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thisblogisaboutabook · 1 year ago

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Baby, Mine

Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot

Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.

Bonus Chapter/Part 2

Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination

“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”

“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.

Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.

“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.

“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”

There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.

“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”

And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.

So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.

Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.

As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.

She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.

Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”

“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“

“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”

Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,

“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”

He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”

She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”

And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.”

At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.

A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”

She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.

The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.

Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.

Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.

Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.

Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.

But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.

As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.

Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.

He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.

“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.

A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.

As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”

He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”

Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”

“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”

“At the Town House.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”

Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.

“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”

“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”

Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,

“Secrets”

He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”

Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.

“Easy brother.”

Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.

“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.

“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”

Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”

Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.

Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”

“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”

“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.

Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”

She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.

“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”

Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.

“She kicked for the first time the other day.”

Rhys raised a brow.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.��

Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.

“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“

Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.

“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”

Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”

“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”

As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”

Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”

“Okay, quieter than usual.”

Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”

“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”

She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.

Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.

She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”

Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”

She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”

“Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.

“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”

Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”

She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”

A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”

Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.

Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”

And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.

It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.

The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.

“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.

“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”

Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”

Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”

He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”

————————-

“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.

“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”

“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”

“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”

“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”

“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”

“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”

“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.

Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.

Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”

She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”

“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.

She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”

“I know better than to go against your intuition.”

With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”

As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”

She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”

As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.

The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.

Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”

Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.

She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.

“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.

Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.

“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”

An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.

“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”

Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.

“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”

The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.

Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”

“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”

Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”

“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”

Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”

Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”

Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.

“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.

Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”

She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.

“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”

She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.

The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.

Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”

Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.

————————-

Epilogue

Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.

He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.

Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”

Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”

Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”

The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”

Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”

Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”

Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.

#feyre #rhysand #azriel x pregnant mate #Azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel one shot #angst #sarah j maas #READ THE WARNINGS PLEASE #feysand #under the mountain #amarantha #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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velarisnightsky444 · 5 months ago

Text

Scorched Shadows: Part 11

Eris x Azriel's Sister OC

Summary: Estella is the younger sister of Azriel. Like her older brother, she is a shadowsinger and spymaster for the Night Court. When she meets Eris, she initially despises him, but after a bargain is made between them, and they are stuck Under the Mountain together, things begin heating up.

CW: Violence

Word Count: 1236

Series Masterlist

Part 10 || Part 12

»»————-　♔　————-««

Year 24 since fic began Year 20 Under the Mountain

It had been quite a while since Estella found herself covered in someone else's blood.

But after she'd been cornered by that Winter Court male all those years ago, she had begged Rhysand for some weapon to defend herself. He provided her with a dagger that she kept sheathed at her thigh beneath the skirts of her dresses.

She had sensed the male before she heard him, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as he snuck up on her in the dark corridors. Without her shadows, she had been forced to train her intuition, which had improved tremendously. And she could feel his presence.

She had reached for her dagger, quickly spinning on her heel and burying the blade in his face. Right at the bridge of his nose. He had let out a shattering cry, a hand flying to his face. And she retrieved her dagger and ran.

"If you're aiming to kill, go for the neck," Azriel had once told her. "But if you just want to shock and disarm them, go for the face. Nobody expects you to stab them in the face."

She ran--ran as fast as she could. She didn't even know where she was running until she found herself at Eris's door. She'd been there not even four hours ago, but here she was again.

She didn't even knock before letting herself in. Eris was sprawled out on his bed, curly red locks in his face as he read a book. His tunic revealed the top of his perfect chest, and his pants hugged his muscular legs so nicely.

"Already back for more--" he began smugly, but the smirk was wiped from his face when he met her eyes. "What in the Cauldron's name happened to you?"

"I stabbed a male," Estella managed.

The bloody dagger fell from her hand and clattered against the hard floor, splattering the red substance across it.

Eris was on his feet in a second, his book forgotten on the bed. He rushed to her side, gripping her shoulders and pulling her into the room. Then, he closed the door carefully behind her.

"What did he do to you?" Eris snarled, his hands still on her shoulders as he took her in.

"Nothing," she said, staring past him at the wall. "I didn't give him the chance."

"Is he dead?"

"No," Estella replied, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I stabbed him in the face."

"In the face?" Eris snapped, amber eyes going wide.

"Nobody expects you to stab them in the face," Estella numbly repeated her brother's words.

"Who is he?" Eris demanded with a growl. "I will kill him, Estella."

"I don't know," she murmured. "I ran before I could see him very well."

Eris sighed, his hand coming up from her shoulder to cup her face. He'd be different--more gentle lately. Things, in general, had been different between the two of them in the last five years. Since the ball, when she admitted that she didn't think he was cruel.

Neither of them had acknowledged the change, but there was more trust between the two of them. More affection. More care. It wasn't just rough sex anymore. It didn't mean she had fallen in love with him, but she didn't quite despise him anymore, either.

"I'll run you a bath," he mumbled.

She nodded, grateful, as he slipped away, off to his bathroom. She let loose a breath, shock still keeping her from fully comprehending what was happening.

When Eris emerged again, he came to her side, leading her to the bathroom. She glanced down at the bath, then at Eris, whose brow was furrowed with concern.

"I don't know what he wanted to do to me, Eris," Estella whispered, her voice trembling. "I stabbed him before he--"

"Good," Eris cut her off. "Good that you stabbed him before you could find out."

Estella nodded, staring off into space.

"Do you need help?" he asked her. She shook her head. "Fine. I'll lay out one of my tunics for you."

"Wings," she reminded him.

"Oh, right," he recalled, sighing. "Then just wrap yourself in a towel, and I'll make sure your dress is cleaned of all the blood."

Estella thanked him quietly, and he left her alone. She shed her clothes and climbed into the hot tub. She didn't have it in her to relax. Instead, she scrubbed at the blood on her scarred hands and the splatters on her face. Scrubbed until the water was tinted orange.

When she got out, she dried off, brushed her hair with her fingers, and wrapped her body in a towel, the back dipping under the base of her wings.

She found Eris in his bed again when she came out of the bathroom, and she didn't say a word to him before going to his side. She decided that she couldn't stand to be alone. So she climbed into his bed, laying herself on top of him.

Eris tensed at the motion, asking, "Are you alright? This is strange."

While affection had been more common between the two, they hadn't ever been this affectionate. But she needed comfort; she needed company. And Rhys was never around. Not that that was his fault. But Eris was all she had.

"I don't feel so well," Estella said to him.

At those words, his arms wrapped around her, holding her to him. She nuzzled her face under his chin, comforted by the warmth of his body.

»»————-　♔

Eris was more than shocked when Estella crossed the room in nothing but a towel and collapsed on top of him. But once he overcame the initial shock, he realized it felt right.

So he held her. He held her until she fell asleep, wrapped in his arms. Then, he held her closer.

For a Spymaster who killed for a living, she had been so shaken up by the incident. She had been trembling, her eyes so distant, her face numb. And he wanted nothing more than to kill the male that had tried to hurt her.

He had been trying to avoid admitting to himself that he was beginning to care for her. But honestly, he was. He understood he couldn't let himself love her.

When his mother had walked in to find Estella in his room five years ago, she had certainly berated him for it.

"That girl is beloved by all the males in the Night Court that quite dislike you," she had reminded him. "Eris, you are smart. You know better."

Not to mention what his father would do to Estella and how he would use her against him if he ever found out.

Eris couldn't. He couldn't love her.

But it was so hard not to. It was so hard when she was asleep on his chest, breathing softly when she had come to him first after such a distressing experience.

Just this morning, she had been insatiable. She'd sucked him off, then let him fuck her until she was nearly shrieking with pleasure. And only four hours later, she'd shown up trembling.

He was furious at the thought of any male even thinking of laying a hand on her. He wished she could've at least remembered his face so he could rip the male apart, limb by limb.

But for now, knowing she was safe was enough.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness @sourapplex @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @i-know-i-can @mp-littlebit @paintedbyshadows @kristijenner19 @kitsunetori @lorosette @bookwormysblog @libraryofshan @historygeekqueen @eyes-capone

Eris Taglist:

Comment to be added to the Scorched Shadows or Eris taglists!

»»————-　♔　————-««

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draguta · 1 year ago

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.a court of fate and fortune | thirty-seven.

pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: | book two | lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. with the threat of war looming over prythian, lucien, Y/N, tamlin, and rhysand's inner circle must scramble to find allies and prepare themselves for what is to come. but Y/N only has one aim; to find her way back to lucien, and protect him at all costs.

chapter warnings: canon level violence, death

chapter word count: 2318

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BATTLE OF VELARIS

Rita’s eyes slid to you as you hurtled toward the four soldiers surrounding her, but it wasn’t fear that you felt in that moment, as reflected in Rita’s eyes. Rather, it was surety that ran through your veins, determination that pumped throughout your body as if it was always meant to have been there. You had fought before - fought for your life, fought to train, to become stronger - but it was nothing like that moment. In that moment, it was almost as if you were born to do this, to be the defender of those more innocent than you, those who had never committed the sins that you yourself had.

Your feet skidded on the blood-slick stones as you brought the knife in your right hand up, slicing through the right lumbar of the soldier closest to you, the small size of the knife making it easy to slip up under his armour to cut through his skin. The soldier cried out in pain as your knife came back wet and red with his blood. Your hair, damp with sweat, flicked across your face as your head turned just in time to see the blade aimed right for your throat; it wasn’t difficult to dodge it, a move that you and Silas had practised countless times.

The movements you made were slick and smooth, carefully executed strikes and blows with such precision that it would make both your old and new tutors proud. There was a soldier on all sides of you, from left to right, in front and behind. You were surrounded, encircled by enemies that wanted nothing more than your head on the end of their sword as a prize to return to their vicious king.

Each and every blow struck against your knives, sparks flying from the metal as they clanged together. You ducked and dodged every attempt made by the four soldiers, slicing endless jabs at each of them as they circled you, a dance where the leader was outnumbered, but knew every step by heart. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face, one of maniacal clarity; this was everything you had been waiting for, a chance to prove yourself.

“I never would have expected such flawless swordsmanship from the Spring Court sister.” The voice was rough and gravelly, enough to pull you momentarily away from the fight you had found yourself in, quick enough that you didn’t miss the sword aimed for your abdomen, deflected with graceful ease, but with enough counted seconds to catch glimpse of what was taking place behind you.

Rita’s eyes were resolutely wide, determined but fogged with panic and fear. The old dented metal of an ancient-looking dagger was pointed into the soft flesh below her jaw, enough to draw a drop of blood from the column of her throat.

“Is this what they were teaching you in the fields, hmm?” The soldier holding the dagger spoke, his grip on Rita’s arm pinching her tighter, to the point that the skin surrounding his fingers was turning a ghostly white. His yellowing grin seemed to glow eerily from amongst his thin lips, coated in a sheen of scarlet blood as he cocked his head to one side, eyes trained on you. “Did your little trainer never teach you that it’s usually those you’re trying to protect that become your greatest weakness.”

No, Silas had never taught you that. But Azriel had. Time and time again he had drilled into you that your first priority should be making sure any innocents made it to safety - you cursed yourself for forgetting what he had taught you.

“Just let her go,” you said, attempting to sound stern, commanding, but failing as the bile in your throat made your voice croaky and weak. You flinched as that dagger pressed closer to Rita’s throat, masking the slight movement with a flick of the knife in your hand as you jilted your head toward the bar owner. “You don’t need her. Your fight isn’t with her, it’s with me. Let her go-” you spread your arms wide as an invitation to finish what you had both started, “and we can finish this here and now.”

It was then, as the soldier grinned in an almost unearthly manner, pushing Rita from his side as he took the first strides toward you, that you felt the pain; sharp and unyielding and unbearable right in your side, just below the final rib. A scream ripped from your throat, your bones cracking as you fell to your knees beside Rita, barely able to see the figure of the two soldiers - the one who had held Rita and the one who had snuck up behind you and pierced you with their blade - looming above you through your tears.

Your eyes slowly slid to Rita, even as the cobblestones surrounding the bar keep’s knees grew sticky with your own blood. Her eyes were wide, her skin so pale it almost seemed translucent. But that wasn’t important, not when those soldiers were still lingering so near, when the city itself was under siege, when your friends were out there on the streets fighting for their lives. No, what mattered was that female before you, your friend, an innocent.

“Run!” A pained croak that seemed to echo across the river. And as the two Hybern soldiers behind you muttered something about letting the Attor finish you off, the last thing you saw was Rita’s boots as they slammed against the cobblestones in the opposite direction.

A gnawing ache, just below his last rib. It only seemed to grow with every second that Lucien paced the bare stone floor of his rooms. At first, he had thought that it was perhaps his worry manifesting itself into physical pain - anxiety and panic ruminating in his body, only swelling with each second that passed on the clock. Each second that passed without him knowing if she was safe. If he had - in his loyalty to Tamlin - sentenced her to death.

It was his fault.

His fault.

It was heinous.

The words seemed to echo through those empty, silent streets, carried on a phantom breeze straight to the House of Wind standing tall in the golden hues of the morning, across every rippled of the Sidra, across each and every blood-soaked cobblestone.

A putrid smell hung in the air like a heavy blanket on Velaris, that once beautiful city now turned to ruin. The place where so many had lost their lives that day. Amongst them you lay, unsure if you were dead or alive; unsure of which you’d rather be. Something warm and heavy lay upon you, crushing your body under its weight. The Hybern soldier, now dead it would seem.

You drew in a deep staggered breath, ignoring the sharp-shooting pain that ran through your stomach at the movement. If you could just keep breathing, keep inhaling and exhaling, perhaps you could make it through this. If it was even worth trying to survive at all.

No, of course it was.

Minutes, or even hours passed, you weren’t sure. The buzzing of flies spun around you, and you could hear the far-off caws of the crows, likely coming to claim their victims, the bodies of the soldiers that surrounded you, littering the streets of the city.

You dared a glance to your left, your neck tight and stiff. You almost wished you had never done it; the glassy stare of a young fae on the front steps of a building you presumed had once been a store gazed back at you, unblinking, mouth agape and tongue hanging out to lick at the ashes of the building that had fallen around you. A fly crawled across her eye, but the fae did not move. You looked up, eyes trailing over the body toward the sky, an attempt to dissipate the vision from your mind, but froze. A sword was embedded in the back of the fae’s skull. She looked no older than a girl - older than you were, but young for her limitless years. You wondered what the girl’s name had been, if she had lived in Velaris for long, if you had ever stepped foot into the store she now lay dead outside. This fae’s death was on your hands, her blood staining your palms. You knew that, just as well as you knew that the girl’s soul was now no more than dust in the air that you were inhaling. You could have saved her, if you hadn’t failed.

Was it truly fair for you to survive - to walk away from that battlefield when you had caused her death? That fae’s ghost would no doubt haunt that riverside for centuries to come, for longer than you were sure your years would grant you even if you did make it out of there alive. Perhaps you should join her, should go down with those you had damned to that fate, who had died defending their homes - defending Velaris.

Once again, as if she were still the mortal that wandered those frozen woodlands so long ago, death seemed somewhat welcoming in those moments of solitude, the heat of the body across you seeming almost like a swaddle, the type that would lull a child to sleep. Perhaps that was your fate, after everything, to die like a stray dog, forgotten and alone, with only those crows and the rising sun as your unwavering companions until your last breath. Your name would become yet another scrawled on the list of fatalities that this battle had already stolen from this realm.

Slowly, as if the very weight of the world you were trying to protect was upon him, you allowed your eyes to open once more, the sunlight near blinding as it continued its descent over the looming mountains that surrounded the city. A great groan ripped from your dry and aching throat as you pushed the body of the Hybern soldier above you, the resounding thud of the body slumping to the ground rippling through the eerie silence. You didn’t know how he had died, who had delivered the killing blow, and perhaps you never would. You inclined your head; there were no sounds of Hybern soldiers coming to collect their dead and rid themselves of any of their enemy that were still breathing, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be there soon enough. If you were going to live, you would have to move. Now.

Every bone and muscle in your body seemed to scream at you to stop as you rolled himself over onto your stomach, pushing yourself onto your knees. Your chest heaved with the effort, rising and falling with every sullen breath, every breath that you breath whilst those around you would not. One glance across your surroundings told you that the House of Wind was to your North, across the sea of the dead. It was illuminated by the setting sun behind it as if Mother Nature herself were guiding you. And so you moved.

You barely paid any heed to the bodies of the dead as you passed by as fast as your shaking legs would allow you. You crawled over their outstretched limbs, black from dirt and dried, coagulated blood. You ignored their glassy stares and tried to block out that smell, tried to avoid the gags that were pushing your way up your throat. That smell seemed to cling to the inside of your nostrils. The smell of death.

There would be time to mourn their losses later, to take in the faces of each and every fae that died in that battle, whether on your side or the enemy, when you reached safety. Your eyes slammed shut as you desperately dragged yourself away, willing your feet to move, to run as far as you could from that place, as far as you could from the faces that would no doubt haunt you.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar, unknown to you despite having walked the route a thousand times before. It looked different now, no longer an ethereal paradise but rather only the setting of the bloody massacre that you had fought through. You moved faster, although you were more than acutely aware that should any of Hybern’s soldiers still be lurking down any of the side streets, they would likely be on his trail in no time, seeking out your body amongst the dead on the streets. Crimson blood stained the hand that you used to clutch the wound in your side, your own mingling with the blood that had been smeared on your hands from the bodies you crawled over, marring your skin, enemy and kin combining in the rivets of your palms after death.

But your vision was growing darker, blurrier, and your foot caught on something below; an outstretched arm hidden by your watering eyes. You groaned in pain as you hit the ground, not even trying to hide the sound from any enemy soldiers nearby. If they killed you, then they killed you. At least it would put you out of your misery. Your hands reached out to cushion your fall, leaving scratches and grazes along the heels of your palms.

That was when you caught sight of the figure that loomed above you. Freshly polished boots scuffed with blood and dirt planted on the stones mere centimetres from the tips of your fingers, reflecting your own bloodied and battered impression back to you, just one more amongst the other broken corpses that lay surrounding you. A squint, a hint of what you were sure was auburn hair silhouetted by the sun, and then a voice.

“Come now,” the voice said, smooth and warm and velvety. “This is no place to die.”

Your lips twisted into a pained smile as they curled around the word. “Lucien.”

And then everything went dark once more.

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moonlitstoriess · 6 months ago

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Bound in Silence- Rhysand x fem!Reader part 1

Part 2 here

Y/n, Rhysand’s true mate, discovers their bond while under Amarantha’s rule. As they grow closer in captivity, Rhys remains unaware of their connection. When Feyre enters his life, y/n watches in silence as Rhysand falls for her, never revealing the truth of their bond, leading to a heartbreaking end.

Warnings: mentions of SA, abuse, character death, little fluff and too much angst

The first week under Amarantha’s rule was a descent into madness. What had once been kingdoms of power and grace now lay in shambles, High Lords stripped of their freedom, their courts brought to ruin.

Y/n, a lesser member of the Dawn Court, had survived the initial massacre, slipping through the cracks of chaos. She had always lived on the fringes, unnoticed among the more powerful, her quiet presence often overlooked. The beauty of the Dawn Court, with its pale skies and soft mornings, felt like a distant dream now. The dungeons were cold, oppressive—any trace of light long extinguished.

Word of the High Lords’ fates had spread quickly through the prisoners. Rhysand, the infamous High Lord of the Night Court, was said to be one of Amarantha’s most prized captives. His reputation as a cruel, cunning male echoed even in the darkest corners of their cell blocks. Y/n hadn’t expected to meet him, let alone stand face-to-face with the infamous High Lord during her silent wandering through the dim corridors.

Their first encounter was brief, in the murky gloom of a narrow passage. He was alone, his posture rigid, and his normally sharp features were bruised and weary, yet he still held that air of cold authority.

Y/n hadn’t expected him to stop as their paths crossed. But Rhysand’s steps faltered, his gaze locking onto hers. His violet eyes, piercing despite the fatigue, lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary.

“Dawn Court,” he said, his voice low and smooth, though roughened by days of captivity. It wasn’t a question—just an observation.

Y/n hesitated, her heartbeat loud in her chest. “Yes,” she replied softly, meeting his gaze, though her own voice was steadier than she felt.

For a long moment, Rhysand simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. There was no reason for him to notice her, no reason for him to care. She was just another prisoner, a face among many. And yet, something flickered in his eyes—something that made her breath catch, though she couldn’t name it.

They said nothing more, both of them knowing there was no safety in words here. But in that shared silence, a connection was forged—one neither of them could explain, and one that would only grow stronger in the long days ahead.

The second time they met was when y/n was in an injured state. Silently crying while trying to stop the gash on her shoulder blade from bleeding as she quickly made her way through the halls. Past the ugly laughters of Amarantha’s creatures, her loyal servants.

She didn’t know where she was looking or where she was heading as she entered a small washroom. But it was when she lifted her head and saw him, sitting down in the corner, all buttons of his tunic opened to display a toned chest with claw marks all over him, face devoid of any emotion, eyes staring but not truly seeing her.

They just stared like that at one another for long enough before the searing pain in y/n’s shoulder made her hiss and remove her bloody hand from the wound.

She was too busy with disinfecting her wound that y/n didn’t even feel Rhysand get up and come towards her, hint of worry slowly blossoming in his chest as he leaned down next to her sitting form.

“Naga?”

Slightly startled, y/n paused what she was doing and turned to look at his still haunted-looking face.

She shook her head. “Attor.”

He gave her a small nod before raising his hand towards the wet cloth she was gripping.

“May I? I do not believe that you will be able to reach and clean that wound properly.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, clearly wondering if this was the cruel Rhysand everyone seemed to talk about.

He saw her hesitation and gave her the tiniest of smiles before going back to his indifferent expression once more.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bite you.”

Despite the pain, y/n smiled slightly as she handed him the rag. To say she was surprised with how gentle he was, would be an understatement. They said no words, despite the fact that y/n had questions of her own.

Why was he in such a state? Why did he have all these marks on him? Was he with Amarantha? It seems like he doesn’t get enough sleep either. There are dark bags under his eyes.

But she decided against speaking any of them out, still hesitant with her actions. Not to mention the eerie comfort their little moment provided for her. Y/n was sure that this would never happen again.

She was wrong; this happened again.

This time however, under the worst possible circumstances. In Amaranthas bed.

In the past weeks that they were all here, y/n knew that Amarantha would toy with attractive females and males. But she never thought she would one day be a victim to that cruel woman’s sinister desires.

Her greatest nightmare came true.

She did not even do anything out of the ordinary, always keeping to the corners, preferring to stay away from anyone’s gaze. But alas, it appears that y/n was not as invisible as she thought for it was during her moment locked away in the calm quietness of a small dusty bedroom, that she got dragged away by Amaranthas guards towards her bedchamber.

And you could only imagine the shock on her face when she saw Rhysand, half naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist, staring horrified at her while Amarantha, clad in her sheer robe, dismissed the guards and slowly came towards y/n.

Lifting her chin up with two fingers, the queen snickered as she said, “My my, you are even prettier up close, little mouse.”

Y/n could only gulp as she let the queen inspect her as if she was some sort of an animal. Y/n could feel Rhysands unwavering gaze on her as she stared at the ceiling, willing her tears to stay back.

Suddenly, she felt Amarantha's grip tighten as she was forced to look at the woman before her. The queen's gaze thinned as she inched closer to y/n.

"I suppose you are well aware why you are in here then, no need to waste time on explanations. Am I right, Rhys?"

That is when y/n's gaze slightly drifted towards the male standing next to the bed, his face a mask indifference, a relaxed smirk overtaking his features but his hollow eyes needed no explanation.

"Of course, it is a privilege for her to join us."

Amarantha smirked before dragging her towards the bed, marking the start of y/n's nightmares.

That night, she endured too much, did things she never wished to do, all to keep her head on her shoulders. And for some reason, y/n felt as if she was not the only one who suppressed her disgust and cries deep within herself. Rhysand may be a good actor but his stiffness did not fool her.

The fourth and most important time that they met was in a small, forgotten chamber tucked deep within the mountain--dusty, barely used. Y/n found herself there, seeking refuge from the chaos that constantly swirled under Amarantha’s rule. She didn’t expect anyone else to find the room, and yet, there he was again.

Rhysand stood near the entrance, as though he had only just stepped inside. They froze upon seeing one another. For a moment, neither moved, neither spoke. The silence felt almost too heavy to break.

She turned her back to him, focusing on her trembling hands. She didn’t want to meet his gaze, not after what they’d been forced to endure together under Amarantha’s cruelty. The air between them was thick with the unspoken horrors, yet there was an odd pull, a silent understanding that neither acknowledged.

“I thought I’d be alone,” she muttered, not quite sure why she felt the need to say anything.

“So did I,” came his quiet reply. His voice lacked the arrogant lilt she often heard when he spoke to others. There was something raw about him now, stripped of pretense.

A beat passed before she stood, avoiding his gaze as she brushed off the dust from her skirt. She intended to leave, to disappear before this fragile quiet shattered. But as she took a step, her body faltered, pain from her old injury flaring up again. She hissed through her teeth, clutching her shoulder.

Rhysand moved then, quicker than she expected, stepping closer without hesitation. “You’re hurt again.” It wasn’t a question, more an observation, but there was no pity in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, stepping back. Her pride wouldn’t let her show weakness in front of him.

He watched her for a long moment, eyes narrowing, not with judgment, but with something closer to understanding. He reached out slowly, carefully, as if giving her the chance to move away. When she didn’t, he gestured to the bench behind her. “Sit. I’ll help.”

She hesitated but gave in. She couldn’t bandage the wound herself—not again. Sitting down, she stiffened as he moved to her side, his presence too close, too intimate for comfort. His hands were steady as he inspected the gash. She tried to hide her discomfort as he worked, gently cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. The touch was too careful for someone rumored to be Amarantha’s most favored, the cold High Lord with a cruel reputation.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence was comfortable, though, more than it had ever been before. When Rhysand finally did speak, his voice was barely above a murmur. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” He didn’t ask for her name—simply left the sentence hanging, an invitation she could take or leave.

She glanced at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Y/n,” she said quietly, watching him closely.

“Y/n,” he repeated, as though testing the sound of it. He gave her the faintest hint of a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was the closest she had seen to something genuine.

For the first time, she allowed herself to look at him, really look at him, beyond the mask he wore so well. She saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight he carried. The cruelty he endured, just like her.

“You don’t act like them,” she found herself whispering before she could stop herself. “Like the others.”

He paused, his hands still on her bandage. “Neither do you.”

It wasn’t a comfort, not exactly. But it was something, a crack in the armor they both wore.

Y/n remained still as Rhysand finished tending to her wound, his touch light and careful, the silence stretching between them. She couldn’t help but glance at him again—his face too calm, too composed for someone who had just been through hell. The weight of what had happened in Amarantha’s chamber hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken yet impossible to ignore.

As he tied off the bandage, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, her voice barely above a whisper, “Do you… endure that every day?”

Her words lingered, and she saw it—the brief flicker of something in his eyes. Pain, perhaps. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by the same detached mask he always wore. Rhysand straightened, his expression carefully neutral as he moved away, putting space between them.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. “Amarantha has her ways of amusing herself.”

Y/n stared at him, not buying his attempt to brush it off. She had seen the claw marks, the bruises, the hollowness in his eyes. She had been there—seen the humiliation, the cruelty, the powerlessness they both shared. How could he call it ‘nothing’?

“It’s not nothing,” she said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay composed. “What she does… what we endure… it’s—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice a little sharper than before. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know.”

She blinked at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to reach him through the walls he had built around himself. There was so much she wanted to ask, so much she wanted to say, but the weight of it all seemed too much, too heavy to put into words.

Y/n’s eyes flickered over his face, searching for something beneath the mask of indifference he wore so easily. His sharp retort had silenced her, but only for a moment. The silence felt too heavy, too suffocating, after what they had both gone through.

She took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain from her wound. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for—maybe for prying, maybe for the awful reality they were trapped in, or maybe for the fact that she didn’t know how to help him, how to help either of them.

Rhysand’s gaze shifted, finally landing back on her. His expression softened ever so slightly, the hard edges dulling for just a moment. “Don’t be,” he said quietly, almost as if he regretted snapping at her earlier.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, both of them staring into the distance, lost in their own thoughts. Y/n thought of the nightmarish hours she’d spent under Amarantha’s cruel hands, of the helplessness that had consumed her. She glanced at him, wondering how he endured it—if he truly had to endure it every day.

“Does she—” she hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. “Does she make you go through that every day?”

Rhysand’s jaw clenched slightly, his eyes hardening once more. “What does it matter?” he said, his voice a touch colder than before. “We all suffer under her. It’s just… the way things are.”

Y/n frowned, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. “It matters,” she insisted, her voice firmer this time. “You shouldn’t have to—none of us should.”

Rhysand didn’t respond for a moment. Instead, he looked away, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the stone wall behind him. His silence told her more than his words could. He was used to it, accustomed to the horrors that Amarantha inflicted.

She swallowed, her heart heavy. “I—I don’t know how you do it,” she admitted softly, her voice barely audible. “I don’t think I can survive this… not like this.”

Rhysand’s gaze returned to her, softer this time, almost contemplative. “You will,” he said quietly, his tone lacking its earlier sharpness. “You’ll survive because you have to.”

There was something about the way he said it—a quiet strength, a stubborn determination that made her believe him, even when everything around them felt hopeless.

Y/n didn’t respond. She simply nodded, grateful for the small comfort his words offered, even if they both knew there were no real solutions to their nightmare.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—two people trapped in hell, offering each other a sliver of solace in the aftermath of horrors too cruel to fully comprehend. Neither of them said anything more, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t affection. It was survival.

And, for now, that was enough.

After that moment, something significant shifted between them. Slowly, their random encounters turned into frequent secret meetups each planned with a sense of urgency and longing. They began to seek each other out, carving out spaces in the darkness where they could share their thoughts, fears, and dreams, knowing that, in this hellish place, they were the only ones who truly understood each other.

Y/n discovered that she felt safe with him in a way she hadn’t expected. In the quiet corners of the mountain, they would talk for hours, sharing fragments of their lives, their laughter echoing softly against the stone walls. Rhysand learned about her past life, about her love for creating things, about her resilience, how she had survived Amarantha’s cruelty by retreating into herself, clinging to the memories of a life before the darkness. In turn, she learned about his burdens—the weight of his responsibilities as the High Lord, the pain of leaving his people and his family behind, possibly to never see them again. They were both trapped, but in each other, they found a flicker of hope.

They often sat close, their shoulders brushing, sharing the warmth that lingered between them. There were moments when words felt insufficient, and they would simply sit in comfortable silence, allowing their thoughts to intertwine without the need for spoken language. Each small interaction deepened their bond, and soon they were exchanging not just stories, but pieces of themselves.

One evening, while hiding in their usual alcove, Y/n noticed the weariness in Rhysand’s eyes. She hesitated before speaking, her heart racing. “Do you ever wish you could escape?” she asked quietly, not expecting an answer.

Rhysand turned to her, his expression contemplative. “Every day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I know it’s not that simple.”

Y/n nodded, understanding the truth behind his words. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Pretending to be fine when inside, you feel like you’re breaking.”

He looked at her, surprise flashing across his features. “You feel it too?”

“More than I care to admit,” she replied, her eyes meeting his. “Sometimes I wonder if it will ever end. If I’ll ever be free of this.”

Rhysand sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I think about that a lot. But then I remember the people who are counting on me. If I give up, what happens to them?”

She could see the heaviness of his thoughts weighing him down. “You’re strong, Rhysand,” she said softly. “Stronger than any of us realize.”

He chuckled, but it was devoid of true mirth. “Strength doesn’t mean I don’t feel pain.”

“Then we can feel it together,” she offered, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’d rather share the burden than carry it alone.”

He met her gaze, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “I think I’d like that.”

From that day on, they became each other’s refuge. They shared not only their burdens but also their dreams, hopes, and fears. Rhysand learned about the small things that made Y/n smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of the stars, the gentle way she held herself, as if trying to protect the light within her from being extinguished.

Y/n discovered Rhysand’s love for stories, how he could lose himself in the tales of distant lands and daring adventures. They created their own world within the confines of the mountain, where laughter could exist amid the pain, where dreams could be whispered even in the darkest of nights.

With each passing day, they grew closer, their friendship blossoming into something beautiful amidst the horror surrounding them. There was an unspoken promise that they would be there for each other, no matter what. And in that, they found the strength to keep going, to endure the trials that awaited them, together.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and months turned into years as they kept enduring the horrors under Amarantha’s reign, no one strong enough to defeat her. The passage of time blurred in the darkness, a relentless cycle of survival. Each day brought new cruelties, new horrors that left Y/n and Rhysand feeling more and more hollow inside. Yet, through it all, they clung to the solace they found in each other.

Their secret meetings had become a lifeline. Whenever they could steal a moment away from the prying eyes of Amarantha’s spies, they would retreat into the shadowed corners of the mountain, seeking each other’s presence. Their conversations had grown more comfortable over time, the once hesitant exchanges now flowing with ease. Y/n learned more about Rhysand’s burdens, about the sacrifices he made each day to keep his people alive, even at the cost of his own soul.

In return, Rhysand slowly unraveled the mystery of Y/n. She was no longer the quiet, invisible courtier he had first met in the halls. Her resilience and strength had revealed themselves with each passing day, though she remained ever-watchful, always cautious. The horrors she had endured were scars, both physical and emotional, yet she never let them break her. And Rhysand admired her for it, though he kept his thoughts carefully hidden behind his usual smirks and playful retorts.

They didn’t talk much about what happened in Amarantha’s bed that night. It was an unspoken thing, something that lingered between them, always there, but never addressed directly. It didn’t need to be. They both knew the depths of the hell they were living in, and acknowledging that shared nightmare in words would only make it worse.

Still, there were times when Y/n would look at Rhysand, her gaze searching, wondering how he bore the weight of Amarantha’s twisted games day after day. She saw the toll it took on him, even if he never spoke of it.There were days when he would return from Amarantha’s bedchamber with new scars, fresh wounds both seen and unseen, and Y/n could do nothing but offer her quiet companionship, hoping that in some small way, her presence was enough.

On one such occasion, after another brutal encounter with the queen, Y/n found Rhysand sitting alone in the dark, his usual mask of indifference slipping for just a moment. She hesitated before sitting beside him, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

“Why does she do this to you?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible.

Rhysand didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on some distant point. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” she said, her heart aching for him in a way she hadn’t expected.

For a long time, he didn’t respond, and Y/n wondered if she had overstepped. But then, in the quietest of voices, he said, “Because I am her greatest weapon that needs to be kept under control.”

The weight of his admission hung in the air, and Y/n felt a pang of sorrow deep in her chest. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she knew her words could do nothing to ease his pain.

Rhysand shook his head, brushing off her concern with a forced smile. “Don’t be. It’s the price we pay to survive.”

But Y/n could see through the facade. She knew him well enough by now to recognize the cracks in his armor, the moments when the strain of it all became too much. In those moments, she stayed close, offering her quiet support without pushing him to speak. She had come to understand that Rhysand didn’t need words—he needed the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone.

As time passed, their bond deepened, a quiet understanding settling between them. They no longer had to speak to know what the other was feeling. A glance, a touch, the smallest of gestures—these were enough to convey the unspoken trust that had grown between them. Together, they weathered the endless torment of Amarantha’s rule, finding strength in their shared moments, no matter how brief.

But as the years dragged on, a sense of hopelessness began to creep in. Amarantha’s power seemed insurmountable, her cruelty unmatched. The courts remained shattered, the High Lords too broken to mount any sort of rebellion. The mountain felt like a prison, and escape seemed impossible.

Then, whispers of a new arrival began to spread through the court. A mortal girl, brought under the mountain to fulfill some kind of bargain with Amarantha. It seemed like just another piece of cruel entertainment for the queen, another pawn in her twisted game. But something was different this time. Rhysand’s gaze would grow distant whenever her name was mentioned, as if he knew something no one else did. Y/n noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his usual indifference was replaced with a flicker of… hope?

As Feyre’s presence in the court grew, so did the undercurrent of tension that seemed to ripple through Amarantha’s throne room. Something was happening, something none of them could quite understand. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this mortal girl—this Feyre—was important. That maybe, just maybe, the end of their nightmare was closer than any of them realized.

What y/n also realized, was that Rhysand was her mate.

It happened suddenly, during one of Amarantha’s night feasts, a regular, twisted event that Y/n had come to despise. This particular one, however, was the night before Feyre’s first trial.

Y/n stood in the corner, as usual, staying away from the crowd. She preferred to inspect rather than socialize, to keep her distance from the cruel games and manipulations happening all around her. Rhysand was on the opposite side of the grand hall, his mask of indifference and cruelty firmly in place as he entertained conversation with a few other high-fae, Amarantha’s loyal followers. He played his role perfectly, as he always did.

But then, in a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Y/n felt it immediately—the rush of warmth, the pull so strong it almost knocked the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t just the connection they had built over the years or the understanding they shared. No, this was deeper. A primal force that surged within her, a tether she had never felt before, snapping into place.

Rhysand was her mate.

The realization hit her like a blow, sharp and undeniable. Her breath caught in her throat, and her body froze as the bond thrummed between them. She had heard of the mating bond before, of course, but to feel it, to know that it was him…

Her heart both soared and sank. She couldn’t deny it, couldn’t push it away, but looking at him—his cold mask in place, his focus elsewhere—made her chest tighten with an ache she didn’t know how to suppress.

Rhysand didn’t seem to feel it, didn’t react in any way that might indicate he knew. His gaze lingered on her for a brief second before turning back to the high-fae beside him, the moment passing without acknowledgment.

Y/n stood frozen, the world around her muted as the bond settled within her, painfully unreciprocated.

As Feyre passed her first trial, everything began to shift.

At first, Y/n tried to dismiss it as coincidence—Rhysand had his own burdens, after all, his own games to play. But soon, the cracks in their fragile friendship became too large to ignore. Where before, he would seek her out, find quiet moments in the hidden corners of the mountain to sit with her, to speak about everything and nothing—those moments became fewer and farther between.

The subtle change came in waves. Rhysand started missing their meetups. First, it was only one night, then two, then an entire week would pass without a word. Y/n waited in their usual spots, always hoping he would walk through the door, but instead, she was met with silence. The longer the absence stretched, the deeper the ache in her chest grew.

But the worst came during Amarantha’s nightly feasts. Poor Feyre, clearly not jn a right state of mind, was paraded around the hall, her limbs loose and her eyes unfocused, as Rhysand dragged her onto the floor to dance. Y/n could barely stomach it.

Night after night, she watched as his focus shifted to Feyre—the human girl who was just trying to survive, just like them all. Yet it was in those dances, in the way his eyes lingered on Feyre’s face, even behind the mask of cruelty he wore, that Y/n felt her heart begin to shatter.

She tried to tell herself it was all part of the act, a necessary facade to keep Amarantha’s eyes off him, to protect the bigger plan. But each night, as she watched them dance, watched Feyre’s body against his, her hope withered.

The bond that had once filled her with warmth and joy now twisted inside her, a cruel reminder of what he couldn’t possibly know. Of what she could never tell him. Rhysand had no idea that she was his mate. How could he, when his attention had shifted so completely to Feyre?

And Y/n—heartbroken, invisible—could do nothing but endure it, watching as the only person who had ever understood her slipped further and further away.

The nights dragged on, the darkness under the mountain becoming suffocating as Feyre moved through her trials. Each one more harrowing than the last, each step pushing her closer to death. And with each passing trial, Rhysand's attention shifted further away from Y/n.

Y/n had never felt more alone. Every night, she stood in the shadows, watching as Rhysand danced with Feyre, his hand on her waist, his voice soft in her ear. It had started as part of the game, part of his endless manipulation of Amarantha’s court, but Y/n could see it—he was changing. His mask, once a weapon, now felt more like a shield protecting him from the truth. And the truth was devastating: Rhysand no longer came to her. He no longer sought her out in the quiet corners of the mountain.

The bond between them, once so unmistakable, now felt like a heavy chain around her neck, pulling her deeper into despair with every passing day.

When Feyre passed her final trial and was killed by Amarantha, Y/n’s world collapsed. She had watched it all unfold—the moment the human girl fell, her chest stilling, her life snuffed out in an instant. And Rhysand—he was the first one to cry out her name. His voice, filled with anguish and desperation, echoed through the hall, and Y/n’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

He rushed to Feyre's side, his face twisted in agony, and without hesitation, he was the first to give a sliver of his power to bring her back. His hands trembled as he leaned over her, tears brimming in his eyes. His voice cracked when he whispered her name again, as though she was the only one who mattered, the only one who had ever mattered.

Y/n stood there, frozen, her own pain drowned out by the overwhelming scene before her. Rhysand hadn't even glanced her way, hadn't acknowledged her presence. It was as if she no longer existed.

And when Amarantha finally fell, when Feyre was brought back to life as an immortal by the combined powers of the High Lords, Y/n felt as though the final thread of her connection to Rhysand had been severed.

Afterward, in the aftermath of Amarantha's death and Feyre's new immortality, Y/n tried—she truly tried to speak with him, to make him see her again, to understand what had been between them before all of this. She sought him out in the quiet halls, waited for him in the places they used to meet, hoping, praying that he would remember.

Finally, on the last night, before they all left this 50 years of hell behind, she found him standing alone on a balcony overlooking the endless expanse of darkness. She approached him, her heart in her throat.

“Rhys,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, but there was no warmth in his gaze. His eyes, once full of shared understanding and adoration, were distant, hollow.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” she began, her words faltering as she took in the emptiness on his face.

Rhysand looked away, his jaw clenched. “I’ve been… distracted.”

“With Feyre,” she finished, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to remain composed.

There was a long, heavy silence before he spoke again, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “I think… I think Feyre is my mate.”

Y/n felt the world tilt beneath her feet, the words hitting her like a dagger to the chest. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him the truth, to scream that she was his mate—but the words wouldn’t come.

Rhysand didn’t notice her silence, didn’t notice the way her hands trembled. He kept talking, his voice growing softer, more introspective. “I’m falling for her, Y/n. I didn’t expect it, but... I can’t stop it.”

Y/n’s heart shattered all over again, the bond between them twisting into something unbearable. She had lost him.

The dawn was cold, a pale light creeping over the horizon, casting the mountain in a dim, unforgiving glow. Y/n stood alone in the shadows, her heart heavy with the weight of the last fifty years, the torture they had endured, the nightmares that would never fully leave them. But now, with Amarantha dead, it was all over. The chains were gone. The horrors were fading into the past, and everyone was finally going home.

Everyone except her.

She had known it was coming—the end of it all. She had prepared herself for the fact that Rhysand might leave, that Feyre might take him from her entirely. But no amount of preparation had lessened the crushing weight in her chest as she watched from the shadows. She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t even wanted to. The last few days had blurred together in a haze of pain, confusion, and heartbreak.

And now, standing in the pale light of dawn, she saw them.

Rhysand and Feyre.

They were on the balcony above, just as the sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over the both of them. Feyre, still recovering, stood close to him, her face soft with something Y/n couldn’t bear to name. Rhysand was beside her, his posture relaxed, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the horizon. His arm brushed against Feyre’s, the contact so light, so natural, as if it had always been that way.

Y/n’s throat tightened, her heart splintering with every passing second. He hadn’t come to say goodbye. Not a word. Not a glance.

Just silence.

She had spent fifty years enduring alongside him, had suffered the same horrors, shared quiet moments of solace when everything else was falling apart. She had been there when no one else had, and yet, as the dawn broke over the mountains, Rhysand was leaving—without a single word to her. Without a goodbye.

Her fingers gripped the stone railing as she forced herself to breathe, to stay steady, even as she felt herself crumbling from the inside out.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that she was his mate, that they were bound by something deeper, something that should have been unbreakable. And he never would. Because in his heart, in his mind, there was only Feyre now.

As she watched him smile at the mortal-turned-immortal girl, Y/n felt the devastating finality of it all settle in her bones. She wasn’t just losing him—she had lost him. Completely. And there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

The bond between them, the one she had hoped he would feel someday, was nothing but a silent scream in her chest now. Unheard, unnoticed, unacknowledged.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, not wanting to let herself break. Not here. Not now. Not when it was already too late.

She took one last look at them—at the male who had once been her solace, her anchor in the storm, and at the woman who had unknowingly taken him from her.

With a shaky breath, Y/n turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer. Each step she took felt heavier, like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her. The corridors were eerily quiet now that Amarantha’s reign had ended, and the mountain had become a place of ghostly memories.

Rhysand would leave. He would go back to Velaris, to his Court of Dreams, to the freedom they had all been denied for so long. And he would do it without a second thought for her. Feyre had captured his attention, his heart, and Y/n was nothing but a shadow now, left behind in the wake of a love she would never know.

She found herself walking to the same small, hidden room they had once met in—the one where they had shared their darkest fears and moments of fragile comfort. But those days were gone. Everything was different now.

Sitting on the bed, Y/n let the silence engulf her. The ache in her chest was unbearable, but she welcomed it. It was better than the numbness she feared would consume her next. She had thought, somehow, that once Amarantha was gone, things might get better. That they could both move forward, together, maybe find peace in each other’s presence. But that had been foolish.

The truth was undeniable now—she was alone.

The mating bond, the one she had felt so fiercely, was not enough. Rhysand had made his choice, whether he knew it or not. Feyre was his future, his heart, his everything.

And Y/n? She would be forgotten.

The bitter taste of rejection burned in her throat as she closed her eyes, trying to will away the memories, the stolen glances, the nights spent in shared pain. Everything she had held onto was slipping away, dissolving like smoke.

For the first time in years, she let herself cry. She cried for the love she never had, for the bond that would never be fulfilled, for the pieces of her heart that would never be whole again. She cried for the girl she had been before all this, before Amarantha, before Rhysand, before the endless cycle of hope and despair had shattered her into something unrecognizable.

By the time the sun had fully risen, her tears had dried, leaving only a hollow ache in their place.

Rhysand would leave, Feyre at his side, and Y/n would remain behind, her presence a forgotten whisper in the chaos of everything else.

She rose from the bed, her movements slow, mechanical. There was nothing left for her here. The mountain, the memories, the unspoken bond—it was all gone. She had to leave, too. But not with him. Never with him.

As she walked out of the room, out of the mountain, her heart broke all over again. This was her ending—quiet, unseen, devastating.

Rhysand had left without a goodbye, but perhaps that was the greatest goodbye of all. A final, unspoken severing of whatever connection they had once shared.

Y/n wandered through the wilderness, aimlessly walking with no direction or purpose. The vast world around her felt empty—silent. She had no family to return to, no place where she belonged. Every step she took was heavy, each one pulling her deeper into the pit of despair she could no longer escape.

For years, she’d clung to the hope that she mattered to someone—that perhaps in Rhysand, she had found solace, a connection that could keep her afloat through the darkness. But now, after everything, it was clear. She had never mattered—not to him, not to anyone.

The night before, she’d watched him with Feyre, saw the way his eyes had softened, how he had stayed by her side, even after the final battle had ended. He had fought for Feyre, bled for her, mourned for her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. And Y/n… she had been invisible, a forgotten shadow in the corner, her existence as meaningless as it had always been.

She had seen him and Feyre on the balcony that dawn, the soft glow of morning casting a light around them as Rhysand whispered something only Feyre could hear. Y/n had watched as Rhysand came closer to Feyre, giving her a devastatingly charming smile that shattered her heart beyond repair.

Y/n continued walking, the cold wind biting at her skin, but she felt none of it. The ache inside her, the hollow feeling in her chest, drowned out everything else. She had no reason to go on, no reason to fight anymore. She had fought for years, survived the unthinkable, only to come out of it more broken than before.

There was nothing left for her. No purpose. No place. No one.

Her steps slowed as she reached a cliffside, the jagged rocks below barely visible in the early morning light. The sea roared beneath her, its angry waves crashing against the stones. She stood at the edge, staring into the abyss, the overwhelming emptiness pulling her in.

The bond she had thought was hers belonged to someone else now. Rhysand had chosen Feyre, had found his mate in her. Y/n was nothing more than a fleeting moment—a forgotten soul in a sea of others.

And now, she was ready to let go.

With one last breath, Y/n closed her eyes, stepping forward into the void, letting the wind carry her into the nothingness where she had always belonged.

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#acotar x reader #acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #x reader #fanfic #angst #acotar angst

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lifeasadorkwithnolife · 2 months ago

Text

Monster (Azriel X Reader)

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Everyone thinks that Y/N is a horrible person for what she did under the mountain, and she agrees, but Azriel realizes that things aren't what they seem.

I have not wrote any fanfiction in 5 years, which is absolutely crazy. I've been talking to my boyfriend a lot about story ideas and he asked me, why don't you just write it down? So here it is, it's not exactly what I used to write.

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You had hoped you would die under the caldron-forsaken mountain. The 49 years have cost you everything: your family, your court and your humanity. Amarantha had chosen you to be her right hand, you had no one to lose and everything to gain. You became known as Amarantha’s bitch, arguably a worse title than Rhysand’s. Your job was to keep discipline under the mountain and frequently had to whip and grant Amarantha’s wishes of public torture sessions when the Attor was not around.

Your reputation had made it outside of the mountain and throughout the courts, you were known to be ruthless and would kill without hesitation. You were an absolute monster.

Before Feyre had come along and saved you all from the mountain, the only one who understood your pain was Rhysand. For the first few years of your position, Rhysand would look at you with hatred in his eyes. He tortured people too, but you knew he didn’t enjoy it in the same way you pretended to. Every time you tortured the poor soul who got on Amarantha’s nerves, you would go up to them after the fact and hold their hand and ask if they had learned their lesson.

You had a gift and a curse, your gift was the ability to absorb pain from someone else, but the curse was that pain demanded to be felt eventually. Every whipping, every burn, or every cut that you performed, you took it from them to feel later. You kept this secret to yourself originally, but it’s quite hard to hide things from Rhysand.

On one unfortunate night, he entered your chambers under the mountain and witnessed the blood beginning to pool on your back. “Someone give you a taste of your own medicine?” He smirked, leaning against the door frame.

“Get the fuck out, Rhysand.” You croaked, mouth dry as you felt another blow to your back from the whipping earlier. “If I wanted to sleep with someone, it wouldn’t be Amarantha’s seconds.” You could feel the walls you built to protect yourself from Rhysand crumbling, like they were nothing but paper, and his eyes grew in realization.

He walked over to you and placed your face in his hands, his eyes growing wide with understanding. “You don’t have to bear their pain alone, Y/N.” He whispered, but you shook your head.

“Please go away.” You whispered, tears filling your eyes. Nobody had ever seen you like this under the mountain, “I can handle it, really.”

You felt the next blow and cried out, Rhysand caught you in his arms and held you. You felt him in your mind, and then your physical pain was gone, and it was just you both in your head. He was right there, in front of you, and all you could do was sigh. “I can explain.”

“Are you…. Are you taking their pain?” He whispered, and you nodded. “Why?”

“We’re all trapped here.” You replied, your voice echoing across the black void. “Someone will hurt them either way, at least if I hurt them… I can take their pain away and they can pass peacefully.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rhys asked, and you shrugged. “I could have helped you, we’re on the same side.”

“It’s my pain to bear, I wouldn’t have agreed to this job if I couldn’t take their pain away.” You whispered back, he nodded in understanding.

From then on, you had one friend under the mountain, and when Feyre became part of the picture, you had two.

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When Feyre won the trials and you were released from the mountain, you realized that you had nowhere to go. Your court has disowned you and your family was…gone. Rhysand invited you back to Velaris to the dismay of his inner circle, and he agreed that your gift would remain a secret until you were ready.

You trained as hard as you could and tried your best time and time again to win over the inner circle. You promised yourself you would tell them about your gift eventually but couldn’t bring yourself to do it, feeling like you would be using it as an “excuse” to torture others and end all the lives you did, when it was really inexcusable.

The member of the inner circle that hated you the most was Azriel, he would immediately leave any room you entered, refuse to go on missions with you and would even stop training as soon as you were in earshot. You could sense him staring at you from afar sometimes, and whenever you would look it would be anger, hatred and maybe a little confusion in his eyes.

You tried your best to make friends with everyone, but it’s hard to be friends with a sadistic murderer who laughed as they were killing the weak and defenseless. The only people who gave you a chance were Cassian and Feyre, and you couldn’t be more appreciative.

One night, during one of your nightmares, you awoke to large hands shaking you awake and came face to face with Cassian. He looked at you in concern and placed a hand around your head in a brotherly, comforting way. Tears flowed down your face. “You were shouting your own name, what were you dreaming about?”

“Cassian, do you think I can be forgiven for what I’ve done?” You whispered, looking up at him. He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I need to tell you the truth.”

Cassian was the first person you willingly told your story to, and he looked absolutely horrified. You showed him the scars on your back and told him about the worst things you have ever done. He comforted you for hours, and in return told you his stories about how he’s killed and how guilty he feels about it sometimes.

It was nice having Cassian after that point, you two would spar, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to throw a punch when he was open. His laughter was a wonderful sound, and he would often catch you staring at Azriel- longing for his forgiveness but knowing that would most likely never happen. You knew he didn’t trust you, and you don’t think he ever would.

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“I need you two to go on a mission together.” Rhys explains, looking between you and Azriel. “I don’t care about how much you don’t like each other; this needs to be done. The attor was sighted on our border, and I need him found.”

You took a quick look at Azriel before turning away, his hands were clenched into fists, and his shadows were swarming around angrily. “I can go by myself just fine.” Azriel snapped, “She’ll just slow me down and you know it.”

“I need you BOTH to go, which is why Y/N is here.” Rhysand clasped his hands together, looking at you expectantly. “I think she will be helpful in this mission, since the attor is involved.”

“I am familiar with the attor.” You sighed, peeking over at Azriel. “I may be able to lure him out.”

“I bet he’s very fond of you,” Azriel turned to look at you, “I bet you killed more people than he did, did you guys keep count like a competition?”

You stepped back, you had barely spoken to Azriel, but these were his first words with you. Every reassurance that Cassian, Feyre and Rhys had ever provided seemed to disappear.

“I just don’t understand Rhys, why is she here? The rest of us have killed, sure, but for good reason. She is a monster.” Azriel’s shadows circled the room, and you could feel the hatred coming off him in waves.

‘You’re not going to defend yourself?’ Rhys asked you, and you gave your head a slight shake.

“This is the last I’m hearing of it, Azriel, you better bring her back here in one piece or so help me.”

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After 3 cold days of searching for the Attor, he was nowhere to be found, and Azriel’s snide comments were getting on your nerves. The flight back to Velaris was cold and silent.

“Hey, I’m sorry that we came all this way and didn’t catch him.” You whispered, staring down at the darkening landscape.

“I just hoped that you would be useful for something.” He replied, not even looking in your direction. You sighed, your heart plummeting to your stomach. You had hoped, on some deluded level, that this trip would allow you to talk to him and explain yourself and maybe- just maybe- he wouldn’t hate you so much anymore.

“I just wanted to say sorry- not just for the attor but for everything.” He looked down at you, and you couldn’t tell what expression was on his face. “I’m just- I’m trying to be better than I was under the mountain, the person I was then is not me. I hope you can believe that.”

He nodded, looking back up at the setting sun. “I believe that you want to be better.” He said solemnly, “But if what everyone is saying is true, then there is no hope for you. You will never change, even if Rhysand and Cassian don’t see it yet.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod, you felt the cold tears sting your eyes but tried to blink them away before they could fall. Azriel saw you for who you really were, the murderer. At least he won’t lie to you like everyone else has.

The silence ticked by when all the sudden, an arrow flew by your head and hit Azriels wing with a sharp crack. He grunted in pain and dropped a couple feet; another 2 arrows swished by and tore through his other wing. “Azriel- land!” You shouted, searching the darkened forest floor for any sign of the attackers.

“No shit Y/N.” Azriel shouted, his wings pumping as the ground came in closer. You felt Azriel turn to the side as another arrow whizzed towards your head, but he took another arrow to the wing. Did he just…protect you? You two landed on the ground in a heap, but you stood up quickly, knife in hand as you searched the darkness for your attackers.

You feel a presence behind you, and turn around, quickly taking the archer to the ground and holding your knife to his neck. He was older, with pointed ears and white hair. He barred his teeth angrily, but with your knees holding down his arms and knife against his neck, he was stuck.

“Why are you attacking us?” You seethed, your knife getting dangerously close to his neck. He struggled.

“They told us you would be passing through- you killed my whole family you bitch!” he shouted, you froze, “Just kill me! Like you did to all of them!” You stood there in silence, hesitating, trying to remember who it was that you killed. You couldn’t kill this man too, you promised you would never hurt anyone again.

Suddenly you were under him, his knife starting to slide across your neck. You didn’t even raise your hands to defend yourself, you could see the pain of his loss clearly on his face. You nodded, closing your eyes as you waited for him to finish. You remembered Azriel’s words from earlier, he was right after all, there would be no redemption either way.

You felt the weight lift from your throat and took a deep breath, opening your eyes and seeing Azriel’s angry from holding up the man. Azriel looked absolutely terrifying in that moment. “No, don’t hurt him- “You started, but Azriel had his knife out and slashed his neck, throwing his body to the ground. You cried out, crawling over to the males bloodied form. His eyes frantically looked around, and you grabbed his hand, but there was no usual tug, no usual surge of power as you took his pain, you looked up again and met with lifeless eyes. The male was already gone.

“Did you…did you know him?” Azriel spat out, grabbing you angrily by your arm and pulling you up. “He shot me out of the sky and just had a knife to your neck, and now you’re crying over him?”

“of course I didn’t know him!” You pushed back at Azriel, looking down at the male who was dead. “I just…. I just….” You felt a wave of nausea roll through you and turned so you could dry heave. Another death, because of you, again.

“You just what Y/N?” Azriel barked, and you flinched from him. “Tell me what is going on.”

“He’s dead!” You whispered. Azriel looked astounded, looking at the man then at you. He then laughed. “Why are you laughing?”

“Give me a fucking break, Y/N. Lets go.” He grabbed your arm, pulling you with him.

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

You two wandered until you found a cabin, the candles were still burning when you arrived and there was a fire going in the fireplace. You were becoming more worried about Azriel by the minute, his skin was losing it’s color and he was almost limping as he walked. As soon as you both entered the cabin, he sat down in a chair and started removing his leathers.

“Azriel- are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I just need to get this arrow out of my wing.” He muttered, looking at you. You watched him as he reached behind him, failing to get a good grip on it. “Would you mind?”

“I can help.” You whispered, coming up behind him and looking at his wing. His wings were beautiful, dark and somewhat translucent, you had never been this close to him before. You could see an oddish green color seeping from one of the wounds and your heart dropped, poison.

You slowly touched the area around the protruding arrow, he tensed up. Your fingers lightly traced the area around it, trying to figure out if pulling it out was the best option or if keeping it in to stop the blood flow would be better. Removing it would probably be best, since it was poisoned.

“Azriel, I’m going to remove it now, okay?” You said quietly, bracing your hands on the arrow. This would hurt like a bitch, but only for a second. You pulled, wincing as the wing membrane tore open a little more. Azriel grunted. “I’m so sorry, but it should start to feel better now, okay? Let me go outside so we can ice it.”

“No- don’t go.” Azriel looked back at you, his expression a little less guarded. “There could be more of them out there- it’s unsafe.”

“I’ll be okay, we really need to keep an eye on this for a little bit.” You reassured him and walked out of the warm cabin and into the harsh cold. You grabbed as much snow as you could fit in your sack and came back in just a few minutes later, as soon as you walked in Azriel seemed to slump in relief.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him, noting that his complexion had looked possibly worse than before.

“I’m feeling okay.” He looked at you, his eyebrows scrunching, then a small smile came to his lips. You stopped in your tracks, if Azriel was smiling at you, there definitely was something wrong. “I feel a little funny….I think there was something in those arrows.”

You nodded, coming over and handing the cold pack to him. He nodded and placed it against his wing, wincing at the cold. “You really confuse me, Y/N.” He admitted, his shadows seemed as lethargic as him as they swirled around you. “I can’t figure out who you are- I just see so many different things and it’s not adding up.

“Who do you see?” You whispered, and he shook his head, somewhat confused. “You can tell me.”

“You act like you are kind, and at first I thought it was for show, but you seem to be kind even when nobody knows it’s you.” He explains, his voice somewhat slurring. “You pay attention, you leave out books you know Feyre will like, you leave out Mor’s favorite snacks when she doesn’t even like you.”

“And I’ve watched you train with Cassian; you refuse to throw a punch even when he’s wide open. Even- even with that guy outside who was going to kill you- you refused to hurt him, and you cried when he died.” Azriel looked at you, without hatred, for the first time. “How can someone who killed so many people, who tortured others and laughed as their families mourn, cry over a stranger? There is something you’re not telling me. Rhys and Cassian can see it, what are you not telling me? I want so badly to be on your side, please, tell me, who are you? ”

You felt tears fall down your face, because he’s only saying this because he was drugged. “Azriel, I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.” You whispered, “I’m different than I was under the mountain.”

Azriel nodded, head leaning back as he winced in pain. You grabbed his hand, not asking for permission, and pulled away his pain. You thought of your family, your last memories with them. Your mother, father and two brothers sitting at the table. Your brothers throwing food at each other whenever your parents weren’t looking, trying to get it into each other’s mouths, and trying to hide your laughter so your parents wouldn’t notice. You could feel him sigh in relief and fall unconscious. You sighed in relief, playing the memory again in your head, missing who you were 50 years ago.

You woke up with a gasp, the pain from Azriel’s injuries tearing through your back. How did he deal with this much pain without even showing it? You snuck outside past Azriel’s sleeping form, and grabbed some snow into the pack that you had used for Azriel, hoping the cold would help your back.

After shoveling some of the snow into the pack, you felt a presence behind you and looked up, seeing Azriel in the doorway. “Are you feeling bet-“

“What did you do to me?” Azriel growled, walking down the three steps to confront you in the snow. “Who were those people? What did you do?”

“You were poisoned Azriel, I just…I gave you some snow to cool you down and tried to get rid of the infection.” You looked up at him, trying to find the man who you had spoken to so truthfully a few hours before. “You were a little confused, which is expected.”

He shook his head, “who was that family? Is that another family you killed?” he spat, and you froze in place. You didn’t realize that you had shown him that. “Forgot I asked. Don’t ever touch me again. Get back in here so I don’t have to protect your ass if someone else comes around to kill us.”

You nodded, leaving the pack in the snow and making your way back up to the cabin. You could feel the chills start but could feel how physically hot your body felt. You laid down on the floor, where you were previously right next to the fire. Azriel stood next to the door, watching you intently like you might try to run away.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” Azriel stated, and you nodded. He walked over to you, hesitating then placing his hand on your forehead for a brief second. “Y/N, you’re burning up. We need to take off some of these layers.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue as Azriel ripped off your leathers, freezing at what he saw. He turned you over, but you were pale and nearly unconscious. You could hazily see a hint of worry on his face as you passed out.

--------

The flight back was torturous, the pain had started shortly after you woke up, and with each pound of Azriel’s wings another wave of pain went through you. You noticed that for the first time, you were warm and Azriel kept you close to his chest. You could feel how slow your heart rate was, and the growing pain made your realize that maybe this trip would be the end for you.

“Hey Azzie” You whispered, looking up at him. He was truly so beautiful, especially with he early morning sunrise reflecting off his features and the small beads of sweat. “Are you hurting at all?”

“No Y/N, I’m fine.” He stated, looking down at you confused. “Azzie? Where is this coming from?”

“I think Azzie would be a fun nickname.” You laughed before groaning in pain. “I just wanted to tell you something really important.”

“And what is that?” He looked down at you, if you looked like how you felt, then you could understand the growing concern in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? We could have left last night.”

“I don’t want to argue, please.” You whispered, trying to get closer to him. You felt cold and hot at the same time. “Those people I showed you- I did kill them in a way.” His arms stiffened but you continued. “That was my last good memory before I…. became a murderer. I didn’t protect them, I left and they came and attacked and I was the only one brought under the mountain.” The pain in your chest matched the pain in your back. “I couldn’t take away their pain, I couldn’t hold them as they died, I will never forgive myself.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Azriel whispered, you sighed and closed your eyes again, listening to the thumping of his wings. “Why didn’t you just use the antidote on yourself too, I could have handled it.”

“I can’t use it on me.” You whispered, before falling back unconscious.

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

“I need help in here!” Azriel’s voice boomed, causing you to stir and groan from your position in his arms. “Rhysand!”

You heard thumping and were placed on a soft surface; you felt a warm hand against your cheek and found yourself leaning into it. Then the pain started, and you felt yourself writhe as the poison worked its way through your back.

“I’m not sure what happened, one minute she was fine.” You heard Azriel say in a panicked voice, “then she’s shaking from the cold, no matter how hot I turned up the fire. She has a fever and has been delirious for the past two hours of the flight, talking about forgiveness and you and Cassian knowing the truth. What is going on Rhys?”

You could feel a set of hands on your back and you screamed in pain as they tried to flip you over. “Don’t do that! You’re hurting her!” You heard a voice yell, and you tried to keep your mouth shut to prevent any more noises from escaping.

“High lord, I’m going to need to him out of here if he can’t control himself.” You heard the women say, you recognized her voice, was that the healer?

“Azriel, what else happened?” Rhys voice asked, you realized that you couldn’t open your eyes, but you weren’t in as much pain, Rhys must be doing something to you.

“We were attacked on the way back; I took three arrows to the wing but she didn’t say anything. Hell, I didn’t even see an arrow go towards her.” You could hear, maybe it was worry, in his voice. “Then she healed me somehow, but she didn’t heal herself. She couldn’t tell me why.” You felt a hand grab yours, and from the ridges of skin there could tell it was Azriel.

“Please, help her.” You heard him whisper.

“Madja, Y/N an absorber healer, she’s been poisoned.” Rhys instructs; you hear a gasp from the healer.

“By the cauldrons, I have never met one before, they are so rare.” You hear her say.

Despite Rhys’s efforts, you feel another wave of pain shoot down your back, but you keep your mouth closed to avoid screaming. “Azriel- get out.” Rhys shouted, and you tried to shake your head in objection. You need Azriel, you gripped his hand tighter, or tried to in your half-conscious state.

You felt your shirt rip open, and then your hand was released, and steps were taken away from you. “Rhys- what are those- why does she have all those scars on her back?”

“She can explain when she wakes up.”

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

You woke up with a start, a scream on your lips. “Y/N, you’re okay.” A voice said, and you felt two hands rest on your shoulders. You snapped your head to see, Azriel? You looked around, you were in your room, but a chair had been pulled up next to the bed.

“How long…”

“3 days.” Azriel stated, settling back down into the chair.

You nodded, “and…why are you in my room?” You looked around, cautiously looking back at him. He looked…incredulous.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m just making sure you wake up.” Azriel cocked his head to the side, anger filling his eyes. “Why would you do that Y/N? I would have been perfectly fine, but you almost got yourself killed, you had no right to do that to yourself on my behalf!”

“It’s not like I can help it!” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at the scratchiness In your throat. He grabbed a cup of water for you on the nightstand, and you drank almost the whole thing. “Azriel- can I be honest?”

“Please do, I need a good explanation.” He retorted, sarcasm lacing his tone. His shadows were surrounding you, but seemed almost- relieved.

“I can’t watch people in pain.” You whispered, “Watching you in pain killed me inside, and even though you hate and can’t stand to be around me, I couldn’t just watch you go through that.”

“I did hate you.” Azriel says, grabbing your hand. “How else was I supposed to feel? You had killed people I knew, people with families, tortured for fun and acted like you enjoyed it. Hell- I think the whole court hated you.”

You looked down, nodding, tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Y/n.” You looked up, locking eyes with Azriel, “I was such an idiot, the signs were there, and you’re a terrible liar. When I saw the scars on your back, I – I lost my shit. Literally. I don’t Madja is going to let me anywhere near the healing quarters anytime soon.”

“I was just trying to help people the only way I knew how.” You whispered, a tear spilling. He nodded, reaching up and cupping your face.

“I feel like a monster too, I’ve killed and tortured, but I’ve always done it in the name of our court.” He exhaled shakily, giving you a small smile. “But you are kind, and I have just been so frustrated over the past couple of months because I wanted to hate you so much- but couldn’t bring myself to. Watching you laugh with Cassian and Feyre, I felt so helpless like you could never open up to me like that. I literally couldn’t even be in the same room as you, because I felt so…jealous for no reason.”

“Rhys- when he told me about us going together, I was angry. Angry that he would put you in danger just for the sake of getting us to get along.” You watched anger fill his eyes, “and he almost got you killed.”

“I’m okay.” You reassured, smiling through the tears that were still falling.

“just make me a promise, okay?” Azriel released the grip on your face and grabbed your hand, fiercely. “I never want you to take my pain again, or anyones for that matter, okay? My pain is mine to bear, alone.”

You nodded, feeling some relief. “Thank you Azriel, I…this means a lot to me. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for so long.”

“I want to hear everything,” he squeezed your hand again, and you could feel your heart flutter. “I will never let you get hurt again, and honestly…Azriel is so formal. I’m okay with Azzie….as long as its between us.”

#azriel #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic

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allhopesforlove · 3 months ago

Text

Farewell, my love

Summary: In the midst of a battle, y/n realizes that their only way to victory would be through her sacrifice. Determined with her decision to lead an army of soldiers to the frontlines, there was nothing that could hold her back. Because she was sure that if she continued living on she wouldn’t survive any more of what was blooming between Elain and Azriel.

Pairing: Azriel x reader, Azriel x Elain

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Angst, self-hate (idk tbh pls forgive me)

part 2 part 3

———————

“Someone has to lead them to the frontline to allow an opening for us.”

Freezing, thats all she felt. Her blood stopped rushing and burning in her veins, no sound and no pounding. Just a serene calm washing over her as she let the wind breeze through her blood and mud smeared hair. Ah, she thought, this is it, this is where it all ends. She was aware. She thought all of them were aware of what would happen to the group taking responsibility to charge full on towards Hybern’s forces. Without a doubt, she decided, she would do it. No second thought. It had to be her.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and opened her eyes to only see what made her take the decision of bringing an end to all of it herself.

There, in all of the chaos, in all of the war afflicted damage around them, in all the sorrow and pain, in all the helplessness and suffering, there, she only saw those hazel golden eyes. Those eyes she saw before sleeping and waking up when morning came. Those eyes she was mesmerized by, eyes that always managed to take away all the pain in mere seconds, eyes that made the pounding in her head stop, eyes that promised hope.

Though, they were the eyes that never seemed to look at her, lingering at the doe brown eyes of the one he was cradling to his chest.

In all her 458 years of living, only three times she saw his eyes filled with such worry. The first being when Mor was captured. The second being Rhys’ sacrifice to keep Velaris safe from Amarantha’s wrath. And the third, well the third time was the moment he realized that they actually might not be able to win this war. And that he possibly could lose her.

The ringing in her ears stopped and her vision became clear again, as the sight made her decision final, brought her back to the reality they all were facing now.

“Rhys.. are you aware of what you are suggesting right now.. this.. fuck.. this is a whole on suicide mission..”

silence passed through and then in an almost hushed but assertive voice

“I know, Cassian. I am .. god I am aware. However, this is the only way we could outmaneuver them. We are already outnumbered as it is.”

And the warlord knew. Hell, he might be the best strategist his court ever had. With all his experiences over the years as a general of the Night Court, with all his knowledge, he knew that what Rhys was saying may be their only shot at victory. But he was in denial, because it had to be someone amongst them as they barely stood in a circle. All of them carrying wounds of different degree.

He looked over towards Mor’s blood smeared face supporting Emerie with her left arm, as the latter took a deep blow on her right wing. He winced at that as he knew how sacred wings were to them. He felt for Emerie in that moment, but was brought back by a soft voice, he might have not heard if he didn’t focus just enough

“Its just as I have seen… it wasn’t this clear, but, but I think I saw how this will go, which is why I agree with what Rhysand is saying.”

Its not that she was the first person who spoke up after Rhys’s declaration or the thoughts everyone else was too scared of to voice besides Cassian, that surprised y/n. It also wasn’t that Elain saw a vision and didn’t tell a soul about it, well other than besides maybe the one at her side looking at her as if he already knew of this assertion.

No, what surprised y/n was the one second Elain blinked over at her, a mere glance that made y/n’s blood boil again. A second which confirmed that it was obviously her that Elain saw. And what more was that Azriel probably knew, he probably knew and didn’t care to tell her. The shadowsinger did all but not dare to look her in the eyes, strengthening his grip around Elains waist and kicking some imaginary stones on the ground.

It made y/n sure in her decision. It had to be her, with all that was left of her, she had to be the one to do it. She knew it, Elain knew it and, this she wasnt sure of, but Azriel too probably knew it.

Without dwelling too much on what consequences Elains silence on her vision brought to them, Rhys was determined that it had to be him. It was his duty as their High Lord, as the most powerful being in all of Prythian, as a father to his beautiful child, as a devoted man to his only High Lady and as a loyal brother and friend to his circle, to the people of Prythian. Maybe this way, he would finally be able to forgive himself for all that he has and has not done, maybe this way he could finally stop the storm that was still alive inside of him.

With one final decision he looked over his circle, the people who were closest to him, for whose happiness he would even sacrifice himself

“Cassian, you and Amren will go over to Summer’s side, I already informed Thesan. You will lead our men from the right side at my command, after I charge with all the men left at our side-“

“You will what?!” He felt Feyres fury burning through him, “Absolutely not Rhysand, you will do no such thing!”

“Feyre, darling, there is no other way, I love you and I love our son so much that I am willing to pay this price so that all of you can-“

“You can go to hell with all of that bullshit-“

“That was kinda the plan”

“Shut up, this is no time to joke! Tell Thesan we have a change of plan! No one is going to play the sacrificial lamb, we will find another way.”

But there was no other way, y/n was sure of that, as was Elain. As the pair still continued to bicker, y/n glanced over to the shadowsinger, just to, maybe, she didn’t know, but all she ever wanted was for him to see her. Maybe it was a too wishful thought, maybe she was too naive to believe that in her possibly last moments he would finally spare her a glance. Because deep down she already knew that she was undeserving of his attention, undeserving of all his affection and love.

He deserved someone like Elain, someone who even in her darkest moments didn’t break, someone strong like her, someone whose softness and calmness was serenity to his soul. Unlike her own pathetic self waddling around the Shadowsinger to get his attention for decades only to exchange mere friendly gazes and words that she decided she was content with. But still, even for all that she was, she was thankful of one thing.

Loving Azriel.

Even if it plagued her and drove her mad at times, she was thankfuk that she got to love him at least from a distance. That she got to experience all the perfection that is all Azriel. From his soft dimples that appeared when Cassian was being his silly self to his inspiring determination to win a brawl. Or, she remembered, his calming voice that still brought chills to her when thinking of it. She hadn’t really heard what he said to her because all that she was focused on was the way Azriels lips were moving, accompanied by that voice that made all of her being tremble. That made her heart flutter faster and her face a little redder.

Oh, how she loved these little moments she had with him, these few minutes she had him all to herself until someone else got his attention.

In those moments she allowed herself to dream, she made herself believe that Azriel too looked at her with a lovers gaze, lied to her heart that he too wanted her. But reality always hit, whenever it was that Mor, and in recent years, Elain walked into the room. Reality was brutally honest which is why she never dared to take the next step, she knew her place.

Or maybe she was just a coward, because y/n knew, she knew the shadowsinger rejecting her would hurt more than what she had with him now. She’d rather love him from a distance without his knowledge than make a fool of herself and risk never seeing him again.

With one final gaze towards her Shadowsinger, she sighed and finally spoke up:

“It wont be any good to just argue and waste our time. Someone clearly has to do it and to be frank I think it would be the wisest if it was me-“

“y/n no-“

“Please just listen to what I have to say Mor. I have trained for decades with Cassian and the shadowsinger, I know how to lead an army and I know my way with the soldiers. Sending Rhysand, Cassian or really any of you guys there would be the dumbest decision. We need you at the back, the people need you. And besides, we have to be honest with ourselves… all of you, well not all of you, but you have to understand that you all eventually would want to have your own families”

she glanced over at her friends, Emerie and Mor, Cassian, Feyre and Rhys

“a bright future I can see right before my eyes”

and finally at Azriels and Elains direction.

“It would be unfair for me to keep living on when you all have already found the person you want to spend the rest of your lives with and frankly-“

“That doesn’t make you any less deserving of living though.”

There goes her shadowsinger, mindful of others as always. He was scowling and panting as if he was holding off words that suffocated him. This bewildered look on his face made her heart clench but she had to step in before he could say anything more.

So she dared to look him in his eyes and with all her strength she mustered up her coldest stare she had

“You dont get to decide a thing on my life shadowsinger.”

Silence. And then

“You won’t get anywhere by trying to talk me out of it. We are already wasting so much time as it is and I have already made up my mind. I will lead them.”

Azriel wanted to say more, to tell her and convince her that it should not be her, that she still had so much left to do with her life. He remembered a time before the war, before everything, when they sat together after a training session and just talked about anything and everything. They weren’t the closest friends, no, but y/n was someone he trusted and whose company he enjoyed.

On that specific day she told him of how she dreamed of seeing the colbalt blue sea, how she wanted to just spend all day in flower fields and enjoy all the types of flowers Spring had to offer or see the enormous libraries that resided in the Day Court. She wanted to travel all of Prythian and beyond and she told him with such glee that the memory of it almost made him step forward and volunteer to take y/n’s place.

But a squeezing hand pulled him back from his thoughts. He looked down towards his hands and saw a mismatch of two clasping hands. His own scarred ones and Elain’s. His beautiful Elain.

And he remembered all the promises he made her just before this, how he would finally propose to her despite what opinions Rhysand had, how he would give her anything she asked of him.

He looked her in the eyes, although teary, she looked at him as if she was determined. She wouldn’t let him take that step forward, and frankly, he was flattered by her reaction. He finally had someone looking after him and caring for his wellbeing. Although he hadn’t dared to show all of him to her, he was content that Elain accepted him the way he was.

Elain loved him for who he was, well, for those parts she only knew of. But that was enough for him, because thats more than anyone has ever offered him.

He smiled at her and although he didn’t want to look, he turned his head back to y/n’s direction. He saw that she was arguing with the other’s, but a sudden ringing in his ears prevented him from hearing anything that was being said. The only thing he was aware of was his heart thumping faster and faster by the second and suddenly he heard another heartbeat.

It was like everything around him vanished, muffled voices and a blurry vision. And an intense smell of warm floral notes, but it wasn’t Elains, no.

Suddenly all he could feel was a deep rooted longing, similar to the one he had been feeling all those years, and fear. So much fear it nearly made him fall to the ground. He was confused. What was happening to him?

Unbeknownst to him he tightened his grip around Elain’s hand which made her wince

“Azriel are you okay?” Her voice brought him back and he tried to find the words for what has just transpired but Mor’s sudden cry made him look at y/n’s direction again

“Please dont do this y/n, please, I can’t lose you, I can’t lose my sister, someone… just someone please help.”

While Emerie , also with tears in her eyes, tried to calm her, something inside Azriel made him anxious and panic. It felt like those moments where he was on the brink of an anxiety attack, and his heart was racing so fast he felt like he was going to puke.

And this time, when he looked at y/n she was right looking back at him with wide eyes. And there, although small, he could see the first golden fibers of what seemed to be forming into one string connecting him with her.

———————

Part 2 Part 3

A/n: Ahh this was my first time writing ever 😭 I hope you guys enjoy it. Also, I would love some feedback :) Make sure to tell me if you’d like another part 🫶🏼

#azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel x yn #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar angst #fated mates #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #farewellmylove

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parkerslatte · 5 months ago

Text

Saviour

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of torture. blood and injury. survivors guilt.

Summary: After Amarantha had kept Y/N locked up for ten years, she is finally reunited with Eris.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N was unaware of how long it had been since she was locked away deep below the mountain. There was no sun, barely any light and the only company she had were the rats that frequented her cell. It hadn’t always been this way, before she was locked away, she at least had contact with others– despite how unpleasant it was. It wasn’t until she made her third escape attempt that she was thrown into this very cell, even more isolated than the ones several feet above her.

It had been a long time since Y/N’s hope had abandoned her, memories had begun to fade in her dire existence despite her efforts to cling onto them. The one memory she did retain was one of beauty and love, one she treasured above all. Eris’s Vanserra’s face was one she would never be able to forget even if she tried. The final caress of his face was burned onto her palm. Even with all of her hope gone, there was still that miniscule spark that still shone brightly within her.

Y/N wasn’t certain that anyone would ever come looking for her. When Amarantha had personally dragged her down here, the look on everyone else’s faces was one of pure dread. No one thought she would still be alive. Her shackles around Y/N’s wrists and ankles made her power useless so she couldn’t even try and signal for anyone to help her. Not that anyone would even attempt such a fatal action.

It had been a while since she had been given food and her small water supply was gone; Y/N was beginning to become restless. Even in the damp and cold cell she was in, a full meal was brought to her once a day. At first Y/N refused to eat anything in fear it was poisoned but the more her hope was melted, she began to eat, not afraid if it was poisoned anymore.

Y/N dragged her body to the bars and held into them. The long hall before her was pitch black and the only light was two everburning torches each fixed to the walls outside of her cell. Everything was even more deathly silent now.

Her voice hadn’t been used in years and even opening her mouth to speak was a foreign feeling.

“Hello?” Y/N didn’t recognise her own voice. It was scratchy and quiet and nothing like the elegant speech she once heard flow from her own mouth.

There was no response. Everything remained silent; not even the rats made a noise. Y/N crawled back over to the pile of rags in the corner of her cell– her rather poor excuse for a bed. Her eyes closed and Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if they would open again.

***

When Y/N awoke, it was sudden as her sleep was disturbed by the echo of footsteps coming from down the long passageway. Her eyes opened and in the far distance she could see the flicker of a flame. Y/N sat up from the bundle of rags, chains rattling.

The flame grew closer and closer until a figure was visible, a dark cloak draped over their shoulders. It was a cloak Y/N didn’t recognise and that small spark within her ignited once more. She tried to call out but it was as if her voice had failed her completely. The words were stuck in her throat.

The figure drew closer and Y/N gripped onto the bars of the cell tightly. With each step, her heartbeat sped up as a million possibilities swam through her head. What if it was someone coming to finally kill her? What if it was someone finally coming to save her?

The flame which was hovering above the figure's hand disappeared and Y/N’s eyes widened in recognition. A hand pulled back the figure’s hood and tears welled in Y/N’s eyes.

“Y/N?” The unmistakable voice of Eris Vanserra whispered.

Once again Y/N tried to speak but her voice caught in her throat. More tears flowed.

“Y/N…” Eris said softly, bending down, his hands encasing hers that were gripping the bars. Y/N only continued to cry.

The only sound that echoed was Y/N’s sobs and the small cries from Eris. Y/N was afraid to close her eyes and find that everything was a dream. Everything felt too good to be true.

“How can I get you out of here?” Eris asked, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

Y/N slowly pointed to the keys hung next to one of the torches. “Amarantha wanted my freedom to be within sight but without ever being able to reach it.” It was the most Y/N had spoken in a long time.

Eris was immediately up on his feet and grabbed the keys before placing the key in the lock on the cell door.

This is it, Y/N thought. I will finally be free.

The metal door screeched open and Y/N sat back as Eris stepped forward and crouched down. He held his hand out to unlock the shackles next. Y/N stared at his hand for a moment before placing her hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting, it was just as she remembered.

The shackles were taken off one by one. The scars they each left behind was going to be a reminder to Y/N for her entire life.

“Can you stand?” Eris asked.

Y/N shook her head. She hadn’t even attempted but she already knew that she was too weak to support her own weight. Eris nodded and gently listed Y/N into his arms, cradling her against his chest. For the first time in years, Y/N felt her body relax. She was safe.

Eris began to walk down the passageway and Y/N’s eyes slowly shut. She allowed herself to fall unconscious in the arms of her love.

***

In a cabin deep in the Autumn Forest, Eris gently laid an unconscious Y/N down upon a bed. There was dried blood surrounding her wrists like a bracelet— a bracelet Eris wishes never decorated her body.

Eris didn’t want to leave her alone but he needed supplies to clean the wounds around her wrists and ankles. The moment he gathered the supplies he was immediately by her bedside.

The bond between them— the only word to describe it was sensitive. Eris felt everything Y/N did, every bit of pain, every bit of happiness. He felt everything.

Y/N looked so fragile laid upon the bed. It had been ten years since Amarantha dragged Y/N away and that was the day the bond went silent. For ten years Eris thought Y/N was dead— he thought he was searching for her body.

When Eris’s eyes landed upon her frail figure behind those cell doors, he was relieved but at the same time he thought of everything Y/N had been through since she had been locked away. He never even got to say goodbye to her, nobody knew of their relationship and if Amarantha was to find out, Eris couldn’t even begin to imagine the worse torment she would have put Y/N through.

Eris gently cleaned away the dried blood from Y/N’s body and the moment he was done, his eyes burned as tears formed. He quietly cried as he gently gripped onto her hand.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Eris whispered, bringing her hand to his mouth. “I should have saved you years ago.”

A gentle kiss was pressed to Y/N’s hand as Eris allowed his tears to finally fall.

***

When Y/N woke, she was shocked to feel a soft mattress pressing into her back instead of hard stone. The smell of the damp walls was replaced with the sweet smell of her favourite tea. It had been so long since she had smelt it.

Her body felt lighter too. As she lifted her hand she was pleased to not hear the metal of the shackles bashing together. Y/N cracked one eye open and light flooded her vision and she quickly closed them once more. She had spent years in the dark with her only source of light being two torches. Seeing natural light was a luxury Y/N never thought she would see again.

Y/N tried once again to open her eyes. Light flooded her vision once again but she persevered. As she got used to it, the wider she opened them, being greeted to the sight of the homey decoration of a cabin. Decoration she picked out herself many years ago.

Footsteps came closer to the door and Y/N’s body tensed as it was opened. Her body relaxed once she saw the familiar face of her mate.

“Eris…” Y/N whispered.

The glass of water Eris held in his hand shook as he took a step closer to the bed and placed the water down on the bedside table. “Y/N…” he said.

Y/N slowly lifted her arm, it felt strange without the weight forcing it down. She reached out for Eris and he happily complied, sitting by her side in an instant, warm hands encasing her cold ones.

“I’m alive?” She asked, wanting to know that this wasn’t some trick of her mind.

Eris nodded, seemingly afraid to use his voice.

“You saved me,” Y/N said with the strangest feeling on her face. It was a smile. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she smiled.

“I did,” Eris replied. “I should have saved you sooner.”

“You saved me,” Y/N repeated. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me,” Eris mumbled. “I should have saved you the moment Amarantha took you away. I shouldn’t have waited until after her death–”

“She’s dead?” Y/N questioned.

Eri’s eyebrows furrowed. “How much do you know?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said. “My last memory of anything out of that cell was being dragged away after attempting to escape. How long ago was that? Everything blurred together in that cell.”

“Ten years ago,” Eris said, his grip tightening on her hand.

Y/N’s eyes widened. Ten years had passed since she was locked in that cell. Ten years of torture at the hands of Amarantha. Ten years away from her mate.

“But she is dead, correct?” Y/N said, wanting complete confirmation.

Eris nodded. “Tamlin killed her.”

“Good,” Y/N said. “That’s good.”

“Y/N–”

“That’s amazing. She stole ten years of my life,” Y/N cried, tears falling down her cheeks. “She took ten years from me, away from everyone, bound where no one will hear me. She took me away from you.”

“Y/N–” “That isn’t fair. How can she kill so many under that stupid mountain but leave me alive? That isn’t fair! Why did she keep me alive and alone for a decade?” Y/N cried.

Y/N’s body shook with her sobs as she felt her whole body being encased, though it was pleasant. Y/N’s arms wrapped around Eris as she melted into him. It felt nice to be held by him once again. His scent invaded her nose and she breathed it in deeply. No matter how much time had passed, his scent was still the same. It had always comforted her, as it always would.

“I don’t know,” Eris muttered against her head. “I wish I did but I don’t.”

Eris continued to hold Y/N in his arms until she pulled away, wanting to look at his face. She hadn’t taken in his features at all. He still looked the same, though he looked tired and exhausted. His hair was longer too, tied neatly at the back of his neck, a few strands escaping to rest over his forehead.

“I thought of you every night,” Y/N whispered. “I gave up hope long ago of anyone finding me, but every so often that hope was ignited again by the thought of you.”

“I thought I was searching for a body,” Eris confessed, his hold on Y/N tightening. “When she took you, I could no longer feel the bond. It was as if it had been erased.”

“It was the shackles,” Y/N replied, looking at her scarred wrists and ankles. “It blocked all magic and that included the mating bond.”

“Since I no longer felt the bond, I thought you were dead,” Eris said. “When Amarantha was killed and everyone left to go to their homes, I stayed to search the whole place for your body. And all I could think of was how I never got to say goodbye to you.”

“I should have died,” Y/N muttered. “How can I live when so many others died? High lords included. What was so special about me?”

The warmth of Eris’s hand caressed her face. “Everything is special about you. Every little thing, don’t ever forget that. Every single night under that damned mountain I would pray for you and I am sure I have never prayed in my life. I prayed that we would be reunited one day, either in this life or the next. My prayers were answered when I found you alive.”

“But–”

“Y/N, I can’t say I know how you feel but I know what I feel and what I feel in pure love and adoration for you,” Eris said. “I will help you out with whatever you are feeling. I will go wherever you wish to go. I will leave if you wish for space to heal on your own. But I need you to know that I will help you. You are my mate and the love of my life, I don’t wish to see you blame yourself for anything.”

“Thank you, Eris,” Y/N said, hugging him tighter, burying her head into his shoulder.

“Don’t thank me,” Eris replied, “I will do anything for you, Y/N.”

“Right now, I only want to lay here with you,” Y/N said. “Everything still doesn’t feel real. I’m afraid to wake up in that cell again.”

“I can guarantee that this is real Y/N, we are finally home,” Eris said. A small, genuine smile twitched at Y/N’s lips. “And by some hellish reason that this isn’t real, then you must know that I will still be looking for you. In every universe I will be looking for you and I will never stop until I find you, no matter how long it takes.”

“I love you, Eris,” Y/N said, cuddling into Eris’s side.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Eris said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you so much.”

It wasn’t long until Y/N drifted off to sleep once more, the exhaustion weighing heavily upon her. She was no longer afraid to fall asleep, not while Eris was beside her. He would always protect her and would always stand by her side, as he always had– as he always would.

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

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pellucid-constellations · 11 months ago

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To Feel At Home

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: A little angsty piece because I can't stop writing for some reason. I hope you enjoy :)

Main Masterlist ♡

On shaking legs, you pressed forward. Rhysand was still at the Moonstone Palace—still in Mor’s arms and coping with the impossible. You had made to stay, but Mor had given you a shake of her head that conveyed more than any words could have.

Mustering up the morsel of power that had returned to you after Amarantha’s death, you winnowed to Velaris.

Not in a good spot. You hadn’t had access to your power in over five decades and much of Rhysand’s wards were still in place. Given the circumstances, getting yourself to some random alley at the edge of Velaris was a feat.

The sun was blinding, invading your senses that had gotten so used to the darkness Under the Mountain. You brought a hand up to cover your eyes and trekked on.

No more winnowing.

You had tried—it hadn’t worked.

As you walked, stumbling through families taking strolls and having normal days, you searched within you for that golden thread. It had been absent for longer than it had been alive, your time as mates barely reaching a decade before your disappearance.

You sifted through the pain and grief and loneliness, desperate for the relief you would find once you felt the weight of him.

Nothing yet.

He had to know things had changed Under the Mountain. Even amidst the secrecy and the hiding, you knew he would check. His shadows would cross continents to find you.

But—you stressed, as you made it to a main road lined with cobblestones—that could mean he went there. Azriel could be under that mountain at this very moment, searching through the fae still sorting out their lives before they went home.

And you were here.

You had no reason to panic.

You were home, safe, alive; you had more reason to feel at peace than you had in the last 50 years. But if Azriel wasn’t here…

Your breath came out in short pants as your fingers found purchase on a wall. But you kept going, kept watching your feet as they stumbled past each other, just to have the chance of seeing him.

There were no shadows yet.

They always found you first.

You weren't sure how much time had passed—seconds, minutes, hours all lost their meaning under Amarantha—but the shadow of the mountain that held your home was soon cast over your body. You gasped out uneven breaths and pressed a hand to the towering figure, to the entrance that held the ten thousand steps you had every intention of climbing.

Your body would surely fail.

The last five decades had not been kind.

With a determination fueled solely by desperation and hope, you began the tunneled pathway to the harrowing climb, but then you stopped at the entryway.

A broken rendition of your name met your ears, so cracked and ruined you could have passed it off for something else.

But you knew that voice, the way the vowels flowed and connected.

Another broken sound permeated the air, this time from your own lips.

You couldn’t look. You wanted to, ached to, but you couldn’t. So much anticipation led up to this moment. And you were different now, a fraction of the person you had been all those years ago.

“Y/n, my love, look at me,” Azriel begged, the lowest you’d ever heard him speak. But you hadn’t heard him speak in so long, so perhaps you were misremembering. “Please.”

You couldn’t.

Moving was impossible.

Your legs began to shake at the sound of footsteps, and then your knees gave out.

A loud sound vibrated against the tunnel walls as your hands slapped against the floor. On the ground, steps away from the only person who could fix this, your waterline filled with tears.

But you didn’t have time to second-guess or run or wonder if this was all too much. You were gathered into a strong pair of arms, pressed into a firm chest that smelled like home, and tears made paths down your cheeks. They flowed in damp trails in silence, Azriel holding you closer and closer until you weren’t sure space existed between you.

His nose pressed into your hair.

His chest rose and fell in uneven patterns.

More silence. You felt your body begin to rock gently back and forth.

This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be.

You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again many years ago. Even as you ran through the streets of Velaris without your breath or your reasonable mind, you hadn’t expected to find him. This was a dream, Azriel wasn’t here, it was only a cruel play on your mind.

Someone was trying to hurt you, and it was working.

Maybe Amarantha had finally gotten Rhys to crack.

Maybe this was his doing, his manipulation of your deepest hopes.

Something was moving against your ear, soft and rushed and incoherent. A hand smoothed back your hair. You kept rocking.

“You’re okay.” Words filtered through ringing. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Over and over. On a loop.

Something encased you. Darkness followed—you were used to darkness.

The pattern of the words lulled your heart back to a normal rate. Tears continued to fall. Your breath was shaky.

“I love you so much,” Azriel broke the repetition, shocking your system. “I love you. I love you—”

A sob wracked your body, the first real sound to leave your mouth. Azriel shushed you in response, but when he buried his face in your neck you felt the wetness of his own cheeks.

This had to be real, it had to. There was no other alternative. You wouldn't survive feeling this way just to be thrust back into that nightmare.

It had to be real, it had to—

“It is,” Azriel choked out. He pulled back, your face in his hands, his expression conveying a picture of pain and love and disbelief. “It’s real, angel. Gods, you’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d—” Words cut off and restarted. “I tried so hard to get to you.”

His forehead met yours.

This was real.

You felt the shadows wisp along your skin.

You could never feel them in dreams.

“I missed you,” you croaked, voice so unused to the words. “So much.”

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut only to open them after not even a breath. Desperate not to lose sight of you. Anguished at the thought of missing the picture of you in his arms.

“I’ve missed you more.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction

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azmageddon · 5 months ago

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Silence (Part Two)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian’s twin!healer! reader

Summary: It’s your turn to find the silence deafening.

Warnings: Short section of spiciness, but definitely not smutty. Also, you can pry the angst from my cold, dead, hands. Give me all the angst. Also painfully inaccurate to the original storyline.

A/n: Sorry it took so long! I’m obsessed with making everything perfect. Enjoy! Let me know what you think and what else you want to see.

“I have one for you too, Y/N.”

You looked up from where you were leaning against the wall at the back of Rhys’s office. Everyone’s eyes were on you and you could have sworn that Azriel, who was leaning against the wall next to you, had stopped breathing all together.

“Me?” you asked, confused.

Rhys only nodded, holding the invitation out further in his outstretched hand. You shuffled your way forward, Mor and Amren stepping aside to give you space. When you finally reached his desk and gripped the letter, you gave it a swift tug, but Rhys didnt let go. The two of you stood there for a moment, hands attached to the letter in a quiet tug-of-war over his desk. You caught eyes with the High Lord. They seemed to say be careful before he finally released the envelope.

Worry hummed across the bond, mixing with yours and sitting in the pit of your stomach. Turning back toward your spot in the back of the room, you risked a quick glance up to Azriel and saw concern plain on his face.

“Watch your face,” you reminded him in his mind and he quickly returned to his stoic, unreadable expression. “Wouldn’t want to blow our secret over a silly invitation, would you?” You tried to keep the conversation light and carefree, but it was difficult when dread had crept into your mind. If Azriel felt your nervousness, he didn't acknowledge it.

“You know,” he replied, “I’ve been rethinking keeping this a secret. Don’t you think it’s time they knew?”

“But it’s so much fun sneaking around.”

You could feel Azriel’s metaphorical eye roll through the bond and suppressed a chuckle while you took your place back against the wall. “I just thought it would be nice after keeping it a secret for nearly 400 years. But we can talk about this later. Open the letter so I can read it, too.”

You did as he asked, slipping your finger under the delicate fold of the envelope and pulling at the wax seal until it released with a pop. Slipping the invitation nestled inside, you turned it around so as to read the looped cursive sprawled in fluorescent gold ink across the page. You felt Azriel shuffle closer to get a better opportunity to read over your shoulder.

Y/N,

It is with great pleasure that we request your presence at the Masquerade Ball hosted by her majesty, Queen Amarantha of Under the Mountain. Please kindly reply within a fortnight. Punctuality is of the utmost importance.

“I don’t like the look of this,” came the voice of your mate in your head.

***

“How do I look?”

Azriel’s eyes snapped up from the book he was reading and instantly dragged themselves across your body. A groan from deep in his chest vibrated through the room and you were hit with a wave of arousal across the bond.

“Down boy,” you teased, stepping toward the vanity at the corner of the room to touch up your makeup. You felt Azriel’s eyes glued to you as you moved. Your dress, dark and revealing, was something Rhys insisted you wore to the party. You were used to outfits like this, the fabric accentuating your full hips and showing off your years and years of hard training. It reached up over the curve of your breasts and plummeted, reaching nearly low enough to expose your belly button. The Night Court demanded respect from those outside the bubble that was Velaris, and your High Lord chose to express the Inner Circle’s blind confidence through dress.

“Gods, if I knew you were going to wear that I would have argued with Rhys more to let me accompany you two.”

You sat at the vanity and reapplied your lipstick. From over your bare left shoulder came a lone tendril of Azriel’s shadows. It snaked along the curve of your collarbone and circled around your neck a few times before settling itself snuggly around your throat like the most priceless of necklaces.

A shiver went through you as the shadow gave a gentle squeeze. “Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t insist on you and Cassian to join us. You’d have thought he would use this opportunity to show off the strength of the Night Court to the other courts.”

Quiet as his shadows himself, Azriel’s large fingers slowly replaced the wisp of temporary jewelry. It dissipated at its master’s touch, and his hand gently, but firmly, tilted your head back so as to give him better access to the pulse point currently beating wildly at your neck. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear and you let out a soft moan.

“I’d like to see you out of that dress,” he whispered against your skin.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard at his words. A quick nip at your skin had you gasping out a response. “I can’t,” you managed. “Rhys will be here any second.”

Azriel trailed a rough calloused finger along the membrane of your wing and you felt a flush of desire and pleasure run through your body. The need for him flowed through your veins and it seeped deep into your bones. He could tell your willpower was faltering. Every emotion and neediness that you felt was pouring through the bond into his own soul.

“So tell him you’re not ready yet. I won’t take long.” Another nip at your skin, this time at the cleavage of your breast, had you nearly giving in. Your eyes fluttered closed and your chest heaved as he peppered kisses along your neck. But before you could utter another word, there was a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” came the voice of your High Lord. “Are you ready?”

Knowing neither of you could actually delay your departure, you sprung apart. Jumping up so quickly, you felt your chair tipping backward, only to be caught by one of Azriel’s shadows.

“One minute!” You called through the door and turned back to your mate.

“You have to go,” you whispered in a rush, quickly grabbing your bag from the bed and your shoes from their place beside the closet. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

In your frantic dash across the room to retrieve your items, Azriel gripped your shoulders, halting you. His lips crashed into yours, passionate, hungry, and hurried. It left you breathless and you gasped for air as he pulled back, traces of your lipstick staining his own lips.

“Later, Shadowsinger,” you whispered as you reached up on tiptoe to place your lips against his again, more gently this time.

“I’ll meet you at the exit to say goodbye with the others,” he said into your mind and, stepping into a swirl of mist and shadow, he was gone.

***

“Az, the Autumn brothers are here.” Across the bond, you felt Azriel perk up. He must have been focused on something, perhaps reading a report or reviewing paperwork for his next mission. But at the sound of your voice in his head, you could feel his attention shifting to your gossip.

“Did they dress up?” he asked. “Please tell me Eris came as something ridiculous. Like a chicken or something.”

“Gods, no.” You suppressed a smile and glanced over at the heir to Autumn Court. The only costume he wore was his flaming red hair and permanent scowl on his face.

“Actually,” you continued across the bond, “It looks like Rhys and I aren’t the only ones who refused to dress up. In fact, the only ones who have costumes are the Spring Court.”

Amarantha was saying something, servants coming around to pass out wine in goblets that rivaled the finery of Rhy’s own private collection. You took one without thinking but hesitated before taking a sip. You recalled the words toast and finest wine coming from your hosts lips at some point. When your High Lord, who hadn’t left your side all night, didn’t drink from his yet, you followed his lead.

You barely paid attention all night, anyway. One arm constantly linked into your High Lord’s, you had to play the part of the mysterious, ruthless, second-in-command of the Night Court. Not many outside of Velaris knew much about you, except that you were an exceptional healer and twin the Night Court General. You played the role Rhys had expected you to, and Gods, did you play it well. Not a male in the room could take their eyes off of you, with your long flowing hair, curvy, yet muscular, body, and strong, unclipped Illyrian wings.

But frequently, you found your thoughts drifting back to your mate and the strong fingers you had wrapped around your throat a few hours ago. You hoped they would find their home there again upon your return to The House of Wind later tonight.

A wave of arousal hit you that wasn’t entirely your own and you realized Azriel must be having the same thoughts.

“Having fun without me, Shadowsinger?”

“Just remembering you in that dress,” came Azriel’s voice, low and sultry. “And all the ways I could take it off of you later.” You nearly choked on the breath you took. Rhys cast you a look out of the side of his eye, but you ignored it because Azriel was still speaking.

“Or maybe you can leave the dress on. It doesn’t offer much coverage, anyway.” His voice was growing darker, deeper, and more sensual with every word. “Or maybe the heels. Just the heels.”

You shook your head to clear it, attempting to focus on whatever Amarantha was saying in her toast. Wealth… happiness… friendship… blah blah blah. You ignored her sentences, picking up only on a few words. You did manage to make out her command to drink! before you caught eyes with Rhys. They portrayed something you couldn’t quite read. Sadness? Regret? You must have missed a part of her speech that was important.

Deciding to ask him about it later, you took a swig of your glass along with all the others in the chamber. The wine was sweet, thick like honey, and coated your throat on its way down. In fact, you felt it coating your entire body like a warm blanket. It worked its way into your bones and after a few moments of warmth, you felt the feeling turn to ice.

Icy tendrils shot through your limbs and you ruffled your wings to try and dispel the feeling. But it only became stronger and stronger until finally you felt a deep, soul crushing, emptiness. Quick as it began, the feeling was gone, and with it, the hum of the bond in your chest.

“Azriel?” you called to him. But no response came. Panic seized you and you clutched at your chest with your free hand, your other wrapping tighter around the arm of your High Lord. He was turning toward you now, saying something, but you ignored him. In fact, the entire chamber had erupted into chaos. Voices were all around you, angry and yelling. But the one voice you called for again and longed to hear was silent.

You didn’t know what it felt like to have a bond that was closed. You only knew that this was far, far worse.

“Y/N.” The sound of your name jolted you from your panicked soul searching. You looked up, catching eyes with the High Lord.

“Azriel,” you whispered out loud to him.

“What?” He asked, hands on either one of your shoulders, steadying you.

“Azriel,” you repeated to him. “He’s my mate.” The truth came tumbling out of you. The secret the two of you had kept for 400 years suddenly seemed foolish.

Rhys shook his head, not understanding your words. “Your mate?” He asked, confused. “For how long? Does he know?”

You nodded, tears suddenly filling your eyes. You pushed against the golden thread that tethered the two of you together, but it only ended in darkness. “We’ve been mates for nearly 400 years. We’ve kept it a secret for… oh Gods, Rhys, what has she done?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly snapped it closed. He looked over your shoulder and you whirled, finding Amarantha standing there.

“Oh, my dears,” she began, her voice scraping across your ears like nails against stone. “The two of you are just lovely, aren’t you?”

#azriel #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #pro azriel

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mellowmusings · 3 months ago

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Blessed mistakes | part 2 (reworked)

part 1 part 3 there aren't much changes just a few subtle ones

Azriel x reader

A/N- Literally thank you so much to my wifey @anarchiii for being there for me and proof reading this story when it was just a stupid little drabble, if you all want some soft but well written fics she has some amazing ones especially her gwynriel fic,(ps: shes already taken and so are her cats too so dont even try anything else >:<) also i might be going off summary a bit but its fine,let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

Summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

Part Two: Fading Echoes

(*A few years after y/n had left, timeline during Amaranthas reign*)

The years had a quiet way of passing, like a river flowing slowly under the weight of the stars. Azriel couldn’t remember the moment when the ache of her absence had begun, nor could he pinpoint when it had deepened into something permanent, something that hummed just beneath his skin. Fifty years. They had come and gone, one after the other, a steady stream of days filled with work, with battles, with the constant motion of life that had never quite let him stop. And yet, the absence of her—her—never left. It lingered, as if it had always been there.

Y/N had left without a word, without a trace, slipping quietly from his life as though she had never belonged there. He had never asked her why. Maybe he thought the answer was too simple, or perhaps he didn’t want to hear it. And so, he had never asked.

He thought of her that night—the night she told him she was leaving—as he often did, though the memory felt like a soft echo, fading at the edges. It had been a simple conversation, nothing remarkable at first. They had been in the garden, the air cool and still around them, the moon casting its pale light over the courtyard. Azriel had been lost in his thoughts, as he so often was, his mind drifting from one responsibility to the next.

She had been quiet, more than usual, and when he had finally turned to her, he saw it in her eyes—the tiredness, the distant look that hadn’t been there before. It was the look of someone who had been carrying something heavy for too long.

“I think I need to go,” she had said, her voice soft, almost like a whisper. “There’s a mission in the Autumn Court... It’s time for me to leave for a while.”

He had nodded, of course. She had always been so independent, so steady. He didn’t think much of it, didn’t realize the weight of her words, the finality in them.

"Of course," he had said, offering a smile, thinking it was just another one of her short trips—another mission, another step away from Velaris that would bring her back once more.

But she hadn’t come back.

The days stretched on without her, and slowly, the absence began to settle over him like a thick fog. He kept himself busy, as he always did, throwing himself into his duties, his work, anything to keep his mind from wandering to her. But she was never far. She lingered in the corners of his thoughts, in the spaces between meetings, in the quiet moments before sleep would claim him.

And then there was the silence. The silence of not knowing. Not knowing where she had gone, why she had left so suddenly, why she hadn’t come back. At first, Azriel had told himself it was nothing—just a mission, just time apart. But as the weeks turned into months, and the months into years, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of her absence pressing on him.

He had searched, of course. He had gone to the Autumn Court, asking quietly, desperately, if anyone had seen her. He had questioned every contact he had, asked around the realms, sent word through every possible channel. But no one had known. No one had seen her.

She had simply... disappeared.

It wasn’t until years later, when the weight of her absence had begun to feel like a constant ache in his chest, that Azriel had realized the truth. The truth that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface of everything he had felt for her. She hadn’t just left because of a mission. No. She had left because of him.

He hadn’t seen it then. He hadn’t understood. But looking back now, with the distance of time and the space of so many years between them, the truth became clear. Y/N had loved him. Loved him in a way that he had never allowed himself to see. She had loved him in the quiet moments, in the way she had looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. But Azriel hadn’t noticed. He had been too wrapped up in his own world, in his own pain, his own battles, to ever see it.

To him, she had always been like a sister—steadfast, loyal, someone who understood him without needing words. She had always been there, always by his side, always offering him the quiet comfort he hadn’t known he needed. But to her, it had been more. It had always been more. And she had waited, hoped, for something that he had never been able to give.

And when she left, when she quietly walked away from him without so much as a second glance, it had been the final piece in a puzzle he hadn’t even known he was putting together.

He hadn’t loved her in the way she had wanted him to, in the way she deserved, he had realized the reason she left long after it was too late. But even now, fifty years later, the ache of that unspoken truth gnawed at him. The truth that he had broken her without ever knowing it. Without ever meaning to.

In the years that followed, Azriel had buried it. Buried the regret, the guilt, the unanswered questions deep within himself, like a wound he was too afraid to touch. He had never spoken of it to anyone—not even Rhys. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them that he had failed her in a way that he would never be able to undo.

And so, he carried it. The quiet weight of knowing that someone—someone who had been everything to him—was gone, and he didn’t even know why.

It wasn’t until after the war, after Amarantha’s reign had ended, that Rhys returned. The air was filled with victory, with the promise of a future that seemed almost too good to be true. But to Azriel, it felt hollow. Empty. Because in the midst of all of it, there was still the question of Y/N.

Rhys had come to him, as they always did, to speak of what had been won, what had been lost. But there was something else in the air that night, something unspoken between them. Rhys, as always, seemed to sense it.

“Az,” he began, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, as though he had been waiting for the right moment. “I know you’ve been looking for her. I’ve heard the whispers. The Autumn Court... You thought she might have gone there?”

Azriel’s heart skipped in his chest, the hope that he had long buried resurfacing just for a moment. He had never told Rhys the full truth—the way he had searched for her, the way he had never given up. But Rhys knew. Rhys had always known, his brother always did.

“I did,” Azriel said, his voice thick with something he couldn’t name he couldn't help as his voice broke. “But I couldn’t find her. No one has seen her.”

Rhys’ expression softened, as if he had known all along that this moment was coming. “I searched, Az. I went to the Autumn Court. I asked around... but there’s nothing. She’s gone.”

Azriel’s breath hitched. He knew it, he did. But hearing the words—hearing it from someone else—made it feel final in a way that it hadn’t before.

She was gone.

All because of him.

He had failed her.

And as the truth settled over him, as the weight of the years pressed in, he realized something else—that even after all this time, even after all the battles he had fought, the scars he had earned, there was a part of him that still, somehow, hoped she might return. That hope had been foolish. She wasn’t coming back.

Azriel stood there, the weight of Rhys’ words hanging between them, and for the first time in decades, his thoughts weren’t on his duties or his responsibilities. They were on her. Y/N, the girl he had known since childhood, the girl who had always been like a sister to him. His heart, ever steady in the face of battles and wars, felt something more raw now. More broken. She had been the one person who had always understood him. And now... now she was gone.

She wasn’t just a sister, a friend. She had been the one constant in his life, the one person who had given him something real, something solid. And now, he would never get the chance to tell her how much she meant to him. He would never get the chance to apologize for not seeing her.

His chest tightened with the weight of it all. The girl he had grown up with, the girl who had quietly woven herself into the fabric of his life, was gone and Azriel, the Shadowsinger, could do nothing but stand there in the empty quiet of the night, broken by the truth that she was lost to him forever. And so he sunk to his knees and let himself shatter, under the weight of his heart.

@anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3

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courtofjade · 2 months ago

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Somewhere in the Haze, Got a Sense I’ve Been Betrayed

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron!reader, Lucien x reader (past)

Notes: This is my first ever time writing so please be gentle with me <3

She stood frozen as she watched the bolt strike through Azriel’s chest, letting out a sob as he fell to the ground. Y/n grabbed at her chest as a pain shot through her. An internal war raged inside her between the fear of Hybern and the pull she felt to run to Azriel.

The bolt was coated in bloodbane that the King claimed flowed where he willed it. She knew that if they fought, if they did not follow him, the poison would go to his heart. The heart that longed for the Archeron sister since they had locked eyes. Azriel let himself be hauled up the stairs by Cassian and Rhys- feeling utterly helpless. Feyre grasped onto a shaking y/n, who balked at the sight of the arrow protruding out of Azriel’s back.

Y/n was ignorant to the events that had occurred under the mountain, having been sent back to the Mortal Lands with Feyre before they had occurred. She had been told of the things her sister had to do, had to endure, while under Amarantha’s trials. Even though Rhys had made her aware of the things Hybern could do- even though she had been trained by Azriel and Cassian to be prepared in times like this- all of these things had fled her body as she walked into the King’s throne room.

The King mounted a dais carved out of dark emerald- his throne assembled of bones. As she inspected further, her mouth dried. The bones were that of a human. Brown and smooth with age. They all stopped before it, Jurian leering at their backs. Y/n flinched as the throne room doors shut.

The King said to no one in particular, “Now that I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, I expect you to uphold yours.” Two figures emerged from the side door. Feyre began to shake her head harshly as Lucien and Tamlin stepped into the light.

In the chaos that had then ensued between Rhys, Feyre, and Tamlin, all Y/n could do was stare at Lucien. His eyes on her were forever filled with an intense guilt that somehow still couldn’t mask the look of love. Her face slowly began to morph into that of hurt. Of betrayal. All she could do was think to all of those months ago. Of being in the Spring Court. Initially to find her sister, but in the end finding a bond she had never dreamed she would have. His lips began to slyly mouth words that she couldn’t comprehend. His lips. The lips that had once shared his deepest feelings. The lips that had once been on every part of her body. The lips she could no longer look at as her ears perked at the name of her sister.

“You will find, Feyre Archeron, that it is in your best interest to behave.” The king stated. She followed Feyre’s gaze to the door where the King’s guards had dragged her sisters, gagged and bound, before the King of Hybern.

She began to hyperventilate at the site. She sobbed silently at the sight of her eldest sisters, nights gowns dirty and torn. Elain stood sobbing with fear in her eyes. Nesta looked disheveled, hair wild and eyes fierce, like she had put up a fight. Of course she had. She barely let Y/n go back to the Faye Realms let alone let someone drag her there.

How did they get to them? How they know where they lived? She attempted to catch Feyre’s eyes. A way to silently ask her these questions herself. Though Feyre couldn’t meet her eyes. Little did she know that, unknowingly, Feyre had given every detail of their lives to Ianthe. Fucking Ianthe. She knew there was something off about her. She glanced over at Lucien whose face had gone slack.

“She sold out- she sold out their family. To you.”

“Sold out?” The king snorted. “Or saved from the shackles of mortal death? Ianthe suggested they were all strong-willed women, like their sister. No doubt they’ll survive. And prove to our queens it can be done. If one has the strength.” Her breath caught in her chest. “I thought we would have to put up more of a fight for the third. Fortunately you brought her right to us.”

With their focus on the King, none of the inner circle had noticed when a pair of guards had made their way to the youngest Archeron. She gasped as they grappled her and began to drag her towards her eldest sisters. Their heads all whipped towards her.

The King smirked. “I suggest bracing yourselves.” And then hell exploded in the hall.

Power, white and unending and hideous, barreled into them.

Y/n screamed as she was dragged away from her friends. Her family. She watched as they attempted to shield each other from the onslaught of power coming from Hybern. She watched as Mor made her way to him- a feeble attempt of revenge for Cassian who laid behind her, wings torn to shreds.

Azriel cried out in pain. Another gasp from Y/n as a pain radiated in her chest. Mor froze and dropped her knife, it clattering to the floor. Mor backed up as the King rose. He descended the dais, eyes sweeping over the defeated circle. His eyes burned a hole into Mor’s head before moving his gaze to Y/n. He slowly walked over to her- raising a hand to push the hair out of her face.

“What a prize.” He drawled.

Azriel let out a deep growl from his chest, eyes full of rage and pain and he snarled at the King. “ Don’t you touch her.”

The King held her trembling chin in his fingers. Her eyes slanted as she held his gaze, fearful but unwavering.

“Put her in first.” He sounded before turning back to his throne.

Feyre lunged but the guards grabbed her instantly, Rhys soon going to interfere. Before he could he froze in his tracks, hearing Azriel shout in pain as he writhed on the floor.

Y/n screamed as she thrashed in the guards arms.

“Please refrain,” the king said, “from getting any stupid ideas, Rhysand.” He smiled at Feyre. “If any of you interfere, the shadowsinger dies. Pity about the other brute’s wings.” He gave the sisters a mockery of a bow. “Ladies, eternity awaits. Prove to their Majesties the Cauldron is safe for … strong-willed individuals.”

Mor held onto Azriel as he weakly attempted to crawl towards Y/n.

Nesta began to thrash wildly in the guards arms, watching as her baby sister was dragged toward the cauldron. Tamlin said, “Stop.”

The King did no such thing.

“Enough!” Shouted Lucien frantically while reaching for his sword. Nesta bellowed at the guards, at the King, at anyone who would listen. Y/n watched as the King waved his hand and liquid filled the cauldron to the brim.

Y/n continued to thrash and kick as the guards dragged her closer and closer to the cauldron. She fought and she fought- thinking of her friends, thinking of her sisters, thinking of him. He who had taught her to fight and to never stop fighting.

She sobbed as she felt herself being lifted. Felt her foot touch the cold liquid of the cauldron. For a split second, she caught Lucien’s eyes and it felt as though time slowed. He thrashed against the white leash of power holding him back from running to her. From killing anyone who dared touch her. While in his eyes were love and pain and guilt- in her eyes were fear and anger and betrayal. Angry with whatever part of Lucien thought that working with Hybern was a good idea. Feeling betrayed by the man that she had once thought she loved.

She closed her eyes and gasped her last breath before the guards swiftly shoved her into the cauldron.

The inner circle held their breath. They dared not move as they waited for her to come out of the cauldron. But she did not. Nesta’s screams were all that was heard throughout the room.

The King smirked- raising his hand toward the cauldron. “Behold.”

They waited with bated breath as the Cauldron turned on its side spilling out Y/n- as if washed onto the shore. It felt as though hours had passed as they waited for her to move- to breath.

Feyre released a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she watched Y/n gasp for air. She pushed herself up, pushing her soaked hair back to look at Feyre. The room once again stilled. Her skin began to glow. Her beautiful face somehow becoming even more beautiful, and her once rounded ears were now pointed.

She then looked at Azriel, who was laid on the ground trying to find an ounce of strength to crawl to her. He looked up at her as though he felt her eyes looking at him. As she stared into his eyes, it was like she couldn’t pull look away. Her brows furrowed as she felt a tug on her chest. A tug she had felt multiple times before- begging her to go to him. Pleading with her to hold him and to never let go. Except this time, the tug felt stronger. Stronger than it ever has before. Though time continued to move around her, chaos never ending, she reached deep into that part of her to grab onto that invisible force pulling her towards Azriel. And when she did, she felt something inside of her snap.

Through the seemingly never ending pain he had been feeling, Azriel had felt it. He had felt the tug he had been longing to feel since the moment their eyes had met. Back when Rhys had called in the bargain for the first time. When he brought her and Feyre to the Night Court. And for a moment, in the hell that was surrounding them, he felt at peace.

She snapped out of her stupor as she noticed Lucien rushing to her. She let him help her up to her feet and bring her closer to Feyre.

As he stood next to her, holding her up on shaky legs, his heart had not come back to where it had belong since it had dropped. Since he had witnessed the moment between Y/n and Azriel. Since he watched the first love he had felt in a long time- find her mate.

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #azriel acotar #lucien acotar

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azrielandhisshadows · 7 months ago

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winter's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.2k (I tried to make this shorter, but I'm a yapper)

warning: over-protective, older brother, Kallias

summary: the reader has lived a sheltered life under her brother, Kallias, the high lord of the Winter Court. when the reader is given the opportunity to go to the Dawn Court for the High Lords meeting, she is ecstatic. While there, she meets the most of the Inner Circle and one of those members will change her life

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Light reflecting from the snow outside blinded you as you stepped out onto your balcony. Despite living in the Winter Court your entire life, you have never gotten used to the views of the snow-capped mountains and the city sprawling beneath you. You only wish you could see what was beyond the snow-capped mountains.

Your older brother, Kallias, had always been determined to keep you safe from the dangers lurking outside your home. During Amarantha’s reign, he kept you hidden, and all you knew of the terrors she inflicted on your people were whispers. Even after her defeat and the stories of a human who had freed Prythian, your life remained firmly within the confines of the Winter Court.

You sat in the corner of your room, reading one of the many books that have allowed you to imagine the world outside of the Winter Court. Stories of fierce warriors that protected their people from outside danger, much like the threat of Hybern that loomed on the periphery. Your heart sank at the thought of another threat plaguing your home. Another threat that you were powerless to stop.

A knock sounded at your door and Kallias and Viviane entered your room. Viviane directed her attention to the book you held in your hands and gave you a sympathetic smile, knowing how you desired to escape your sheltered life. Your brother cleared his throat and looked uneasy as he said, “Y/N, we have decided to bring you with us to the Dawn Court for the High Lords’ meeting.”

Your breath left you at your brother’s announcement. Viviane’s gaze met your own with a satisfied smile, knowing that she had persuaded her mate to allow you to attend this meeting with them. Shooting up from your chair, you wrapped your brother in your arms, holding him tightly, “Kallias, thank you. This is fantastic! What do I need to do during the meeting?”

Kallias’s stoic demeanor softened as he returned the hug, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Easy there. You don’t need to do anything specific. You’re my best-kept secret, and I want the High Lords to see that I trust them—and that I trust you. Just be yourself.”

You pulled away slightly, a playful smirk on your lips. “Best-kept secret? That’s better than being your biggest embarrassment, I suppose.”

Kallias rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, very funny. Just try not to make me regret this decision. We don’t need a repeat of that time you tried to help me with diplomatic correspondence and nearly signed us up for a snowball fight in the city.”

Laughter erupted from you and Viviane and you nudged Kallias’s shoulder, “I promise there will be no accidental diplomatic disasters, but I might bring up how the High Lord of the Winter Court lost said snowball fight.” Kallias chuckled, shaking his head. “I would expect nothing less from you, but you need to get packed. We leave in the morning.” Kallias gave you a quick hug and left to oversee final preparations.

Viviane lingered in your room, her warm presence a stark contrast to the cool air outside. “Let’s get you packed. We have a lot to prepare for and I want you to be able to enjoy everything the Dawn Court has to offer.”

Night passed into morning and you were unable to sleep due to the excitement of your awaiting departure for the Dawn Court. A golden hue broke through your curtains signaling that it was time to leave. You met Kallias and Viviane in Kallias’s office as they were going over final details. Viviane looked at you expectantly. “How are you feeling, Y/N?

You look between the mated couple, your heart beating out of your chest. “I’m as ready as I can be. Let’s go!” Kallias chuckled at your enthusiasm. Receiving a nod from Viviane, he raised his hand and enveloped the three of you in a sparkling blue. You felt the frigid air of the Winter Court begin to dissipate and was replaced by a warm breeze unlike anything you had felt before. Blossoming flowers and chatter from the halls reached your ears as you took in the sunlit room you were winnowed into. A squeal pierced your ears and you looked over in time to see a tall blonde embrace Viviane in a hug.

“Mor, how I’ve missed you.” Viviane said to the female, returning her hug with equal excitement. Viviane and Mor separated from their embrace, both wearing wide smiles from the reunion. “Viviane, you look fantastic! I’m so excited that you’re here,” Mor’s gaze glanced to your wide-eyed frame, still taking in your new surroundings, “Who is this?”

You looked at the beautiful female and reached out a hand, “I’m Y/N. I’m Kallias’s sister.” Mor looked in between the three of you with shock lining her features.

“Kallias, I did not know you had a sister.”

Kallias’s cold features looked at the bright-eyed female and looked at you protectively, “No one outside of the Winter Court does.” Mor looked uncomfortable as Kallias placed a protective hand on your shoulder. You peered behind Mor’s to the group she came with and you saw three striking males with large, membranous wings behind them, their tan skin and dark hair making them stand out. One of the females looked at you, confusion lining her features, trying to figure out who you were.

Mor’s gaze followed yours, and she stepped aside to reveal the group behind her. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the Inner Circle.”

The first to step forward was a male with an aura of effortless confidence. His violet eyes pierced into you as he extended a hand with a grin. “I’m Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Your jaw dropped as you hesitantly accepted his hand. Rhysand, the most powerful high lord in Prythian and the one who was rumored to have killed the Winter Court children.

Seeing your discomfort, Rhysand’s smile faltered slightly. “I assure you, I didn’t harm those children. I understand if you’re wary, but I hope we can start fresh.”

His words carried a sincerity that eased your anxiety a bit. As he introduced you to the rest of his court, Cassian’s boisterous welcome and Feyre’s warm smile helped to soften the tension. Yet, it was Azriel who captured your focus completely. As his shadowy tendrils brushed against your arm, an unexpected wave of nausea surged through you. Your vision blurred momentarily as an intense, disorienting sensation swept over you.

Kallias and Viviane were instantly by your side, their concern palpable. “Y/N, are you alright?” Viviane’s voice was filled with worry, her hand gently resting on your back.

You struggled to steady yourself, unable to tear your eyes away from Azriel. His face was a mask of shock, his usually composed demeanor fractured. When he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, it was as if the room itself fell silent, drawing all attention to his words. “Mate. You’re my mate.”

The weight of his revelation settled over you like a tangible force. The golden thread of connection that linked you both was almost visible, a shimmering bond that pulled at your very essence.

Mate.

#acotar #acotar imagine #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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velarisnightsky444 · 2 months ago

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Scorched Shadows: Part 12

Eris x Azriel's Sister OC

CW: Overprotective brother, smut, degradation, impact play

A/N: I'm well aware it has been forever, I promise I am going to do better, I've just been very busy. I am going through and editing some stuff in past chapters, and I am adding in the fact that they can talk to each other through the bond.

Word Count: 1895

Series Masterlist

Part 11 || Part 13(upcoming)

»»————-　♔　————-««

Estella sometimes visited Eris late at night when she couldn't sleep. She only did this when she could sense his thoughts buzzing around in his restless head, and she knew he was also awake. She didn't disrupt him when he was sleeping peacefully, though that was rare.

She would hide her dagger beneath her skirts, throw a shawl over her shoulders, and pinch her cheeks to add color before leaving. She didn't want him to see her looking entirely exhausted.

The stroll down the corridors was anything but peaceful, especially at night. But she couldn't winnow without her shadows, and flying would only bring attention to herself.

But she had a weapon, and she was ready to strike. She never did see that male again, the one she stabbed in the face. She still wasn't sure why she panicked so much when she had spent centuries doing the same thing.

Maybe it was the implication of what he had wanted to do to her, whereas the males she had killed in the past had been assigned to her. They were not after her directly, not until she began targeting them.

But Eris had been a comfort. He had held her all night, which had surprised them both, it seemed. Since then, he had become softer with her. She found that she didn't mind that.

Estella liked seeing his softer side. She felt special like she was the only one that got to see him that way. Then, she would scold herself for feeling like that. He was a Vanserra, for Cauldron's sake. She wasn't allowed to feel that way.

"Estella," the voice said, causing her to freeze. Her eyes jumped from the tile in front of her to the source of the sound.

Rhys stood with his brows furrowed, taking her in. He was looking worse every time she saw him. His skin had gone pale, his face gaunt, and he'd lost a significant amount of weight and muscle. His violet eyes had lost the life they used to have in them.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked her, his voice quieter than usual.

"I couldn't sleep," Estella said honestly. "I needed to go for a walk; get my mind off things."

"In this part of the Mountain? At this time of night?" he doubted, raising a brow. She shrugged, doing everything she could not to crumble under his assessing gaze.

"It's not as cold out here as it is in my bedroom," she said quietly, staring at the floor.

"You have a fireplace," he reminded her.

Her head snapped up, and she shot him a look, one that reminded him she would not touch a fireplace with a ten-foot pole. His gaze softened just slightly.

"Let's go back to your room," he decided. "I'll light the fire for you."

"Rhys, I'm fine," she insisted, glancing at the path she was taking to Eris's room.

"We're going back to your room, Stella," he repeated in a way that let her know he wasn't asking.

She didn't argue; she just followed him as he took hold of her arm and led her the opposite way from where she was heading. She grumbled to herself, irritated at her brother's constant, overprotective antics.

She felt a shiver go through her body when she returned to her bedroom. It was utterly freezing in her quarters, and she knew Amarantha did that purposefully.

Estella sat on the bed, wrapping the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Rhys went to the fireplace, kneeling before it. She watched as he placed a few pieces of wood in it and lit the fire.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He nodded, getting to his feet. He came over to her, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"I love you, little shadow," he said.

Estella smiled softly, knowing it didn't reach her eyes. Rhys leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then left her alone, wrapped in her shawl and shivering.

Even with the fire going, she couldn't sleep. The cold was bitter, and even though she was Illyrian, she was sensitive to it. She remembered being a little girl in that cell and how cold it was. She would curl up in her brother's arms, her entire body trembling, trying to stay warm. It was never any use. The rags they wore were always ripped, short-sleeved, and made of thin material.

"Are you still awake?" Estella asked Eris through the bond, hating that she was craving his comfort. It took a moment for his reply to come through, but it did.

"Yes. Where are you? I thought you were on your way."

He sounded irritated, making her roll her eyes, but she answered anyway. "Rhys found me in the corridors, and he made me go back to my room."

"How old does he think you are?"

"I'll never be older than six to him. You'll have to come here."

"I wasn't planning on leaving my room tonight," he drawled.

"Too bad," Estella responded. "Get over here as soon as you can."

Eris didn't argue with that, though his side of the bond went silent. She spent the next ten minutes wondering if he would show at all. She didn't want to beg, but she certainly wasn't above it.

However, she found that there was no need for that when her door opened. Eris looked tired, and Estella didn't blame him. She knew he hadn't been sleeping lately. Neither of them had. It was hard in a place like the Mountain.

"It's freezing in here," he murmured as he closed the door behind him.

He glanced at the flickering fire, waving his hand. The flames leaped higher and glowed brighter, making Estella flinch. "It's fine. It'll warm up the room faster."

"I want you to warm me up," Estella hinted, sitting up and letting her shawl drop from her shoulders. A smirk fell upon his features, one that made her want him even more.

He stepped over to her bed in very few strides, crawling on top of the girl. She laid back down, smiling as he hovered over her, his hands on either side of her head.

His lips met her jaw, peppering kisses, leaving her sighing softly beneath him. He trailed down her neck slowly, stopping in her most sensitive spots to suck just slightly, leaving her with marks she knew she would spend the next week concealing.

His teeth closed around the strap of her dress, pulling it down from her shoulder to her arm. She helped him get the dress off her, but it wasn't much of a struggle.

When she was bare beneath him, he sat up, fumbling with his belt as he pulled his cock out of his pants. It was rare that he fully undressed during sex or took his shirt off at all, but she never commented on it.

He slid a hand down to her core first, rubbing tight circles on her clit with his thumb as he slipped two fingers inside of her. She groaned, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Ready for me so early?" he teased, commenting on the wetness he had found waiting for him. She nodded. "Such a desperate slut."

Her core clenched at the words, and he pressed one more kiss to her neck before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and flipping her around so she was on top.

"Sit up and ride me," he instructed. "If you want it to bad, take it yourself.”

Estella pushed herself up, hands braced on his chest, to a sitting position. She took his perfect cock in her hands, pumping it a few times, delighting in the way it twitched in her palm.

He groaned as she lowered her cunt to him, very slowly sliding down onto his cock. She whimpered at the slight pain she always felt when he bottomed out.

Estella began riding him, her pace slow at first so she could get used to the fullness—the pain. He grasped her hair in his hand, pulling it forcefully. She whined, staring at the ceiling as her head was forced back, their pace speeding up.

His other hand came down hard on her ass, a smack sounding through the room. She cried out, more in pleasure than pain, her hand reaching down to rub her clit. He smacked her rear once again, and she knew there'd be marks in the morning.

“Harder, Eris," Estella moaned out, desperate amid her pleasure.

His hips began jutting up to meet hers, and the smacks to her ass sped up, getting harsher each time.

"You like that, you filthy whore?" he snarled. She could only nod, tears welling in her eyes. "Use your words."

"Yes, I like that, Eris," Estella gasped out, voice breaking between moans.

He let go of her hair, though a stinging sensation remained at her scalp. He gripped her breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them in a way that made her wild.

Eris loved her breasts, which had been evident since their first time. He often took his time with them, teasing, pinching, and squeezing.

Estella was getting close, but she needed something more, something she hadn't craved in centuries. She craned her head up, forcing herself to meet his eyes in her pleasure.

"Touch my wings," Estella gasped out.

"What?" he asked through his pants.

"My wings," she repeated, grabbing his wrist.

She guided his hand directly to that perfect spot on her wing, demonstrating how to touch it.

"Rub small circles," she managed, her eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

He obeyed, rubbing circles on her wing, gentle at first.

"Harder."

He took her command, his movements quickening as he pressed harder on the spot.

"Oh, Gods," Estella cried out, bouncing on his cock, throwing her head back. She hadn't ever felt pleasure so intense. "Please, may I cum?"

“Now?"

“Yes, now, please," she begged. "I can't hold it back."

“Cum, then," he allowed, and she thanked the Cauldron that he was feeling gracious today.

Estella cried out, cumming harder than she ever had, her core clenching around his cock. The feeling sent him over the edge, and not long after, he released inside of the girl.

She collapsed on top of him the moment she came down from her heavenly high, fingers clenching his shoulders as her body shuddered from the aftershocks. He was so warm.

"Your wings, huh?" he teased softly into her ear.

"It's an Illyrian thing," Estella explained through labored breaths.

"Why have you never told me that?" he wondered, quirking a brow. "I've never seen you cum like that before."

"I've only ever let one other male do that," Estella said, rolling off of him and settling under her blanket, still naked. "It's not something I usually allow."

The first male she'd ever slept with, her first love, Marcus, had been the one to introduce this concept to her. But after he'd broken her heart, she didn't want any males doing it again. Eris, however, was different.

“What makes me so special?" Eris asked her as he tucked his cock back into his pants.

"I'm not sure," Estella answered honestly. "It just felt right at the moment."

"Can you cum from your wings alone?" he interrogated.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "There needs to be another form of stimulation."

"Oh, I will have fun with this," he smirked.

Estella flushed a deep red, almost regretting giving him this information. Almost.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Eris Taglist:

If there is a line through it, it won’t let me tag you.

Comment to be added to the tag lists!

»»————-　♔　————-««

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batboysanonymous · 3 months ago

Text

A Taste of Silence (Pt. II)

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhys's drunken words cut deeper than any blade, leaving Y/n questioning everything she thought she knew about their bond. As heartbreak and betrayal collide, she faces a choice that could shatter the fragile threads holding their world together.

Pt. I

Rhysand was drowning.

He had endured centuries of torment in Amarantha’s Court, faced death and destruction in ways that would have broken lesser males—but this? This was agony unlike anything he had ever known.

Because this wasn’t just losing her. This was being the cause of her pain.

The bond was still there, a heavy, throbbing weight tethered to his soul. It twisted and pulled at him, refusing to let him forget the raw betrayal in her eyes when she left. He couldn’t block it out. Couldn’t shut down the waves of anger and hurt radiating from her, nor the faint echo of her presence that haunted his every step.

He didn’t deserve to forget.

He followed her from a distance, staying just out of sight, knowing he had no right to approach her. She had retreated to a small, snow-laden village on the outskirts of his territory, a place so quiet and unassuming it seemed designed to swallow grief whole. Rhys respected her boundaries—at least, as much as he could while still ensuring she was safe.

The villagers had no idea their little haven was now fiercely guarded by shadows. Every night, he patrolled the perimeter, silent as death, ensuring no threat could come close. When a pack of feral beasts wandered too near, Rhys killed them before they could even scent the village. He cleaned up the blood and left no trace, unwilling to let her see the lengths he was going to for her protection.

She might hate him, but she was still his mate. And he would protect her, even if it tore him apart.

But even the small things he could do weren’t enough. Not when every second without her was a reminder of the chasm he’d created between them. The cold, empty nights stretched endlessly, the silence gnawing at his mind until he thought he might go mad.

──────────────────────────────

The third week after her departure, he broke.

He had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t intrude, and wouldn't push her until she was ready. But the bond burned unbearably that day, tugging at him with a force that felt like claws raking through his chest. He flew to her cabin before he could stop himself, landing with a muffled thud on the snow-packed ground.

She was outside, stacking firewood with her back to him. She froze when his boots crunched against the snow.

“Don’t,” she said without turning, her voice cold enough to make him falter.

“Please,” Rhys choked out, his voice hoarse.

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t think—he just dropped to his knees. The snow soaked through his leathers, numbing his skin, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “Please, just listen to me. I—” His throat closed up, the words catching on the lump that had lodged itself there since the moment she left. He dragged a trembling hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his desperation. “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I—Cauldron, I can’t live like this. I can’t live without you.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t move.

“You are everything to me,” he said, his voice raw. “Everything. And I hate myself for what I did, for the way I made you feel. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right, if you’ll let me. But if you can’t…” He swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. “If you can’t, I’ll still do it. I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy, even if it’s from afar. I don’t care what it costs me, as long as you’re okay.”

“How can I trust that the next time you’re drunk or angry, you won’t say something that cuts me to the bone?”

Her words hit like a dagger, sharp and precise. He bowed his head, his voice trembling as he replied, “I don’t deserve your trust, not after what I said. But I swear to you, I will never drink if it means risking your pain. I’ll stop entirely if you ask me to. Nothing—nothing—is worth losing you again.”

Her arms crossed, her shields firmly in place, though he caught the faintest waver in her expression. “And what happens the next time we fight, Rhys? What if you get angry? Will you throw my weaknesses in my face again?”

His head snapped up, anguish written across his features. “Never. I would never—” His voice broke. “You are not my weakness. You are my strength. And if I ever forget that, I want you to walk away and never look back. But I swear to you, Y/N, I will spend every day of my life proving to you that I’ve learned from this. That I will never, ever make you feel like that again.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. He could feel her battling herself, the bond between them a swirling tempest of doubt and yearning.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispered, his knees sinking deeper into the snow. “I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your trust if I have to. Just tell me how to begin.”

The silence stretched taut between them, and Rhys didn’t dare move. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but edged with steel. “Prove it.”

Her shields weren’t just up—they were fortified. But he didn’t need to feel the bond to see the war raging within her.

──────────────────────────────

The days that followed were a slow, painful process. Rhys didn’t push. He stayed near enough to be there if she needed him but far enough to give her space. He continued his quiet watch over the village, eliminating threats before she ever knew they existed. He left her gifts—small things he hoped might bring her comfort. A new brush when he saw her old one had broken. A scarf enchanted to keep her warm even in the bitterest winds. And a note with every gift: I’m still here. I always will be.

She started letting him stay for longer each time he visited. They didn’t talk much at first—just sat in heavy, charged silence. But gradually, the walls began to crack. She started asking him questions, small and tentative, and he answered with an honesty that left him vulnerable and bare.

The night she finally forgave him, it was snowing.

They were sitting by the fire, the soft glow casting flickering shadows across the room. Rhys’s voice was low and steady as he recounted the years he’d spent under the mountain. The rawness of the memories was evident in the way his hands clenched and unclenched, but he forced himself to speak, each word a step toward atonement.

Y/N sat across from him, silent, her gaze fixed on the flames. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater, the movement restless and uncertain.

“You didn’t just hurt me,” she said at last, her voice trembling. “You betrayed me, Rhys. You made me feel small, like I didn’t matter.”

The words tore through him, but he didn’t flinch. He nodded, his throat tightening. “I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel that way again.”

She looked at him then, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “How can I trust you not to run your mouth again? To not let some drink or situation make you careless with me?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, shame crashing over him. “You can’t—not yet. But I’ll prove to you that you can. I’ll prove it every single day, Y/N.” His voice cracked, his chest heaving as he lowered himself to his knees before her.

“Please,” he begged, his hands trembling as he clasped hers. “Please, give me a chance to earn back your trust. I’ll never take another sip of wine if that’s what it takes. I’ll never let myself forget the weight of what I have to lose. You are everything to me.”

Her lip trembled as she stared at him, the rawness in his expression and the desperation in his voice cutting through her defenses. “I’m terrified, Rhys. Of trusting you again. Of getting hurt again.”

His thumbs brushed over her knuckles as he held her hands tightly, his head bowing. “I know. And if I ever break your trust again, I’ll deserve every ounce of that fear. I’ll deserve to lose you. But I won’t. I swear to you, Y/N, I won’t.”

The bond between them hummed faintly, like a whisper of what it once was, and it pulled at her even as she hesitated. She reached out, cupping his face with trembling fingers.

“You have one chance, Rhys,” she whispered, her voice heavy with both hope and caution. “One.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, pressing her palm to his lips. “I won’t waste it. I swear to you, I’ll never waste it.”

When she finally leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively, as if he could shield her from every hurt in the world—including himself. The bond sang louder, fuller, and in that moment, they began to mend what had been broken, piece by fragile piece.

Taglist: @willowpains, @fanficscuziranout, @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

#acotarxreader #angst #batboys x reader #slow burn #tension #acotar #night court #x reader #rhysandxreader #rhys acotar #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #high lord of the night court #light angst

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m-oddinsdottir · 7 months ago

Text

SMALL SPACE, BIG WINGS

the lord of Bloodshed and the étoile .ˊˎ ⚔️

Cassian x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,974

Warnings: smut, fingering, dirty talking, use of pet names, Cassian is a consent king, tension, reader ‘despising’ Cassian, Cassian being secretly smitten over her, unprotected p in v, size kink, multiple orgasms, creampie, slightly nipple play, no use of y/n. let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: After being sent on a small and easy job, you end up locked up with Cassian while trying to hide. You two barely fit inside together and the tension is definitely not making things any easier.

A/N: so this is the first time I write smut, definitely had to made my research in how to translate some things from my first language. friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me if<3

Masterlist

•••

You were going to murder Rhysand. Surely, that was the next thing on your to-do list.

You were no spy, and neither was Cassian. Stealthy was not one of the words by which you would describe the Illyrian warrior, to the contrary he was a brute, certainly not a diplomat or forbearing in said matters.

So when Rhysand sent you both on a small and easy job (as the High Lord had called it), you immediately knew things would fail miserably.

After centuries together, everyone would have thought you adored Cassian as much as you adored everyone else in the Inner Circle. They couldn't be more wrong. You hated being teased, he was always teasing you. You loved your moments of solitude and peace, he would always scream around and ruin them. You were free as the stars, he was always trying to tie you down to the House of Wind with them.

You despised him.

However, you couldn't get rid of his obnoxious presence. Even during those terrible fifty years of Amarantha's reign where you had found your own silent and sacred temple in Velaris, he would always knock on your door at least once a month. He was insatiable.

Now, you both were trapped together under a hatch door. His broad hand over your waist to balance you while you were almost laying completely down over his body. His large wings half-wrapped around your figure, occupying most of the limited space in the tiny area you two had decided to hide in.

The amused smirk on his lips didn't help after you noticed the trapdoor only opened from the outside. If you had the space, you would have punched it out of his face just in the way he had trained you after decades of dwelling on how you couldn't always retort on your magic.

"You and me together, doll." He had said, and in response, you had just huffed before trying to kick the door open... Somehow. There must be a way to get out of there, right? You have attempted to contact Rhysand countless times to be able to keep track of it. Yet, you received no response in return.

And now, after almost twenty minutes ignoring Cassian's smart mouth and trying to find the manner to open the door. Your body was already cramping, and the resignment was taking its toll on you.

The male underneath you noticed the sigh that escaped your lips. He also realized how your body pressed more against his seeking some rest after supporting yourself over your forearms to avoid touching him for that much time. A small grin drew itself over his lips.

"As I said about half an hour again... You can't open it."

A small stubborn frown appeared over your lips. He wasn't saying 'I said so' right now, was he? Gods, you were so going to punch him.

"Have you at least tried to contact Rhysand to get us out of here?" Your question made his grin disappear as he looked into your eyes.

Cassian hadn't tried to do anything during all that time. He had just laid there, noticing the way your chest heavily moved up and down with each of your pants after trying to push the door open with your body, taking in how you closed your eyes in frustration granting him the possibility for his eyes to roam over your body without you realizing it.

Gods, he had tried to memorize each detail in your skin with this new forced proximity which, at least, was welcomed by him. Cassian had retained the way your brows furrowed together and the soft sounds of exasperation coming out of your throat that made him shiver.

"Of course, I've tried. I want to stay in this position as much as you do, doll."

Lie after lie.

He hadn't tried to contact Rhysand, and the gods knew he was praying to stay like that with you for as long as possible.

You looked deep into his eyes, nose scrunched up slightly before scoffing and then trying to shift to reduce the cramping sensation. "Ain't this the best outcome possible?"

Hearing your annoyed grumbling made Cassian grin with amusement again, his hand squeezing your waist before talking. "You know, you could always..."

"If you seriously propose that I lay down, I'll kill you Cassian." You muttered and the male raised his hands as much as he could feigning innocence.

"I didn't say anything," Cassian replied to you. His hand returned to rest on your waist before you shoved it away. "You were the one who suggested that… Is that how badly you want me to invite you to sit on my lap, doll?"

Unconsciously, your breath hitched before a small growl escaped your lips and you flexed your arms to be able to stand as far away from him as possible. "Have some respect, will you?"

"When has there ever been some respect between us?"

A truth, for a change.

Gods may correct if otherwise. But a compliment has never been shared between you and the warrior. Not a genuine one, at least.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Isn't it ours, doll? I don't think I can count how many times you've slammed your door on my face." "I don't think you can count at all." Your retort made the warrior grin from underneath you. And, this time, Cassian didn't have any decency before he looked— No, not looked, ogled at you.

"Trying to make me cry?"

You held back the need to roll your eyes at him before supporting your weight with one arm and forcing him to look into your eyes. The roughness of his stubble scratched the soft pads of your fingers as you held his chin upwards.

"Eyes up here," you warned him. "I didn't realize you had the emotional capacity to cry. Did I at least bruise your ego, Cassian?"

He chuckled before tilting his head down slightly and brushing his sultry lips against your fingers. "Consider it damaged." The strain of his voice sent a shiver down your spine to your core.

Gods, that roughness in his tone. You doubt you have ever heard that hoarseness in him before, even though you have witnessed some of his flirting attempts with other females.

A few seconds too late, you dropped his chin. Your hand moved to rest underneath his arm so that you could support yourself above him. Your mouth felt dry and the familiar sensation of your slick between your folds almost cracked a curse out of you.

Fuck.

Not in this situation, not with Cassian underneath you, not in such a tiny space where he could scent it.

And did he scent it, his nose scrunched up slightly and your eyes followed the movement of his Addam's apple when he swallowed hard. The warmth got worse. And you weren't even sure how or why it started.

Gods.

"Gods." Cassian muttered, putting your thoughts right into words. You scoffed before shoving him away from you, placing your hands on his chest, and pushing your back against the small wooden trap door.

"Don't you dare say a fucking word. I'm going to try and contact Rhysand again." At your words, Cassian's chest reverberated against your hands when a deep growl escaped his lips

"Don't." His firm voice made you freeze above him.

"Don't?" You repeated and his growl was enough of a response for you. "The hell y—?

Before you could even register it, his lips were over yours. He was a male starved, lips coaxing yours open as he roughly introduced his tongue inside your mouth. His long and warm tongue licking the roof of your mouth before he intertwined his tongue with yours in a dance that only belonged to the synchrony in which the General usually fought his battles.

A small whimper escaped your lips and it traveled into his mouth when one of his hands lowered to your ass, taking a handful of the flesh covered by the leather. Almost immediately, your body arched into his, molding your body in the small space. Your skin buzzed with arousal when he broke the kiss and began pressing open-mouthed wet kisses against the bare skin of your neck.

You whined his name, almost gasping as his hand slipped underneath your trousers, you had no idea when the male unbuttoned them as your hand moved upwards to get tangled in his dark long locks.

"So fucking beautiful and so fucking wet," Cassian groaned as one of his fingers lowered feeling your covered and aching cunt, his warm and soft fingers pressing against your entrance. He clenched his jaw when he could feel the wetness spread through the thin layer of fabric. "Can you imagine how many times I have pictured you like this? At my damn mercy."

He pressed harder and you moaned against his ear. A pink tone colored your cheeks, however, it was provoked by your shame, not your arousal. You doubted you have ever been more soaked for any male before him... That, somehow, ashamed you.

Cassian traced slow and cruel circles against your entrance almost fingering you through the small lacey fabric Mor usually forced you to buy.

"Cassian—." You even struggled with your own speech. Your voice was suffocated by the delicious sounds that reached Cassian's hearing making the bulge in his trousers painfully hard. You could feel it poke your thigh through his Illyrian leathers and a strained gasp left your lips.

"Fuck, keep making those sounds." Cassian growled against your ear before he lowered your trousers revealing your backside to him as he hovered over your shoulder to take a glimpse.

A moan escaped his lips, this time. With his free hand, he parted your cheeks open squeezing the flesh underneath one of his hands before he kept teasing your entrance. His thumb moved upwards finding that small bundle of nerves right where he knew it would be. You choked your moan by kissing him once again and he gratefully devoured each one of your moans.

With a swift movement, he notched the skimpy and delicate fabric to the side. And then he was sinking two long and thick fingers inside you. Immediately, breaking the kiss, your lips parted open in a silent moan, jaw going slack.

The stretch stung as he buried his fingers deep until your achy cunt swallowed them entirely reaching his knuckles. A small laugh escaped his lips when you began to grind against his fingers, chasing your own pleasure.

His hand on your backside immediately moved up to shield your head when you almost hit it against the trap door. "Easy there, doll." Cassian mumbled softly, the gentle gesture making you clench around his fingers.

Cassian curled his fingers inside you finding the spongy patch of flesh that forced a cry out of your lips: "There you go, my beautiful," He whispered softly as he worked his fingers in and out. "Tell me what you want."

You almost laughed at his words. It was as if he was searching for your consent despite the way you were desperately grinding against his fingers while you moaned inches away from his mouth. The brute was in fact a gentleman, Cassian was indeed a gentle lover.

"I want you, Cassian," You mumbled against his lips connecting them with yours for a few seconds before nibbling on his lower lip. "Just you."

He growled. "Gods, doll... Come for me." His voice sounded almost like a plead as his thumb found your clit again. It only took a couple of lazy circles of his finger before you were making a mess of them, soaking his entire palm as a cry escaped your lips, your body stiffening before you buried your face in his neck breathing in his scent so that you could anchor yourself to something while being sent over the edge.

Cassian shushed you, still working his fingers inside you, trying to ride you out of your pleasure. "Good girl," He muttered, making your sensible walls clench around his fingers again. "Gods, I've jerked off so many times thinking about this before." His blunt admission caused a blush to color your cheeks as you looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. Cassian withdrew his fingers from you making you feel empty. You whimpered before he brought his glistening and sticky fingers to his lips sucking them dry while you observed.

The Illyrian savored the feeling of your juices on his fingers as if they were a damn meal. So much so that his eyes rolled back to his skull.

"So you've jerked off to me, huh?" You asked teasingly and he growled softly.

"Shut up." His lips were right over yours again forcing you to taste the salty but sweet taste of your orgasm on his tongue. You heard him roughly fiddling with the ties and buttons of his trousers and a small giggle escaped your lips before you moved down pressing gentle kisses against his jaw and neck.

Your skin sunk on the tanned skin there, leaving gentle marks that you soon soothed with a flicker of your tongue that only caused goosebumps to blossom around his skin.

Cassian growled against your ear when his large and hard manhood was revealed from its restraints. He gripped himself around the base and you looked down. The view made your breath hitch. Gods, was he big. You even doubted it would fit inside as you watched him pump himself a few times.

"Cassian, I don't think I..." You began but he quickly interrupted you. "I'll make it damn fit."

Cassian slid his length against your messy folds, smearing himself in the wetness of your arousal so that he could stretch you open more easily and less painfully. One hand moved up to cup your breasts while the other remained on your hips. He circled your nipples through the fabric of your shirt between his rough calloused fingers, toying with them.

His pupils had become pools in his eyes almost making the golden shrink into a small halo around the darkness of his lured eyes that stared right into your eyes. "So fucking beautiful. The damn picture of perfection." He repeated.

A gentle smile appeared on your lips and you relaxed against his arms. You were relaxed until you felt it. His thick grith slowly pushing inside you. A moan broke your voice as he slowly stretched you open.

"Doing so good for me, baby." Cassian muttered before moving to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, he pulled out before sinking in a few more inches and your needy cunt clenched around him swallowing his cock.

"More," You begged softly, tilting your head to find his lips. "I need you. All of you." He groaned and suddenly, Cassian sunk himself as deeply as he could inside you. His hips flesh against yours as his hands had lowered you completely into his cock.

"Gods—" You moaned and he held still for you to be able to adjust to his girth. One hand remained on your hips while the other moved to cup your cheek so that he could look into your eyes the entire time.

When you nodded telling him that you were alright, Cassian whimpered and he shifted you both in the tiny space before retreating and then thrusting in even deeper than before, the head of his cock caressing your cervix.

Cassian pumps in and out of you, small groans escaping his lips as he gets lost in the feeling of your sensitive walls tightening around him. He could feel your wetness slicking his cock each time he pulled out before he would thrust again. His golden eyes were locked with yours as he took in the way your face contorted with pleasure. Committing the moment to his memory.

He smirks feeling your body shake with each one of his hard thrusts. His hand gently caresses your cheek despite the roughness and eagerness of his movements. "Gods, you were made for me, doll." "I feel like I was made for you." You gasped in response and soon his fingers moved down to caress the swollen bundle of nerves making you cry out with pleasure.

Cassian leaned in closer to press his forehead against yours. "You are," He mumbles noticing the way you arched your back to meet each one of his strokes. "You are... Made for me— Mine."

His growls made you whimper and you felt your body stiffen above him. "Cass.. I'm close to—." He didn't allow you to finish your sentence, thrusting in even deeper and circling your clit desperately before you were coming undone on his cock.

A loud cry escaped your lips before he kissed you gently while your walls tightened around him, your legs trembling due to the electric current coursing through your body and struggling to support yourself over him. The sensation makes him groan and when you screamed his name, he's already tightening his grip over your hips.

He spills rope after rope of his thick and warm spend, flooding your insides as he closes his eyes. Cassian's forehead was still pressed against yours as he panted heavily against your face. He remained buried deep inside you pulling in and out slightly so that your tight walls would milk him completely before he pulled out.

And then you both opened your eyes. Glossy gazes locking with each other and tired smiles over your lips before it happened.

Your breath hitched as his speed dripped out of you and the golden bridge between both your souls constructed itself brick by brick. It left your already hazy mind feeling even more bewildered. You caught sight of Cassian's excited and tender smile before fully realizing it.

He was your mate.

Oh, damn it.

#acotar x you #acotar fic #acotar x reader #acotar #requests open #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian fic #cassian x you #cassian x fem!reader #please don’t steal #acotar smut #rhysand #rhysand acotar #batboys #batboys x reader #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses

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