly. “I’m fine right here.”

Azriel nodded, before a painful cough racked through him.

You blinked, realising he might like some privacy. “You should rest some more” you said shyly, straightening yourself as you got up to leave.

A scarred hand caught your wrist.

“Don't go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, and it was the most vulnerable you had ever seen the Shadowsinger. “Please, stay here with me.” he added, eyes pleading.

You smiled now, once again stroking his face. “Always.”

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