#cazriel

[dustjacketdraws]

Wip update in honor of poly week @polyacotarweek

Nesta x cassian x azriel just having a Sellyn Drake good time

#wip update #dustjacketdraws #fanart #poly+acotarweek2024 #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #nessriel #nessian #nezriel #cazriel #sketch

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate

Cazriel x f!Reader (Mor’s sister)

(part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Summary: “Did you piss her off?” He leaned back, mouth curving into a smirk. The smirk quickly disappeared when Rhys explained what happened. 

“Tell her she can come on her own feet, or over my shoulder.” 

Word Count: ~6.2k

Warnings: eventual smut in later chapters, sexual assault, harassment, stalking, nightmares, light smut-ish (m/m, briefly described), light angst, liberal use of bargains, minors dni!

A/N: this was written for day 20 of my kink/angst-tober prompts but, my patience is limited and I needed to get this out of into the world and out of my brain for a bit. part 2 will be posted 10/20.

Something in her had been … off, ever since she visited a friend in the Autumn Court. Of course, they had all heavily protested her choice, but she’d been a friend of hers for years, and she firmly held her ground - insisting everything would be fine and that they didn’t know of her relation to them. 

It was driving all of them to the verge of insanity trying to figure out exactly what happened. Rhys gently probed against her mind once, and was immediately shut out - the walls going up like impenetrable iron gates, and a litany of creative curses were shouted down the hall. 

-

“How was your visit?” Mor asked hesitantly. She was curled up in an armchair, eyes quickly scanning the page, a full plate of food - likely a few hours old, still on the table beside her. 

“Fine.” Y/n replied, not looking up. The same answer she’d given everyone all week. 

“Any more details?” She probed. 

She slammed the book shut, looking up at her. “What else do you want me to say?” Her voice was low, and she could tell her anger was rising to dangerous levels. Maybe it would be worth provoking y/n’s temper, if only to get some kind of reaction out of her. 

“You won’t eat, you won’t talk to us, and you’re walking around like a gods-damned ghost.” 

She plucked a grape from the plate next to it, popping it in her mouth with an indignant look on her face. “Better?” Gods, she was going to kill her - sister or not. 

“I want you to tell me what the fuck happened before Rhys and I storm over there and kill someone.” Mor spat, rising to her feet. Y/n rose with her, throwing the blanket off, fists clenched at her side. 

“That’s not necessary.” 

“You can tell us anything, you know that right?” She tried to keep her voice gentle, soft even.

“I’m aware,” she snipped, “but that doesn’t mean it’s any of your business.” 

“For Cauldron’s sake.” She ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut before leaving the room - in case she said or did anything she regretted. 

“Any luck?” Rhys asked from the end of the hallway. 

“Don’t act like you weren’t eavesdropping.” 

He grimaced, but turned to stride with her. “It’s been three days.” He said quietly, “Cassian and Azriel will be back tomorrow.” 

If anyone can get answers out of her, it would be those two. Even Amren couldn’t reach her. 

-

“Where’s y/n?” Cassian asked the next day. Mor looked to Rhys with a grimace. A shadow curled around Azriel’s ear. 

“In her room probably.” Mor replied. The same place she’d spent most of her time in. 

“Did you piss her off?” He leaned back, mouth curving into a smirk. The smirk quickly disappeared when Rhys explained what happened. 

“Tell her she can come on her own feet, or over my shoulder.” 

He relayed the message, and they all heard the sound of something slamming - along with a wince from Rhys. Mor figured she’d likely shouted something into his mind. Two minutes passed, and nothing. Cassian glanced at Azriel, and the two Illyrians rose - heading down the hall.  

“Good luck.” Mor muttered behind them and Rhys snorted. 

-

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassian’s voice echoed through the room as her door swung open - hitting the wall hard enough there might be a small dent. 

“Nothing.” She muttered, turning over in her bed and tugging the blankets closer to her. Azriel exchanged a look with him. 

“Get up.” Cassian barked. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Not happening princess.” He strode towards the side of the bed, ripping the blanket back. He was greeted by a book careening towards his face, one he deflected with a shield. “You can do better than that.” He tugged the pillow out from under her and she shot up to sit. His stance widened, feet braced on the floor - prepared for a fight. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Y/n said through gritted teeth. 

Cassian hummed, tilting his head as if he was debating it. “No.” 

“On your feet or over his shoulder, your choice.” Azriel said from behind him. His voice was flat and smooth. Another book launched - where the hell had it come from? And Cassian let it fly over his head, knowing exactly who it was aimed for. A low snarl came from the corner of the room, and Azriel strode up to stand next to him, forming a wall. Y/n, of course, didn’t look intimidated and no fear came from her - but he did see caution in her eyes. 

“You’re a brat.” The shadowsinger commented, with a tilt of his head. A predator assessing her, waiting for her next move. 

She sent him a vulgar gesture, and apparently Azriel was fed up because quicker than she could react, he had her slung over his shoulder, stalking out her door with a shield covering his wings. 

Smart, he thought as he followed, he didn’t doubt y/n would use that to her advantage. She’s done it before, raking her nails up his wings and nearly getting herself killed. 

He deposited her at the table, shoving her down into the seat next to him before pushing it in. Cassian took up vigil on her other side. If he thought she was angry before, she was absolutely fuming now - sending both him and Azriel a look that promised a slow, slow death. He rolled his eyes, he’d been on the receiving ends of that look frequently, and it didn’t phase him. 

“I thought it was over your shoulder.” Rhys’s voice flooded into his mind. 

“Azriel took care of it.” 

“Obviously. Did she throw anything at you?” 

“Yes.” A strained chuckle came from Rhys, and he felt his presence leave. 

She sat there, taking small sips of water and avoiding eye contact from anyone. 

Cassian let out a low groan before filling her plate with food. 

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance, their eyes glazing over slightly. “We have things to take care of,” Mor gave an awkward excuse and they both rose. Leaving them to the wolves, then. Wolf - actually. 

“Don’t make me feed you like a child.” Azriel told her when the two were out of earshot. 

“You wouldn’t,” y/n countered, but didn’t sound confident. Azriel reached for her fork, and she snatched it away from him, spearing a piece of food instead and slowly raising it to her mouth. 

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Cassian asked her. 

She ignored the question, choosing to eat small bites of food instead. 

“Or I can go find out for myself,” Azriel offered. 

“No,” she said too quickly. “Don’t.” 

-

She was confident Azriel would go find out what happened, and that’s not what she wanted. Regardless of whether he heard it from her or figured it out himself, it wouldn’t go over well. But, if they were here when they did learn there’s a better chance of her de-escalating the situation. 

“I’m not ready to talk about it.” Her hand shook, palms going clammy. She saw them exchange a worried look out of her peripherals and for some reason it incensed her further. She’d had enough of people worrying. Well, she fully knew she’d been acting like a ‘brat’ as Az would say for the last few days. But, in her defense they were all busy-bodies who couldn’t mind their own damn business. 

“When will you be?” Cassian sounded … gentle, almost. Like she was some breakable doll. She firmly placed a lid down on her anger, shoving it away. 

“I’ll let you know.” 

“You have until tomorrow night.” Azriel cut in. With a low and obnoxious groan, she slumped in her seat. “Finish your food,” he directed. A particularly nasty look was shot his way, but she relented. 

There’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d make her eat if she refused. The two of them were overbearing and annoying, but meant well. Y/n knew Rhys had sent them in, considering his, Mor’s and even Amren’s attempts had all failed. 

“I thought you’d be happier to see us,” Cassian teased, nudging his shoulder with hers. “It’s been two weeks.” 

“I am happy to see you,” she mumbled. It’s the truth, she was glad to see him, and if she’d actually known they were back she probably would’ve left to at least check they’re in one piece. 

As soon as she’d cleared her plate, Cassian looped his arm in between hers - not giving her a chance to go anywhere. “We’re training.” 

“I just ate.” She protested, but it didn’t work. Azriel trailed them outside, hopefully to make sure Cassian didn’t end up working her to the point she threw up. 

-

She realized the mistake exactly as it happened, both arms raising for a block - and her shirt lifting as well. Revealing two yellowing hand print shaped bruises on her waist. She forced her expression to remain still, to not react, and hoped they hadn’t noticed. But, Cassian stilled. Eyes focused on where her shirt now covered her stomach. Y/n could’ve taken the opportunity to strike him, but didn’t. 

“Where are those from?” He asked her, and she could tell he was struggling to keep his voice even. They’d caught Azriel’s attention as well, from where he was standing a few paces away from the ring. Based on the predatory look of rage in his eyes, he’d seen everything. 

“None of -”

“Don’t.” The general cut in shortly. 

“It’s fine.” She insisted, going on the defensive. 

“Is that … part of what has you upset?” His throat bobbed, and she could tell he was trying very hard to keep himself calm. Y/n turned and ducked out of the ring, returning her sword to the rack. There was no use in lying to them, they both always knew when she was. And when she badgered them for her tells, they refused. So, she took a deep breath and prepared herself to deal with the fall out. 

“Yes. I took care of it already.” Her voice shook with each word. 

“What happened?” Azriel asked mildly. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, and tilted her head back to look at the sky. She couldn’t look at them now, and didn't want to. Didn’t want the two of them to see her break down. Instead, she focused on the stars above her as the story spilled out. One of her friends' brothers had cornered her. She was in her early-twenties, and had never been interested in anyone. Not in that way. When the … opportunity came up she went along with it for a minute - even flirted harmlessly with him, but when he pressed and tried to push her for more, tried to get her to kiss him, and when he refused … 

“That’s when,” she waved her hand down her stomach, “that happened. I told him to stop but he wouldn’t,” she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes as the story kept spilling out, of how he grabbed her breast, tried to stick his hand between her legs. 

“And he called me a frigid bitch after I kneed him in the balls.” She finished weakly, forcing a laugh. The two of them had gone incredibly still, and she felt the tears drip from her cheeks onto her shirt. “I took care of it.” She insisted. 

The ‘taking care of it’ worked for a day. Until he came back, thinking she was just playing with him - that she liked the ‘playing hard to get.’ The worst was her friend justifying it, when she brought it up to her. 

“Well,” she hesitated, biting on her bottom lip. “You did flirt with him, how’s he supposed to know?” 

“I told him to stop.” Y/n insisted.

“Just try telling him again.” She sighed. “I don’t want to get in a fight with him.” She told him, again, over the next three days. 

“There’s more.” Azriel said. Gods, he always knew - even if she was just omitting something. “All of it. I need to hear all of it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She yelled, the anger she’d kept a firm lid on spilling out as tears ran down her face. “I don’t want to think about it, I want it to be over.” 

Cassian strode towards her, wrapping her in his arms and bringing her close to his chest, rubbing her back and holding her through her sobs. Cool shadows swirled around her neck and shoulders, and she recognized Azriel’s way of comforting her. 

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, face still pressed into his chest. 

“None of that,” he replied, running a hand through her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

She snorted, pushing back against him. “You’re growing soft.” 

“Just for you,” he grinned but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

Y/n yelped as she was gently tugged away from him, instead bundled into Azriel’s arms, his fingers running through her hair and shadows still curling around her. Probably reporting her expressions even as he couldn’t see her face. “Can you tell me now?” 

She exhaled slowly. She wouldn’t get out of this, so she might as well tell him. “He just didn’t know how to take the hint. He thought I was playing with him.” Azriel tensed underneath her, and she scented the pure rage coming from both of the Illyrians and knew if she didn’t say anything else someone in the Autumn court would find their immortal life cut short. “I told him if he didn’t stop I would stab him.” 

“Good girl.” He murmured, but didn’t release her - instead holding her tight as if she might disappear at any moment. 

“Don’t -,” she took in a breath, “don’t tell anyone else.” She pushed back, tilting her head to see his expression. He looked troubled by it and glancing over to Cassian told her he’s feeling the same way. “Please.” 

They looked at each other, as if they were communicating something silently, and nerves hit her - crawling under her skin and swirling in her stomach. She took another step back, forcing Azriel’s arms to hang back by his sides. 

“We’ll make a deal, with a few conditions.” Cassian said, and strode closer to her, standing next to Azriel to make a wall formed of pure arrogance. She groaned internally. “If you don’t agree. We’ll tell him.” 

She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together. “What are they?” 

“Firstly, they’re non negotiable.” He waited for her nod before continuing. “You don’t visit them again. If you want to see her, she comes here.” 

“I’d have to go through Rhys for that.” He gave her a look, as if to say - “that’s your problem,” and she rolled her eyes. 

“Second. No more hiding.” 

“I wasn’t -” 

“Yes you were.” Azriel cut in, raising an eyebrow at her glare. “Rhys told us.” 

“He needs to learn to mind his business.” She muttered and Cassian snorted. 

“If he didn’t tell us, we would’ve figured it out. You don’t miss meals.” 

“I could have just wanted to eat in private.” 

“For three days in a row?” He crossed his arms. 

“Mind your damn business.” 

“Enough.” Azriel cut off the quickly budding argument between the two of them. He’s always been the mediator between the two of them - both ‘blessed’ with quick tempers. 

She wheeled on him instead. “And you have to promise not to tell him.” She needed to be very clear on that, otherwise he would take the loophole and exploit it. He looked conflicted, but ended up promising - unless it somehow escalates, but considering she’ll never see him again - she doubts it will.

“Is that everything?” 

“One more. Anyone does that to you again, you tell us.” 

“As long as you don’t tell anyone else without my permission permission.” They exchanged another look, and both nodded. She stared at them for a few seconds. “It’s a bargain.” 

She fought her smile as she was on the receiving end of twin glares. Apparently they hadn’t intended for it to go that far, but now she knew their word was good. 

“Brat.” Cassian muttered, but started searching for the tattoo. 

She shoved up her sleeves. Nothing on her arms. But, felt a tiny prick on chest, and strode towards the mirror, adjusting her shirt to see. Some kind of constellation was etched into her skin, spreading across her collarbones in a pattern she didn’t recognize. Azriel and Cassian had matching ones - it took them a minute to figure it out, especially with their leathers in the way, but small dots were interwoven with the tattoos already lining their chests. 

“It’s … feminine.” Cassian commented. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” she raised a brow at him. 

“Nothing wrong with it.” He quickly agreed. 

“I think they’re pretty,” she teased, poking his chest. 

-

“Did you figure it out?” Rhys asked later as the three of them met in his office. 

Cassian’s hand ran down his face. “We did.” 

“And what is it?” 

“We can’t tell you.” Azriel replied through gritted teeth. 

Rhys paused for a moment, before raising his brows. “You let her trick you into a bargain? I thought you would’ve known better.” Both of them bristled. Ever since y/n figured out what a bargain was, she managed to word things carefully enough they’d get wrapped into them. Rhys still remembers the first time he met her, back when she was a youngling and before they managed to get her out of the Court of Nightmares. 

“Mor said you could fly,” she whispered - low enough nobody else could hear. She looked up and saw the hesitant look on his face. “I can keep a secret.” She grinned. He gave her a quick nod. 

He saw her again, a year later - now seven years old. “Could you take me flying?” He gave a subtle shake of his head, but every time she saw him she would ask, and eventually he caved. 

“I’ll make a deal with you, you stop asking - and I’ll take you flying” 

“It’s a bargain.” She whispered, and Rhys winced as a small band appeared around his upper arm, a matching one on her. That’s not supposed to happen … she shouldn’t be able to make those without both parties expliciting saying it. 

They snuck her out the next day and took her, if only to keep anyone else from noticing the thin tattoo around her upper arm. He still remembered Mor half-heartedly lecturing her about the danger of making bargains - and not to go doing it with strangers. 

Another idea popped into his head. “Did she say you can’t show me?” 

Cassian winced. “I don’t-,” he turned to give Azriel a sharp look, “we don’t want to betray her trust. But it’s taken care of.” 

Rhys nodded. He’d have to wiggle it out of her himself then, even if that’s nearly impossible. Besides, if the two of them break her trust like that, and she finds out … that would be a fight he doesn’t want to be anywhere near. 

-

Mor promised to get her out of Hewn City, whenever she needed to. Y/n was eighteen when she left, when she moved to Velaris, met Cassian, Azriel, Amren, and started making friends in the city. She should’ve known any ‘friends’ she met living there … Y/n cut off that line of thinking, reminding herself it’s not her fault, in any way. But, her mind still swirls with all of the ways she possibly could have prevented it, or the different things she could have done. For gods sake, she’s told others countless times that it’s not their fault, and they’re in no way responsible for others actions, but she still gets caught in that spider web, in the dangerous abyss of her own thoughts caving in on her. 

“Where’d you go?” Rhys interrupts her and she blinks heavily. 

“Here and there.” She mutters, pushing some food around on her plate. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Him and Mor have stopped questioning her as frequently, but still try to put subtle feelers out to see if she will respond, or open up to them. 

The words blurt out before she can think twice about them. “Can I speak with the priestesses again?” 

His entire body tenses, his shoulders tightening and eyes darkening. She’d just given him a very clear idea of what happened while she was away.

-

The priestesses. He can only think of a few reasons why she’d want to speak with them. It could be related to her past, but more likely to some recent events. Barely, he manages to keep his composure. 

“I’ll ask them.” His voice is short and he watches her worry her bottom lip. 

“Please don’t do-” 

“Anything rash?” He raises a brow, forcing a cool and neutral tone. 

“I took care of it.” She insisted. Similar to what Azriel and Cassian said. 

“Will you ever tell me? Or Mor? She’s worried sick.” Rhys knew it was a low blow, even as he said it. 

“I’m tired of … I’m tired of talking about it.” 

He wondered why she’d want to go to the priestesses, why she’d want to speak with them if she’s already sick of talking. But then again, he’s heard that sometimes they go into their offices just to cry or scream. Either way, he’s not going to deny her the chance, or that request. He knows without a doubt that they’ll agree to see her. They all love her there, and she spends a lot of her time studying in the archives. Technically that’s her official position in his court - to research, her mind is her greatest weapon. 

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?” 

“I wanted to make you feel useful.” He rolled his eyes, leaning over to flick her nose. She dodged it, swatting his hand away. “But if you’re going to complain I can ask them myself.’”

“Asking who?” Mor swept into the room, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. Rhys took that as his cue to leave, before he got caught into anything between the two sisters. 

-

Y/n mouthed ‘traitor’ at Rhys’s retreating figure, when Mor wasn’t looking. 

“I’m going to ask if I can speak with the priestesses again.” 

“Oh.” She paused, before sitting down on the couch next to her, stretching her legs out in front. “Anyone in particular?” 

She exhaled in relief, something Mor noticed but didn’t comment on. 

“Not Merrill.” Y/n muttered, drawing a laugh out of Mor. 

“Merrill has a good heart.” 

“I deal with her enough already.” Y/n groaned, leaning her head back on the cushion. 

“How is that going?” Mor switched subjects, navigating to safer areas. If she pushed too much on this topic … y/n might shut down again. 

“Slowly. Traveling between worlds, Rhys is obsessed with it and translating some of the old texts takes hours.” 

“Is he now?” She turned, interested, and gave her a small smile. 

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” 

“I won’t snitch.” 

“I won’t either.” She snipped back, but a small smile was on her face, and some mirth dancing in her eyes. She could’ve cried from relief - even if she has other things to think about now, about how she has a very clear idea of what happened. Part of her wants to lecture her sister about bargains, again. 

-

Y/n was forced to stop hiding, the tattoo pricking into her skin every time it thought she was being a bit too reclusive. Still, she wondered if it really was a fair bargain - their silence in return for; not visiting her again, not hiding, and telling them if anyone does that again. She supposes that could mean several things, and they never specified a specific timeframe on when she would have to tell them. In her desperation for them to keep her confidence, she’d done something foolish and doubted they would let her out of that anytime soon. If ever. 

The two of them can be just as tricky as she is, and just as likely to find loopholes. At least they wouldn’t use it against her with the intention to cause harm. She’d never make one of those with someone she doesn’t trust. Even if the wording is iron-clad, there’s always room for error. Most of the ‘bargains’ she’s made are always light-hearted. 

Like making Rhys take her to fly, even if it was the shortest gods-damned flight of her life. Two minutes, if that - and under the cover of dark, after him and Mor snuck her out of Hewn City. Her very first taste of freedom. She was always kept away whenever the Inner Circle visited. Still, she managed to sneak away from the guards, learning how to create diversions and somehow give the impression she was still sleeping in her rooms, enchanting her toys to keep moving, or a pen to keep writing, a book to keep flipping its pages. They never caught her either. She wasn’t even born when Mor left. In fact, she wasn’t born until after Rhys took up his throne. Born into a ‘cleaned-out’ Hewn City, and grateful for it - she doesn’t want to know what it was like before. 

Not many children were around, anyway. The friends she did make were the ones her parents encouraged her to, from foreign courts for the most part. People she’s unlikely to ever visit again. Technically, she could leave of her own accord - but that would mean whoever she’s visiting is going to have someone knocking on their door to drag her away. 

A knock sounded on the door as she slumped back against her pillow, and she could sense Azriel was out there. 

“Come in,” she called. There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’d enter anyway. 

The door swung open, revealing him leaning against her doorway. “I heard you went to speak with the priestesses.” 

Cutting right to the chase, then. “I speak with them every day. It’s part of my job description.” 

His eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean.”

She groaned, pushing herself up to sit. “You don’t need to haunt the doorway, you can come in.” 

“Last time I did, I recall a book launched my way.” 

She held up both hands, showing there were no projectiles in reach. He still looked cautious as he entered, and took up a seat in one of the armchairs, right by her favorite window. She swung her legs over so she sat on the edge of her bed, propping her forearms on her thighs. 

-

Azriel couldn’t help as his eyes shifted down ever so slightly to where her nightdress slipped down, showing the tops of the curves of her breasts. His gaze switched back up as quickly as possible, and somehow y/n didn’t catch the action - instead looking out towards the window. Good, the last thing he needs is to start ogling her, to give her the impression he’s coming onto her. There was something else he could do. He’d need to speak with Cassian. 

“I’m proud of you,” he offered instead. Her head snapped, back to look at him. Her eyes were wide and he fought the urge to shift under her gaze. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, her lips turning up into a soft smile. A shadow curled around his ear, happy, happy, happy. It sang. 

“What do they tell you?” She tilted her head, eyeing it. 

“That you’re happy,” he said honestly. 

She blinked twice, lips curving into an easy smile. “I suppose I am,” she finally answered. 

“You should get some sleep.” He’d noticed the bags under her eyes, how she still seemed exhausted and worn down throughout the day. Azriel had told Cassian he needed to stop dragging her outside and beating her into the ground every day. He’s aware healing is different for each person, but it had been a month since she returned, and his worry only grew. 

“That’s rude.” She frowned, but glanced at the mirror across from her bed. Interesting placement. “I do look like shit.” 

He snorted. “You look tired, there’s a difference.” 

“Sleep hasn’t … been easy.” He could tell it cost her something to admit that. Stubborn pride, just like her sister and cousin. And the rest of them, he supposed. 

“Nightmares?” He prompted, and she nodded. He wouldn’t pry further, but made a mental note to send a shadow in later, to keep watch on her. Maybe it was an invasion of her privacy, but he didn’t particularly care. “I’m right down the hall,” he jerked his chin towards the door. 

“I’m aware.” Another shadow curled around his ear, stay, stay, stay. “Is it too nosy if I ask about that one?” She teased. 

“Maybe.” 

She held her hand to her chest in mock surprise. “I suppose it’s your job to keep secrets.” 

“I recall someone making a terrible bargain to keep something secret.” 

Her face dropped, and he got the impression he said the wrong damn thing. “They’ve already figured it out.” She mumbled, eyes avoiding him. He hated that, hated when she wouldn’t look at him. 

“That’s not a terrible thing.” He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck. He’s never been great at comforting, usually Cassian’s the one to do these kinds of things. Still, he found himself walking across the room, taking a seat next to her. On instinct, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. 

She froze, went still for a brief moment, and he was about to move away when she leaned into him, her body relaxing. A few of his shadows swirled around her neck, and she hummed in content. 

Another one curled around his ear, happy, stay. Maybe, for a minute or two. 

-

Cassian went looking for Azriel, he wasn’t in his room - or downstairs or anywhere to be found, and tracked his scent off to y/n’s room, of all places. The door was already parted, and he nudged it open with his foot. Y/n was curled into his side, sound asleep in an awfully uncomfortable position. How tired did she have to be to sleep like that? Almost sitting up. 

Azriel turned his head to look at him, his expression almost saying ‘I have no idea how I got here.’ He held a fist up to his face, fighting back a laugh, and ignoring his glare. He stalked over towards the duo, ignoring Az’s glare as he shook y/n’s shoulder. 

“Stop holding him hostage.” He watched as her eyes opened, half lidded with sleep. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, hand coming up to hide a yawn. 

Azriel moved his arm away, even if he seemed reluctant to do so, and he pushed back her shoulders so she’d actually lay down. “I don’t want to hear any complaints if your back hurts tomorrow.” 

“Fuck off.” She yanked the blankets back over her, burrowing down into the pillows. It took barely a minute before she was sound asleep again, her breaths evening out, mouth slightly parted in sleep. Peaceful, she looked so peaceful, even with the bags still lining her eyes like horrible bruises. 

Azriel tapped his shoulder, and he realized he’d been staring for a while. They quietly left, gently shutting the door closed behind them. 

“You’ve gone soft.” He told the other male after they were out of earshot. 

“I was just … comforting her, and she fell asleep.”

“Must be really tired, then.” 

“She said she’s having nightmares.” 

Mother above, Cassian wanted to storm the autumn court and bring her back that asshole’s head as a gift. In fact, he’d been debating it for the last few days - but, if anything it would distress her further. Y/n’s never been a violent person, in contrast to the rest of the inner circle. A good contrast. She thought he’d been training her more just to keep her from ‘hiding,’ but his mind was swirling with what else could’ve gone wrong, and if she would have been able to defend herself. Or why she threw herself in whole heartedly, pushing herself harder than ever. 

“She’s been more ...” Cassian pressed his lips into a tightline, glancing behind him to make sure y/n wasn’t behind. “Dedicated, training wise.” 

“I know.” Azriel replied quietly. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was something else they didn’t know.

-

Her tattoo pricked at her as she opened the third letter in the past month. Addressed from her friend, like the last two, but something was different about this one - her name written differently, a small curve to the letters. 

Her eyes scanned the page, picking out the key phrases. 

I miss the fun we had. I know how much you enjoyed yourself. 

You must, should visit at your earliest convenience. 

There was only a general threatening atmosphere to the words - nothing outwardly against her safety. Only him … reminiscing on the past events, in uncomfortable detail. Harmless, she decided, even if her subconscious screamed against her. No pain ripped through her magic, also some guilt crept into her at the feeling - she was hiding it, using a loophole to get out of the agreement, not honoring the spirit of it. 

With a low exhale, she justified it to herself, no need to worry the two of them - they were busy enough as is. Besides, she couldn’t trust them to keep their cool. The guilt would multiply if she knew violence was brought to her friend's doorway. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and crumpled the paper - shoving it in a drawer and reminding herself to burn it later. It was dark, the sun already dipped below the horizon - only vague rays of pink and purple peeking up past the horizon. Her stomach grumbled, loud enough she snorted. That’s a clear signal she needs to grab something to eat. 

She slipped out her door, closing it behind her with a gentle snick. She kept her footsteps as silent as she could as she trailed down the hallway, but she heard … moans - and groans coming from Azriel’s room. Did he have someone over? A small tinge of hurt filled her - not that he was hers, or she had any claim to him. Or Cassian. Why had her mind gone to both of them? “Ridiculous,” she quietly chided herself. She could manage to walk by the room, keep her eyes set right ahead - no need to look at the door or pause, she wouldn’t be nosy. 

Her feet moved quickly, and she spotted the cracked open door in her peripheral, cursing him. Eyes forward, right ahead. No need to look. 

But, she made the mistake of looking at the window, figuring it would be harmless. 

Her mouth parted in shock as she saw Cassian, pressed back against Azriel who had one arm wrapped around his front - palming him through the leather pants. They were both shirtless, muscles toned and gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. Azriel’s other hand was fisted in the General’s hair, their lips crashing together in a violent and passionate kiss. 

She hadn’t realized she was staring, arousal starting to creep into her, until a shadow curled around Azriel’s ear and his head snapped towards her. Cassian quickly followed, and she let out a small yelp - going bug eyed and taking off down the hall. She was not supposed to see that. Not at all … Mother above they need to close the damned door. Arousal flickered through her as she paused at the end of the hall - way out of range, bracing her hand against the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the feeling. She couldn’t want them. They were perfectly unavailable, and together, at least in some sense. 

Did Rhys and Mor know? She wouldn’t be the one to tell them. Her mind flashed with more images;

Azriel panting as Cassian knelt in front of him. Azriel hauling him to his feet - throwing him over the side of the bed … 

“Stop it.” She muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose and darting her gaze around the hall. No one to witness, good. She couldn’t remember why she left her room, but she wouldn’t be returning for a while. 

-

It shouldn’t have, but getting caught - and by her, and feeling her arousal from the brief moments she watched them … it spurred him on, sent him deeper into that state of building pleasure. 

She didn’t know they already knew she was there. Azriel  wanted to see how long it took for her to say something, or if they’d have to act first.

“We should invite her back.” Cassian said, bruised lips frowning. 

“Do you want to scare her off?” Azriel asked incredulously. They had actual albeit vague plans for this. To  come in stages, how to trigger various emotions in her. 

“No.” He muttered, entwining his hair at the nape of Azriel’s neck.

“Good boy” Azriel teased and his friend grunted, throwing a half-hearted punch his way. Cassian stiffened under his hand. “You like that?” His teeth nipped at his neck as his hand slipped under his waistband. 

“Do we talk to her about it?” Cassian asked, an hour later - hair messed, cheeks flushed, one hand braced on the doorframe. 

Az propped himself up from where he was still laying in bed. “Let her dream about it.” 

#acotar fic #cazriel x reader #cazriel x y/n #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x y/n x azriel #azriel x cassian x y/n #azriel x y/n x cassian #azriel x reader x cassian #cazriel #cassian x azriel #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader x azriel #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar imagine

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 2

Azriel x Cassian x Reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Reader unwell/not eating, depression and lots of angst.

Keep reading ⬇️

--------

You slept through any offerings of daylight the next day.

The bustle of the infirmary was a hum to your ears, your exhaustion keeping the world a distance away. Even the healers couldn't stir you when the frequented your room, changing your dressings and checking your pulse.

You woke for a meal of simple broth in the evening, and were glad to have kept it down. You still fought feverish sweats and chills, and the ache in your stomach and chest was persistent. Madja would oversee your care as she had the evening before. She had given one instruction – the more rest, the better.

Night set on the ward again, and you were glad to be enveloped by dim lighting and quieter activity.

Unsure of when sleep had found you, you awoke in an open field. It was bright, the high-pointed sun drenching the landscape in gold, the lake in the distance sparkling and inviting. Familiarity warmed you more than the sun, yet the scene around you remained hazy.

Ears pricking at a ripple of laughter ahead of you, your heart fluttered with excitement. It was instinct to chase that voice, your bare feet pushing from the warmed grass beneath them as you broke into a run. Your skirts kicked beneath you before you hiked them above your knees, both your speed and smile growing.

Ahead was the source of the laughter, a child who also ran, her long locks bouncing with a distinct curl. Meryl. She was no more than 10 years of age, her childish laugh echoing in your ears as your heart pulled at the sight of her.

“Meryl!” you called, continuing the chase, your heels pounding to the ground as you tried to speed up. “Slow down!” You heard your own voice then, also of a child.

The setting around you flooded with detail as a lost memory found you. Your visit to your parent’s good friend in Spring Court, an Uncle of sorts, his charming lake-side cottage where you and your sister would spend hours swimming and playing – and chasing! Of course! Each day you raced to see who would reach the lake first, and Meryl had always been that little bit faster.

Meryl responded with another laugh, so innocent and carefree, as a child should be. You reached a hand out, your heart pounding as you struggled to catch up. You ached for one more chance to speak with her or to hold her, or even to see her face. But she bounded onwards without ever turning her head.

A harsh breeze blew from behind, and the golden glow of the once-memory quickly turned grey and harsh as a storm threatened the sky. The water of the lake was now violent, thrashing with unforgiving waves. You halted your run, yet Meryl bound forward, her laughter drowned by the roar of the wind.

“Meryl!” you called again, your voice now of your adult self, urgent and panicked. As you tried to resume running, you almost toppled over, your hands catching you before you could fall. Something had anchored your bare feet to the ground.

With a yell of frustration, you tried to pry your legs free. Up ahead, your sister’s figure grew smaller, her direction set for the dangerous waters.

“Please! Meryl stop!” Tears began to well in your eyes as you fought to free yourself. You saw them then, the swirls of shadows that kept your legs pinned and unmoving.

“Wha-? Get off me!” You frantically clawed at them, but instead they climbed your arms too, forcing you to the ground.

Hands were on you then, tugging at your clothes and pulling at your limbs. Shadows mixed with siphons blue and red, and swirls of night clouded your vision, between it peeks of Meryl slipping further and further away. You clutched at the roots of the grass, desperate to pull yourself free.

“Stop! I have to save her!” you begged, your voice breaking with despair. But those hands were unrelenting, so strong in their grip as you tried to summon your power. That too rendered useless, cracking to a quick fizzle without so much as a sting.

Before you could call one final plea to your sister, shadows and hands and magic smothered your mouth, drowning your cry in their hold. All you could do was watch in horror as Meryl dived beneath the thrashing waves before your vision was overcome with smoke and night, and finally black.

————

Azriel and Cassian watched as you writhed in your cot, the feverish sweat on your brow glowing in the soft fae light of the infirmary wing.

“What’s wrong with her?” Cassian whispered, his face etched with concern as he stepped closer to you. He gingerly bought a callused hand to your cheek, running one gentle stroke down the length of it.

Azriel’s frown deepened as he heard your sister’s name muttered on your lips, followed by a whimper and ragged breaths. “It’s a fever dream.” he answered, his arms folded as he kept to the edge of your cot.

Cassian looked down at you, noting the tears that stained your cheeks.“We shouldn't have come here,” he said, his jaw tight from guilt. “She’s still unwell, we should let her rest.”

He and Azriel had easily snuck into the ward, winnowing straight past the few healers on night shift, and even slipping past Madja who was buried in paperwork at the desk near the entrance of the infirmary. But now Cassian eyed the door, just as eager to leave.

Azriel was only half listening to his brother as he commanded his shadows. They climbed at the base of your cot, swirling inwards as they found their way to your face and limbs, cooling you as you continued to stir, now a little more gently. Azriel did not show his satisfaction as he watched you sigh, finding some comfort in their touch.

The sound of a curtain being harshly drawn caused the males to jump, revealing an incredibly unimpressed Madja. Azriel cursed himself silently, having used all of his shadows to soothe you without setting guard to the room.

“I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses,” she said coldly to the males, pushing past them and setting a pale next to your bed. She shooed Azriel’s shadows as if they were a mutt on the street, and they quickly scattered back to their master.

“How is she doing?” Cassian asked, eyes pleading.

“I will not disclose that to you,” the healer answered tightly. Wringing the towel within the pale, Madja wiped the sweat from your brow. Your stirring had stopped at least, and you seemed to have found a deeper slumber than before. Madja sighed now, before casting a half look to the boys. “She’s improving, but is still quite weak.”

The males nodded, your sickly skin, limp body and slick hair as evident as the healer’s prognosis.

“Do I need to have words with the High Lord and Lady of their emissaries overstepping my regulations?” Madja asked without looking their way, wringing the cloth yet again before pressing it to your neck and bust. “Not to mention violating patient privacy,” she added.

Cassian hung his head low. “I’m sorry. I don't know what we were thinking.” Azriel refused to look at the healer, his eyes never leaving you.

Madja continued to care for you in silence, allowing Cassian and Azriel to grovel for a few more moments. Picking up the pale, she made to leave your bedside before answering the males. “I have worked with enough Illyrian’s to know of your possessive nature. But I won't be so forgiving if she wakes to find you here. Already your scents have caused more harm than good. She must not know you came, it will only upset her and might unravel her progress.”

“She’s that upset with us?” Azriel asked, his gaze beyond the healer before him, still fixed on you.

“Yes,” she answered plainly. Neither of the males knew what to say. “Now leave, before I regret showing any patience for boyish brutish idiocy.”

Azriel took the risk of another tongue lashing to send a final shadow to caress your cheek, before clasping his brother’s arm and winnowing back to the House of Wind.

————

You were kept at the infirmary for another four nights without any further disturbance from your family. They asked to visit, of course, practically begging through letters and pleas to Madja. But each of their requests were left unanswered, and you too buried your need to have them by your side while you healed.

It gave you time to think of a plan – you could not stay at the infirmary forever. When you had first moved the Velaris, while training as a spy, you lived in a small apartment in the cliffs that faced the Sidra. You hadn't visited there in almost a decade, but your once-home was written to your name, and vacant.

Madja insisted on settling you in, helping you climb the stairs to your room as fatigue still lingered.

Prying the stiff wooden door open, you almost smiled at the sight of your old home. A mattress lay on the floor in the corner of the room just as you had left it – you had never been able to afford a frame on training wages. A small chest of drawers was pushed up against the wall, and the kitchenette was lined with those charming blue tiles just as you remembered.

You were thankful Madja had sent a maid ahead of time, and while the musk of an unused apartment lingered, you were glad to not have to dust in your current state. The small fireplace contained fresh logs of wood which meant there was no urgent trip to the markets either.

“This is it,” you spoke more to yourself as you ran a hand along the kitchenette before making your way over to the chest, prying a stiff drawer open.

Madja was less than impressed. “Child, perhaps you would consider more comfortable accommodation? One where the bed is not on the floor?”

“I’ll be fine here,” you answered, distracted as you searched through your old drawers, finding them empty.

“The High Lord and Lady have offered to accommodate you elsewhere–”

“I don't want their help,” you snapped, shoving the drawer back into the chest with notable anger.

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “You don't need to suffer at the cost of their mistakes, Y/N.”

You sighed then, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I won't accept their fortune any longer. This home is mine, I worked hard for it. I will be perfectly fine here while I figure out a plan.”

Madja nodded, scanning the room once over. “Do not forget to take your medicine,” she lectured before turning to the door, knowing better than to linger. There was no remedy for how quiet the apartment fell when she left, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Mustering the little energy you had, you set your kettle to boil, waiting patiently for the steam to whistle from the tin, the only sound to fill the apartment beyond the distant hum of the town below.

After a few sips of tea, exhaustion found you again. Setting the mug of tea aside on the cold wooden floor, you crawled into bed, pulling the too-thin covers over your head and leaving your drink unfinished. With your back to the world that beckoned outside, you faced the wall instead, tracing a crack that ran across its length.

How motivated you had felt when you first moved here. At the time, you were grieving Meryl of course, but you had a plan – a one way ticket to ensure a balance in the world, to fight for some sense of justice. Never had you thought it could fail so miserably.

So you traced that crack with a weak finger, remembering your sister, mourning her with a fresh wave of pain.

Grief continued to weigh heavy on your chest the following few days. You had intentions on visiting the market, buying some food and sustaining yourself while you made a new plan. But instead you felt anchored to your mattress, the idea of cooking and bathing and facing the outside world completely overwhelming. Instead, cups of tea brewed only to be left untouched, yours eyes heavy as you watched the steam rising from the mug swirl and dance, and by the time it finally cooled you were already asleep.

And the cycle continued. In the moments you had the strength, you wept. And in the moments you didn’t, you slept.

It was after five days that Madja visited to replenish your medicine. The healer opened the door to your apartment when her knocks went unanswered, casting the first bit of natural light in the room in days. With your back facing outwards, you didn’t stir as she walked over and immediately collecting the assortment of mugs on the floor.

“Have you left this room at all?”

You offered a small shake of your head, unable to lift it from your pillow, your eyes red and stiff with dried tears.

“Have you eaten?”

Your stillness was her answer. Madja sighed. “Well we simply can't have that. I understand a loss for appetite, so I will bring some additional brews to keep you sustained.”

“I don't want them.” It took all your strength to turn over your shoulder and look at the healer, your voice hoarse having gone days without speaking.

She simply shook her head as she looked down at you. You do not have a choice, her expression read.

“Might you try to get some fresh air? Or bathe? I can assist with both if you–“

But you were already turning your shoulder to the wall, immediately exhausted at the thought of leaving your bed. “I’ll do it tomorrow Madja,” you sighed. “I’m too tired in this moment.” You didn't have the energy to wonder if she bought your lie or not.

The healer said nothing as she closed the door quietly behind her.

————

“I’m concerned for her wellbeing.” Madja sat opposite the High Lord and Lady in their study, a large willow desk between them. Rhys sat with his hands laced together tightly, a deep frown etched on his face. Feyre beside him held a sleeping Nyx, doing her best to not stir the babe while she exchanged looks of deep concern.

“She isn't eating. She barely drinks a thing, and has failed to take much of her medicine. If she continues at this rate, she will fall much more ill.”

“What can we do?” Feyre asked gently, stroking Nyx’s hair while he snoozed at her chest.

“I don’t suggests interfering at this stage. I am only here to warn you of my concerns.”

“And what happens if she worsens?” Rhys asked, his violet eyes holding the stare of the healer in front of him.

“I will call for you then. I hate to suggest the use of your daemati abilities, but if it comes down to life or death…” Madja trailed off, her hands clamping even tighter in her lap.

“We understand,” Rhys responded with a single nod, casting a knowing look to his mate. “Thank you for coming here, Madja.”

The healer stood to leave. “Do not thank me. Again, I am clear to not involve myself in what has occurred between you and Y/N. I am here purely as her healer.”

The High Lord and Lady stood too, seeing her to the door.

“Please keep us informed, and if there is anything that we can provide,” Feyre added quickly, almost desperate to convey her care.

Madja responded with a tight nod, turning to leave. And had she left only moments earlier, she would have found two Illyrians by the door, overhearing the entire conversation. But they were already on their way.

————

Lost again in deep sleep, you didn't stir as the Shadowsinger and General entered your apartment, Azriel’s shadow’s having easily pried the lock open.

The sight of your trembling figure curled up on the mattress pulled at both their hearts, your hands fisted at the covers with deep yet disturbed sleep.

Azriel stealthily made his way across to the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the room. With no dining table or chair in sight, Cassian set the meal they had bought in the small kitchen before quietly approaching you. He knelt down on two strong knees, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek before gently shaking you.

“Y/N, wake up doll, it’s us,” he spoke with a hushed voice.

Stirring slightly, you were slow to wake, blinking through the darkness as you were sure you were still dreaming. But as your eyes cleared, the large figure in front of you revealed itself – wings tucked in, hair pulled back in a signature bun, leather strapped up to his knuckles. Cassian was the definition of strength met with comfort, and it took you a few moments to come to your senses.

Your body froze before you sat up quickly, shoving his hands off of you. “Wh-wh?” you stuttered, your eyes dancing between his.

Cassian raised his palms in surrender. “It’s alright, don't panic. We’re just here to help you with a few things.”

Your found your voice then, deep from within your chest, hoarse and broken from days of crying. “Get out,” you spat.

Azriel appeared from the bathroom, watching from the doorway. You flashed your eyes to his, rage quickly filling your veins. How dare they intrude.

“We just want to make sure you’re all right sweetheart, and then we’ll go,” Cassian reasoned. He stood now, offering you his hand.

Days without eating meant the hurry you stood in caused your head to spin, black dots now dancing in your vision. But you held your ground, your voice even icier than before. “I said get out.”

“C’mon doll, let us help you for five minutes.”

“You’re idea of help undid everything I ever worked for.” You shoved at his chest, and he let you push him a few steps back, your hands trembling as you pulled them back.

“Y/N when was the last time you ate?” Azriel’s voice was gentle too, your vision reeling as you whipped your head to glare in his direction. Shaking your head, you curled your hands to fists. It was none of their business.

“Please, sweetheart,” Cassian reached for you then, which earned another shove from you.

“No Cassian! No! Do you understand you have done? Did you even consider what would happen when you decided I wasn't good enough?”

“It wasn’t like that Y/N. We had to keep you safe.” Azriel stayed by the bathroom door, his arms now crossed as shadows slowly seeped on the wooden floor towards you.

Days of isolation and exhaustion had tears pricking at your eyes already. “You are cowards. And I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“Please Y/N–,” Cassian tried one more time.

“Get out of my life.” You had never uttered words so cold. You shoved the General again, but this time he stayed put. Your gritted your teeth, seething at him. “You broke me!”

Cassian looked down at you, his brow pulling in sorrow.

“You shattered my world.” Another unsuccessful push, and you were crying. “Now I have nothing, I am nothing.”

Both of them watched you as your face crumpled, your anger rising as you punched at Cassian’s chest, too weak to cause any harm. “I hate you!”

Cassian’s eyes welled as he stood still, taking the beating without so much as a flinch. “We’re so sorry,” he whispered.

You shook your head, ignoring his apology as you began pounding against him with weak fists. “I hate you both!”

Tears now rolled down the General’s cheek as he let you continue your assault. “We’re so so sorry Y/N.”

You kept shaking your head as Cassian caught both of your wrists, holding them as he took to one knee in front of you.

“We love you,” Cassian cried, prying your fist open and kissing your palm, kissing up your arm, his thumb stroking your hand in the way he knew soothed you. “Please forgive us.”

You broke at his plea. He was a good male, they both were. But they had turned your heart to stone, turned you to someone so damaged, so unrelenting and unforgiving, someone you never wanted to be. You were a monster of their own making, and there was no undoing it. Sobs racked through your body, and it took everything you had not to crumble to the ground.

Azriel was behind you then, his shadows curling around your exposed skin, soothing you where they could. You did not fight him, not as he took your hands from Cassian, not as he too kissed your tears away while murmuring his own apologies, not even when he lifted you from under your knees, carrying you to the bathroom. You hated him, your mind screaming at you to yell and hiss and spit, to swear him from your home and from your life. But in this moment, where exhaustion and isolation loomed, you had no more fight to give.

Azriel didn’t speak as he undressed you before placing you in the tub. You were still crying as he washed you, scarred hands so attentive to your body, the sound of water sloshing and pouring over your head mixing with your laboured breaths. You kept your knees to your chest, your head turned away, but you let him scrub you clean.

He gently pulled you from the tub into a fresh towel, wrapping you in the soft cotton before lifting you again. Your apartment had come to life with a small fire Cassian had lit, low flames flickering with warmth.

Azriel moved to sit on the bed, keeping you bundled in his lap. Cassian was crouched in front of you, his hands holding a vial of stew, the steaming contents bought to your mouth on a spoon.

“Eat this,” Cassian said gently. You wanted to be stubborn, to fight them more than the pathetic amount you already had. But your stomach cramped with hunger at the scent of the stew, and you were to weak to refuse it. So you let Cassian feed you, your body growing more and more slack the fuller your stomach became. A vial of medicine was quickly tipped against your lips too, and you swallowed its contents with a small whimper.

In your exhausted haze, your hardly noticed Azriel dress you in fresh clothes, even braiding your hair before he lay you down, pulling the covers over your.

Cassian and Azriel were watching you as you fought your sleep, heavy eyes lifting to find them.

“I meant what I said.” Your voice was a mere whisper

They exchanged a look, before Cassian crouched to pull the covers closer to your chin. “We know.”

There was a beat of silence. “I want you to leave me be.”

“Not until you start taking care of yourself,” Azriel spoke, his voice soft yet strict. You didn't have any energy to fight back, to tell him he could blame himself for the spiral you had entered.

“Go,” your rasped before turning your back to them, enticed by the comfort of sleep with a full belly, clean clothes and warm apartment.

“Rest up Y/N.” Cassian’s words were a lullaby you couldn’t fight.

“We love you,” Azriel added, and the last thing you felt was the caress of cool shadows at your neck before you drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

————

Waking to sunlight, you felt notably stronger than you had in days. You knew it was because of the care Azriel and Cassian had provided, which frustrated you to your core.

Azriel’s words rung clear in your mind. They would not leave you be until you started to take care of yourself, so you would leverage the strength you had to come up with a plan.

It only took a few days for your Uncle to reply. Yes, he still had his home by the lake. Yes, you could stay with him as long as you needed. There was work to be done in Spring Court, rehabilitation and building after Hybern had depleted almost every resource from the lands, Tamlin not yet strong enough to recoup his court after the war. You could find sanction there, help others and distract yourself with work. And most importantly, distance yourself from the people you once loved.

With your next steps laid clear, you sent a letter to the River House, asking for one final favour.

————

Rhysand was waiting at the River House terrace alone as promised. Cloaked in signature black, he watched the stars dance in the night sky with a gentle grip on the railing, his back to you as you approached.

This was the same terrace that had hosted many evening drinks, jokes and conversations shared with your family, and even offered the much needed escape away from the buzz of various balls and celebrations. A twinge of pain stabbed at your heart at those memories. Today, it was just a terrace, a mere meeting point before you stepped towards your new life.

It was unsurprising Rhys had heeded your instruction to meet you alone, you knew he would do it. You wondered if he lied about his whereabouts, or if he instead warded your presence from the others. He had likely hidden your scent from Cassian and Azriel, but what about his mate?

Saying goodbye to Feyre and Rhys at the same time had felt far too painful, impossible even. While they were equals, High Lord and Lady as well as mates, they were still very different beings. Feyre was too forgiving, too caring and loving to have reached this point on her own. It needed to be Rhys, you needed to direct this at someone who could take it, someone who deserved it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, turning now, hands sliding to his pockets. You ignored his question, stopping a few paces away. Tension hung heavy between you.

“Thank you for meeting me,” you said tightly. Rhysand didn't speak, but offered an arm to the seating behind you. You sat down silently, your last act of obedience.

“I can no longer serve the Night Court,” you said plainly.

Rhysand didn’t flinch, wise enough to have known this was coming. “That does not mean you don't have a home here,” he answered calmly, as if that logic was reason enough to stay.

You shook your head stubbornly. “Please accept my resignation.”

Rhysand sighed then, leaning forward on his elbows to level a look at you. “I’m aware, Y/N, and I accept. This formality isn’t necessary.”

You knew that, it wasn't why you were here. Rhysand waited patiently for you to continue.

“I need a favour.”

“Anything,” he responded almost instantly.

“I need you to let me leave.”

Rhysand sat back now, a small frown pulling at his brow. “The choice has always been yours.”

Shaking your head, you looked up at the High Lord. “I don't trust that wherever I go, I won't be followed.”

Rhysand raised his brows.

“After recent events, I know Azriel and Cassian won't allow me that freedom.”

Rhysand let out a quick breath before nodding once, violet eyes finding the nights horizon. “I’ll ask them to adhere to your wishes.”

“As if that is enough,” you bit back, ice laced in your tone. “Pull rank, use your power, lie or cheat or trick, I don't really care. Just make it happen, it’s the least I deserve.”

Rhysand breathed quietly as he studied you. “Consider it done,” he said finally.

Gratefulness was an instinct, but you stubbornly bit down your thanks. Instead, a moment of silence fell between you.

“Where are you going?” Rhys pried.

“Do not ask me that.”

“I care for your safety.”

“I don’t want your care.”

Rhysand audibly sighed then, one hand reaching at the distance between you, finding place on the chase. “Tell me, Y/N. Say it out loud.”

You flashed your eyes to him. He looked back at you, his expression worried, concerned, pitying. Gods you hated that look.

“There is no point,” you said coldly, struggling to hide the grit of your teeth.

“I can take it,” he said softly.

Rage coursed through you at an uncontrollable speed. “You think I'm sparing you?” You let out a cold laugh, moments away from that savage, lethal switch, your power now stinging at your fingertips.

“I think you’re far from having faced the truth.”

A snarled escaped you, and you could feel your power surge, igniting your irises with a brilliant yellow. Had you not been so blind with anger, you might have realised this was exactly what Rhysand intended.

“It’s the truth you seek then?” you began. “How about the fact that you have plagued my heart with more hate than I ever believed possible. Shall I tell you of the shame that haunts me day and night that I let myself trust you for all these years? Or that I was naive enough to think I could find another family after Meryl’s death? But it would seem the only family I have is dead, and it has in fact always been that way. You broke me Rhys, you all broke me. I was a fool to have loved you so dearly, and ignorant to believe you ever loved me in the same way.”

Hot, angry tears streamed down your face, washing away the current that glowed in your eyes. Pressing a hand against your heart, you tried to smother the ache that throbbed at your confession. “You preach of a better court, one of choice and freedom and honour. But you snatched that away the moment it was mine for the taking.”

Rhys had kept his eyes on you, his face breaking with a little more sorrow at each sentence you spoke. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.” He waited a moment before placing a gentle hand on your knee. “Mother above cannot convey how sorry I am Y/N.”

You shook your head, tears welling and blurring your vision. It wasn't enough, you knew that, and Rhys knew it too.

His voice was even more gentle as he leaned forward. “I love you Y/N. Well all love you.”

Your voice was small now. “Not in the way I loved you. Not in the way family should love one another.”

“I disagree,” he countered. “You have to understand, as your High Lord, I would never send you to your death knowingly.”

“I wouldn't have died in vain,” you quietly, breaking his gaze with a flicker of shame. “All I ever wanted was a chance to make things right.”

You shocked yourself with the weight of your words, the extent of your willingness to avenge Meryl was something you hadn't even admitted to yourself. You would have died with content knowing you had at least tried to kill Alvar. But Rhys had seen that in you, well before you understood it for yourself. And together your family decided instead to keep you safe.

“I was hoping your motivation no longer overthrew your will to live,” Rhys admitted. With a deep sigh he cupped your chin in a parent-like way. “Look at me.” Whether you liked it or not, your eyes found his.

“Imagine I had taken the time to let you kill Alvar and instead he escaped, and innocent Velarians were hurt because of it – would you forgive me for putting your needs above their safety?”

Your eyes welled. “How could you ask me that Rhys?”

“I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just trying to show you the weight of the decision I had to make.” He offered you a broken smile, reaching to swipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. To your own surprise, you let him.

“That is not the only issue here.” Your voice was thick, your throat strained as you contained the sob that jerked within. “You’ve asked me to see it from your perspective, now please consider mine. You collectively decided that the mission would be kept a secret. You banded together to act dishonestly, knowing it would ruin me. How can I ever trust you again? How am I supposed to see you as my family?”

Rhys closed his eyes as his brows gave a painful tug, a deep breath pushing out through his nose. A large hand rested gently on your knee, his thumb swiping in a sympathetic way.

“I’ll admit Y/N – I knew that this would hurt you, but I never thought we’d lose you entirely.”

You sniffed. “Then you underestimated me.”

Rhys’s violet eyes found yours, sincerity and admiration shining in the stars that beheld them. “I did. I absolutely did.” He took another deep breath before speaking. “I’m a fool to have underestimated your loyalty, your dedication and your bravery. Over 500 years in existence, and I should have known that was never mine to control.”

You stared back at him, and while the ache in your heart was far from cured, a small sense of calm washed over you. It was relief you desperately needed – to finally be understood. “Thank you for saying that,” you croaked.

Rhys watched you with a pained smile. “I only want good things for you Y/N, wherever you choose to be. You will always have a home here if you want it, if you can ever forgive us for what we did.”

And in those words, a new well opened in your heart, one that you had not seen coming.

Hearing Rhys acknowledge your decision to leave the Night Court was devastating, so much so that your hand instinctively pressed agains your heart again. There would be no more fighting or pleading, no more fists thrown or cries of rage and confessions of love. He would let you go, because you had asked it. It was the least you deserved, yet it hurt in an entirely new way.

Ahead of you, the path of solitude lay clear. You had fought for it without any idea how painful it would be to take that first step. You couldn't help the sob that escaped you as you dropped your head to your hands.

“I never wanted to leave,” you admitted through ragged breaths.

Rhys bought a gentle hand to your back. “Then stay.”

“I can’t! I can’t stay here. I am so angry with you, all of you! And I don't think I’ll ever be strong enough to forgive this, not fully.” Your cries were uncontrollable as you tried to quiet them with your hands.

Rhys was stroking your hair as he said ever so softly. “I know.”

You sniffed, blinking up at your High Lord. “There’s nothing left for me here.” There was a cold bite to your words, even as you let him comfort you.

“I know,” he repeated with that same softness and understanding.

You watched him for a moment longer. Here he was, everything you needed in a High Lord – a leader and a friend, saying all the right things in all the right ways. But he was flawed, like anyone, and that flaw had been your downfall.

“I will be leaving Velaris tonight. Please, don't ask for my whereabouts. I need… I need a clean break.”

Rhys brow twitched before he nodded tightly. “You have my word.”

Gathering yourself, you stood to smooth your skirts before looking up at your High Lord for the final time. “I will miss Nyx dearly.”

Pain sliced across Rhysand’s face in a way you had never seen, tears immediately pricking at his violet eyes. He swallowed, containing himself still. “I wish it could have been any other way Y/N, truly.”

“As do I.”

And that was all that could be said. You turned from him, pacing towards the exit while casting your eyes to the magnificent array of stars, searing the Velarian night sky to memory as you admired its beauty for the final time.

“You must know!” Rhys spoke out, a hint of urgency in his tone. “It was fear Y/N. It was fear of losing you, not ever a lack of love.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you nodded once, a broken smile on your lips. “I know,” you spoke, biting back the quiver in your lip. “I know that now.”

And you let those words be your last at the Court of Night.

--------

Part 3>>>>

AN: Thank you so much for your patience with this, I hope you guys like it! ❤️

YES there will be a Part 3. Update: Part 3 is out. I’m super keen to explore how things go for the Reader in Spring Court, and maybe even weave in a little bit of redemption for a certain blondey?? Besides, there are still some things that have gone unsaid between the Reader and the boys... and she needs to figure out these powers! Watch this space 👀

Comment to my tag list (either general or for Our girl) 😊

#azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x cassian x you #cazriel #cazriel x you #azriel x cassian x y/n #Azriel #cassian #azriel x y/n #cassian x y/n #azriel angst #cassian angst #azriel x cassian angst #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #acotar angst #acotar series #inner circle angst #acotar injured reader #azriel x injured reader #cassian x injured reader #acotar fan fiction #inner circle #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand #azriel fight #azriel x cassian fight #cassian fight #rhysand fight

[imaginesandbandfiction]

TRIAD — Series Masterlist

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon Series

Part 0 — The boys take care of you after a mission.

Part 1 — How you first met Cas and Az.

Part 2 — Dealing with the aftermath of the mating bond.

Part 3 — The aftermath of the mating bond, continued.

Part 4 — Cas and Az get their shit together.

Part 5 — Your first time together. (contains smut)

Part 6 — The frenzy. (contains smut)

Part 7 — Azriel is dumb but a really good spy. (contains smut)

Part 8 — Reunited and it feels so good. (contains smut)

Part 9 — The Reunion part 2. (contains smut)

BONUS CONTENT:

Cassian and Azriel fancast/aesthetic for this series

#acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #cazriel x reader #cazriel #cazriel headcanon #cassian headcanons #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x you #cassian x reader #azriel headcanons #azriel x you #azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x reader #headcanon #headcanons

[thesistersarcheron]

Plagiarism in the ACOTAR Fandom

If you write Nessian, Nezriel, or Cazriel and ACOSF fics, take note.

On Thursday, June 29, I learned that my fic, viciousness & intelligence, was plagiarized by A03 user amaliea25 in her story titled Fall from Grace. Since alerting her that I was aware of her plagiarism, she edited the scenes she stole from my fic, but she has not removed them entirely from her story.

This plagiarism came to my attention when amaliea25 commented on my short V&I outtake, promises & punishments. This was the first time she contacted me on AO3, and I was curious about what drew someone to such a minor fic. I clicked onto her page and found that she was also a Nesta/Azriel/Cassian writer. Previously, I ignored Fall from Grace because, as a canon-divergent ACOSF story in which Nesta has an unexpected dual mating bond with Cassian and Azriel, the premise was similar enough to V&I that I did not want to step on her toes by accident.

However, I shouldn't have worried about that. Because when I decided to check out a random page in her fic anyway to decide whether or not I should bookmark it to read after I finish V&I, I discovered she was already plagiarizing my work.

Screenshots below the cut.

The Plagiarized Content

To my knowledge, three scenes from V&I were stolen from Chapters 2, 3, and 6. However, amaliea25 is in the habit of paraphrasing the scenes she steals, and I haven't read V&I in over 6 months, so I have suspicions about at least half a dozen more passages and plot points. I will highlight the two most obvious offenses here.

These screenshots were taken on June 29th.

viciousness & intelligence Chapters 2 and 6 (published 5/10/22 and 6/21/22) vs. Fall from Grace Chapter 22 (published 5/31/23)

viciousness & intelligence Chapter 3 (published 5/19/22) vs. Fall from Grace Chapter 23 (published 6/2/23)

The Reddit Tip-off

I have since read the entirety of Fall from Grace to check for more plagiarism, and while doing so I realized that the title of Fall from Grace and the sentiment in the comment on promises & punishments sounded familiar to me. I used to advertise my fics on r/ACOTAR, and in May I received email notifications about several comments on my old post about V&I... the most recent of which advertised another Nessriel story entirely.

I was appalled that someone promoted another fic on my post, but ignored it at the time and muted the user - I thought it was just a fan of the Nesta/Cassian/Azriel ship being unknowingly rude.

But when I went back and confirmed that the story in this comment was the one that plagiarized my fic, I did get a little heated and jump the gun. I replied, "Considering that fic has plagiarized mine, do not do that." The next morning, the comment advertising Fall from Grace on my post was gone.

But even though that one instance of this user promoting Fall from Grace was deleted, it is strange that it is the only fic u/Embarrassed_Room1347 promotes, isn’t it?

So I suspect that u/Embarrassed_Room1347 and AO3 user amaliea25 are the same person, and that my comment about plagiarism on June 29th tipped her off that I was aware and that she needed to cover up her tracks...

The Alteration

...which she tried to do. Poorly. Here is a screenshot of the same portion of Chapter 22 of Fall from Grace taken today, July 1st, proving that amaliea25 is aware that she committed plagiarism, that it is not okay, and that I am unhappy that she did. This is the only edit she has made to my knowledge, since as of this post, Chapter 23 remains untouched.

Despite amaliea25's attempts to edit away her plagiarism, I also downloaded a copy of Fall from Grace as an EPUB from AO3 on June 29th before she had the chance. This fic was first published on May 8, 2023, and the extreme length and patchwork quality of the writing and plot indicates to me that much of it was taken from outside sources.

If you are a fellow ACOTAR author and you are concerned amaliea25 may have plagiarized your work and is now attempting to cover it up, please DM me. I'll send you the file so you can check for yourself.

She may have altered what she stole from your work even further since June 29th, but it is likely still in her fic.

I only check AO3 for fics. If you are aware of Fall from Grace on any other platforms, I would appreciate it if you told me so I can report it.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of silver flames #acosf #nesta archeron #azriel #cassian #nessriel #nessianriel #nezriel #cazriel #a court of thorns and roses fic

[shadowriel]

Filthy Sweet Beginnings

Pairing: Elain x Azriel x Cassian

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Drawn in by the shadowsinger’s bedroom voice, Cassian stumbles upon Azriel and Elain having sex. The rest is simple: Cassian joins.

Read here on AO3

Or read a snippet below:

*Warning for NSFW content - please check the tags on AO3 for more details on what this fic includes

Azriel must realize that Cassian’s here, watching him. He only tenses for a moment before trailing his scarred hands over the female’s soft skin. His fingers flex when he reaches her ass, squeezing as he angles her to deepen each thrust, pounding into her until her hands clutch at the back of the lounge chair she’s bent over.

“Gods, Az, ” she moans. The sound is breathy, muffled further as she presses her face against the fabric of the chair. Her hair is mussed, Cassian notices, her golden curls scattered around her until Azriel sweeps it back and tightens it around a fist. He uses his hold to shift her attention, to tilt her head until widened brown eyes land on Cassian.

Surprise leaves him stumbling back, until his shoulder hits the doorframe with a low thud.

His mind is reeling, yet she stares at him. With her flushed cheeks. And her full lips that part ever so slightly. And those fucking familiar doe eyes that never leave him.

It’s takes a moment for Cassian to piece together that she hasn’t stopped.

Unexpectedly, Elain thrusts back against Azriel—with more intensity than before—as she stares over her shoulder at another male. At him. Cassian, who’s cock twitches against his trousers at the sight of the two people fucking before him. Even from the distance, the interwoven scent of their arousal is enough to threaten the buckling of his knees. Yet, he holds firm against the doorframe until he forces a teasing smile to his lips.

Only then does he move further into the room.

“What do we have here?” he asks simply. Each word is a taunt, yet both Elain and Azriel tremble as if his question were a caress. It’s enough of an invitation that he allows his fingers to find the laces of his trousers, to draw them open and free his straining cock.

“We’re…” Elain begins, but her throat must go dry at the sight of him. Her mouth falls completely open. Her eyes glaze over as he fists himself—slow and purposefully. Circling the chair creaking beneath the weight of the two fae, he moves until he’s inches away from Elain’s face.

Up close, he can see the silvered edges to her eyes, can see the lashes fanning over her cheeks as she blinks up at him. With a rough movement, Azriel pulls on her hair until her back arches and her head tilts up just a bit more, exposing her throat. Her breasts thrust outward at the same time. The fullness of them is the perfect handful, Cassian notes; her pink nipples beg for his tongue.

But he has other plans, even as Azriel continues to fuck her.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Elain?” Cassian clicks his tongue, mock chastising.

“I…” She tries for words. “Az, he—”

“Do your sisters know you’re here, whoring yourself out to the shadowsinger?” His eyes dart up to Azriel and narrow before they shift back to her. “That you’re not getting muddied in a garden, but becoming absolutely filthy in Azriel’s office?”

“They… They don’t.”

“So you’ve been sneaking around?” When he slides his palm over his cock, Elain’s gaze tries to dip down, but Azriel’s hold on her hair keeps her still. “Hoping you wouldn’t get caught?”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. She doesn't say a word, but a low whine escapes her.

“Or did you want someone to find you?” Cassian hums thoughtfully, dragging a thumb over the head of his dick. “Did you fuck Az where anyone can stumble upon you because you weren’t satisfied with just him?”

“I can satisfy her perfectly fine,” Az huffs, picking up his ceaseless onslaught between Elain’s legs.

“Oh, I’m sure.” The corners of Cassian’s lips curve upwards, his grin becoming genuine—less restrained. “I’m simply beginning to get the impression that our Elain would like it better if she were getting fucked by more than one dick.”

His thumb passes over his cock again, coming away wet.

“Isn’t that right, Lainy?” he asks. Yet, he already knows her response. He sees it in the way she blinks up at him, the way she seems torn between thrusting back against Azriel and shifting closer to him. Cassian puts her out of her misery—at least a bit—as he steps imperceptibly closer, raising his hand and the bead of precum that glistens against his skin. He gets his answer when he smears the wetness against her bottom lip, when her tongue arcs in a slow glide and tastes him.

But he needs her to say it.

#elain x azriel x cassian #elriel #cazriel #casslain #elain archeron #azriel #cassian #elain x azriel #elain x cassian #cassian x azriel #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar smut

[acourtofladydeath]

Poly+ ACOTAR Week Day 3: Secrets

Morrigan sleeps at the town house after a night out and as she's trying to sneak out, she learns a secret about four people she never expected to find together.

AKA: Mor and Rhys hear some HOT GOSS because they're SNOOPS.

Have some cousin bonding and a secret polycule for @polyacotarweek day 3. Read a snippet below the cut, or the full fic on AO3 here!

Morrigan walked down the steps of Rhys’s Velaris town house quietly. After a rowdy night out at Rita’s she’d decided to sleep here since it was closest to the bar. What she’d forgotten in her drunken state was that Eris was visiting the Night Court today, and Rhysand had put him up in the town house.  She winced as she placed some weight on the creaky stair a few steps down, containing her sigh of relief when, for once, it didn’t make a sound. As Morrigan reached the halfway point on the stairs, she heard a voice that made her suddenly stop.  “Come on, Eris. You’ve gotta work with us here.”  Cassian’s voice had Morrigan’s heart pounding. Why was he here? What could he possibly need with Autumn Court’s heir? Eris’s scoff wafted up the stairs, sharp even from where Morrigan hunched almost a floor above. “I’m pretty sure I’m already doing that, you brute. Rhysand doesn’t know truly why I’m here because you three didn’t want to tell him yet.”  This was all too much for Morrigan and her head began to spin. She sat down on the stairs as quietly as possibly and reached out to her cousin with her mind.  What’s wrong, Mor? Rhys responded almost instantly, sensing her panicked state.  Get to the town house. Eris is here with Cass and two other people. They’re planning something they’re specifically keeping from you and I don’t know what it is.  Rhys’s reply was clipped and hard, Where are you exactly?  On that creaky step. They’re down in the living room so winnow to the second floor and walk down to meet me. Moments later, Rhysand was silently making his way down the steps to sit beside Morrigan. Have they said anything else? Rhys asked in her mind, cocking his head toward the living room to try and hear the people shuffling around. Mor shook her head, remaining silent as they listened in on the conversation below.

Continue reading at the first cut on AO3.

Please let me know if you would like off or on my taglist!: @pippsmcgee @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yanny-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing

#acotar #acosf #azris #nessian #poly!acotar #azris x nessian #secret relationship #relationship reveal #Eris is outnumbered by his Night Court mates #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d3 #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #eris vanserra #neris #nezriel #cazriel #cassian x eris #nesta x cassian x eris x azriel #morrigan #rhysand #fates mates #mating bonds #poly!mating bond #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar

[fourteentrout]

Cassian: bro, she's online...

Cassian: What should I do now?

Azriel: Send hey beautiful

Cassian: Hey beautiful

Azriel: ?

Azriel: Send it to her

Azriel: 😭😭😭😭

#source: twitter #i think #acotar #incorrect acotar quotes #azriel #cassian #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #nessian #cazriel #a court of thorns and roses series #acotar shitpost

[witch-and-her-witcher]

nessriel | E | hurt/comfort, modern AU - magic/CC inspired

Aux officer Cassian brings a stray home with him and he doesn't want to let her go. Lieutenant Azriel, and his life partner, thinks he has a bleeding heart and an undiagnosed mental health condition - until he meets Nesta Archeron for himself, sweating and vomiting through a self-led alcohol detox, and decides ... yeah, they should keep her. Nesta is at an all-time low, all her bridges burned, but she's going to pull herself together and try to keep her mess from spilling into these ridiculously gorgeous, kind-hearted Auxie's lives.

ao3

(Thank you @popjunkie42 and @thesistersarcheron for the support read throughs!)

For Day One: Beginnings of @polyacotarweek!

Chapters 1-3/9

Preview Below

~*~

Everything fucking hurts: Cassian’s knees are jammed up, his spine crackles along each vertebra, his balls feel like tenderized meat, and his godsdamn shoulder. Ripped out of the socket by a feral leopard shifter, high on pixie dust.

As if the hit that knocked him off of his feet wasn’t bad enough, the amount of paperwork he’d had to fill out because of the right hook he’d landed out of self-defense driven instinct afterwards was even more painful.

Cassian can feel the impact from his wing meeting with the concrete just as much as the strain in his neck from standing bent over the counter at the Aux. 

Like the asshole knew how low tech they are.

“Mother fucker,” he mutters, slamming the unit door shut behind him. 

He waits to hear the double beep of the lock before shoving the keys in his black jean’s front pocket and shuffling for the stairs to his apartment.

All Cassian wants is to get out of this fucking oppressive bullet-proof vest, kick off his boots, strip off his pants and sprawl on the couch with one hand down the front of his briefs and the other holding a cold beer. Put a game on. Maybe mess around with Az by sending him some dirty pictures.

An image of high cheekbones splattered with a dark flush, hot to the touch, flashes in his mind. Pupils blown wide and hand covering that seductive mouth to hide embarrassment.

Yeah, thinking about the pretty blush that will spread over his partner’s face? The way Az will jerk his head up to make sure no one saw … and then sneak another peek, maybe find an unoccupied room that doesn’t have cameras in it for some privacy?

Cassian grins wickedly.

He will definitely send dirty pictures.

Maybe after a beer or two, his shoulder won’t hurt so bad either and he can send a video tease. Get Az all worked up so he comes home in the morning ravenous, like a male possessed, ready to put Cass in his place for winding him up so tight —

A loud clatter right as Cassian rounds the stairwell to head up to the second floor cuts off his train of thought.

Engrained Aux training makes him hesitate.

Voices rise up behind the closest door.

Shit.

Apartment 132. A real sleazebag.

“— I’m a dirty whore? Yeah? Have you seen your fucking bed sheets?” A female’s voice becomes clear, growing louder along with heavy, slightly muffled footsteps on a carpeted floor. Drawing closer. “Learn how to do the laundry, you infantile asshole!” 

The doorknob jiggles a few times along with a few incoherent curses before the door is wrenched open. Unsure what kind of scene is about to spill into the bottom floor of his apartment complex, Cassian holds still aside from his hand edging closer to his holster.

The female has her back to him, still yelling into the apartment with her middle finger in the air. “Your cleaning skills match the size of your cock, unsatisfact- ow!” 

Cassian is braced for the collision course, but the female hasn’t been paying attention to anything but lobbing insults at the vampire arguing back half-heartedly from somewhere deeper in the apartment. She jumps as her bare shoulders connect with the kevlar covered metal plate on Cassian’s chest.

She whips around, hellfire seething from her. “Watch where the fuck you’re —”

The words die on her lips as she cranks her head up: taking in the uniform, the badge, the fucking Aux uniform aviator sunglasses perched on the bridge of Cass’s crooked nose.

With his polished talons gleaming two feet higher than his nearly six-and-a-half-foot height, he knows he looks intimidating as hell.

Her gaze lingers on the breadth of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps under his shirt sleeves, the thick column of his neck.

Cassian also knows he looks fit as hell.

“Shit,” she curses, but it’s breathy enough to sound unintentional. 

The vampire is quicker than a whip, tossing a purse onto the concrete and slamming his door shut. The contents spill out of the purse because he hasn’t bothered to close it: chapstick, a pack of gum, various IDs and brightly packaged condoms ‘ribbed for her pleasure.’

Sleazebag.

The purple-colored veteran Aux ID in the discarded pile catches his attention, but Cassian doesn't give away his recognition.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks, cocking one brow up.

The hallway is open-air, but it does nothing to reduce the scent of chain-smoked cigarettes and strong alcohol coming off of the female.

The drop-dead gorgeous female.

read more

#poly+acotarweek2024 #nessriel #cazriel #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing #nesta x cassian x azriel

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 6)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, eventual poly!relationship, undead, death.

Word Count: 6,431

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

_________________________________________

Night 190

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Azriel’s fuming, pacing back and forth – rather loudly, Rhys thinks – across the peeling wooden floors in the tiny living room of the cabin they’re trapped in. The floorboards creak with each step he takes, his thick soled boots thudding against the oak in time with his heart in his chest. He should really quiet down, but he’s distracted by the fact that Cassian’s out there alone with you and Feyre while he’s injured. He doesn’t trust either of you.

“Az,” Rhys hisses, shifting the crusty blinds and ducking his head to peek through the gap in the boarded up window. The zoms are still out there, directly on the other side of the poorly boarded up front door, trying to claw their way inside and get a taste of the two men hidden inside. With every scratch of their nails he cringes, grimacing as they stumble and stare with vacant eyes, truly undead. He can imagine the brittle wood flaking away under their touch, their nails tearing off of their fingertips from decay. “Stop that.”

“How could we have been so fucking stupid?” Azriel spits, ignoring Rhys’ warning. He threads his fingers through his hair and winces as his long digits get caught in the knots. He needs to cut it soon, it’s too long for his liking, brushing over his eyes. He curses, tugging his hands out, hair catching on his rings. I should’ve shaved my damn head when I had the chance, I don’t know how Cassian does it.

Of course, they have a pair of scissors in the van. Maybe if they make it back alive he can convince Cassian to give him a trim. If you or Feyre don’t cause him any more harm while they’re away.

Just the thought of you two makes his temper flare again.

He shouldn’t have let the three of them part ways. It was stupid to leave Cassian alone, but even dumber for him to convince himself that if the two of you came along Cassian wouldn’t open the door. He had seen the way he looked at you when you’d given him half of your pain killers, had heard what he’d called you while delirious from blood loss. Pretty. It didn’t make it any less true, even in your fresh clothes and dirty face you’d nearly taken his breath away, with his gun frozen to the side of your head as he studied you in the moonlight.

Azriel’s not jealous of the looks Cassian was giving you, nor the compliments blurted that made your cheeks pinken adorably. No, the burn he’d felt in his chest as he watched you was because you still seemed so…good. Even after the world had gone to shit and the things he knew you had to have gone through to get to this point – he just knows there’s something more to you, the sounds you’d made during your nightmare haven’t left his thoughts – you were still smiling and offering your kindness to three strange men hardly surviving in a bakery attic.

But still, the thought of you out there with Cassian…it doesn’t sit well with him. Sure, Cassian can more than handle himself. Azriel had seen his friend nearly split a zom in half from head to toe with nothing but the blunt edge of an ax. He had held onto his muscle much better than he or Rhys had, and it showed. This is one of the first rules they’d learned in the new world; don’t split up. And they’ve gone and done just that.

“Now he’s stuck with them.”

“At least he’ll be taken care of if we don’t make it out,” Rhys sighs, letting the curtain fall closed again. Bright light creeps through the cracks from the setting sun, washing his grimy t-shirt in stripes.

Azriel’s golden gaze snaps to Rhys, “We’re not going to die.”

“I’m not too sure about that, Az,” Rhys responds. There’s a defeated lilt to his tone and his hand falls away from the knife strapped to his hip in favor of picking at something on his shirt to avoid eye contact with his best friend.

Azriel tenses, stomach twisting into one big knot as he stalks for the window to get his own look. A plume of dust wafts from the curtain when he pulls it back forcefully, and he has to pinch his nose and hold his breath so he doesn’t sneeze.

When the tingling in his sinuses passes, he peeks outside.

His heart drops at the sight. There are so many zombies that he can’t see where the horde ends. Azriel chews on his lip as he watches. He wants to disagree with Rhys with every fiber of his being, but seeing this for himself, their chances don’t look too good.

You’ve got to figure something out, Az, he thinks to himself, and fast.

He pushes off of the window and quickly shuffles throughout the house, scanning each room for anything that might be of use. All of the windows are boarded up, and the zoms seem to have found their way around the perimeter, groaning and moaning like a warped record.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters to himself when he finds no clear escape route. He racks his brain for the faintest idea of how to get them out of here, “Think.”

When Azriel makes his way back into the living room he finds Rhys settled on the floor, gun placed lightly in his lap. His head is tipped back, resting against the peeling floral wallpaper that looks like it was put in the same year the van was made. His violet gaze is pinned to the door, as if he can see every splinter of the door peeling away beneath the clawing hands of the zombies outside.

The sound makes Azriel shudder.

He sighs, collapsing onto the floor next to Rhys, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

“Maybe they’ll leave if we stay quiet,” Rhys says, sounding like he doesn’t believe it.

“Maybe,” Azriel echoes, because really, he can’t think of a better idea.

Minutes feel like hours while they sit quietly, alone with their thoughts. Azriel realizes how bad of a situation they’re in. Sure, they’re safe from the horde for now, but they’ve got no food, no water, no plan. They won’t survive very long here.

He can only pray that Rhysand’s idea works.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

Azriel doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting in this house but his ass is numb and his mind is broken. He pushes himself from the wall, and keeping his footsteps light, makes his way over to the window to peek at the situation outside, though by the incessant scratching he knows it hasn’t lightened up.

The sun is hiding behind the tall trees already and his heart drops. There’s only a little longer until nightfall and then they’ll have no choice but to spend the night in this musty house.

He wants to bang his head against the hastily nailed boards for being so stupid. This whole thing is his fault and now Rhys is trapped here with him and there’s no way out and–

Rhys stands, hugging his weapon to his chest tightly, black brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Do you hear that?”

Azriel stills and no, he doesn’t hear anything but the constant scraping and groaning he’d become accustomed to in the few hours they’d been here. He takes a calming breath, straining to hear over the bone chilling sounds, and there it is.

“Is that fucking Bohemian Rhapsody?” 

It fucking is.

“What the actual fuck?” Rhys asks, crowding up against him as they press their ears to the cracks. Sure enough, the glorious notes of Freddy Mercury serenades the forest, his melodic voice drawing the attention of the zoms outside. Like wild fans to a celebrity, they clamber off of the porch, falling over each other in a slow race to get to wherever the sound is coming from.

“Get on the radio,” Azriel commands, “See if it’s Cass.”

Rhys tugs the walkie-talking where it’s clipped on his belt, flicking it on to the channel the three of them always use to communicate. Both men flinch when the loud radio static fills the room. Rhys fumbles with it, lowering the volume as it evens out. Azriel peeks outside to see if it’s caught any of the straggling zombies' attention. Luckily, it hasn’t.

“Cass, come in Cass.”

They share a look over the silent line.

“Cassian?”

Azriel releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“What’s going on? Is that you?” Rhys asks quickly.

“It’s (Y/N),” Cassian reports, “She’s trying to save you.”

“Why?” The question spills from Azriel’s lips without his consent. Rhys glares at him but all he can do is shrug. When he thinks about it, it’s a valid question. Rhys repeats his words into the radio.

“Because she’s good,” Cassian defends, and, well, he’s not really convinced, but he’ll take Cassian’s word for now.

“And Feyre?” Rhys asks. His gaze is lowered to the ground and Azriel squints at his friend who is so very obviously avoiding looking at him. He shifts his gaze instead, feeling like he’s intruding on something. The last few zombies withdraw into the woods. He signals to the couch and Rhys tosses the radio into the middle while Azriel walks around to the other side of it.

They lift and move it with ease. Azriel has to shake the thought of how the undead could have shoved it away just as effortlessly if they had gotten through the door.

“She’s getting us gas. Should be back any minute, so you better hurry up if you want a ride,” Cassian responds before abruptly cutting the line.

Azriel looks to Rhysand who only shrugs, “Guess we better go then.”

He switches the radio off and replaces it securely to his belt, then sets his shotgun to his shoulder with a firm nod. He’s ready for anything. Azriel’s own gun is tight in his grip and he takes a steadying breath before pulling open the door. 

Rhysand is quick to scope the porch, prepared to shoot any zom on sight, though he knows that he shouldn’t. The horde had just left and the song is winding down to its last chorus. He doesn’t want to draw them back this way.

There’s a straggler on the porch. It’s hopping on the one leg it has, the other shredded and torn clean off at the knee. The festering wound drips black and the putrid smell nearly makes him gag. He’s surprised it’s upright with the crowd that had been around here, knocking and shoving into each other without a sense of personal space.

Rhys kicks it off the porch with ease, jumping over the groaning creature that reaches out for him.

Azriel follows, running straight into the woods.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱  ⋅•⋅

Your breathing is labored as you stalk through the lush forest in the general direction Cassian had directed you that his friends had gone. Sweat beads at your brow from the combined effort of lugging the record player, keeping careful watch around you, all while being mindful of your aching ankle. You’re moving as quickly as you can, grumbling to yourself that after you save these assholes you’ll find someplace to stay for a few days to finally give yourself time to rest your injury, even if Feyre says no.

All you have to do is find them, set up the record player, and return to Cassian all before Feyre gets back to the car and sees that you’re gone.

Easy enough.

The record player is tucked under your arm on its side and you’re pretty sure you shouldn’t be holding it like this, but you need your other hand free, holding your knife just in case you run into a spot of trouble.

Cassian had been reluctant to give into your idea of using their record player to lure away the zombies, which made you believe that it belonged to Azriel, but he quickly gave in when you’d asked him if he would rather have music or his friends.

Azriel’s going to hate you even more after this.

You push the thought and the pain stabbing at your ankle away, wiping your brow with the back of your hand. It’s muggy in the wooded forest, summer in its peak, and you’d curse it only if you didn’t know how rough the winter is going to be. You didn’t even want to think about it, with the cold weather came less game, less resources for you and Feyre to survive off of. The both of you need to head somewhere warm year-round if you’re truly going to survive this.

You pause for a moment to catch your breath and listen for a sign of where Cassian’s friends might have gone off to. You check your surroundings and curse under your breath when you realize you haven’t been leaving a path for yourself to get back if you can’t find them.

You swallow the panic. Everywhere around you looks the same and you’re not sure which direction you had even come from, how to get back to the car if your life depended on it. Well, maybe by some stroke of luck you’d find your way back there, but, like you always say, your lick is truly shit.

“(Y/N),” you breathe, sucking down a sharp breath, “One thing at a time.”

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you will yourself to focus. You can’t let yourself get worked up or you’ll be zombie food before you can even help. You don’t have Feyre talking sense to you, bring you back from your reeling thoughts, you only have yourself.

“Find Azriel and Rhys.” You repeat the mantra softly a few times, forcing your feet to begin moving again. The first step in your plan.

You wait. You listen.

And there it is, under the sounds of the chirping bugs and eager birds, the hungry, feral growls of the undead looking for their next meal. Their jaws snap, ricocheting through the greens surrounding you, and for a moment you feel like you’re in a fishbowl, that they’re already surrounding you. You release a shaky exhale and remind yourself that they haven’t caught sight of you yet.

You hope you’re not too late.

Following the noise of the vile creatures, it doesn’t take long for you to come upon the horde, surrounding a rickety cabin that you’re sure is the one Azriel and Rhysand have taken refuge in. You don’t stray too close or too long, instead moving as quickly as you can spare quietly, to find a spot far enough to attract the zombies away from the cabin, but not so far that the music can’t be heard.

You holster your weapon when you find a spot, getting to work. You place the record player on the ground next to an uprooted tree. You have to be thoughtful of where you place the speaker, because as soon as the zoms wander over to attack it, the music will most likely stop playing.

You shove the loose brush up against it, trying to disguise the record player the best that you can, grinning as you sit back on your haunches to admire your work. You cannot wait to rub it in their faces.

You inhale deeply, release the long breath, and flick the player on.

Before the first note even plays, you’re already pulling out your knife and limping away as quickly as you can.

You figure you’re moving in the general direction of where you’d come from. There’s no way to be sure, but any direction away from the zombies is the correct direction in your head.

But you must’ve got yourself turned around somehow because you’re gasping and ducking behind a thick stumped tree as the first walker from the group begins to stumble by.

You nearly bite through your lip, glaring down at your ankle in fury. You know you’re going to have to run now, there’s no other choice. And you’ll be damned if you die because of your ankle.

Not today.

Pushing off of the tree, you begin running. You cut through the trees, eyes flickering from the path ahead to your surroundings, keeping a keen eye out for any wandering undead. It’s uncanny, you think, the music echoing through the trees, and it would be like a movie, if you weren’t actually terrified for your life right now.

It’s definitely something to laugh about later.

You try futility to hold in your grunts and gasps of pain, but all you want to do is scream because of the pain ripping through your ankle. It feels like you’ve been stabbed.

If you’re not running in the correct direction you’re going to be so pissed. And rightfully so.

To your very very unfortunate luck, the toe of your shoe catches on an upturned root. You go down hard, knees crashing into the ground, one lands on a fallen branch and the crack is resounding. You cry out in pain and clutch your knee to your chest, curling into a tight ball and you pant through the pain. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to hold back the prickling in your eyes as tears threaten to fall.

Thick and hot blood streams in ribbons from your hand where your blade had ripped into your palm when you’d been bracing yourself to fall to the ground. You’re lucky you didn’t accidentally stab an organ or something that would be tougher to heal from. You have enough injuries already.

For a fleeting moment you wonder if this is what dying feels like.

Hot tears stream down your face. You’re too weak – too hurt – to even open your eyes when you hear footsteps approaching. 

You know that it truly is too late.

“I’m so sorry Feyre,” you sob, curling your arms tighter around yourself. Rocks and sharp twigs scratch at your face as you try to draw the throbbing pain from your ankle and hand to somewhere more bearable.

If you were paying more attention you’d have been able to discern that the footsteps you hear aren’t zombies. They’re much too quick to be a part of the undead family.

“(Y/N)?”

You blink through the hot tears stinging your eyes until you can make out the two figures looming over your frail body.

Your plan worked.

“Rhysand? Azriel?”

They’re both more stunned than they should be to see you curled up on yourself in the middle of the forest floor, covered in dirt with twigs in your hair.

“Wha–” Azriel starts but Rhys cuts him off.

“Az, duck!”

Azriel doesn’t have to think twice as he drops to the ground. It’s instinct by now to listen to his friends orders without question. No longer would they try to get him into trouble, trying to convince him to skip class with them or tag buildings with spray paint Rhys had lifted from the local hardware store. No, these days were filled with nothing more than serious conversations and trying to stay alive. 

He’d give anything to go back to before.

As soon as his knees hit the soft ground Rhys pops off a shot over his head. The bullet finds home in the center of a zombie's forehead. It had been attracted to your cries. That’s how the two of them had found you after all.

“Hey,” Azriel says over the ringing in his ears, reaching out a hand to help. When you flinch he drops it by his side, forcing back the heat threatening to consume his cheeks at the sight of his own fucked up hands. He should’ve known. “You okay?”

He spares a glance at your injured ankle, knowing the root of the problem. As his golden eyes snake back up your body he notices the blood that’s soaking into your shirt where it’s pressed against your chest. He curses under his breath.

The both of you flinch when Rhys’ gun rings off another shot, and one more following. He glances down at you, violet eyes wide with worry, gun aimed high. “We have to go.”

Azriel gives a sharp nod, his face setting into that apathetic one you’ve become all too familiar with in the short time that you’ve known him. He turns back to you, “Come on. We have to get you up.”

It’s strange, he thinks. He doesn’t like you or your friend being around but he doesn’t even have to think about saving you.

“I can’t,” you whimper pathetically. You blink the tears from the corner of your eyes. “It hurts.”

Azriel doesn’t respond, just shoulders his gun and scoops you up into his arms. Your face twists in pain as he shifts you up, releasing a yelp as your ankle is jostled. You clutch your split hand tighter to your chest, free arm wrapping tightly around Azriel’s neck, shoving your face into the side of his shoulder.

You can’t even enjoy the feeling of his muscular chest because all you want to do is pass out from the exhaustion, dehydration, and pain.

Apparently, Azriel senses this because he’s growling down at you, “Wake the fuck up (Y/N). Don’t go to sleep.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

The three of you can hear Feyre and Cassian arguing from a mile away.

Okay, it’s not quite a mile away, but in the silent forest where all you can hear is the sound of Rhys and Azriels pounding footsteps, your beating heart matching his, ear pressed flush to Azriel’s chest. You whimper occasionally and your arm is tired from holding him so tightly, the other slick with hot blood seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.

It sounds like they’re using megaphones compared to the three of you.

Cassian’s dumping the last of the fuel into the tank of the van while Feyre scolds him. She’s fuming, giving the large man a piece of your mind about letting you go off on your own like that.

Her mind is already set on going to find you and she can feel herself going a little bit crazy. You’re the only person she’d had for the past few months, and she doesn’t know how she’ll be able to go on if you’re not with her, keeping her sane. 

She rips the empty gas can out of his hands when he’s done and throws it at him. The plastic slaps dully as Cassian bats it out of the air, squabbling about how you said it was going to be an easy task.

In theory, it was.

Feyre’s gray eyes blaze with an anger you’d only seen occasionally.

“Enjoy your fucking ride!”

Cassian tries to grab her arm to stop her but she’s too quick, twisting away from him. He understands why she’s yelling at him, he really does, but what Feyre’s not realizing is that her high pitched yelling could be attracting a nearby herd of zombies. Of course he hadn’t wanted you to go off on your own, but it wasn’t like he could stop you.

“Feyre,” Cassian cuts off her rant, catching sight of you and his friends emerging from the forest. “There they are!”

Rhys and Azriel come scrambling out of the trees. Rhys has his gun aimed behind the small group, scouting for any close zombies.

Azriel yells at the two staring dumbfounded at you all, “Get the fuck in the car!” 

No one questions him, Cassian throwing the back doors open to the van while Feyre breathes a sigh of relief before she scrambles inside. Azriel’s quick to follow, stepping inside with the ease of a well built man, and you’re impressed by his strength.

Rhys slams the doors shut behind all of you before running around to the driver’s door. He clambers into the front seat and Cassian tosses the keys up front to him.

He shoves them in the ignition, twisting them as he sends a panicky glance up towards the trees. The van sputters to life.

The zoms slowly trickle out of the trees, manifesting as if from the shadows themselves.

Azriel collapses onto the bench seat with you still safe and snug in his arms. His hands tighten around you as Rhysand throws the car into gear and slams down on the gas pedal, the van lurching forward, the jolt causes you to cry out in pain.

The worn tires screech against the sun-cracked pavement and Rhys rams into a zombie who’s trying to claw at the car. Its jaw is hanging from its face and he’s missing an eye and an arm. The creature crunches under the tires like a watermelon.

“Oh my God, is she okay?” Feyre asks from the passenger seat she’d climbed into. She twists around in the seat and stares at you with wide eyes. She can’t see your face from where it’s pressed into Azriel’s shirt but she can see the slight tremor of your body and can hear the sharp breaths you’re taking.

“I’m fine Fey,” you croak, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re not, and no one else in the car believes you for a second, but they all let you have your peace. Every jostle of the car is agonizing and your hand is still leaking blood from where it’s tucked under your armpit. You’re probably getting blood all over Azriel’s shirt but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You can feel his rings through the fabric of your shirt. He’s sitting as stiffly as you are, like he would rather be holding a zombie in his lap than you. He’s wearing a frown on his face and uses this time to admire your features. Your slightly dirty hair, the true color of your skin from where your tears had washed the dirt away. He finds himself wondering what the rest of you looks like.

His thoughts make him want to dump you right off of his lap.

So he does.

Azriel doesn’t shove you off onto the floor, he’s more gentlemanly than that. He stands awkwardly, swaying with the movements of the van. It’s a struggle because he can’t stand to his full height but he places you as gently as he can onto the worn bench seat, collapsing on the opposite one next to Cassian.

You can’t help the whimper that escapes you as your injured ankle knocks against your other one.

“What the fuck?” Feyre growls from the front seat when she hears your sharp cry.

The gash in the middle of your palm pulls when you place both hands on the seat as Rhysand swerves, trying to catch yourself before you fall off of the seat. He immediately apologizes after your loud curse. His violet eyes flick to the rearview mirror but you’re not looking at him. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, jaw clenching tightly shut. You don’t need Feyre worrying over you, knowing that she’ll make Rhys stop the car if she has to. Getting away from the horde should be the first priority.

You consider yourself lucky after seeing what the sudden movement of the car had done to Azriel. He’d gone tumbling backwards, smacking his head against the glass with a loud crack.

“She better be okay back there, shadow,” Feyre hisses to Azriel who is lifting his aching head, rubbing at the spot he knows is going to swell nicely. He glares up at the girl in the passenger seat.

“I really don’t like you.”

“Right back at ya, shadow.”

Azriel’s mouth twitches and he scoffs, shifting to sit on the other side of Cassian. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near Feyre. 

He’s not sure which of you he likes less, the angry, annoying one, or the cute, injured one.

Well that settles that then.

“Az, where did all that blood on your shirt come from?” Cassian asks as he catches sight of the crimson on his friend’s shirt. He reaches out to search for any sign of injury. Azriel had always liked to keep quiet.

He slaps Cassian’s hand away with a grunt. He’s utterly pissed off. This is not what he had wanted to come back to the van to, the two girls trying to weasel their way into their group and the head injury he now has.

“Not mine,” he grunts, leaning his head back against the window. He’s exhausted from lack of nutrients and having to carry you all the way back to the car. A chill works its way over his body from the breeze floating through the front open windows, brushing against his shirt, damp with your blood. “It’s hers. She was trying to get herself killed out in the woods.”

“I was not, you asshole,” you’re quick to defend yourself before Feyre can jump in for you. You do know how to win some battles. You curl into yourself a little bit more when his dark gaze lands on you, his harsh glare makes you uncomfortable. Your palm stings and every time you flex it a fresh puddle of blood leaks from the wound. It’s soaking through your clothes and onto the tan leather of the seats. You hope Cassian won’t be too upset with you for the mess. “I was trying to save your ass more like.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to respond with another snarky remark but Rhys is quick to cut him off, sending a sharp look at his friend through the rearview mirror. “Yes, (Y/N), thank you for saving us. Don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t helped us and we’re not sure how we will ever be able to repay you. You too, Feyre, thank you for helping with the fuel.”

You and your companion share a look. It wasn’t often you’d hear such polite things from people these days. It’s shocking to say the least.

“Well, if I had known that this was how things were going to go I would’ve only helped you out Rhys,” you say but you don’t mean it. That’s just not who you are, no matter how much Azriel seems to not trust you, the glowering man across the bench ignoring all of you again.

Azriel wants to snipe back and mention that he was the one that had carried your ass all the way back to the car, but after another warning look from Rhys and even Feyre in the passenger seat, he decides to keep his mouth shut, grinding his jaw instead.

“(Y/N),” Cassian says cautiously, and it immediately raises your hackles. He slides from his seat to the one Azriel had abandoned next to you, holding his hands up in the air as if showing you that he means no harm. You almost snort at him, with his slightly widened eyes and warm face, looking actually worried for your well being. “Can you show me where your wound is?”

You bite your lip but only take a second to contemplate before you’re shaking your head and tucking your arm further into your armpit. You’re starting to feel a little nauseous, but you’re not sure if it’s from blood loss or Rhys’ driving.

Cassian places a large hand at the base of your spine and warmth spreads throughout your body in response. Your back straightens but he doesn’t pull it away, instead rubbing his thumb in a soothing manner over the thin cloth of your shirt.

You try to hold back the full body shutter aching to be released.

“Please? Let me help you the way that you helped me.”

The softness of his voice and hazel eyes combined with the warmth of his hand nearly has you breaking full on into sobs. No one has ever been so kind to you, not even before the end of the world. But now, after everything you’ve been through, after having even turned yourself into a cruel and evil monster for having to do what you have…you don’t think you deserve this kindness from Cassian.

Tears prick your eyes and your throat thickens. You can’t look at him because you know for sure the tears will be falling again and you really don’t want to make any more of a fool of yourself in front of any of the people inside of this vehicle. 

Slowly, you untuck your hand and show it to him.

Cassain hides his surprise well. He stares down at your wounded hand, a long thin slice that isn’t very deep but will still need some sort of stitching. Your fingers are painted red and the blood pools in the center of your hand quickly before another jolt from the car has it spilling over the sides of your hand.

You cringe at the sight but don’t move, letting the man assess the injury per his request. You can probably fix it up yourself, but the pain in your throbbing ankle is distracting and you can admit to yourself that it’s kind of nice to be doted on by Cassian.

Thankfully, you’ve all seen worse injuries, like Cassian’s leg, and the bulky man doesn’t think it will be too difficult to patch up. The skin around the wound is inflamed, red and puffy and angry looking, but otherwise the wound looks fairly clean. 

Well, clean by apocalypse standards.

“Did yourself a number here, (Y/N),” he comments lightly, trying to get you to look up from where you’ve ducked your chin and refused to meet his eyes. You can’t think about the kindness on his face, how he seemed to easily let you play nurse for him and now returning the favor. Your cheeks flush hot as his hand crawls up your spine and you’re reminded of how his body had felt pressed up against yours–

“Good news is, you’ll be alright.”

You nod jerkily, slumping in your seat as he moves away to gather supplies. You immediately feel cold without his presence and you catch sight of Feyre in the corner of your eye. Her eyes are narrowed as she watches the two of you like a hawk, but thankfully Rhys draws her attention by asking her to pull out the map from the glove box.

You’re a trooper, you think. You hardly flinch when Cassian cleans the injury with the expired antiseptic he’s pulled from your bag after asking for your permission, and you barely react when he shoves the stitching needle a little too deep into the tender skin of your hand and has to pull it back out. He grins up at you sheepishly but you can’t force yourself to return it, grimacing at the sight of the jagged, uneven stitches he’s putting into your hand. 

They look like the jagged teeth of a cartoon monster, but it seems like it’s holding together as it needs to. As you nod your approval Cassian beams, flashing you a striking grin that takes your breath away. He doesn’t seem to notice as he wraps your hand with a roll of gauze he’d pulled from their crate of medicine.

Is there anything that these three don’t have?

“Cassian?” your voice is quiet when you speak, nearly squeaking for his attention as he returns everything to its rightful place. You sneak a glance at Azriel, whose head is tilted back against the window of the van with his eyes closed. You’re not sure if he’s asleep but he’s keeping quiet, and that’s more than okay with you. He actually looks a lot nicer and even more handsome when he’s relaxed like this, his face free from his normal scowls and stress.

Naturally, he chooses this exact moment to lift his head, even though he knows that you’re not talking to him. Azriel barley catches your gaze before you flinch away, eyes darting to look at Cassian who has now turned to give you his full attention.

Luckily for you, Azriel doesn’t spare you a second glance before scooting closer to the front of the car, missing the flush of your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you murmur to Cassian, “For helping me.”

“And thank you for helping us,” he responds with a kind smile as he zips up your bag. “Now, is there anything we can do for that ankle of yours?”

You shrug, cheeks heating at the kindness of this man. “Not really. I just twisted it while running a few days ago. Should be fine with a little bit of rest.”

“Az used to give the best massages back in college,” Cassian says and Azriel’s head whips around from where Rhys and Feyre are bickering about where to stop for the night. His glorious golden eyes narrow at his friend in warning.

The longer haired man ignores him though and continues on, lifting your legs gently into his lap. He prods softly at your ankle, and it’s painful, but it’s the kind of pain that feels excruciatingly good. A soft moan slips from your lips as he digs his thick fingers in all of the right spots.

“It’s how he used to pull all of his partners,” Cassian snorts and rolls his eyes, “But everytime Rhys and I walked in on him with someone, that’s all it ever was. Don't think he actually ever had sex with any of them.”

“I resent that,” Azriel huffs, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“Why don’t you show (Y/N) how good your skills are?” Cassian grins up at his friend.

Your eyes roll back in your head as Cassian does something incredibly wicked with his fingers, prodding your swollen ankle perfectly. You miss the way that Azriel glances at his fucked up hands, burying them into the pockets of the hoodie he’d thrown on to protect him from the chill of your blood soaking his shirt. 

“No, I’m good,” you and Azriel end up responding at the same time. You share a look but you’re quick to break eye contact with his emotionless stare, moving your gaze out the window of the car instead.

Eventually, the pain eases. You watch the trees pass by in a blur and the sky darken, all while Cassian kneads the muscles around your ankle. He’s very comforting, whispering soft words to you, his body heat seeping into you. You revel in the warmth, letting yourself melt further and further into the leather seats. His movements are heavenly and you hope he never stops, hope that he never has to leave.

For the first time in a long time you hope, and you fall into sleep.

#azriel x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x cassian x reader #zombie au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #cazriel #azsazz #dead by dawn

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate part 2

(part one) (part three) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: “Harmless” she repeated, an edge to her tone. Still, he sensed fear creeping into her. Good. A part of him thought. If he needed to be the one to put the fear into her for her own safety, he would do it gladly.

Word Count: ~6.3k

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, slight degradation?, light bondage, shadow play, oral (m!receiving), masturbation, nightmares, flashbacks, references to sa, stalking, injury, violence, brief mention of panic attacks, bad handling of trauma 

A/N: i’ve rewritten this a ridiculous amount of times and i’m very nervous, I'm planning on about 5 parts!

Cassian shot her a wink the next morning. Thank the Mother only he and Azriel were around, because she turned bright red and nearly fled the room. Only the fantastic muffins in front of her kept her rooted to her seat. Mother knows she’d thought about it all last night, up until the early morning hours, hand between her legs trying to relieve some of that pressure. She had the distinct sensation they knew exactly what was running through her mind. 

“Long night?” Azriel asked, mouth indenting at one corner. 

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?” 

Cassian let out a low chuckle and shook his head. Azriel crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair - amusement starting to grow on his stupidly beautiful face. She waited, seeing if they’d say anything else.

“Can you blame us for being … curious?” Cassian asked, sitting next to Azriel, pushing his chair a little too close to be just ‘friendly.’ 

She spotted Azriel’s arm shift, and a slight inhale from Cassian. 

“Mother above,” she muttered and snatched her muffins. If she stayed any longer, she might get a bit too curious. She stalked out of the room, ignoring Cassian’s laugh following her. 

-

She should’ve burnt them - tossed them in the trash or sidra, but each time she ripped the seal, unfolding the crisp parchment with shaky hands. With each one, her guilt at hiding them grew as well. They’d … changed, each one laced with a different threat. Not a threat, she reminded herself. The Night Court’s borders were impenetrable, and he was all the way in Autumn. Some kind of infatuation he would get over. She let out a low hiss as the page sliced the edge of her finger, bringing her finger to her mouth. Work, she had work to do, it would take her mind off this. Gods, she was already running late and if someone found out she bled on a book … thankfully the cut sealed itself within the next few minutes. Her eyes glanced at the clock, she’d have to for-go her usual walk and winnow. 

Clotho’s pen floated as words appeared on the paper and she spotted the slight furrow of her brow beneath her hood. Something is bothering you. 

“Nothing new.” She fidgeted, shifting on her feet as Clotho gave her an assessing look. 

Merrill wants to see you. She didn’t bother hiding her groan, drawing a small smile from the priestess. Best of luck. 

Merrill, after grilling her with questions on her latest findings, was surprisingly pleasant. As pleasant as she gets, and even offered her some different manuscripts and books she’d recently found that might interest Rhysand. She made sure to thank her, receiving a small nod in reply. Her feet carried her to the small nook on the fourth floor she’d claimed years ago, books piled up to her chin. A tripping hazard, that’s what she was. 

Her mind wandered. A week ago, she’d seen Cassian and Azriel. A week since she’d spotted them that night, and the subtle teasing the following morning. Since then they’d both been gone. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be away for prolonged periods of time. Their absence didn’t exactly feel intentional, but the actions prior to it did. There’s no way Azriel hadn’t already noticed her out in the hallway, even if he was highly distracted by his current activity. She’d, embarrassingly, analyzed every detail of that moment. It was branded into her mind at this point. For research, of course, she reasoned to herself. The only conclusion she could come to, taking into account the next morning as well, is they wanted her to see it. They weren’t surprised, not one bit. 

-

She’d taken her work home with her that night. It was getting to closing hours in the library, and the texts had caught her attention enough she didn’t want to stop. She barely paid any notice as she wandered in, settling down in the small Townhouse library and spreading her papers and books haphazardly over the table. A bit of magic propped two different texts open in front of her, and she put her pen back to the parchment already scribbled with notes. She’d have to transcript those into legible handwriting later. 

Moments later, she felt a shift in the air around her - then a cool blade against her next. The scent was familiar, and she went still - all of her muscles freezing in place. 

“You’re dead.” A cool voice said - no amusement or mirth present. 

“I hate you.” She hissed.

A snort. “No you don’t.” The blade, thankfully left and she whirled around, shoving her chair out behind her, hoping it would hit the asshole. It didn’t, of course. He only leant against the window, one hand returning truth teller to its sheath. She wondered how many people got close to that blade without meeting their death - or a world of pain. 

“Nice to see you too.” 

His mouth quirked up at the corner. “I should tell Cassian how-” 

“No.” She interrupted, “no you shouldn’t.” 

He raised a brow. If he told Cassian, she’d be stuck in the training ring for hours tomorrow - up at some ungodly hour and miserable, all before work. 

“Don’t tell Cassian what?” She yelped as he emerged from between the shelves. “We had a feeling you’d end up right here.” He teased. An ambush. 

She groaned. “Is this your idea of ‘nice to see you’?” 

He pretended to think about it, before crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. Her feet left the floor as he squeezed most of the air out of her, the rest coming out as a wheezing, inelegant, laugh.  

When he finally let her down, after spinning her enough times she was dizzy, she barely had enough time to catch her breath before Azriel wrapped her in his arms. She could only think about how good it felt to be with them, to have their arms wrapped around her - bodies pressed against hers. Even if the hug ran a few seconds too long to be purely friendly, she didn’t mind. 

He released her, looking down at her with a softened gaze. Not quite a smile, but a definite improvement from him holding a knife to her throat. 

“I missed you.” She said, before realizing just how close they were standing. She cleared her throat and took a step back. “How was your … trip?” She asked weakly, shifting her eyes between the two of them. 

“Fine.” Azriel answered, just as Cassian said, “Miserable.” 

She bit on her bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

“And your week?” Azriel asked, and she understood the message - not something up for discussion. 

“Boring,” she answered. Not wanting to say I missed you both, or I couldn’t stop thinking about you. She would not act like a pining schoolgirl. To their faces. But, her filter had its limits because she asked; “did you do that on purpose?” and fought her wince at her own words. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered and from the corner of her eye she saw Cassian take a few steps towards him. “Do what?” 

“You know.” She clenched her jaw. They know exactly what she’s talking about - especially based on Cassian’s grin. 

“If you want to know something, you need to use your words.” 

A part of her, one she shoved deep deep down, went molten. But, she couldn’t hide the red flush covering her cheeks. “I have work to do,” she said quickly, grabbing her chair and pushing it back towards the desk, hiding her face beneath her hair and doing her best to look like she was actually reading. 

She heard a low laugh as they left the room, and only once the footsteps faded did she let her head plunk against the desk. “I’m so screwed,” she whispered. 

-

Two letters arrived today, both written out to her by the ‘same person,’ with slightly different handwriting. She frowned at them, one - courtesy of him was expected. But … she hadn’t heard anything from her friends in weeks. She settled on getting the nasty one out of the way. 

Her fist crumpled up the paper as she shoved it deep into the drawer. Another letter, more iterations of the same things written before. No need to make a big deal out of nothing. I’ll find you in this world and the next. A shudder ran down her spine. Harmless, she told herself. A temporary infatuation - something he’ll get over. 

Every time she approached the fire, papers clenched tightly in her hands, that damn tattoo would start pricking, sending zips of pain down her chest. She found herself turning back around, shoving them into the back of the drawer - willing herself to forget. If they were out of sight, maybe they’d slip out of her mind - and this would all be over. Part of her realized it might not be that easy. 

Slowly, she forced her hands to open the second. A brief recap of her last few weeks, her father apparently trying to set her up for an advantageous marriage. But, she seemed pleased with a few of the suitors - describing them in detail - and a specific one she was fixated on. Another local lord's son. Her lips curved into a smile, good, she deserves something to make her happy. She shuffled through the extensive letter - three gods-damned pages. 

When will you visit again? My cousin is eager to see you. Maybe you could explore your relationship more, he’s mentioned he’s written to you a few times. You should answer.

She dropped it like it had burned her. Writing to him? She told her exactly what happened. This one, she found herself able to toss in the fire. Her friendship could burn with it. 

-

“You’re an asshole,” she muttered to Cassian, rubbing out a bruise in her left arm. He snatched her hand away. 

“That’ll make it worse.” 

“Maybe I like the pain,” she snipped back at him. A glint crossed his eyes, gone as soon as it came. “Besides,” she continued as if she’d never seen it. “You’re a sadist.” 

A snort came from Azriel in the corner, leaning back against the wall. Shadows swirled gently around him, he had one knee propped up on the wall behind him - arms crossed over his chest. The flush on her cheeks wasn’t entirely from training, something they didn’t need to know. “If you think he’s a sadist, train with your sister.” 

She rolled her eyes, and elbowed Cassian. “Why do you think I stick with him?” 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.” 

“Have you … heard from your friend recently?” 

By some miracle, she managed to keep her reactions neutral - heart rate steady, breaths even. “I got a letter yesterday,” she admitted. “She’s looking at suitors.” Her nose crinkled with the last word. 

“An arranged marriage?”

“In a way. She described each of them. In detail.”

Cassian cringed, “I don’t think I want to know.” 

She thought of how she ranked them on potential bedroom prowess. “No, you really don’t.” 

“Have you … asked Rhys for her to visit?” 

Azriel’s question was careful. She knew his shadows were monitoring her every reaction. At her silence, they both went still. 

She shook her head. “I’m not ready to see her.” I don’t know if I ever will be. They seemed .. relieved? “Why are you asking?” 

He met her gaze, a cool assessing look on his face. “Wanted to know.” 

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, but she left it for now. 

-

Hands brushed against her sides, down her ribs, over the curve of her ass. Soft kisses were pressed to her shoulder and neck. Caged in between two warm bodies. 

She woke with a start, and a coil building in her stomach. Dreaming, again. Wrong, this was wrong on so many levels. Water, she needed cold, cold water. She debated the risk of running into them - just like she had before, but as far as she knew the two of them were still on some mission and hadn’t returned. Her feet hit the soft carpet, the full moon shone through her window - casting her room in a beautiful, soft glow. Her lips curved up at the corners. 

Lost enough in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the sounds, coming from Cassian’s room this time, until she was nearly at the door. Her footsteps faltered, her body turning - not again, her back was already turned as she heard him. 

“If you’re that curious, you might as well come in.” Azriel’s voice was rough as he leaned against the doorframe. Slowly, she turned back around. His chest was bare, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on the muscled planes of his chest and stomach. Hair disheveled, lips puffy, cheeks flushed. She’d never seen him like that before. Great, something else to fuel her dreams. 

She must’ve been staring, “see something you like princess?” Cassian’s voice came from behind him, and she blinked, startling back into the present. Azriel’s smug face made her want to wipe it right off him - to march back down to her room and pretend she felt nothing, but then his hand reached out. A clear invitation. LIke a god damned fool, she took it. 

He was gentle as he tugged her inside, and she knew she had a doe-eyed look. The face of someone completely in awe and completely out of their depth. His hands gripped her shoulders as he walked her back - not towards the bed. The back of her knees hit a chair, and he pushed her shoulders down. She fell rather inelegantly into it, drawing an almost mocking smile from him. His eyes traveled slowly down her body - pausing on her bare thighs - her nightgown ridden up to an almost indecent level, before flicking back up. The hazel hue burnt into her. 

“Can you be good and sit there?” 

Her cheeks flushed in humiliation and she nodded. 

“Words.” His voice had changed, lower and firmer, a clear demand. 

“Y-yes.” She stumbled over the word. 

“Yes, what?” 

“I can be good.” She squeaked. “And sit here.” He gave her an approving nod. 

Azriel fisted a hand in Cassian's hair. Knees hit the ground. Fingers dug in his waistband. Gods, she watched as Cassian’s lips parted, Azriel letting out a low groan. 

But, his eyes met hers. ”Is this what you think about at night?” How was he speaking? 

”W-what?” She asked with a breathy voice. The way he looked at her … like he could see all the way inside her, see every dirty thought and fantasies she had. Maybe he could. His eyes lingered on her thighs. She pulled her dress down as if it might hide any lingering scent of her arousal. 

“Show me.” 

“I don’t-” 

“Show me.” He repeated, a shadow brushing the back of her neck in a comforting gesture, she could read the other words in his eyes; if you want to.

Damn her. She did. Her hands slipped between her thighs, keeping them closed as much as possible. Shadows tugged at her knees, cool air hit her, hit her bare cunt - she’d worn nothing beneath. He shook his head in an amused away, broken off by a low moan as Cassian’s hand twisted around his base. He still had a hand in the other male’s hair, slowly pushing him up and down. 

Her eyes fixed on him - on Cassian, as two fingers brushed up her folds, slowly beginning to explore herself. If they were going to put on a show, so could she. 

Azriel, she noticed, quickly lost any restraint and she dug her teeth into her bottom lip. His breathing grew heavier, faster as Cassian moved quicker, cheeks hollowing out as if he wanted to finish, if only to watch her. A different kind of power flooded through her, and she shot a half smirk at Azriel. A few minutes passed - maybe, she wasn’t keeping track, but he’d cursed under his breath, thighs clenching, and Cassian stilled.

She barely noticed as Cassian pulled away, finally caught in her own haze of lust. Something cool brushed against her inner thighs. She yelped, trying to shift but shadows wrapped around her thighs and held her in place. Azriel’s eyes met her own; say the word and it stops. She gave him a small nod, and her hands were pulled away, secured to the sides of the chair. She didn’t bother trying to hide her shaky exhale, or her racing heart. And couldn’t hide the arousal slowly pooling beneath her on the chair. The shadows seemed to solidify as they circled around her clit, inside her, trailing up and down her thighs. 

It took barely a minute before she was panting, soft whimpers leaving her mouth as she fought to keep the noise inside. If anything, the two of them looked … amused. No matter how attracted she felt to them, how much she wanted them to touch her, she wasn’t sure if she really could. Not with everything that had happened, everything still … happening. The thought drifted from her mind as the circling sped up, shadows almost vibrating against her. 

She couldn’t hide her noises this time, eyes half lidded but fixed on the two of them - how they watched her, as her walls clenched and thighs shook. 

Then, it was over - shadows gone and released. She tried to calm her racing heart, to steady her breath. 

“Satisfy your curiosity enough?” Cassian asked her, adding “Princess,” as an afterthought. Her legs snapped back together, dress pulled down to cover herself, and cheeks flushed. 

Her hands braced the sides of the chair. Fleeing, that was the best solution now. Why had she stayed? Well, she knows exactly why - but gods this was humiliating. A quick nod, and she shoved herself to her feet, having to keep a grip on the chair to stay steady.

“I thought I said to use your words.” Az said, the same firm tone as before, but he had a cruel smile playing on his lips as he turned to Cassian. “Didn’t I?” 

A low laugh left the other male. “You did.” 

“Seems she’s not capable of listening.” They spoke of her like she wasn’t there, and while his head was turned she started stumbling towards the door, legs still shaking. 

“Now you have something to fuel your fantasies,” she said over her shoulder, winking at them with false bravado, not even closing the door behind her. She only breathed once she’d reached the staircase, sitting heavily on the top step to try and get her heart to stop racing. From now on, she’d keep a glass of water in her room at night. 

-

“She liked it.” Cassian commented after the door closed. “We liked it,” he turned to Azriel - who now had an extra flush on his skin.

Still, he rolled his eyes. “Another thing for her to dream about.” 

“And us.” Azriel gave a noncommittal hum. “Think she’ll come back?” He leaned back on the bed, propping himself up on his forearms. He wondered if they’d been a bit too much. If they should’ve asked her to stay after, to reassure her somehow. Get her to relax. Mother save him - he wanted to touch her, hold her, do … too many things. 

Azriel only shrugged his shoulders before taking his leave, closing the door behind him. He flopped back on his bed, running his hands through his hair and hoping they hadn’t messed up. 

-

Azriel knew he had to find her, and slipped from Cassian’s room as quickly as he could. One of them might be better now, and considering he’d led her right into it - he knew it had to be him. Just to check she’s alright. 

Her defenses were down as he snuck up on her, sitting right on the top step. He made his footsteps heavier as he approached, taking a seat next to her - leaving a good foot of space between them. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, hands covering her face. 

“Why?” Her hands slid up her face, tightening in her hair. “It doesn’t … have to happen again,” he offered when she didn’t reply.

“Right.” She said hoarsely. “A mistake.” 

His chest tightened. If that’s how she sees it … “Right.” 

The fingers tightly clenching her hair loosened, shoulders folding slightly inwards. Relief. 

“I’m … did I push too far?” Azriel felt unusually insecure. She wasn’t just anyone, for gods sake it was his brother’s younger cousin. One of his closest friends' younger sister. More importantly, his friend. 

“Nothing I didn’t want,” she finally looked at him. Cheeks still flushed, a half smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. For once, he couldn’t read her. “Consider my curiosity satisfied.” She shot a wink at him. Y/n rose, brushing her dress down, and turned back down the hallway. His eyes tracked her departing figure. Legs no longer shaky, shoulders held high. A string tugged at his chest. Go after her, a part of his subconscious rose, mistake, mistake, mistake another repeated - and he stayed in place. 

Something to fuel your fantasies. 

When she was out of hearing range, he let out a groan. 

-

Cassian was surprised when Azriel stalked back into his room. Less so when he explained the conversation he had. 

“Did she really call it a mistake?” He asked. He knew Az was telling the truth … but that didn’t seem like her. 

“She did. And looked relieved when I agreed.” Azriel replied. 

Cassian tensed next to him, he hoped y/n didn’t think Azriel spoke for the two of them, but realistically he knew she did. “I didn’t think it was one.” 

-

Mistake. Why the hell did she say that? It doesn’t have to happen … Does that mean he would’ve wanted it to? She got no sleep that night, the whole situation playing over and over again in her head. And the conversation after. Did she really want it to happen again? 

They’d built a friendship over the years, and she doesn’t want it to come tumbling down over this one incident. 

“Mistake,” she muttered to herself - drifting into sleep just before dawn.  

She startled as her door flew open. Cassian stood in the doorway - fully dressed in Illyrian leathers and grinning like the cat who caught the canary. 

“Noooo,” she groaned, shoving her face back into the pillow. 

“Long nights are no excuse.” She flipped him off and he let out a long-suffering sigh - but left. She hummed in content, and rolled back over to sleep. 

Sleep didn’t come, and a large bowl of ice cold water soaked her. She let out a screech loud enough he covered his ears. “I’ll kill you,” y/n snarled. 

He raised a brow, as if he was daring her. Her eyes rolled. “Get out, I need to change.” 

“Nothing I haven’t seen princess.” 

“Out,” she pointed to the door, but let out a low laugh. 

“I’ll be back in five,” he said over his shoulder. 

“Ten.” She countered. 

“Seven.” 

“Fine.” She glanced at the clock. He would be back in exactly seven minutes, she didn’t doubt that. 

At least he seemed to be acting as usual. Azriel, she’d have to see. There was no doubt in her mind he’d reported their conversation back to him. Az was harder to read, but he had his tells. 

-

I’ll see you soon, my heart. 

Be careful where you wander. 

I’m getting tired of waiting. 

Six months of this bullshit, she winced at the nickname - and he had the nerve to write it like a fucking poem. “Deranged,” she muttered, shoving it into the drawer. He couldn’t get to her, she reminded herself. For some reason, she hadn’t burnt them. Every time she went close to the fire, something stopped her. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. Maybe it was time to say something. After the … mistake, a few nights ago - she didn’t know if they would react differently. But, she had reminded herself several times nothing had to be different. Nothing had to change. 

“What’s deranged?” An amused voice said from the door. Cassian. She froze, shoving the drawer closed before turning around, leaning back against the desk. His eyes narrowed, he’d clocked every movement on hers. “Keeping secrets?” He raised a brow, striding into her room. 

“No,” she answered, a bit too quickly. 

“We need to-” she heard Azriel from the doorway. A shadow curled around his shoulders, around his ears, and his shoulders tightened. 

“Secrets?” He murmured, following Cassian inside. 

“Did I invite you in?” Y/n snapped. Her heart raced, palms starting to sweat. They glanced at each other, before looking back at her. 

“Didn’t realize friends need an invitation.” Cassian drawled. Her hands tightened around the desk. Something about the word friends struck her, but she ignored it. “Have a secret lover?” If she didn’t know better, she’d say his voice was a little tight. 

“Maybe,” she teased, and both of their eyes flashed. Maybe it wasn’t as much of a mistake as she thought. Then, she thought of how much she was about to ruin, and braced herself. Her chest pricked, their proximity, combined with the proximity of the potential threat making the bargain tug on her. Her hand rubbed slightly at her collarbones, and she realized the mistake too late. “There’s … something I need to tell you. Please don’t be mad.” 

A heavy silence filled her room. “What is it?” Cassian’s voice was tight. 

“Don’t get angry.” She insisted. More silence. They wouldn’t make that promise. It was too late now to turn back, too late to refuse to tell them. 

She turned, heart racing, and slid open the drawer. Her hands shook violently as she gathered the balls of parchment, smoothing each one out as best she could. They waited for her and felt their stares - digging into her back and side like a brand. Footsteps sounded across the room as her hands tightened around the papers, eyes clenched shut. Wordlessly, and without sparing a glance in their direction, she held them out. 

-

Azriel took the papers from her hands, careful not to touch her. Cassian was a step behind. 

Azriel’s eyes were scanning the papers, but he kept his on hers. Her pretty eyes passed over him in favor of the exit as she took a step to the side. His wing reflexively flared, ushering her back towards them and blocking her path. In any other situation, he might have laughed but anxiety, guilt, and shame rolled from her in equal waves. They didn’t promise not to get angry, not wanting to make a promise they would break. Still, she was shaking like a leaf and he bumped her shoulder with his wing - in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Only she retreated back into herself more, shoulders curving inwards. He frowned. 

Beside him, Azriel was too still. Confident y/n wouldn’t flee, he looked over his shoulder. He hadn’t missed how she rubbed the bargain tattoo on her chest and a pit grew in his stomach. 

Several minutes passed as they read together. Azriel would read one before passing it off to him. Letters dating back to months ago, she’d organized them by date. A faint and unfamiliar male scent lingered. A fiery rage grew inside of him with each one. 

-

As he finished the last letter, Azriel spotted the envelope on the desk and snatched it. Addressed to her, her friends name on the outside, but someone else's signing off at the bottom. He’d kept an eye out for any letters or packages coming in after the incident. His anger was split between her, the male, and himself. 

“Did you reply to any of these?” He asked, tilting his head to look at her. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Look at me.” She blinked and slowly did, her shoulder straightened, chin lifted, but a slight tremor in her hands remained and a few tears pricked the corner of her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” His eyes dropped to the tattoo on her chest, peeking out above her top. ‘Anyone does that to you again, you tell us.’ They never specified when. In his peripheral, Cassian looked ready to throttle her or break something. 

“I just did.” She snapped at him, her temper flaring. 

“Why didn’t you say anything six fucking months ago?” Cassian finally exploded. 

“They were harmless.” Y/n matched his pitch. 

“If you really thought they were harmless, why did you keep them?” Azriel added cooly. Cooly, but he was struggling to keep his temper in check. 

“I tried to get rid of them.” 

“And why couldn’t you?” He asked mildly. 

“Because of this,” she waved at her chest. Point made.

“Magic,” he emphasized, “thought they were a threat.” 

“No.” A muscle in her jaw clenched. “Magic thought it was something similar. That doesn’t make it a threat.” 

Cassian let out a disbelieving laugh. He was inclined to do the same. 

She ran her hands through her hair, “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” 

“No.” They both answered at the same time. 

“We had an agreement.” Cassian added. 

“It wasn’t a fair bargain.” She winced after. She did set it up, after all. 

“It’s supposed to keep you safe,” Cassian kept arguing with her. 

“I can handle myself.” Her eyes were starting to line with tears. Cassian was still angry. He knew that anger - the kind that wouldn’t stop for anything. Wouldn’t stop until he left a path of destruction behind him. 

“Really?” Cassian’s brows rose, “Can you? If you can’t recognize a fucking threat?” He was nearly yelling, almost screaming at her. 

“Out,” Azriel all but ordered, shoving him out the door. “Cool off.” 

Cassian snarled at him, but left without another word. 

Azriel fixed her with a look, and she fidgeted - some of the temporary bravado falling away. His delivery wasn’t any gentler, but at least he wasn’t quite bubbling over with rage. 

“He’s right. The problem is you don’t fucking think.” Cold, he kept his voice as cold as ice. Let every bit of disappointment, anger, and betrayal sink in. 

“What do you mean?” Her entire body seemed to stiffen, expression turning to stone. 

His filter disappeared as the words came out. “Why didn’t you leave autumn early?” 

Her eyes shuttered closed. “So this is my fault now?” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” It was too late for him to take it back. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t leave. Didn’t take herself out of a dangerous situation. 

“You made it pretty fucking clear.” 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t show Rhys.” He switched angles, he knew the loopholes as well as she did. 

“I can’t.” Honesty, finally a bit of truth out of her. Tears finally dripped down her cheeks, her face fell, eyes turning empty as her body seemed to cave in on itself. Azriel could stomach a lot of things, but the broken look in her eyes … he had to turn away and leave, before he gave into the temptation to go hunt that male down, hunt him for causing this. Even though he knew part of it was his fault. 

Go back. Go back. His shadows were almost pleading, but he ignored them, only sending one to keep an eye on her. Hopefully keep her from doing anything else stupid. Or at least giving him a warning. 

After he was out the door, he realized he’d left the letters behind. He debated turning back to get them … later, he could find those later. Now, he needed to find Cassian. 

-

Her jaw was open as Azriel left the room. Turned his back on her. Maybe she had messed up - but to imply what happened was her fault? 

They can’t understand if you don’t tell them, said a soft feminine voice. One she recognized well enough. 

“Why do I have to explain my trauma?” She murmured out loud. The priestesses had recommended journaling, but anything written down would be fair game here. 

Her eyes spotted the letters still on the table. She could hide them now. Gods, she wanted to be petty like that … but if Azriel genuinely thought he was a threat. A threat to her could put others in danger, and that’s not something she could handle. 

A plan formed; find him, give him the letters, get the fuck out of here. 

She gathered them, and mustered as much confidence as she could to stride out of the room. 

Her senses took her down the hall, down a set of stairs, to a smaller office, not used frequently. Did they meet here frequently? She shoved the very inappropriate thought out of her mind. 

Sure enough, they were liplocked when she entered. Surprisingly, they burst apart as she flung the door open, letting it bang against the opposite wall. Maybe they mistook her for someone else. She only tossed the papers at him, letting them flutter to the floor in front of him. 

“Here’s your evidence,” she put as much venom into her voice as she could, and pivoted to leave. Plan almost finished. They were out of her hands now, out of sight and maybe out of mind. At least she was halfway there.

Azriel re-appeared in front of her, using his shadows to move through the small space. She startled, stumbling backwards - her back hit the desk and she braced her hands on it. 

“Don’t leave Velaris.” Every word was laced with a threat and warning. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“I’ll drop you off in the House of Wind if I have to.” 

Every muscle in her body went stiff. 

Fifteen years old, her first attempt to leave Hewn City. A door closed. Locks slamming on the outside. Wards trapping her in. Suffocating, she couldn’t breathe - not even the windows would open. She grabbed at her hair, pulling angrily against it - like the pain might bring her back down to earth. “No no no no,” she ran to the door, trying the lock again. 

“Get it together,” a voice snapped her out of her reverie. Cassian was in her face. A small bit of worry showed in his eyes, but overshadowed by his anger. She flinched, shrinking back into herself. 

He blinked, and took a step back. She was shaking, why was she shaking? Get it together, she repeated his words to herself, and managed to straighten her shoulders. 

“Fine. I’ll play by your rules.” For now, went unsaid. Cassian’s brow furrowed. Probably confused by how easily she gave in. “But,” she fixed Azriel with a pointed stare, “don’t think I've forgiven you.” 

He let her shove past him, stalking out the door. 

“What did you do?” She heard Cassian. 

“Nothing. She’s overreacting.” 

Part three. Get the fuck out of here. She had to do that, or she might say something she really regrets. 

-

They stayed well out of each other's paths. 

Technically, the library was open from dawn till dusk. She took every advantage of it, throwing herself into work and convincing Mor to train after dinner or haunting one of her friends' doorsteps if she wasn’t available. Her sister didn’t question it. Half of her expected the small tattoo to start pricking at her, but it hadn’t. Maybe the intention behind it was not to hide inside the house. Either way, she wouldn’t question it. By some miracle, she’d managed to avoid both of them - although they were in Velaris. A strong shield around her room kept sounds out and in while she was sleeping. Pride kept her from asking if they were staying somewhere else.

“Will you train me?” She’d asked Mor later that day. 

She shot her a surprised look. “I thought Cassian did.” 

“I need a break from him.” 

Mor looked contemplative. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” she gave an exasperated sigh. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” The wicked glint in her eye made y/n think she might regret this. 

Her efforts lasted for two weeks. 

-

She was pinned against a brick wall, one arm against her throat, cutting off her windpipe. Another hand lifted her dress, “I know you like playing hard to get,” a voice whispered in her ear, teeth biting at her neck … 

The scene changed, a gentle hand brushed against her cheek, lips grazed against hers - before she was shoved back. She couldn’t see, everything was hazy but the voice was clear as day; “I don’t want anything to do with you.” Azriel. “We don’t want anything to do with you.” Cassian. 

Her body lurched forward and she clutched her hand to her mouth. Not as bad as last time. Her hand reached for her nightstand, grabbing the glass of water she always kept there. Moving on muscle memory, she brought it to her lips, waiting for the cool liquid to slide down her throat. 

Empty. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. Was it worth wandering downstairs? Her stomach churned again and she flung herself out of bed, not bothering to put on shoes as she stumbled for the doorway, clutching her glass to her chest like a child with a doll. 

A small fae light grew from her palm to hover above her, guiding her down, down, down towards the kitchen. Twisting the tap, water filled her glass to the brim. The cold liquid slid down her throat, soothing the burning. Two chugged glasses later, she filled it again to take it downstairs. The door hinges creaked behind her, and she spun around - water sloshing over the sides of the glass, dripping down her bare thigh. She couldn’t move. 

Cassian stood in the door, wings tucked in tight, still in his leathers - hair tousled as if he’d just flown in. The first time she’d seen him in two weeks. His eyes tracked the water dripping down her thigh, before darting back up to hold her gaze, his expression unreadable, his hand white-knuckling the doorknob. Twelve soft chimes of the clock. Midnight. He turned, closing the door behind him with a soft snick. Something in her chest cleaved. Wood dug into her back as she slid to the floor. 

#cazriel x y/n #cazriel x reader #cazriel #cassian x azriel x reader #azriel x reader x cassian #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #cassian acotar #acotar x reader

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 3

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: Grief/depression

The Spring Court lake had weathered the same depletion as the rest of the state. Empty wooden cabins sat abandoned and unused, the sand had turned grey and the flourishing fruit trees that once aligned it hacked down to stumps. Hybern had drained Spring Court of so much of its natural resource and beauty. 

“It’s a disturbing sight, isn’t it?” your uncle muttered, placing two steaming mugs of tea at the table beside you, joining you on the porch. His bark-like skin had weathered and aged since the last time you had seen him, untold sorrows hiding in his deep within the ripples. What atrocities had he witnessed during the war? And what bargains had he had to make to keep his own cabin standing amongst a sea of homes destroyed?

“I’m so sorry Finbark. I should have returned to help you sooner,” you said, your heart clenching as the males eyes warmed with a pain smile. 

“I did not write for a reason. I would never want to drag you into this mess,” he said, waving his hand to the desolate land around him. “Not when you were so aligned with an enemy court.”

You raised the mug to your lips, casting your eyes to the lake before blowing on the hot liquid. He was right, you had no business entering Spring Court at a time like that, never mind that you were completely preoccupied with serving your duties alongside Cassian and Azriel. Gods, your heart ached more than it should just at the thought of them.

You cleared your throat quietly, trying not to dwell. “It sparkles the same,” you spoke distantly, distracting yourself. “The lake, I mean. It still sparkles in the way I remember.”

Finbark chuckled, his eyes warming again. “You and Meryl spent so much time in that lake, I remember your parents debating on how they would have to bribe the two of you out of it.”

You forced a smile back, clenching your mug a little tighter. 

“It was the same for my cousin’s nephews, they adored playing in the water, they would beg their Aunt to come stay for weeks on end.”

“Whatever happened to them?” you asked, unsure if you could handle the truth. 

“Of Alis and the boys?” He paused then, clearing his throat. “They fled to Summer, with some luck and no deniable assistance from your High Lady.”

You had to physically swallow at Feyre’s mention, but the relief was greater to know Finbark’s family was safe. “Well, she’s no longer my High Lady,” you corrected. 

“I’m sorry, I don't mean to upset you.”

“Not at all Fin,” you smiled softly before drawing a deep breath. “I know she is a generous and caring ruler, and I’m grateful your family is safe. I only wish I could have done more.”

“I was protected too Y/N. How do you think it is my home is still standing, or that I am here at all? I’m clever, but not that clever,” he winked. “I have no doubt my relation to Alis and your parents kept me well and safe during the war. No wagons found the trail to my home, no one knocked on my door demanding answers or resources, or to pick up a weapon and fight. It was if I didn't exist at all.”

It clicked then – of course. Alis had been Feyre’s maid at the Spring Manor. Feyre had spoken of her so fondly. And you had been so worried for Finbark’s safety, confiding in your High Lady who had merely comforted you at the time, reassuring you that he would be safe. She and Rhys never mentioned their connection, or the magic they spent to keep Finbark hidden. Your heart ached at the reminder of their generosity. 

“Y/N?” your uncle waved a rippled hand in front of your face, and you blinked before straightening, drawn back from your thoughts. 

Fin sighed with a knowing look. “You don't need to feel guilty about the magic that kept me safe, sweetheart. They wronged you in a very serious way.” 

Your eyebrows clenched as you blinked back the sting of tears. “But they are good people Fin, the lot of them.”

Finbark’s hand rested atop of your forearm, his face soft with understanding. “It changes very little, young spark. The damage is all the same.” Your uncle once again waved his hand out to the barren land around you.

You stood now, setting your tea down – you needed to get out of your head. “I will make one more trip to town tonight, there are some homes still without firewood.”

“At this time? You’ve been working since dawn Y/N, why not rest? It’s not as cold tonight.”

But you were already reaching for your axe. The more you moved, the less you would have to think. “It’ll be alright uncle, I’ll return before midnight.”

He didn't say anything further as you sheathed the weapon to your back, heading up the trail to town where the sun had already began to set. 

————

It had been five months since you had found home in Spring Court. 

At first, you found work serving your uncle’s town. Much of the remaining fae had rural upbringing, with little skill to sustain themselves after their farms, once lush with crops and animals, were destroyed. 

Word spread quick of help from an outside court, and when you were sure the locals could stand on their own two feet, you began to travel, finding town after town with more fae in need. So began your course, trailing further away from your uncle’s cabin at the border and nearing the centre of the court.

Magic found you easier here too. Whether it was the exhaustion from a hard days worth of work, or that you rarely had a moment to think about yourself, you didn't know.

Soon enough, you learned to summon your sparks, lighting fires in homes in an instant or heating food and teas for the ill. It wasn’t much, but you had never yielded so much control, and didn't remember a day when you hadn't feared your abilities since Meryl’s death. Finbark was particularly delighted when you showed him your new trick, clapping with a cheer, reminding you of why he dubbed you young spark.

So much of Spring Court reminded you of your sister, and while it had never been your home, memories of pleasant holidays surrounded by loved ones seemed to wait at every garden, field or bubbling brook you encountered. You welcomed those memories, letting grief wash over you when it came, using it to fuel your determination to keep on working. Grief was a weapon of kinds, and you were only now learning to yield it. You would build a better world for those who were left behind, just like you. 

And over the course of those months, the land around you slowly came to life. Not from your work alone, but as the fae of Spring Court worked together to heal and rebuild, the land began to give back. The grass was greener and more lush now, flowers blossomed instead of dying at the bud, and trees bristled as gentle breezes passed through their luscious leaves. The land wasn’t yet singing, but it began to hum – it was healing, and so were you. And you were sure somewhere out in these lands, so was its High Lord. 

————

“Damn it Rhys! Let us go!” Cassian slammed his fists on the table, silver cutlery and porcelain plates rattling at the force. 

Rhys’s gaze was cold as he glared back at the General. “No,” was all he answered. 

Feyre fidgeted with her hands in her lap, her dinner now cold where her knife and fork set at her plate minutes ago when tension began to brew. She knew there would be another fight tonight – neither Cassian or Azriel had taken the order to begin training the new recruits at the House of Wind well. It reminded them too much of Y/N, and they had spent five months furious with both her and Rhys for placing them on court arrest, stopping them from scouting Prythian to find you.

“Feyre, please,” Cassian begged, his brow clenched in anguish. 

She swallowed, her heart pulling at his pain. “You know we can't Cass, Rhys gave her his word.” The black ink-like marking on her forearm itched at the mention, the symbol of a cross inside a triangle – a treasure and its whereabouts locked in secret. The mark had appeared the same moment Rhys had promised to not trail your location, an identical mark etched to his forearm too.

As part of that promise, the High Lord and Lady had ordered Cassian and Azriel against anything they could do to find you – there was to be no tracking your scent, no using intel from other courts, and no leaving the Night Court to investigate.

Cassian roared in frustration, throwing his head in his hands, gripping at the roots of his hair. “We only want to know she’s safe. If you care for us at all–"

“Enough Cassian!” Rhys bellowed, night filling every void of the room. Everyone froze. 

Rhys pinched his nose, the clouds of his magic lower to a thick fog that covered the floor. “You do not question our care for anyone in this family.”

Azriel spoke then, stiff and stoic from his seat. “It is worth the breach of the bargain you made. We will burden the consequence.”

“It’s not just for the consequence, Azriel,” Feyre answered, meeting the Shadowsinger’s hardened stare. “This was Y/N’s choice. How do you think she will feel knowing we have breached her trust again?”

“I will deal with that after I know she is safe.”

Rhys ran a hand over his face before rubbing at his temples. “As I have said countless times, you will not be granted permission to track her.” Rhys’s power tightened then, yanking on a leash he had kept around the General and Shadowsinger’s necks for months.

“How can you do this to us?” Azriel seethed, knuckles white from where the gripped the table. 

“I don't know Azriel. Perhaps the same way I kept Y/N grounded when you ordered her unfit to kill Alvar.”

Azriel stood then, his seat thrown back. “How dare you,” he spat, shadows racing towards the High Lord.

Rhys stood too, night magic clashing with shadows, a fight for dominance. “Calm yourself,” Rhys growled, staring the Shadowsinger down.

Mor sighed, swirling the wine in her glass from where she sat, fingers strumming the table impatiently. “Can we not go a single dinner without it turning to a fight?” she said flatly, before drawing a long sip.

Azriel’s teeth drew back to a snarl as he whipped his head to her. “Since when did you become so heartless?”

Mor stood, levelling her brown eyes at the Shadowsinger. “Don’t be a fool, I care for Y/N just as much as you. But I trust in my High Lord and Lady to dow that is right. When was the last time you exercised that same loyalty you swore to this court?” Mor paused before speaking again. “You’ve become undone, the both of you. And you will unravel this family if you continue down this path.” 

Feyre threw Mor a grateful look.

Shadows continued to bulk at Azriel’s frame. “She is our love, Mor. Are we not worthy of her whereabouts?”

“No,” Mor said, her voice flat and cold. “You are not. That is your consequence for holding her too tight.”

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his eyes widening as he recoiled ever so slightly. Cassian could not raise his head from where it still hung in his hands, but for a moment he stopped breathing.

Mor softened then, seeing how deep her words had cut. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice still stern. “But it’s true. And I’m tired of having our family torn apart because of a decision that was her right to make. We have to rebuild what is here, what we have left. Otherwise our family will be ruined, and with it our court.”

Cassian took deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold the anguished cry that begged to be released. He had endured months of restlessness heartbreak, and there was no sign of it easing. It was torture.

Azriel looked back at his brother, knowing that pain, feeling it writhe within himself. Wordlessly, he walked to Cassian, clasping a firm hand on his shoulder and winnowing them from the room.

————

It was early one morning after you had set off from your uncle’s cabin, days worth of resources and tools hung from the back of your horse.

The horse was noble, a once well-kept steed that had been abandoned since the war. He had found you in a field, bucking and neighing as you approached. But with a gentle hand to his nose and some soothing commands, he had yielded, reminded of his connection to fae. 

Every great steed deserved a name, and it found you instantly – Podie. It was Nyx’s way of saying “pony”, his chubby finger pointed at the array of horses in the stables when you had taken him with your family, the lot of you chuckling at his adorable attempt. Your heart ached as you thought of the child, of how much he must have grown since you had left the Night Court. So you named your horse in his honour, and relished the comfort it was to feel feel that little bit closer to him.

Finbark had waved you off as the sun was rising, and it was only a few hours later when had you entered the trail you had become so familiar with, headed for the next town on your map. The quiet was tranquil in Spring Court, but in that moment even the birds stopped singing, and an eerie sensation swept you over you, the hairs on your neck standing. Podie’s nostrils flared as harsh breaths blew from his snout, his ears twitching nervously.

Something, or someone, was watching you.

You immediately dismounted, not wanting to zap or upset Podie as began power tickling at your skin. 

“Who’s there?” you spoke, your heart fastening at the rustle from behind the trees. 

For a moment, you thought they had found you, and your heart thundered as you prepared to confront Cassian and Azriel. Would they try to apologise again? Were they here to convince you to return to the Night Court? Perhaps they would go as far to drag you back, kicking and screaming?

Bile rose in your throat as you searched for the peaks of wings or siphons glowing amongst the greenery that rustled. Instead, antlers poked through before revealing narrowed green eyes. Heavy paws padded against the ground as a half-elk, half-lion emerged, prowling towards you.

You startled, fumbling back a few steps, too shocked to find your words. The beast approach, sniffing as sentient eyes scanned you with a knowing look. And as you stared back, you realised quickly who the creature before you was.

Before you could demand it, Tamlin morphed to his fae form, blond hair cropped to his strong shoulders, sharp green eyes fixed on you as he stared you down with a tight jaw. 

There was no question of his beauty – Tamlin was incredibly handsome, even with his face fixed with such a stern and threatening stare. He was not cloaked in green as Feyre had often described him, instead he wore brown working pants and a black shirt that were rolled at the sleeves revealing strong, veiny forearms. He was dressed no better than the working class of his court.

“High Lord,” you greeted as you bowed your head, lowering slightly at one knee. This was his court at the end of the day, no matter what he had done to ruin it. 

He watched you intently, unspeaking and his face softened ever so slightly, his jaw unclenching only a little. 

“Can I help you with something?”

“I’ve come to meet the Night Court emissary who has been assisting in the refuge of my land.” His voice was deep, commanding even after everything he had lost.

“I assure you, I am no longer affiliated with the Night Court. There is no treason to be found here.”

“I know.” He said with a straight face. “I’ve been tracking your work for months.”

You gulped at that. You had hoped to blend in, an anonymous helper with no past and no future.

“Did you think you could enter my court unnoticed?” he questioned, and sharp brown quirking. 

You found your eyes narrowing. “From what I was told, your borders had fallen, and your lands used as a place for sanction after the war. I did not think announcing my arrival was necessary, and you were certainly in no position to refuse my aid.”

Tamlin was unmoved at your tone. Instead he ran that pointed green stare down your body and back up again, flicking them to Podie who stood to the side, grazing on some grass, before settling them back on you. “Why?” he asked. 

“Pardon?”

“Why have you come to aid my court?”

“I care to help those in need.”

“There are plenty across Prythian in need.” Tamlin was scowling now.

There was a beat of silence between you, only the sound of the heavy breaths that left Podie’s nostrils to fill it. 

“What did they do to you?” Tamlin asked. There was no softness in his question.

Now it was your turn to scowl. “I sought your court, High Lord, because I have an uncle who resides by the lake in the south. I knew there was work to be done here, and I had a home at his cabin.”

If your answer satiated Tamlin, he did not let it show, his green eyes continuing to pierce through you. It was a conscious effort not to let your power overcome you in the grasp of his stare. 

“Come to my Manor.”

You choked. “Pardon me?”

The High Lord shuffled then, his first natural movement, and you could have sworn a slight blush tinged his cheeks. “My apologies, I’ve spent so much time in my beast form, it’s easy to forget my manners. Please, join me for a meal at my Manor. It’s the least I can do, to thank you for your contributions.”

Your stare on Tamlin harshened. “I did not do it for you.”

Tamlin merely shrugged. “I’m aware. Regardless, I am grateful.”

You had only heard of Tamlin’s Manor through Feyre’s stories, how he had warded the home, trapping her within, hurting her with that uncontrollable rage of his. You had little interest in seeing the place where this occured, a small tether of loyalty to Feyre ignited at the thought.

You may as well have said it out loud, as Tamlin tracked the movements in your eyes before bowing his head. 

“The choice is yours, of course.”

You swallowed, observing the male before you. A High Lord would never bow their head for such a thing. 

That smallest of behaviours begged so many questions. Was he sorry? Was he ashamed? Was it possible Tamlin had learnt from his mistakes, and had grown to be a better High Lord? 

He reminded you so much of the males you once loved – a good heart with mislead direction. If he had shed of his possessive and controlling nature – you craved to see it, you needed to know it possible, even if it was in someone else. 

So you realised there was a part of you that wanted to go to the Manor and join Tamlin for an evening, to answer that question alone. You could attend for one meal, just to plug the hole in your heart for a night.

“Alright. I’ll visit your manor,” you said impartially.

Tamlin nodded once. “Is there a time that suits you best?”

You looked back at Podie, waving an arm to the gear and resources strapped to his saddle. “I will spend three days in Rellford to assist with building a new market. With another afternoon of travel I can make it to your Manor in four days time.”

Talmlin nodded again, smiling softly now, the pull of his mouth catching your breath as his handsomeness was further revealed. “I look forward to it, Y/N L/N.” After a low bow, Tamlin was once again a beast, treading away and leaving you to continue your journey.  

————

You stood awkwardly at the door to the Tamlin’s Manor, your hand hung in the air, unable to make the first knock. 

The gate had willed itself open, and you were surprised to see the exterior well kept, almost immaculate. Rhys had described it differently from his last visit, ivy overgrown and no maids or servicemen to be seen. But a stable boy had helped you dismount on arrival, guiding Podie by his reins with a polite bow. 

You smoothed out the skirts of your dress, self conscious of the scent of the horse you undoubtedly carried. You wore a humble frock, feminine and loose, one that allowed for a few hours of riding. The countless bold and revealing gowns you had once loved were left behind at the Night Court, they had no place in the new life you were building. With a final shake of your head, you willed yourself to knock on the large arched doors. 

But before your fist made contact, the doors swung open, revealing a maid. 

“Hello,” she said sweetly.

“H-hi.”

“Come inside.”

And so you did, taking in the impressive home. Natural light poured in from all around, floor length windows cast open as sheers danced gently as the breeze passed through. Tasteful vases of Spring’s finest flowers decorated the space, with countless rooms joining the space and a grand staircase that led to reveal even more of the manor. 

The maid lead you to a sitting room, the space just as light an airy, with no door, just an open archway. This was not what you had imagined at all.

“The High Lord is expecting you, but he apologises as he has a meeting that has run over. He won't be too long, but would like to convey his apologies,” she said with pep. “You can wait here, M’Lady. Would you care for something to drink?”

You silently took a seat at the lounge she had waved at, looking behind at the floor to ceiling bookshelves that aligned the room. It was a tasteful room, and you thought you could spend all day he curled up with a good book. 

“No, no thank you,” you eventually said, slow to respond in your awe of the house. 

With a bouncy courtesy, the maid left you to be. 

Standing immediately, you moved to inspect the books, fingering their spines and muttering their titles aloud. 

“Flora and Fauna of the Spring Season. How to Care for Roses and Thorns Alike.”

Your ears pricked as two sets of footsteps making their way down the staircase, and deep voices spoke in discussion. 

“I would be grateful for the resources Tamlin. And it’s clear you are mending your court. I would be happy to align with you once again.” 

You knew that voice – Tarquin.

“I’m glad, and yes, we are making progress. Though it would be insincere of me to accept any credit. I thank the people of my court, and I have had aid from others too.”

The males passed the open archway to the reading room, Tarquin stopping in his tracks. 

“Y/N?”

You froze, book still in hand. “Greetings, Tarquin,” you said thickly, barely able to swallow. 

Tarquin cast his magnificent blue eyes to Tamlin for just a moment, and you were sure if you had blinked you would have missed it. You glanced at Tamlin too, who showed no sign of discomfort. 

Tarquin was quick to recover from his shock, making his way over to greet you, embracing you with open arms and a quick kiss to each of your cheeks.

“I’m sorry to have heard of your departure from the Nigh Court,” he said, blue eyes fixed on you with a warm, sorry smile. 

You smiled back softly, rubbing his arms where they held your shoulders. “That is kind, Tarquin. I am sorry too.” You fought the urge to embrace him again – it was so nice to see a friend. 

Tamlin waited by the archway, his hands behind his back as he watched your interaction with passive curiosity. 

“And how did you find yourself in Spring?” Tarquin asked. 

You shrugged. “I have an uncle here, and I wanted to work to help repair that lost in the war.”

Tarquin nodded. “Yes, Tamlin was telling that he was quite impressed with you. And I must say, it’s encouraging to see how much progress has been made.”

You flicked your eyes to Tamlin who remained unmoved. He had credited you to another High Lord? You blushed lightly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

“And what of Varian and Cresseida? Are they well?” you skilfully diverted the conversation.

Tarquin grinned. “Varian is well, and Cresseida is engaged.”

“Engaged!” you burst, a smile so wide on your face as you thought of her. She was always a romantic. 

“Yes, she’s quite excited, as is the rest of the family. You will keep your eye out for an invitation to the wedding, yes?”

You blushed again – you were unsure how the news would be received by the other High Lords of your leaving, it was nice to know you were still considered you a friend at Summer. “Of course, Tarquin. I would be honoured to celebrate with you all.”

Tarquin smiled at that, before turning back to Tamlin. “What a jewel you have here in your court Tamlin. You won't take her for granted I hope.” You could sense the warning laced in his tone. 

Tamlin lowered his eyes slightly, a small gesture, but in the language of High Lords it spoke volumes. Understanding, submission, guilt even. “I wouldn’t dare of it,” he spoke, hands still clasped behind his back.

Tarquin seemed reassured at that. “I must journey back. A delight to see you Y/N, do take care, and come visit whenever you find suitable.”

You agreed to that, watching Tarquin shake Tamlins hand before leaving the Manor. 

“I apologise for making you wait,” Tamlin said with a soft smile. He seemed stiff still, and you wondered if he nervous to host you.

You eyed the High Lord up and down. “Not at all. I’m just… a little surprised to have our meetings overlap.”

Tamlin nodded with understanding. “I have nothing to hide Y/N. It is a lesson I should have learned long ago.”

You nodded at that, looping your arm through Tamlin’s outstretched one as he lead you through to on a tour of the Manor. 

————

The meal with Tamlin was far more enjoyable that you had thought it would be, food and company alike. He did not lead you to a dining room, instead, a small table was set in the balcony overlooking the estate, the warm spring breeze gentle as the sun set over the groomed gardens, rows of trees and flowering bushes tinged with orange from the sunset.

The conversation was awkward at first, Tamlin was nervous, and it didn't help that you headed every comment with caution. But after a few sips of wine, and a few jokes exchanged, it seemed you and the High Lord had much in common. 

You felt yourself relaxing, joking and laughing with ease. It was nice to chat and enjoy the company of another, something you hadn’t done since Azriel killed Alvar. You hadn't realised that in throwing yourself in work, you had deprived yourself from any true fun. Perhaps Tamlin had seen that, perhaps that’s why he invited you here.

He hadn't asked or pried of your past, only talking of your work with immense gratitude. And when you told him of your childhood memories in his court, Tamlin beamed with pride, his face fixed with a smile and his posture a little more straight. That of course, lead to the conversation of Meryl. 

“And what of your sister?” Tamlin asked. “Where does she reside now?”

“Ah,” you said, before drawing a long sip of wine, taking a moment before you could will yourself to respond. “Unfortunately Meryl was murdered by one of Hybern’s own spies.”

Pain sliced across Tamlin’s face, his green eyes panicked before he bowed his head in shame. “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.” Blond strands fell in front of his face, his strong hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

“Tamlin, it’s alright. It was many years ago, well before the war.” 

He looked at you then, his face softening. He knew what you were saying – it was before he allied himself with Hybern. He was not to blame.

“I was a fool to have ever opened my borders to him,” Tamlin said thickly, casting his eyes down. 

“I could not agree more,” you replied, before offering him a tight smile. You were certain he regretted many of his choices, but it was reassuring to hear.

“Was your sister’s death how you found yourself as a Night Court emissary?”

You nodded. “That’s right. I was motivated to protect others, and largely driven to avenge Meryl.” Speaking of your past after all that had happened, it seemed to foreign to you now. You no longer knew the girl you were when you had found a home in Velaris.

“It would seem that is still very true,” Tamlin complimented. 

“In some ways, yes,” you agreed, unsure if he caught the blush on your cheeks. “But also untrue in others.”

Tamlin waited patiently, but didn't push. The choice was yours to continue. 

So you told him of your time at the Night Court, of the decade you had spent training with Cassian and Azriel. You spoke of the extent of your training, and how after a few years friendship had turned to love, and the family had welcomed you with open arms. 

Dancing around the details of the Night Court, you were careful not to expose Velaris or other sensitive information – you were not here to damn the court, you were only telling your story.

And as you spoke, Tamlin listened intently without casting judgement, just patiently absorbing your story, nodding where he understood and asking questions where he didn’t. He never pried, nor did he ask for more detail of the Night Court, or of Feyre and Rhys. 

Finally, you explained what lead to you leaving your old life behind, how you were betrayed by your loves and wider family, and how your one true shot to avenge your sister was stolen from you.

As you finished, you drew a big breath, and an even bigger sip of wine. You slouched further into your seat, relaxing as you felt free from the weight of bottling your truth for so long.

Tamlin watched you for a moment, before drawing a long breath. “Would you like to know what I think?”

You raised your brows, toying with your glass of wine. “Do tell.”

“I feel you were treated with an utter lack of empathy, and it was cruel to not at least tell you of the mission. I’m sorry that you were hurt in such a way. They are fools to have mistreated you so greatly, and I know this because… not only am I fully capable of such behaviour, but it is so similar to how I had treated Feyre.”

Your eyes went wide at his confession, your brows clenching at the way it made your heart ache.

“I know what it is to love another so fiercely, you stop seeing them as someone, and start seeing them as something. It was a lesson I learned only when I lost everything – my love, my council, my entire damn court. I was vengeful, jealous, and I would have torn the world in half to claim what I thought belonged to me. But I had no one to blame but myself, and I’ve learnt nothing is mine to ever own or control, no matter how much that scares me. In all truths Y/N, I am sickened that so many were hurt and lost for me to learn that lesson, and I’m so sorry that you were hurt for Azriel and Cassian to learn theirs.”

You blinked at Tamlin, swallowing your shock. “That is… a very honest confession.”

Tamlin gave you a tight smile before shrugging. “Honesty is all I have.”

You returned his smile, extended a hand to rest on his forearm. “If you ask me, honesty and trust are the only true currency of this life.”

Tamlin raised his brows then, whether he was shocked by your words or by your touch you couldn't tell. His green eyes met yours, sincerity swarming as he held you in a soft gaze. “Fae like you have known that all along though. And it is males like me who hurt those infinitely wiser, like you.”

You chuckled then. “I’m not perfect Tamlin, far from it. I think all we can do is try to be better, and work to ensure we don't hurt those that we love through our imperfections.”

Tamlin’s eyes warmed. “I think you’re right,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. 

And maybe it was the wine, or the way your heart swelled at the honestly and sincerity of his confession, but all of the fibres of your being begged you to lean a little closer, to bask in his warmth and comfort, and even press your lips to his. 

With a flick of his eyes to your lips, you knew Tamlin felt the same draw to you. He placed a large hand over your own that rested on his forearm. “Y/N, you must know I didn't invite you here to… disrupt, or interfere with–"

“I know,” you interrupted him, smiling softly.

Tamlin paused, eyes darting between yours. “Your company has been a delightful surprise. But I would hate for you to regret–"

“My life in the Night Court is behind me Tamlin. I have built a life of my own, and this is the path I choose.”

Tamlin moved then, a large hand coming to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and he gave you a pained look, as if physically trying to restrain himself. “I don't mean to lecture the more wise,” he said softly. “But if you feel that I can change or grow or learn from my mistakes, don’t you believe Azriel and Cassian can too?”

Your eyes fluttered close, your brow pulling at the weight of his question. “I suppose.” 

“And if they have changed, or at least try to, do you think that you might want to forgive them?”

You opened your eyes, holding Tamlin’s gaze with a serious expression. “Forgiveness is one thing. But I will never return to the life I had with them Tamlin, not like that. Too much has happened.” 

“Hmm,” Tamlin hummed thoughtfully. He waited a moment, green eyes drinking in your face, scanning your features delicately as you blushed, closing your eyes again to bare the intensity.

When Tamlin spoke again, his tone was a lot more assured. “I can see you have are still in the thick of processing what has happened, Y/N. And for that reason alone, it would be improper to kiss you right now, despite how much I want to.”

You were frowning as you opened your eyes, finding a sorry smile planted on Tamlin’s face. 

“You’re a cruel High Lord,” you joked flatly, returning the pained smile and holding the hand he kept to your face. 

“I’ll work on that,” he chuckled, pulling both your hands in his before kissing them. 

“Come,” he said, standing from his chair and offering you his hand. “I’m yet to show you the gardens.”

————

“Coming!” Amrin barked at the third rapping on her door, the knocks growing more impatient. Slinking into a silver silk robe, she opened the door to reveal Cassian and Azriel, their cheeks more hollow and bags even darker than the last time she had seen them a few weeks ago. 

“Gods, you both look awful,” she said plainly before walking further into her apartment, not checking to see if they followed. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Azriel grumbled. 

“Working from home, if you will.”

“Why?” Cassian asked defensively. 

“You know the answer, brutes. All of that fighting and tension, it gives me a headache.”

Azriel scowled, crossing his arms across his chest, shadows stretching across Amren’s apartment with familiarity. 

“You’re sensitive at the best of times,” Cassian bit back.

“Why are you here?” Amren spoke plainly, sounding bored by their presence. 

Cassian approached Amren while Azriel lingered back. “Help us,” Cassian said. 

Amren scoffed. “You know I can’t, boy.”

Cassian’s brows clenched before he moved to his knees, squatting in front of Amren as she lounged in a chair. “Please, Amren, do you have anything? Information from an outside court, or a lead on her whereabouts?”

Amren levelled her silver eyes with his brown ones. “Why do you torture yourself with such questions? Y/N is quite capable of taking care of herself, you know.”

“C’mon Cass, let’s just go,” Azriel said tightly from behind. From the tension in the room, it was hard to remember they were serving the same throne.

“You want my advice? The both of you need to be patient. If it takes her an eternity to forgive you, then so be it. There is nothing you can do to force that.”

“We can't just switch it off Amren, it doesn't work like that.”

“The Illyrian possessiveness, or the hopelessly in love part?” Amren mocked. “Y/N is mending herself, and I applaud that. I suggest you take a page from her book and start to do the same.”

Azriel had already stalked for the door when Amren started to mock, but she called him a few paces shy. “Whatever you took, I suggest you leave it behind,” she said, her tone almost playful. 

Azriel froze, before letting go of a gold piece of card, the paper fluttering to the floor as he and Cassian stalked out, slamming the door behind them. 

“What was that?” Cassian asked with a whisper. 

Azriel hushed him, nodding as he walked forward, waiting until they had made it a few streets from Amren’s home. 

“A wedding invitation. For Creseida.”

Cassian’s eyes light up. “Do you think–?”

“Perhaps, but I don't think we’d be welcomed company if Y/N does attend. Rhys and Feyre will surely keep us here.”

“So we keep our walls up. We won’t disclose to know of the wedding, and that way the bargain will never be broken.”

Azriel nodded. “The only risk is Amren, should she mention that I saw the invitation.”

Cassian sighed, running his hand through his long hair. “I sure as hell hope she can keep her mouth shut.”

--------

Part 4>>>>

AN: Omgosh, you guys have been so so patient with this part, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I sincerely hope you liked it, it was so much fun to introduce Tamlin and explore the way he might be healing after the war. Not to mention writing a few wins for our reader?? She deserves it.

Also how the Inner Curcle is just falling to shit without her 💅🏼 I so look forward to exploring the TEA at this wedding.... I always want to know what you guys think, so feel free to drop a comment, and if you'd like to join my general tag list, or just for Our Girl, drop a comment too :) Thank you always for your support <3

#acotar series #cazriel series #cazriel x you #cazriel angst #cazriel #acotar angst #acotarfanfic #azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x cassian x y/n #azriel x cassian x you #azriel x cassian angst #inner circle angst #tamlin x reader #tamlin #acotar #rhysand angst #azriel angst #cassian angst #tamlin redemption #azriel x you #cassian x you #acotar fan fiction #acotar fanfic #amrin #mor acotar

[nightsandrewrites]

Autumn Court's Visit

Pairing: Cassian x Azriel

Summary: Cassian found himself in a dark corner of Rita’s nursing his third drink. It wasn’t enough to even give him a buzz yet thanks to his Illyrian heritage but the night was still young. A tall fae male approached his table, slightly shorter than Azr-, nope he wasn’t thinking about that.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, mentions of burns a/n: much jealousy, much fluff. OC from Autumn Court. Enjoy!

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

Eight days. Eight days the Autumn court guests had resided in The House of Wind and Cassian was this close to losing it. Six months ago Eris had finally succeeded his father as High Lord of the Autumn Court. His accession to the title was messy, but was it ever not when it came to ruling lands and courts? Eris had employed a couple of skilled Daemati in his court to ensure that anyone who wished to be in his inner circle had honourable intentions and no Beron supporters remained. A wise first move as High Lord Cassian thought.

He couldn’t say the same of his own High Lords decisions as of late. As soon as the thought passed through his mind he regretted it. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t Rhysand’s fault he was now laying into a training dummy on the roof, picturing it as another certain Illyrian. He threw a couple more jabs into the sack, appreciating the distraction of slicing pain as his bare skin split from the force of contact.

Rhysand had reached out to Eris and offered for the Autumn Court to come visit Velaris. He wanted to begin mending the friction between their courts, to start fresh now that Eris was High Lord. He hoped that their previous tentative understandings could be strengthened to allegiance, if it was ever required again. Rhys was quick to organise the meeting, assigning the visiting court to stay at the House of Wind. Cassian only grumbled a little when finding out, given it was his and Azriel’s home. But as Rhys explained, it made the most sense. It kept them from roaming Velaris at will, they were free to visit but it didn't mean Rhys didn’t want to keep an eye on them. They would be comfortable there once they had inspected the wards and realised no one could winnow in or out. And finally it gave reason for Cassian and Azriel to be hanging around, built in guards.

When Eris arrived he had brought only four of his court with him. It appeared their roles were an advisor, an emissary and a couple of warriors. One of the warriors, Cassian quickly discovered, was a fire wielder like Eris. The first two days had gone rather smoothly, the two courts had sat down for both formal talks and informal drinks. Everyone seemed rather open to a fresh start and a new path between their two peoples. Azriel had missed those early days, off on a reconnaissance to the continent, and Cassian had missed the Illyrian.

The War Lord and The Shadowsinger had long ago fallen into each other's beds. Seeking comfort in entwined bodies and shared breaths. They never attempted to stick a label on it, they were as they had always been, Cassian and Azriel. Cassian knew their family must suspect something by now but no one ever brought it up, so they left it at that. Days as loyal servants to the Night Court and nights in eachothers arms, The House of Wind all to themselves.

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

It was day three when Azriel returned. Both courts were spread through the dining room enjoying post dinner drinks, conversations flowing. “Sorry for interrupting” Azriel nodded to the new guests as he entered the room. “Not at all, it’s good to see you back Az.” Rhysand’s smile was wide, glad to have his family all back in one place again. He began introducing Azriel to the new members of Eris’ court. Azriel greeted them all with a nod and a small smile.

Cassian subconsciously ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he took in the Spymaster. His eyes flicked over him as if he would be able to see any new scars through Azriel’s leathers. He would find them later if they were there, he knew every inch of the Illyrian off by heart. He combed over the strong leathery wings behind him, unmarked. He moved on to his deep hazel eyes, tired but bright. Once he concluded that Azriel was unhurt in any serious matter, he moved on to more unsavory thoughts. About how he was going to stroke those wings later tonight, how he was going to run kisses along those broad shoulders, how he would run his hand down the muscled planes of his stomach an- Okay Cassian needed to get it together before the scent of arousal gave him away. Azriel excused himself to go bathe and change and suddenly Cassian wasn’t interested in the conversations that continued around the table. His mind following the Shadowsinger down the hall. He turned back to the drink in front of him only to find Rhys raising an eyebrow from across the table. Cassian's only response was to pick up his glass and drink deeply. 

Azriel returned once everyone had moved to the lounge, procuring a plate of food and a drink of his own. He quickly fell into conversation with one of Eris’ warriors Maril. The night wore on and Cassian’s patience wore thin. Individuals began excusing themselves for the night but Azriel didn’t budge from near the fire and his deep conversation with the Autumn Court fae. Cassian eventually decided to retire for the night and wait for Azriel from the comfort of his bed. They had separate rooms next door to each other in one of the wings, even after all these years, they had still kept their own spaces. But more often than not they found themselves falling into Cassian’s sheets as he had claimed the room with the biggest bed. As he bid the room goodnight, Azriel didn’t even look up, instead murmuring something that had Maril roaring with laughter.

Cassian huffed as he flung himself into his bed. He just wanted to welcome home his Shadowsinger but now this dumb Autumn Court was here cockblocking him. Eventually he drifted into an uneasy sleep as he waited for Azriel to arrive.

—----------------------------------------

He woke the next morning to realise that Azriel hadn’t arrived at all. That for the first time in Cauldron knows how long Azriel hadn’t sought out Cassian when returning from a mission. Was something wrong? Had they trusted the Autumn Court too soon and they had turned on Azriel last night when he was left with them in the lounge? Cassian quickly dressed and paced down the hall to the kitchen only to find Azriel sitting at the table with their guests, freshed face and enjoying breakfast. Cassian waited all day for a chance to corner Azriel, to see where his head was at after returning from the continent. But the opportunity never came. The house was packed as they trained, had meals or sat and discussed court business. Once he thought he might have finally had a moment alone with the Shadowsinger as he approached the doors to the balcony Azriel had just entered. Only to find him there marveling at the fire Maril had conjured around his hand. At night Cassian would sit until his eyes drooped, until he had no choice but to retire to his room.

One night, he decided he was done waiting. He’d opened the door to Azriel’s room and made himself comfortable under the covers. Rhysand had sent Azriel to check in with his other court contacts and he wouldn’t return until late. Try to avoid me now Cassian thought as he’d rolled over and waited for the Spymaster to return. 

Voices had woken Cassian from his sleep. He’d opened his eyes to see it was still dark outside, he must have only nodded off for a couple of hours. He’d frozen as he’d realised it was Azriel walking down the hall talking with Maril.

“I can show you if you’d like.” Azriel offered to the male as they’d approached. “That would be great yeah.” Maril seemed enthusiastic about whatever he’d just agreed to. “I’ll jus-” Azriel’s voice froze as he reached the doorway. Obviously taking in the large form of the War Lord in his bed. Cassian didn’t move, pretending to be asleep as Azriel took a step into the room.  “Must’ve had too much to drink and missed his room by one.” He heard the Shadowsinger chuckle as he’d begun closing the door. “Guess you're swapping tonight!” Maril had laughed as their voices retreated back down the hall.

Cassian’s chest ached and tears pricked the corner of his eyes and a sob caught in the back of his throat. Was Azriel bringing that male to his bed? Would he have even said anything to Cassian if he did? In all the time they had been together, neither Illyrian had sought out other company, but should Cassian take the hint Azriel was clearly giving him this week?

------------------------------------ The final straw was when Cassian had walked on to the roof this morning ready to train, only to find Azriel and Maril sitting knee to knee on the ground. Both of them had their hands out, half a foot between them. Azriel’s shadows twisted and spun around his left hand and extended over Maril’s right. In Maril’s left hand his own flames and Cassian almost choked as he realised Marils flames were swirling around Azriel’s right. Cassian turned on his heel and left before he could fall to his knees, his legs almost giving out on him. He paced back and forth once he returned to his room.

Azriel hated flames. It took years for him just to sit still in the same room as an open fire. Cassian knew because he had worshiped the burn scars that lingered on the Shadowsinger’s body, and knew the mental scars that went along with them. He had convinced the Illyrian that it didn’t make Cassian see him any differently, that he still wanted him all the same. Not to mention he had always thought of Azriel’s shadows as an extension of the Illyrian himself. They rarely left his side, would only brush against the cheeks of family and, Cassian thought until now, had only curled around him. But did he even know Azriel anymore? This past week felt like he was a stranger. And fine if Azriel was moving on, had finally become bored of the Illyrian warrior with no extra fancy fae powers then he wouldn’t get in his way.

—---------------------- That’s how Cassian wound up taking his anger out on the training dummy in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He couldn’t stand to be inside on the last day of Eris’ visit, hearing the promises of an equivalent visit to the Autumn Court. Just Cassian’s fucking luck that he’d have to do this all over again sometime soon. He swung a right hook to the head as more skin split and beads of red appeared at his knuckles. He dropped his hands and decided he needed a better way to let off steam.

After quickly bathing and changing Cassian found himself breathing a little easier now he soared above Velaris in the first moments of twilight. He’d have to apologise to Rhys later for missing the formal goodbye to the visiting court but he couldn’t stand to watch any more interactions between Azriel and Maril. He knew he would stand their reading into every word, every flicker of emotion, wondering where he went wrong. Wondering why he was no longer enough to hold the Shadowsinger’s affections.

—-----------------

Cassian found himself in a dark corner of Rita’s nursing his third drink. It wasn’t enough to even give him a buzz yet thanks to his Illyrian heritage but the night was still young. A tall fae male approached his table, slightly shorter than Azr-, nope he wasn’t thinking about that.

“Mind if I sit?” he motioned to the chair next to Cassian. “Sure.” Cassian nodded. The male had soft brown hair and his matching eyes flashed with pure lust as he took in the Illyrian. Cassian found that he didn’t quite mind the newfound attention. “Are you here with friends?” The male cast a look around the room. “Not tonight, you?” Cassian flexed his wings a little behind him in a small show of dominance. The male tracked the movement with a look of determination. “A few, but I don’t mind going home with someone else.” He smirked. Cassian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand before he saw the male's face drop.

“He’s already got plans tonight.” Azriel’s gravelly voice sent chills down Cassian’s spine, but he mastered himself and spun in his seat to face the Shadowsinger. “I didn’t realise there was somewhere I needed to be?” Cassian professed, but it was too late. The male had already jumped up and disappeared into the crowd. Cassian didn’t blame him as he took in Azriel’s face. The lethal stare of the Night Courts Spymaster was focused upon him.

Azriel didn’t say any more as he reached out for Cassian’s arm and winnowed them away. It wasn’t a particularly polite exit from the bar, but Azriel had disappeared at a moment's notice enough times that most patrons didn’t bat an eye. They reappeared above the House of Wind and Cassian tore his arm from Azriel’s grip as they glided to the roof.

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

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Azriel growled as they reached the ground.

“Enjoying a night out, what does it look like?” Cassian snapped. He turned to leave but a wall of dark shadows blocked his way.  “How did you know where I was anyway?” 

“I’ve had shadows tailing you since the night you fell asleep in my bed, if you’d bothered to notice.” Azriel huffed and folded his arms across his chest. And fuck, Cassian should have noticed that. Azriel had trained him to look for tails and spies, and had versed him in all the methods Azriel employed himself.

“Right,” Cassian chuckled darkly, turning to watch Azriel’s reaction. “Wouldn’t want to have your new fuck buddy accidently running into your old one.” Azriel’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you with him, with Maril” he spat the name. “Were you even going to say anything or was a heads up just too much effort?” “Cass..” Azriel’s arms dropped to his side “Maril was just a way in, a way to gather information for Rhys about the Autumn Court’s intentions, but then we got talking and found we had more in common than we thought.”

“Yeah, then when you tried to take him to bed I was in the way!” Cassian snarled. “You were awake?” Azriel looked surprised. He’d heard enough. He didn’t want to hear about Azriel’s new love story. He turned to the house brushing through Azriel’s shadows. “Cassian, wait let me explain.” Azriel’s steps traced Cassians but he kept striding for the door. Suddenly Azriel’s shadows were cutting in front of him forcing him to stop. “Don’t make me restrain you.” Azriel warned. Cassian turned on him then. “I’d like to see you try.” He seethed. Only two paces separated them as shadows continued to twirl and spin behind Cassian.

“Baby,” Azriel started softly, Cassian flinched at the regular pet name. “I didn’t try to take anyone to bed. Rhys was returning Maril to the house after a night out as I was coming back.” Cassian watched Azriel carefully as he explained, searching for the deception in his words. “He was happy to keep the evening going, we chatted as we walked and I was about to leave him at the door to change when we found you.” He took a step closer and Cassian held his ground.

“That morning, your shadows were..” Cassian's eyes fell to the centre of the roof, he couldn’t bring himself to repeat what he saw. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out. Maril noticed my scars.” Azriel held up his hands, palms turned down. “He told me about his own, also given to him by his brothers before he was old enough to master his abilities. They covered his arms. He told me it took years for him to not be afraid of what his own mind could conjure. He said that he could show me how to get over the fear. Use my own abilities to offset the sensation of flames on my skin. That’s what we were training to do that morning.”

“You didn’t tell me.” Cassian kept his eyes on the roof, he could feel the tears swelling in the back of his throat “You never came to me when you returned from the continent.” “Fuck Cass.” Azriel closed the distance between them then. Pulling Cassian's chin up so he could meet his eyes. “When I came back, an enemy was in our home. Not a real enemy, but a foreign court, a threat.” Azriel rubbed a thumb along Cassian’s jawline. “I shut down. I didn’t come to you because I couldn’t risk them finding out about you.” His voice dropped then, lowering to an almost whisper ”I can withstand a lot Cassian, Hel I’ve got enough scars to prove it. But I couldn’t let them figure out the one thing that could break me. The one thing they could use to get me to do anything. You.” 

Cassian’s heart ached at the confession. The two of them had always been physical, yes, but so much had been left unsaid. Silent understandings in the night.

“I had to keep my distance, I couldn’t let anything slip. I was watching them while they were here, yes. But they were also watching us.” Azriel dropped his forehead to Cassian’s. “I made a joke that you were drunk as an excuse for you being in my bed that night, hoping Maril would buy it. I had some of my shadows trailing you after that just in case he saw through it.” He sighed. “They told me when that male sat down with you tonight.” Azriel pulled back then, hurt briefly flashed in his eyes and in that moment Cassian would have done anything to chase it away.

“I thought you were done, with us” Cassian’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “I thought you’d found someone more worthy of your time, a match to your extra abilities.” Cassian feebly waved his hand around mimicking Azriel’s shadow casting. “I just… I thought I had realized too late that what we had between us, it was never just about the physical release for me.” Cassian confessed, dropping his hand back to his side.

Azriel took up Cassian’s hand in his own and interlaced their fingers.

“It isn’t for me either. There will never be a better match for me than the Illyrian Warrior with seven red siphons, twins to my own.” He leaned in and nipped softly at Cassian’s lips. Azriel began trailing kisses down the War Lord’s jaw and started down his neck. Cassian almost let out a whine as the Shadowsinger pulled back. Eyes now dark and full of his own shadows. “You are mine." Azriel growled. "You don’t look at, touch or fuck anyone without my say so.” He rubbed his thumb along Cassian’s bottom lip. Cassian almost went to his knees right then and there. “And I am yours.” He dipped his head down and kissed Cassian fully.

#acotar #acotar fic #cazriel #cassianpov #cassian #azriel #cassian x azriel #azriel x cassian #bat boys

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 8 — Reunited and it Feels So Good

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: Ya'll this part is good but the next one (which is only half finished) is imho the best one yet!!!!

Click here to be added to the taglist so you never miss an update!

Warnings: Angst, some smut

Azriel falls into your open, waiting arms, body wracking with full-force sobs. You stagger back but luckily Cassian is there to catch you. He wraps his arms around both of you and kicks the door shut with his foot before sliding to the floor.

After gently manhandling you into place, he’s got both of you balanced on his lap. Az buries his head into the crook of Cas’s neck and you rest your forehead in between Az’s shoulder blades, just above the spot where his wings connect to his back. You press him against Cas’s chest and focus on sending love and reassurance through the bond to strengthen it on Azriel’s side.

It’s okay, you murmur through the bond. You’re home, you’re safe.

We’re here, love, Cas adds, sending wave after wave of shimmering gold and red towards Az. His red mixes with Az’s blue and swirls with your purple until the three strands of magic braid together, becoming one again.

Az’s sobs taper off into soft gasps and he clutches Cas.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hoarse and quiet. His shadows swirl around the three of you as an extra layer of protection, keeping all of the love and magic contained in a tight ball in order to help heal their master’s mind faster.

“Oh, baby,” you mutter against his skin, wrapping your arms around him from behind to rub your hands in slow, lazy circles around his belly button.

“I shouldn’t have blocked you out. Not that much, I just… I was so scared.” Az’s voice breaks on the last word, the sobs lurking just under the surface threatening to come back out. Words tumble out of his mouth, a waterfall of apologies and regrets. “Things are getting so bad down there—I couldn’t let them get to you. I was…I would’ve stayed there as long as I had to, until I could be sure that you’d be safe.”

“Hey, hey, hey, shhh,” Cas shushes him.

“We didn’t know what would happen, either.” You say.

“You’re not mad at me?” Az asks, bright hazel eyes blinking up at Cas first, then turning to focus on you.

“We’ll never be mad at you for trying to protect us,” you assure him, voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss between Az’s shoulder blades.

“You’re ours,” Cassian growls. His possessiveness hits you like a blow to the head; suddenly, it’s like there’s a feral cat in your chest trying to claw its way to Azriel. You tighten your grip around his waist, pushing yourself flush to his back as Cas slams his lips against Az’s.

It’s instinctual, the way Az surges forward, his fight or flight mode easily activated after his recent mission. You try to channel some calm his way, and eventually it works because he’s able to pull himself out of that dominant headspace, melting against your chest as he gives himself over to Cas.

Cas grunts, reaching one arm around to tap against your ass. Combined with the disjointed images flashing through your mind from Cassian’s side of the bond, you get the hint and scramble off of his lap, tugging Azriel back with you.

Az whimpers at the loss of contact and tugs on the hairs at the nape of Cassian’s neck, beckoning him forward.

I’m yours, he says through the bond, sending all of his pent-up arousal along with it. You feel it course through your veins, curling your toes. Cas slips out from under Az and pushes on his chest until you’ve got a lap full of dark waves.

Using your fingers, you comb through Az’s tangled locks with your fingers, channeling a bit of healing magic out through your touch. He sinks further into your lap and you move to his shoulders, working out the knots surrounding his wings.

Cas coaxes Az’s leathers open, tearing the fabric of his undershirt to reveal the planes of his abs.

“Fuck, baby,” Cas groans, sliding his hips back and lowering his lips to the crook of Az’s neck, using soft bites and soothing sucks to coax a needy whine from deep in the Shadowsinger’s throat. It doesn’t take long for him to move lower, trailing kisses down the lean, muscled planes of Az’s stomach, letting his tongue dip into every groove.

When Cas’s nose brushes against the wiry hairs beneath Az’s belly button, Az’s back arches, subconsciously trying to guide Cas lower. Cas lifts his head to smirk at you as he pops open the buttons of Az’s pants one by one until they’re loose enough to shimmy down, freeing Az’s cock. It springs up, leaking against his stomach.

Kiss-bitten lips wrap around the tip and Az’s hands reach back to clamp around your thighs, fingernails dulled by your soft linen sleep pants.

“Fuck,” he whines as Cas slowly lowers his head until his nose is buried in the thick patch of dark curls at the base of Az’s cock. Az squeezes his eyes shut, head tilting back as Cas lifts his hips off the floor. “‘M not gonna last.”

You trail your hands down his chest, grazing the pads of your fingers over his nipples, and lean down to whisper in his ear.

“It’s okay, babe. Just let us take care of you.”

With your lips sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin on his neck and Cas trying to fully swallow his dick, it doesn’t take long for Az to tense up and then fall back, eyes watering as he shoots his release down Cas’s throat.

There’s no trace of it when Cas lifts his head up and wipes the back of his hand across his satisfied smirk. Seeing Az fully relaxed with his head in your lap makes Cas’s heart clench, sending waves of love down the bond.

“C’mon, love,” he says, tugging on Az’s hands to help him up. Az’s eyes flutter open, staring up at Cas through a pleasure and exhaustion induced haze. You stand up, helping maneuver Az into a standing position, and head to the kitchen to make tea while Cas gets Az settled in the middle of the bed.

Armed with a tray of tea and pastries, you gently push the door open to reveal Az clinging to Cas, curled up on his side and tucked into the space between Cas’s arm and torso. Soft snores fill the room, making you giggle. With a wave of your hand, you send the tray to the bedside table, instructing your magic to keep the tea warm.

You wrap yourself around Az from behind, reaching your arm as far as it can go and making grabby hands at Cas. He chuckles and slides his free hand into yours, squeezing tightly.

“He’s home,” you breath, letting yourself melt into the mattress.

“Yeah,” Cas echoes, fondness shimmering in his eyes as he takes in the sight of his mates tucked safely next to him in bed. “Our boy is home.”

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638@hnyclover @anutellaa @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @queerqueenlynn @brujitafantomatico

#acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #cazriel x reader #cazriel #cazriel headcanon #cassian headcanons #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x you #cassian x reader #azriel headcanons #azriel x you #azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x reader #headcanon #headcanons #triad #acotar smut #cassian smut #azriel smut #azriel x reader smut #cassian x reader smut

[thesistersarcheron]

The next chapter of viciousness & intelligence will be out on AO3 on Wednesday, August 30! In the meantime, have a little sneak peak…

Cassian dropped onto one of the wide balconies of the palace above the Hewn City with enough force to shake the mountain and make Nesta’s teeth rattle in her skull.

“I’m beginning to think you’re showing off,” she told him as she pushed out of his arms and onto the moonstone floor on unsteady feet, brushing a hand over her snow-dusted cloak. “Tell me, do you bats really have wingspan measuring contests up in those mountains? Or are you in some eternal competition over who has the healthiest joints once you reach,” she cast a concerned glance somewhere between his hips and his knees and lowered her voice to a whisper, “a certain age?”

Cassian let out a good-natured huff, and a warm, heavy hand fell onto her shoulder.

“I’d like to see you do better,” he said, leading her through a set of billowing curtains and into the palace proper. Warm, welcoming magic enveloped her, and the stiffness she hadn’t realized she was carrying in her spine relaxed. Cassian’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, we can head to Velaris and see if Feyre can magic up some wings for you so—”

“My knees are in perfect shape.” Nesta sniffed. Gods, she’d seen some of her sister’s dreadful attempts at flying; she didn’t need to try it for herself. “I don’t feel the need to go around proving it to everyone, unlike some.”

“I certainly hope not.”

Nesta tore her attention away from the colored lanterns hanging high above—she would have thought them garish anywhere else, but somehow, in this strange, magical palace, they were a thing of beauty.

She watched Cassian instead, cataloging the suddenly tense muscle in his jaw, the darkness in his eyes. The way his lips twitched when he caught her looking and the roguish wink he shot at her in return.

She snorted. “You have a filthy mind.”

“You like it,” he said, all brash, swaggering confidence, and his hand migrated from her shoulder to well below her waist.

“On occasion,” Nesta agreed mildly, but her breath caught when he tightened his hold on her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. Chest-to-chest, they were so close she could feel his heartbeat as if it were her own.

“Come on, Nes,” he goaded. His head dipped, his windswept curls tickling her cheek before hot kisses landed on the hinge of her jaw, the column of her throat. “Remember the first time we came here? Let’s go for another ride. The little Autumn prick won’t be here before nightfall.”

“We’re supposed to meet Azriel before that,” Nesta reminded him, pressing one useless hand to his chest but not quite mustering the strength to push him away. His mouth migrated to the corner of hers, and she was helpless against the onslaught, the fingers of her free hand tangling almost mindlessly in the ends of his dark hair.

“Good,” Cassian groaned, and Nesta felt the vibration of it all the way down to her toes, “he missed out last time we did this. We can have a redo.” 

“Cass,” she breathed, ignoring the shiver that rippled down her spine in response to the rasped Say my name like that again, sweetheart against her neck. “Cut it out. I mean it.”

Cassian paused, his half-lidded eyes locked on hers, and a laugh as dark as a moonless night cut through the thick air. 

“Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Nesta’s heart leapt into her throat.

The effect Azriel’s voice had on her lingered like a cool caress, sinking into her muscles and settling into the marrow of her bones. The small line of consternation between Cassian’s brows melted away as she glanced around him, seeking out its source, and—

There it was. 

The darkness at the edge of her vision that she’d assumed was desire, the sort of tunnel-vision that made her hyperaware every inch of her body and her partner’s with razor-fine detail until the rest of the world faded away… It didn’t come back into focus when her attention landed on it. No, it wasn’t that needy, unfocused haze at all; it was the same dark specter she’d seen in the cabin the night before last.

Azriel Shadowsinger, sheltered in the darkness he commanded.

Though he had cloaked himself in shadow, the unhinged male that had knelt at her feet just a day earlier was gone. His posture was relaxed, one ankle crossed over another and his wings splayed out comfortably against the wall behind him. It was the stance of a male so utterly at ease that nothing would faze him, so self-assured that nothing could touch him.

Looking at him, Nesta couldn’t help but think of the feral, fearful gleam in his eye when he’d bit out what Autumn would do to her when they found out she had lain with Cassian, with him. He’d bared his teeth at her, his face wild, his shadows roiling…

But the hard whip-crack of his voice had been desperate.

So painfully desperate.

She couldn’t blame him. Gods knew she had a far sharper tongue.

And now, with too many feet of open air between them, she felt the pull of him like a magnet.

#viciousnessintelligencefic #nessriel #nessian #nezriel #cazriel #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel shadowsinger #nesta #azriel #my fics #sneak peak #acotar #a court of thorns and roses fic #acosf #he’s baaaaaaaaaaaack

[lorcandidlucienwill]

What the vibe of the Inner Circle should've been: Rhysand --> in love with Cassian --> in love with Azriel --> in love with Morrigan --> in love with Amren --> asexual

#rhysand #cassian #azriel #morrigan #amren #inner circle #and chaos reigns #rhysand x cassian #cassian x azriel #moriel #morrigan x amren #cazriel