#lord devlon x OC

[mischiefmanagers]

I think I just entered my Lord Devlon era so apologies in advance 🫡

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night she gets her heartbroken

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst? mentions of violence

summary: Valeria is heartbroken and seeks the comfort of her brother. Meanwhile, Azriel decides to take matter into his hands.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here.

**

Days turned into weeks, and Azriel battled with his emotions in solitude. He tried to hide his jealousy, but the shadows around him could sense his turmoil. He grappled with the fear of that his chance had slipped through his fingers.

Azriel couldn't deny the weight in his chest as he heard the words slip from Valeria's lips the other day—the revelation that Damien had claimed her first kiss. The news hit him harder than he anticipated, stirring a mix of emotions that he struggled to process. He sought comfort that night in the company of a beautiful Illyrian girl, but with every caress and tender kiss, his thoughts drifted to Valeria.

He couldn't help but wonder how she felt, what she tasted like. 

This had become a pattern, a repetitive cycle of seeking companionship elsewhere while his heart yearned for the one who had unknowingly captured it.

He was grateful that Rhysand and Cassian were distracted with interests of their own. It shielded him from having to fabricate excuses for choosing to spend his nights alone, masking the truth that he could no longer find that physical connection with anyone as he did before. Before his feelings for Valeria had gone beyond those of friendship.

Rhysand’s and Cassian’s distractions had also made it easier for him to keep his feelings for Valeria hidden. He buried them deep within, fearing that the friendships he had built with her and Rhysand might crumble under the weight of his emotions. But now, the realization of Valeria sharing such an intimate moment with another person ignited a jealousy he couldn't ignore.

**

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, Valeria stormed into the house. That’s when she ran into Rhysand and Azriel.

Rhysand, lounging with his legs propped up on the coffee table, swiftly removed his feet, dog-earing his book, concern flickering in his eyes as they locked onto his sister. Azriel, engrossed in sharpening a blade from his seat in the armchair, also paused in his task. His shadows, always vigilant, sensed the distress surrounding Valeria, some rushing to her. They let out a small sigh in relief as they confirmed that she was physically unharmed, though emotionally shattered.

Tears welled up in Valeria's violet eyes, her bottom lip trembling in a pout. Rhysand was on his feet in an instant, already sensing her distress. Valeria wasted no time, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of her brother. "What's wrong?" he gently inquired, his protective instincts rising to the fore.

"You were right," Valeria sobbed, the pain of overhearing Damien's heartless words still fresh. The memory sliced through her heart. "He used me. He never truly liked me, he just liked my title."

Rhysand’s expression turned dark with anger, and his protective instincts flared. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

But beneath the boiling rage, Rhysand frowned.

As much as he desired to unleash his wrath upon Damien for hurting his sweet sister, he knew he couldn't succumb to that urge. Rhysand was the High Lord’s son and heir. Damien also held a delicate position as he was Lord Devlon’s son, the one who oversaw the Windhaven camp. Provoking such conflict could plunge them into a harrowing confrontation, one that might spiral into a gruesome clash.

Cassian, who had been tidying up in the kitchen, stepped into the living room with a warm smile playing on his lips. However, it swiftly vanished at the distressing scene before him. Rhysand, comforting Valeria as tears streamed down her face, and Azriel exuding an aura of barely controlled fury. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. The realization of what had transpired hit him, and soon his expression mirrored his brother's. "It was that asshole, wasn’t it?”

Rhysand gently pulled away from Valeria to assess his sister, worry still etched into his features. "I didn’t care for him as much," Valeria confessed. “I think I liked the idea of him more than I liked him. The idea that someone could like me.”

The pain cut Valeria deep, a piercing wound laced with betrayal, anger, and humiliation. Damien's hurtful words had struck her not because she found herself falling for him, but because they were a like a searing slap to her face, bringing to surface her deepest insecurities.

"Aww, come on, dove. Don't look so surprised," he had taunted. "Did you really think someone would like you for you? You would be nothing but just another pretty face, if it weren't for your father or brother."

“Everyone sees me as the High Lord’s daughter…Rhysand’s little sister…When will someone just see me as me?” Valeria’s voice trembled with a tinge of sadness. “When will someone like me for just me?”

“Fuck that asshole.” Cassian's anger surged at the raw hurt in Valeria's eyes, and he clenched his fists.

Rhysand tenderly wiped each tear from Valeria's cheeks, his frown deepening. "You are my sister, but you are so much more than that. You are Valeria. Beautiful and sweet, brave and kind. A strong and kindred spirit, who loves chasing the stars and shines as bright as the moon. You needn’t dim your light over the words of Illyrian scum."

Valeria sniffled, her tears gradually subsiding. "I love you, Rhys."

"I love you too, Val," Rhysand replied, a fond smile gracing his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"How about some lemon cakes?" Cassian chimed in, attempting to soothe her pain. He knew how much she loved sweets, especially those with a lemony flavor.

Valeria turned to him, a faint smile ghosting her lips. She nodded. "And ice cream?"

"Of course," Rhysand responded, leading Valeria to the couch and encouraging her to sit.

"I’ll get the whipped cream and sprinkles," Azriel offered, his desire to ease her suffering evident. Despite the ache in her heart, Valeria's spirits lifted at the thought that he remembered her preferences.

"Don’t you dare move from that couch, Val! We will bring everything to you," Rhysand exclaimed playfully as he followed Cassian down the hall and into the kitchen.

Azriel lingered by the hallway, his golden gaze meeting Valeria's. He bit back the words he wanted to say. Bowing his head politely, he followed after Rhys and Cas.

 To Azriel, she was not just the High Lord’s daughter or Rhysand’s sister. She was Valeria—the girl who now consumed his thoughts and dreams. The girl who continued to warm him with her light, even in the darkest corners of his soul.

**

The following day, Valeria decided to accompany Rhys, Cassian, and Az on some camp errands. As they strolled through the town square, they crossed paths with Damien, the son of Lord Devlon. However, Damien purposefully ignored Valeria as she walked by. She caught the sight of a nasty black eye and busted lip as he avoided her gaze. 

Rhysand had harbored the desire to inflict pain upon him, but held himself back. Nevertheless, to his surprise, he found that someone had already taken matters into their own hands. Cassian couldn't help but chuckle at Damien’s sorry state.

Azriel wore a smug smirk, relishing the fear that flashed in Damien’s eyes as they walked by.

**

Bonus scene:

Azriel couldn't stand idle knowing the pain Valeria endured. The fury within him ignited, fueled by his love and protectiveness for her. As the moon hung high in the night sky, he made his way to the place where Damien was known to frequent.

He found the despicable son of Lord Devlon already nestled in the company of another girl outside a tavern. Azriel's anger surged, his vision momentarily consumed by red at the disrespect. He moved with a growl, swift and silent, and yanked Damien away from the girl by the back of his leathers. The frightened girl fled, leaving the two men alone in the darkness.

Without hesitation, Azriel's fist connected with Damien's face, sending him crashing to the dirt, where he belonged. "Don't you dare look at her or breathe in her direction ever again," Azriel seethed, his voice laced with menace, as he dropped to his knees and landed another punch.

"I swear on my life!" Damien cried out, his face contorted in pain and fear.

Azriel rose to his feet and sneered at the pathetic display. "I've seen your life. Swear on something else.”

**

Tag list: @justrepostandlove @kemillyfreitas @thelov3lybookworm

[astarlitsoul]

Morning Star

Azriel x OC

@starfallweek prompt: Character A is a fallen star, Character B finds them.

A/n: This is my first time posting on tumblr (Ik I'm a decade late) and my first time trying to write fanfic. I wanted to give this prompt from Starfall Week a try. I hope to make at least a second part bc I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Feedback is appreciated, I hope you enjoy.

This is set a year after ACOSF when the red star (likely Aelin) was seen by Rhysand on Starfall.

Warnings: Angst, blood, wounds (not too graphic), I think that's it...

Rhys had truly outdone himself this year. In anticipation of Nesta and Cassian’s wedding, the High Lord had created his largest guest list yet for the upcoming Starfall. The House of Wind had been undergoing preparations for the week prior to the holiday in preparation for all the guests. The residence was being readied to host the courtiers and their plus ones, the ruling families of allied courts, and Keir and Lord Devlon plus their ilk. Even the owners of businesses the Inner Circle frequented had been extended an invitation. 

Azriel had attended far more of the balls than he could remember. In his youth, Rhys, Cassian, and he would perch atop the roof of Rhys’ mother's house to watch the streaks of light until they dwindled away. In his adolescence, it was not uncommon for one of them, often Cassian, to bring their lover at the time and share kisses under the show. (Of course, the perpetrator would be teased to no end the following day.) More recently, as Rhys and Cass found their mates, Azriel found himself missing those days. He was happy for his brothers, and he loved his found sisters. But that didn’t change the feelings of unworthiness that were spurred when he was left without a date at event after event. 

In the recent weeks leading up to Starfall, these thoughts were the subject of Azriel’s dreams. The dreams were not nightmares, per se, which Azriel was well acquainted with. They all began with a depiction of a different Starfall from his youth. However, the good memories were soured when Rhys and Cassian would fall silent beside him atop the roof. Azriel would call out for them, but their eyes would remain glued to the sky as if seeing something he couldn’t. They pointed and murmured things he couldn’t hear before they grabbed him in an attempt to winnow away. 

Even now, as he flew home the morning before the holiday, he found himself thinking over the dreams. Lost in thought, he was surprised to find himself flying over the quaint cabin. He had subconsciously altered his flight path to pass the first home he’d known. Landing softly in front of Rhys’ mother’s house, he scanned his surroundings before entering. Assured that the sun was just beginning its ascent and that much of the world still slept, he entered the cabin. 

Strolling through the small foyer and into the kitchen, he observed just how worn it was. As boys, they did a number on the cabin, leaving lasting scuffs on the floor and permanent dents in their favorite chairs. He loved the damages now, seeing them for what they were. Signs of life, proof that joy and love had filled the space. Proof that even he had known joy and love. After walking through the small rooms, he exited and flew up to the roof. He told himself he wouldn’t get too comfortable, that he’d rest for only a few moments before heading to the House of Wind. Facing the spot where the sun threatened to rise from the ocean, he took in the orange and pink hues of the pre-dawn sky. While Velaris was mostly obscured by the trees, he could glimpse the city in the distance. 

His musings were interrupted by a rising feeling that moved from his stomach up behind his ribs. His shadows, which had settled into languid movements upon arrival at the cabin, began flaring out from him in a frenzy. He inhaled deeply at the foreign sensation, and it was then that he noticed the first star in the darkening sky. Azriel cocked his head at it. Prythian's brightest star — and the last to disappear each morning — should lay behind him in the sky. His confusion only grew as the star began flickering and growing.

No, not growing, approaching. The white-hot mass was careening towards him. He ducked, lying flush against the roof, his shadows making themselves scarce in the presence of the foreign glow. He closed his eyes against the brightness before he felt a wave of searing heat through his leathers as it passed overhead. Only when the light stopped attempting to shine through his shut lids, did Azriel open his eyes. Standing once more he looked himself over, then at his surroundings. Whatever it was had bowed the trees in its path, unobscuring the view to Velaris and leaving char marks and a glittering substance in its wake. 

Let us see. Let us investigate. A few of his shadows hovered in front of his face, and he permitted them to follow the path. Reaching for Truth-Teller, Azriel wracked his mind for any information he’d know of objects falling into their atmosphere. He’d gone with Rhys to see multiple experts about the upcoming celestial event. The High Lord was still shaken by the red star he’d seen during last year's Starfall. Yet none of the court’s prophets nor astronomers had forecast this. They’d all claimed the view on Starfall was set to be uninterrupted, that only good things would come from the spectacle. It was another reason that Azriel’s dreams confused him. And a reason why he didn’t mention it to his brothers.

There is blood, Master. So much blood. His shadows whizzed back to him, wrapping around his middle and tugging him in the direction of the foreign object. Taking to the sky, he spotted a clearing a few hundred feet behind the cabin that hadn’t been there before. Upon passing the last of the trees, Azriel drew up short and hovered over the sight. There were so few things that turned his stomach after centuries of horrors. But the sight of a body laying in the crater, a tangle of limbs and wings and branches and moss had the foreign feeling returning to his chest. Landing softly, he rolled the hilt of his dagger in his palm, a nervous tic of his. He stood at the edge of the crater and found his throat tightening as he took a closer look. 

The being was breathtaking, even as it lay limply in the ground. Pale blue feathers lay beneath the body, adorning wings that bent at a too-wrong angle. The being was dressed in nondescript robes of a darker blue hue, which now lay in tatters. Much of the flesh that wasn’t shredded, was obscured by long, curly locks of dark hair and a thick layer of glittering dust. His shadows were snaking their way towards the body, picking up some of the glistening flecks as they approached when they froze suddenly. 

Alive. But the breaths are too shallow. There is a great wound.

A faint groan escaped the being and he found himself stepping down into the crater. Precaution thrown to the wind, he saw no need to intimidate the dying creature. It appeared female, as he took in the soft facial features and shapely figure as she lay against the dark soil.

“Hello?” he asked gently. 

Another groan, then a cry as the being shifted. Tightening his grip on Truth-Teller, Azriel watched a shaky hand emerge from beneath a heap of feathers to reach for what he believed was a thigh. It was then he saw the wound. The Illyrian winds had been known to whisk away even the largest tents and banners, typically with sandbags and iron posts still attached. The stake of one of those posts was protruding through the leg, too close to the center for her femur to still be intact. 

“Hey hey hey,” he sputtered as he reached for the delicate hand hoping to prevent her from causing herself further harm. While he was no healer, he knew that the bones and arteries in the thigh posed a life threat when damaged. The moment his scarred hand closed around her wrist her eyes flew open. 

Time may as well have frozen. His eyes met her own, pools of a similar hazel but flecked with stardust. Within his chest, he felt a new ebb and flow. Not of his diaphragm as he remembered to breathe, but of his end of the mating bond that had awoken within him. He was shaken from the moment when another cry left her lips.

She began speaking frantically in a language he’d never heard as she attempted to move, her eyes jumping between his face, his shadows, his flared wings, and the weapon in his hand. Her feathered wings shifted again, as she attempted to free her other arm. Sheathing his dagger, he held up his hands, a sign that he meant no harm. Realizing the efforts to free herself were futile, the female stilled, throwing him a pleading look. 

He brought his hands towards the wound slowly, one hand steadying the bloodied stake before the other felt beneath her leg. Wherever the stake had come from, this piece had broken off when it caught in her leg. 

She must be moved. She will not last long. His shadows had been working their way around her form, through the hair, feathers, and tatters as they tried to gain a full picture for their master. A few of them brushed the hair off of her face, while others seemed to stroke her hand. Something in his chest squeezed at their report.

“Let me,” he gestured to himself, “help you.” He finished by making a scooping motion with his arms. Azriel had no idea if she understood his miming, or if the bond had come to life in her chest too, but she nodded once in agreement. He pushed an arm under her back gently, before leaning her torso up from the ground. Her face screwed in pain and he paused as she took a shaky breath. He ordered his shadows to steady the stake before pushing his arms under her legs as well.

Standing up, he took note of her limp wings. What he had believed were two large wings, were actually two sets of wings. Looking up at her face, he flared his shadows as he prepared to shadow-walk to Velaris. Once again, despite her ragged breathing and pained face, she nodded at him with resignment in her eyes. Azriel was unsure if she could feel it, but he tried to soothe her through the bond before he allowed his shadows to envelope them. He hoped that she was able to receive the calming waves he sent her, and none of the panic he felt as his mate’s blood soaked his leathers.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

I have a couple Azriel x Reader/OC fics that I’ve been writing and I just adore the FMC in them. I don’t know when you’ll get any of these but I wanted to share excerpts from the WIP’s they’re from that you’ll get (eventually).

This is a long Az x Reader fic (with other beloved characters playing large roles) that I have about 40 pages written of right now.

“Well, this has been lovely. Take the night to sleep on your options. You can speak your truth tomorrow - or Rhysand can come break into your mind. Choose wisely”

Wondering if it was the slight comfort of knowing my mate would likely quell his methods of torture when it came to me, or if I truly had a death wish - I raised my cuffed hands, a middle finger proudly displayed on each.

His face didn’t shift, not in the slightest, as he turned toward the door. He took a step, tensing as a spoonful of mashed potatoes flung against the back of his head. His shadows agitated, swirling around, he turned and I expected pure icy-rage but he only gave me a cool grin,

“Oh, and ‘Ror, tomorrow we’ll need a brief on the Illyrian that you murdered in Windhaven. Devlon’s pretty pissed about that.”

Then he was gone-

and I was so fucked.

Another Azriel x Reader because he’s my favorite to write for 🥹

“Says the wannabe bouncer who just threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of an establishment against my will!!”

“You were ordered to leave after turning the dance floor into a damn hazard! It’s not like I was sweeping you away to take advantage of you.”

“I fail to see how that gives you the right to take me out?? If you want to work at Rita’s just fill out an application like a normal citizen. You don’t have to fucking audition.”

He scoffed. “I report directly to the High Lord, I have every right to carry you out of the establishment, this city, or the whole damn territory if I please.”

A smug grin crept its way onto his face as she finally shut up.

The smugness faded quickly as she waived a hand at him, “You’re dismissed, bird boy.”