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stormhearty · 3 months

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Pushed to the Edge

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Trigger: angst, cheating, suicide, death

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You were the official seer of Night Court for nearly 500 years. the Inner Circle had always listened to you and your visions; however, when the Archeron sisters came and Elain started to show her powers, your family started to shift their attention to her visions. When you try to voice your warnings about the death-lord’s resurrection, everyone gave you the cold shoulder, ignoring your prophesies — this included your mate.

Note: no hate to Azriel or Elain, it just helped with the plot. and Also, I know it's completely unreasonable for Azriel to not have the Truth-Teller be with him at all times, just go with it for now. And I am working on “Reach Your Voice” Series, I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure each of our boys spends quality time with the reader.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“That sounds absolutely absurd… How many times will you try to warn about something that will never happen?”

Your voiced died in your throat as you watched Rhysand look at you with apprehension before focusing on the paperwork in front of him.

You had ran into his office, waking up in cold sweat after another vision of another Death God crawling it’s way back into Prythian. You had tried to forewarn your High Lord for weeks on end ever since you first saw that vision. However, your warnings had been ignored by Rhysand. You knew that it sounded impossible, you knew that, Prythian had just finished a war — one that almost destroyed the world.

After the war with the King of Hybern, Prythian was slowly returning to its normal … well, attempting to fix what was broken by the King. The Night Court was healing, trying to rebuild itself again to its glory, helping other Courts to fix the damages that the war caused. Rhysand had been through an ordeal, losing his life to save Prythian and you knew that your High Lord was still recuperating from that tragedy. You knew that your High Lady was as well, almost losing her mate.

They didn’t need another war to happen when peace had barely returned.

But you also knew there was another reason your High Lord had been ignoring your for forewarning. You looked to the side, one where the rest of the Inner Circle was watching the confrontation. Cassian and Nesta, sitting close to each other, a glass of wine in their hands, whispering to each other, mostly likely about you and your vision. You could barely pick up with your keen Fae hearing on what they were saying.

“Do you think what she’s saying is real? That Koschei is trying to come back?”

“Elain hasn’t seen it though…”

The whisper of the middle Archeron child echoed in your ears as you looked at the Made Fae. She sat next to the window, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle like the sun rested on you before turning over to the male that she was sitting with. Your gaze followed hers to Azriel — your mate— but you can see that he didn’t bother to glance in your direction, only to focus on the delicate female next to him.

It hurt. You watched as the two of them conversed, glancing back in your direction before focusing on each other.

It was no secret, not for you, on Elain’s growing infatuation for the Shadowsinger, and in turn his own growing affections for the middle Archeron child — and in turn, losing his love for you.

You woke up in an empty bed, your mate missing from his side. You tried to talk to Cassian about how his day went, on if he would still train you with the Valkyries if he had time. You tried to converse with Rhysand and Feyre, seeing if they were healing properly after the war, wanting to make sure your High Lord and Lady were safe. You sought after you mate, wanting to spend even a second with him.

But they disregarded you so easily. Especially after they had found out that Elain had similar powers to you, one that was gifted to her by the Cauldron — one that was deemed more powerful than your own.

Your role as the Official Seer of Night Court was granted to you after Helion had sent you as an emissary for Day Court. Helion had found you wandering around Day Court lands. You had been a wandering child, with no real attachment to any Court, abandoned in the streets by your family at the age of five when your seer powers started to come into light. Helion had taken you in when you were ten, helped you hone your powers. Being a seer had been a mystery, no one in your heritage (that you were aware of) was a seer. And it baffled Helion on why such a remarkable gift had been casted aside.

You had stayed with the Night Court, gaining their trust and friendship for five centuries, gaining your own little foothold in their family. You had been a pillar when Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain for nearly fifty years. You helped Mor and Armen with the official Night Court Duties, trained with Cassian to ensure you were strong enough to fight when neither he nor Azriel was there.

During your time protecting Valeris from the eyes of Amarantha, your mating bond with the Shadowsinger snapped. It had been difficult at the start, both of you were still struggling with the disappearance of your High Lord, along with the weight of protecting the very city he hidden from view. But during that time, you became each other’s pillar, each other’s comfort in such a dark time. Falling in love with Azriel wasn’t difficult.

But keeping his love, apparently, was the most difficult.

When the Archeron sister’s came into everyone’s lives, it caused a tip in the scales. You loved Feyre, you loved your High Lady. You would do anything in your power to ensure she was safe and well cared for. But for the Cauldron-Made sisters, it was difficult for you to accept them.

They were different. You couldn’t see anything about them, as if the Cauldron had masked them from you powers. It made you terrified of them. Feyre and Rhysand had tried to assure you that the Archeron sisters deemed no threat to the Night Court. And you trusted them — trusted your High Lord and Lady without a blink of an eye. And yes, while their words deemed true, you did not realize that they were a different type of threat. One that would eventually lose your foothold in the Night Court.

You swallowed, your throat parched as you glanced from the sight of your mate and Elain speaking to one another to Rhysand and then to Feyre who had stood next to him. She gave you a worried look, wondering what you were wanting to tell them.

The air was tense, the declaration from your High Lord seeming to echo in your surroundings — he had deemed your vision to be false. And he had never done that before.

“… But…” you whispered, your voice nothing but wind in such a large room, “… I’ve seen it so many times, Rhys. Someone is trying to resurrect him. That they need a piece of something from the Cauldron — -”

“The Cauldron is with Miryam and Drakon… in Creta. There is no way that anyone would be able to use that power again,” Rhysand’s tone was taut, as if trying to drawn a line between the truth and your vision, “Your vision must be wrong, (Y/N). There is no way that Koschei can be resurrected from that lake.”

Another swallow, “But what if it doesn’t have to be the Cauldron itself. It could be something that was Made from the Cauldron.”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped up from his desk, up to you, eyes darkening at the words you were insinuating, “—- What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes shifting down to your hands, fiddling with your fingernails — a habit that you’ve had ever since you were a child — one that would leave your hands raw from removing skin, ‘… Nesta and Elain were Made from the Cauldron. If it were to get word to the followers of Koschei, they… they could be in danger. The power that resides in them is the Cauldron… Nesta took something from the Cauldron and did not return it… They could be looking for that.”

It was already bad that you were trying to suggest a return of a Death God, months after a war with Hybern, but it was worse that you were even implying that the sisters were the center of being in danger again.

A dark shadow stood in front of you and you looked up to see Azriel. The golden string that connected the two of you sung, it had been weeks since Azriel went near you, but you knew that his side of the bond was shut, enshroud by shadows, completely shutting you out.

“Az—-” you said his name, as if it was a prayer, hoping he’d be the voice of reason. That he would back up you and your visions. As he always had in the past.

“How can we know that your visions are truth, (Y/N)? There are two Seers in the Night Court now, and yet you are the only one who sees this.”

Your ears rang, a high pitch noise echoing through them as disbelief shook your body. Azriel never distrusted you, never doubted your visions and your forewarnings.

The bond in you ached, as if it was burning you on the inside. Tears lined your eyes as you looked up at your mate, brows furrowing, “…How could you, Azriel?” you muttered, the pain lining your tone, “How can you not trust me?” your voice small.

“Because Elain hasn’t seen it,” was all he had to say.

Hot tears ran your cheeks, as you shakily stepped back from the male that had towered you. You glanced at Cassian and Nesta who looked at you, their eyes inattentive to the pain that you were feeling. You glanced at your High Lord, who looked at you with disinterest. You looked at your High Lady, the only person in the room that seemed to have noticed your pain and anguish, as she took a step towards you way, only to be stopped by Rhysand, his hand around her wrist.

“… So, just because the Cauldron-Made Seer hasn’t seen it, doesn’t mean that it is going to happen?” you asked, your question in the air for everyone to think, “… Just because I wasn’t a Seer Made by the Cauldron, that my visions and my words are not real? That I am a lesser of a Seer than her?”

“(Y/N)—-” Feyre, the voice of reason, called our your name.

You took a step back again, head shaking at them, “I’ve worked my life off for the Night Court. Ensuring that your city is safe, making sure that any danger would never step past the wards that you have put up. I have never hidden anything from any of you. I used my visions and my powers for all of you. And yet…” your voice shook at the end, not believing anything that was happening in front of you, “You disregard me… the moment a better Seer shows up. One that is Cauldron-Made… one that you…” eyes shifting to Azriel, “Deems more suitable for you.

“I’ve seen it. Not only in my visions but here with you all. You have decided to all turn a blind eye to it, decided not to tell me about it. Three sisters for three brothers, isn’t it, Azriel?”

Azriel’s form stiffed in front of you — he did not think that you would have heard that.

You were done, you were tired. You were tired of the lies and the deceit from whom you thought were family.

Feyre’s brows furrowed as she looked at you and then her elder sisters before the back of Azriel. Rhysand stood up as well, standing next to his High Lady at your declaration.

“… What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, watching your form shake.

“Don’t you lie to me…” you muttered, glaring at your High Lady, “Don’t you dare lie that you have not seen it. Don’t you dare tell me that you have not noticed that Azriel and Elain have been together all this time. That you have turned a blind eye that a mated male would be infatuated, would fall in love with someone else that was not his Cauldron-bound mate. Don’t you dare lie to me you have not all seen it, and have ignored it and not tell me about it.

“You also have all disregarded me and my visions, ever since Elain started to show her own powers. You have all deemed, even without you telling me, that my powers are not worthy enough. That you all would listen to her cryptic visions rather than my own.”

Your words were rushed, you were hyperventilating to the point that your visions swam, but you shook your head, focusing on the scene unfolding — Feyre’s surprised look, Nesta and Cassian staring wide-eye at Elain before glancing at the Shadowsinger in front of you and your High Lord gripping the edge of the table, his violet eyes clearing as if he was in a trance, as if his mind has been cleared and he realized what he has done and what was unfolding with his family.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what we meant…” he tried to reason, try to gain back your trust in the found family you had with them.

You scrunched your face, shaking your head as you looked at your High Lord before back at your mate, “…That’s what you have meant for the months you have been ignoring my forewarnings. Been ignoring me. Because Elain’s powers are better than mine, you have casted me aside…” Another step back, glancing at the grand door behind you before you glanced back at the family who had lost you, to the mate that had broken your entire being, “You had decided, to your own conscious, to fall in love with someone else, who is bound to someone else, just because you deemed that the Cauldron was wrong. I don’t understand what I have done to you, Azriel… when I have spent nearly five-hundred years with you, fifty years with you as your mate. And you, knowing Elain for a mere five minutes, throwing all that away…”

Azriel looked at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring you down. He watched as tears continued to flood down your cheeks, your form shaking even further. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just stand here and be the object that they throw away.

So, you ran, ran out of that room, your name echoing behind you as your dress swirled behind you. You climbed up the spiraling stairs to your shared room with Azriel, throwing up the strongest ward you can muster behind you and around you. You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the echo of the bond in your chest, you couldn’t handle the empty stare of your mated looking at you. You couldn’t handle the thought that you were so easily replaceable. A sob escaped your lips as you rummaged through Azriel’s drawer of weapons, pulling out the one weapon that he never is without — Truth-Teller. Dark tendrils of shadow gripped your wrist as you looked around you, Azriel’s shadows surrounding you.

That was where his shadows went — they had always disappeared when he was around Elain, yet they were here with you.

Frantic knocks startled you as you grasped the weapon close to your chest, your head whipping around towards the door. You heard them — Feyre’s panicked voice, Rhysand’s apologizes, Cassian yelling your name. But you didn’t hear that one voice that you had loved — you knew Azriel wasn’t there.

That had pushed you. Gripping the weapon, you moved to the bathroom, the shadows following your every movement. As you kneeled down on the marble floor, you felt the tug of the shadows against your hand, trying to will the weapon out of your grip — attempting you to stop at a take of your life.

You had always loved the shadows that surrounded Azriel, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had always comforted you, protected you, always had been there for both of you when times were tough. But this was one of the times that you didn’t want them protecting you, comforting you.

“Please..” you begged at them. Whether or not they would listen or sprint off to their master, they backed off, though a few tendrils stayed behind, slithering around your wrist, holding Truth-Teller, as if a reminder not to do it. But you had made your mind — you couldn’t stay and be pushed to the side. Not anymore.

And with a last breath impaled yourself with your mate’s beloved knife, the very knife he had handed Elain during the war, was the last thing you remembered. As your body fell against the marbled floor, your soul leaving your body, you felt the tendrils of shadow frantically skim over your body, as if to try to find a piece of life still clinging onto you. Eyes looked and watched as the ward was broken and your High Lord and Lady skidding towards your body as your soul left for the skies above, the cool feeling of shadow never leaving your body.

A gasp escaped your lips, the dull ache on your chest making you rub at it.

“— - What…” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as if not used for a century.

“That Shadowsinger did not know what he had decided to let go, huh…” A voice, one so dark and so familiar echoing.

You knew that voice, that voice that haunted you in your visions for weeks — the same voice that you tried to warn your family about. Eyes opening, you were surrounded by the dark, the voice of the Death-God echoing around you.

“I should have died…” you voiced to no-one.

A laugh echoed around you, “You did, (Y/N), but you forget that I am a Death-God… And I can resurrect anyone I wish. Now, that your family has abandoned you, why don’t you join me. Show them what happens when a Seer of your capacity has been cast aside. I should have had you when that original family of yours stranded you, but that damn High Lord of Day found you first. Anyway… come child…”

You laid there, in the darkness, before you shakily reach out a hand, before spiny fingers grasped onto yours and pulled you out of that darkness.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar angst #a court of thorns and roses #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )

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b00kdiary · 3 months

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Stay With Me | Rhysand

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand reappears at the cabin four hours after he had gone on a mission- wounded and bleeding. Y/N has no choice but to help him, even if it means yanking out every ash arrow embedded in his wings by hand. But something Cassian once told her makes her re-think the line between pleasure and pain, and she will do anything to make it better for her High Lord.

‘Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?’

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image thoughts, blood and gore, and smut (Hint: Wing play)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART TWO

PART THREE

I couldn't stop pacing.

That's what I did when I was nervous, and on edge- I paced. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, until I wore through the carpet and my entire body was thrumming with dread.

It had been four hours.

Four hours since Rhysand left to track those Hybern soldiers through the forest, hoping to be led back to their camp. For several weeks we've been dealing with Hybern forces infiltrating our land and yet we had no idea what they were planning.

It was the unknown that had made Rhysand go out tonight.

I had insisted I come, to help, to watch his back, something- but with the heavy snow and rain, he had been adamant that it would be easier to fly alone. Though I knew it was an excuse to keep me here, safe, and unharmed, while he was out there risking his life.

And now he was missing.

Four hours of silence and I was starting to feel violently sick with worry. I contemplated leaving the cabin, trekking on foot through the forest in search of him, but with the weather so furious and the fact he had been flying not walking, I knew it would be futile.

And Rhysand would kill me if he knew I had gone after him, especially when he had specifically instructed me to stay here.

"Stupid, arrogant High Lord," I cursed under my breath and despite the log fire crackling before me and the layers I wore, I still shivered from the brutal cut of the cold wind. My heart seized at the thought of Rhys out there in the brunt of it.

Hybern soldiers were ruthless and their hatred of the Night Court, of Rhysand was known. They could do anything to him; ash arrows, Faebane, dark magic, and Mother only knows what other weapons they have we don't know about.

"If he thinks I'm going to sit here like some kind of damsel," I scowl, my hands shaking as I yank on my discarded sword belt and daggers, "Then he is a bigger idiot than I thought possible."

I try and let my anger bubble over and overtake my fear as I make my way toward the heavy wood door, the sound of the whistling wind and perilous skies getting louder the closer I get to it. I'm trembling as I grip the handle, yanking it open with effort, the hinges stiff with the cold.

I stumble back a step at the sight of a tall male slumped against the door pane- blood pooled around his feet, stark against the white snow.

"Rhysand!"

All thoughts eddy from my head at the sight of him- his skin pale and dull, his midnight hair in disarray, his armour torn and filthy, and an agonised grimace lining his lips. A groan slips from him when my hands come to his chest, and my stomach turns at the warm blood that coats my palms.

"Cauldron, Rhys," I gasp, my throat closing as I stumble back into the cabin, his body weight half-leaning on me and every step he takes is slow and staggered, his face twisting as I guided him back with me. "What happened?"

"Hybern soldiers are assholes," Rhys grits out, a rough laugh slipping past his lips, but the sweet sound soon melts into a pained hiss when I turn so I can slam the door shut behind us- and I see why he's bleeding so goddamn much.

"Rhy- Rhys," I stutter, my fingers tightening into his suit, his muscles rippling under my touch, every breath he takes deeper and faster than the last. "The arrows, holy shit, there's so many-"

Five.

He had five arrows embedded into his back and wings.

"Really? I didn't notice," He grins, his heavy head lifting and those violet eyes meeting mine- though upon seeing the ire and worry on my face, that grin falters, "Hey, c'mon don't look at me like that, I'm alright-"

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, his eyes screwing shut when I begin to move back toward the sofa and I try not to let my body lock up when his hands fall to my waist and hips, long, ringed fingers digging into my flesh for leverage.

"Huh, I knew you wouldn't listen to me," He scoffs out a laugh, half-amused, half-breathless and my face burns with heat when he runs his hands idly down my sides, grazing pointedly over my sword belt and daggers. "You know it's an offence to disobey your High Lord, right?"

"Well since you're wounded and I'm the only one here to help," I grit out sardonically, ignoring how close his face is to mine as I guide his front down onto the sofa, careful not to touch his wings as I move behind him, "I'm sure you'll find a way to forgive me."

I frown at the amount of blood seeping out from his wounds, and I can feel how rigid his body is under my palms- he always was good at hiding his true emotions, masking his pain with an arrogant smile, or teasing words.

My breathing is shallow as I climb onto the sofa behind him, my soft thighs brushing his strong ones and my heart racing as I settle on my knees. His wings are limp on either side of him, one drooping down to the floor and the other sprawled over the cushions.

"You need to rip them out, darling," Rhys muses gently from under me and as if sensing my worry, his voice has lost all sense of humour. "No need to be gentle, I'm a big boy, I can take it."

"We both know you're a big Illyrian baby, Rhys," I tease, though my voice is strained and when he shifts his head sideways, looking over his wide shoulders at me, I see the small smile tilting his lips too.

I swallow the lump in my throat, shifting forward and placing a trembling hand on his back. To the arrow embedded at the junction of his wing and spine.

His hand slips back and curls around my thigh, fingers sprawling around the flesh and digging in as if he were bracing himself. The touch is distracting but I focus on my fingers wrapping around the arrow, a few inches from the entry point- and I hate how Rhysand's body flinches at the soft touch.

"Come on, darling," Rhysand sighs, his grip tightening around my thigh as I release a long breath, "Amren's going to kill me if I get any more blood on these cushions-"

I rip it out mid-sentence- and Rhysand's whole body jolts as I tear the arrow free from his flesh, a grunt of pain muffling into the leather beneath him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whimper, my hand clamping down and applying pressure on the wound, the arrow discarded on the floor beside us. Rhysand trembles under me, his jaw locked so tight I can hear his teeth gritting together, "Shit Rhys, I'm sorry."

"It's- it's okay, it's okay," He pants, and I watch his face from the side, seeing him get paler and paler. He squeezes against my thigh, once, twice, and his eyes blink open, those violet eyes dark. "Keep going darling, you're doing so good, keep-keep going for me."

I feel the familiar burn of tears in my eyes as I lean forward, my fingers slippery with blood and gore as I curl my hold around the second arrow, this one just barely stuck near the very bottom of the left wing.

Ash arrows were notoriously dangerous, known for splintering within the flesh, one wrong move and Rhys would have pieces of the wood stuck in his wings and those would be near impossible for me to remove on my own.

I grit my teeth and pull, swift and brazen, not giving him or me a second to think about it. Again, Rhysand grunts, body viscerally jumping but he seems to bear the pain better the second time, his thighs clenching around mine for support.

"Forget what I said, I was wrong," I clear my throat, trying to force some ease and comfort into my tone as I run my hand up the muscles of Rhysand's back and I feel relief when he sighs, his body melting into my touch. "You're not a big Illyrian baby, you're a tough, strong male."

"What finally convinced you? The very manly way my body is shaking right now?" He released a long exhale, his mouth tugging into a smile and I can't help but laugh when his eyes glance back to meet mine. "Or the groans that keep slipping out no matter how hard I try to contain them?"

I laugh softly, my blood-stained hands running across the planes of Rhysand’s shoulders and back, the pad of my thumbs and forefingers circling around the stiff muscles, trying to get him to relax. He sighs, and his hand pulls against my thigh coaxing me higher up his body, closer than before.

"Nothing wrong with being vocal, Rhys, I would have thought five hundred years of existence would have taught you that," I run my finger across the membrane of his wing, feeling the soft, leathery texture as I move to the next arrow. "Females love to hear how you feel."

"Cruel, wicked thing," Rhysand mumbled, his breath hitching at the tender touch I grazed over his wings, and it was a very different sound to before. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Having me at your mercy."

I wrap my hand around the arrow stuck in the middle of his wing and his body tenses- knowing what was waiting. I frown, hating that he is in pain and unconsciously, my left hand moves to his other wing, and he gasps, eyes widening when I run the pad of my thumb over the talon at the tip- a spot I knew was sensitive.

I tear the arrow out of the right wing with one hand, while my other rakes down the curve of his left wing, my nails scratching softly against the tender flesh there. Rhysand groans, louder this time, and it's a sound that I feel through my body.

"Are you- are you trying to make it feel better, darling?" He asks quietly, his breaths loud in the silent room and his hand at my thigh caressing, his thumb swiping soothingly back and forth.

"Yes," I reply, equally as soft, and my heart is racing as I edge closer, my core and ass settling over one of his burning hot thighs. "Is it working?"

"Yes," He swallows, an audible sound and I see his Adam's apple bobble, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as I reach for the fourth arrow. "Yes, it is, don't- don't stop." There's a slight tremor in his voice, a neediness that makes my head spin.

His body vibrates under me, but for a completely different reason now and it seems the more my idle hands wander curiously over the dancing veins and soft membranes of his wings, the less control he has over himself.

"Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?" My voice is hoarse, and I ignore the sweat coating my skin and heat burning through me as I grab around the arrow, my shoulders bracing for the strength needed for this pull.

"Why are you and Cassian talking about the most sensitive parts of a male's wings?" He grits out, his thigh muscle tensing, and I feel it brush against my centre- wet and aching with need. A smile tugs at my lips at the darkness in his tone, that smile broadening when his wing twitches violently against my fingers.

"He also said that males can like having their wings touched during sex and that a brush against the right spot can make you climax, is that true?" His nails dig into my thigh at my whispered words, a moan slipping past his lips when I grip around the talon with a firm hold.

This time when I rip the arrow free, he doesn't feel the pain- too consumed and dizzy with pleasure.

"You're killing me, Y/N," Rhys chuckles, his body shaking with the laugh, a sound that travels through the air and over my skin like a phantom touch. I circle the heel of my palms into his shoulder blades, massaging out the tension and Rhys moans appreciatively, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest.

"Only one left, Rhys," I say encouragingly, and he mutters incoherently in agreement as I lean forward, the last arrow embedded in his upper back- much deeper than the rest. I frown, rising onto my knees, already missing the strength and heat of his thigh between my legs. "This one's gone all the way through, I'm going to have to dig it out the other side."

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any more fun," Rhys jeers, his hand grazing along my thigh as I sit up as if needing my touch as reassurance.

My eyes narrow at his remark and suddenly the blood and the arrows and his pained face hold no bearing with me, the sympathy vanishes- replaced by the anger that had me ready to march out into a storm to look for him.

"That's what happens when you go chasing the enemy with no backup," I mutter stiffly, and this time when I grab the arrow, I don't give Rhys any satisfaction or comfort- no, I break the arrow in two with an easy snap of the wrist, dropping the fragmented piece to the floor with a clink.

He winces, and when I hover above him, his head turns to look at me, a sheepish smile on his handsome face.

"I take it you're still upset with me then, darling," Rhys muses and the ting of humour in his words makes me scowl, my touch no longer soft or soothing, my body no longer enjoying the hard, perfect feel of him.

“Turn around,” I order, dismissing him as I rise from him and onto my feet. His hand reaches for me, trying to grab me, a yearning in his touch, but I move away from him stiffly. “I need to dig out the arrow from the front.”

He purses his lips at my cold words, and I almost feel bad for him when he hisses in pain, his muscular, lean body so frail as he rolls onto his back, his sore wings moving slow and deliberately, barely able to lift higher than his shoulders before sagging back down again.

“Y/N,” Rhys sighs, a deep frown tugging at his lips as he drops his head against the armrest. I stare at him in silence, seeing him splayed out before me, chest rising and falling in harsh waves and those violet constellations unwavering upon me.

"You could have been killed, Rhysand," I grit out, and I hate the tears I feel prickling my eyes as I stare at him, at the blood coating my hands, and the sofa and the floor, the wound puncturing through his left pectoral. "If you don't trust me to have your back-"

"Don't say that, never say that" He rises faster than I can protest, and my hands shoot up to stop him, but he doesn't relent, his face harsh with discomfort but his eyes burn with determination as he sits up. "I trust you more than anyone, more than myself, don't ever think that Y/N."

"Alright, okay Rhys," I sigh, shaking my head and my hands are weak as I place them on his solid shoulders, trying to guide him to lay back down. His eyes never once leave mine and I can see the hurt in them- that I would even think such a thing. "I'm sorry, just lay down, you're still hurt."

His face tightens severely, and he looks so at odds with the male known for his easy smiles and bright stary eyes- but he obliges me as I guide him back down. His hands curve up my thighs and rest on my hips, and he doesn’t speak as he yanks me down, dragging me so that I straddle his waist.

“Rhys-“ I suck in a sharp breath when he settles me, forcing my weight to sit atop him, my thighs clamped around his hips, my core settled just under his belly button and his calloused hands kneading the flesh at my sides.

"I told you to stay here because I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you," He whispers, eyes unbearably soft, and his touch igniting something hot in me, "If they did something to you if you got hurt... I don't know what I would do, Y/N."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as I bring my hands forward to the front of his leathers, my fingers stumbling as I unbuckle the belts and slip off the buttons one by one, revealing the acres of tan skin and the dark whorls painted across his chest.

I gnaw on my cheek as I tug back the shirt, Rhysand silently watching every action, every breath I take, and my face falls at the wound leaking blood above his left pectoral, the arrowhead peeking through the gore.

“And what if something worse than this happened to you?" I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion and when my eyes meet Rhysand’s again, his face tightens at the tears in my eyes, “What do you think I would do? How would I be able to live with it?"

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rhysand swallows thickly and I watch as he grits his teeth, his body pulsing when I run my fingers over the wound, gauging how deep I have to feel, how best to remove the arrow in one piece.

“I need to dig it out with my fingers to get it to the surface first,” I clear my throat, ignoring the thick prolonged silence and taut tension between us, “It’s going to hurt, badly.”

“I know,” He locks his jaw, the strong angle sharp and I see the grim anticipation on his face when I move my index finger and thumb into position over the exit point. But without speaking, I move my body, lower, until my core settles over the front of his breeches- over his long, hard length.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-“ His breath hitches at the contact, his violet eyes widening and latching onto mine in surprise.

“I want to,” I whisper, need spreading through me at the feel of him under me, the smell of his arousal and mine wafting through the air, making me dizzy. “I’m trying to make it feel better, remember?”

I roll my hips, ever so slightly, and the electricity that shocks through my clit at the contact makes me gasp. Rhysand grunts, a low, heady sound, and the way he lifts his hips up to dig his cock into me is almost desperate.

“Cauldron,” He curses as I dig my fingers into his wound, the metal sharp and hot against my fingertips as I try and get leverage around it. His face twists but when I rock my hips again, dragging down his length, his pain dissolves into something carnal. “Cauldron, Y/N-“

“There we go,” I whisper, my fingers gripping around the arrowhead firmly, twisting it a few inches higher so that it protrudes out of his chest. I bite my lip to contain any sounds as I rut against him, my underwear and trousers soaked through, seeping into Rhysand’s slacks, making it easier to rub over his twitching length. “I’ve got it!”

He moans- the most erotic, lewd sound rumbles from him, low and loud, echoing through the room. I pant as he runs his hands over my body, over my thighs and hips and waist, kneading my stomach and love handles, before settling over my ass.

His nails carve crescent moons into the flesh as he palms me, the control he was so used to wielding in the bedroom not dwindling as he guided me back and forth faster and harder against him.

"This is the best pain I've ever felt, darling," Rhysand purrs, his voice like melted chocolate against my senses and the fire burning between my legs fans at his words. I lean forward, my breasts brushing his chest and my stomach settling against his- and I run my free hand over his sprawled wings.

"I'm going to pull it out now, yeah?" I mumble against his cheek, and I know his head is spinning, the pain and pleasure so at odds, so damning that his canines flash at me, his fingers bruising against my ass and his hips jolting up violently to meet mine.

“Do it, daring,” He commands, the role of the High Lord imprinted into him no matter the situation and almost as if it were programmed in me to obey, I kiss his cheek tenderly- and yank the arrowhead free in one go. “Shit, shit-“

I drag my centre over the tip of his cock, rolling my hips in fast, sharp strokes and Rhysand crumbles at the action- his eyes screw shut, his body stills like stone, and the filthiest, rawest cry tears from his lips, louder and fragmented when I rub at the tip of his talon with my palm.

I whimper at the feel of every hard inch of him cemented against me, the warmth of his hot seed leaking out and soaking his slacks, mixing our arousals, getting messier the more I rub against him.

“Y/N,” He moans my name into the crook of my neck, his teeth scraping against my pule point and his hands curling around my ass, forcing my hips to stop. Instead, he clamps my body flush to his, my tits pressed to his chest, my face buried in his soft hair, and I feel his cock pulsing and tremoring hard against me as he rides out his orgasm.

I feel Rhysand laugh roughly against my neck, the sound of his ragged breathing and the erratic rise and fall of his muscular chest against me making me sigh. His hands don’t loosen, in fact, they get tighter, guiding me until I’m laying flat, his arms wrapping over me and keeping me to his chest.

He was holding me like he didn’t want to let go.

There’s a long silence as I lay with him, our bodies melting together and his touch unrelenting upon me, holding onto my flesh for dear life, feeling me against him and sighing at the comfort. His breathing starts to deepen, turning heavy and I blink, shifting to move my weight off him.

“Don’t,” He grumbles, his arms drawing me back to his chest, a deep groan escaping him as he shifts so that my body slips between the gap of the sofa and his side. His eyes flutter closed again, and I watch his face ease into serenity as I lay my cheek against his shoulder.

“Stay with me.”

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

A/N:

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

Should I make a part two??? part two here

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hellodarling1357 · 4 months

Text

Battle Wounds (Cassian x Reader)

I didn’t realise how busy Christmas would be but I’m finally back on track with finishing/starting some of my WIPs and requests.

This is just a reader-insert / little rewrite of chapters 56 - 61 of ACOWAR

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3,600

Standing along the edge of the field of tents, you watched alongside Feyre, Mor, and Nesta as the battle raged across the floor of the valley below.

Your eyes were keenly fixed on the armoured figure of your mate, breath quickening with each clash of a sword and shout of pain as Cassian led and held the lines of soldiers fighting against Hybern’s forces.

As much as you hated him being in the thick of it, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was damn good at what he did. It was like a dance, the way he moved with and against both your own and the enemy soldiers, never faltering as he somehow managed to keep an eye on every stage of the battle.

You cursed under your breath at Keir’s lack of control over his own soldiers, forcing Cassian’s attention away from what was going on around him as he roared above the sounds of battle for Keir to fix the lines.

You could sense Mor’s growing frustration as she shifted from foot to foot from where she stood on the other side of Feyre. That feeling of helplessness and being ordered to stay up here, to protect Feyre and her sisters, while she could be raging a battle of her own below ran through her.

The sound of Mor’s groan as Keir’s forces caved in response to Hybern cavalry surrounding them was a distant sound as you watched on in horror as Cassian leapt into the air and flew straight into the middle of the onslaught. The stream of arrows and spears just barely missing him as his Siphons dimmed. You furiously tugged on the bond, begging him to get out, but you knew it was no good as he unleashed himself on Hybern, further ignoring Rhys’ roared orders to fall back.

You barely registered Feyre squeezing your hand, breath stuck in your chest, as you watched Azriel lunge into the fray, desperately fighting his way towards Cassian who was completely surrounded. The red flare of your mate’s Siphons only allowing him a moment of reprieve as he panted in the midst of a circle of dead soldiers before more moved forward to take their place.

Too fixated on the battle and Cassian’s sputtering Siphons, you were oblivious to Feyre pulling Mor aside. But you quickly caught sight of your friend’s stream of golden hair appearing beside Azriel as they edged closer and closer to Cassian who was beginning to slow in his assault against a Hybern captain.

You whipped around, tearing your eyes away from your mate for the first time since the battle started. Nesta was still standing feet away from you, eyes frantically moving across the battlefield as if she didn’t know where to look.

But Feyre…

Turning on the spot you scanned the space around you but found no trace of your friend.

You raced towards the sea of tents, senses heightened as you tried to track her down; Rhys would be furious enough at Mor for abandoning her post in favour of the fight, let alone when he realised you had been too distracted by your own mate to notice that Feyre had also left your spot overlooking the valley.

Heartbeat quickening, you frantically searched tent after tent, but there, exiting the one Elain resided in…

You winnowed towards her, grabbing hold of Feyre’s arm, not realising it was the exact moment she also decided to winnow, taking you alongside her as she headed towards the Middle.

*****

“Feyre, what are you doing?”

Still breathless from the unexpected journey, you furiously stared at her before taking in your surroundings, quickly zeroing in on your mating bond to make sure nothing had happened to Cassian in the minutes you had been gone.

“Y/N,” she seemed just as shocked. “I… I have a plan, I think it will help but you need to go.”

A disbelieving laugh left your throat but your words were quickly swallowed down as an ancient, rasping voice filled the clearing.

“Have you come to kill me, or to beg for my help once again, Feyre Archeron?”

Shooting you an apologetic grimace, Feyre turned towards the Suriel.

***

Alert and on guard, you stood in silence as Feyre spoke with the Suriel. Your mind raced as you tried to be present and focus on what was occurring in front of you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from fixating on the bond and the adrenaline, laced with fatigue, that raced through it.

“…Tell the silver-eyed messenger that the answer lies on the second and penultimate pages of the Book. Together they hold the key.”

You tuned back in with a blink, aware you had missed the conversation but still daring to ask, “The key to what?”

The Suriel studied you closely, causing a chill to run down your back, before replying, “The answer to what you need to stop Hy—”

But the sudden spray of black blood that covered both you and Feyre as the arrow made impact with the Suriel’s chest had you pulling out the Illyrian sword Cassian had given you as you scanned the darkness of the trees for the assailant.

More arrows shot through the trees, causing the Suriel to stumble and scream, and then a lilting female voice crooned, “Why does it talk to you, Feyre, when it would not even deign to speak with me?”

Ianthe.

It had been centuries since you had last seen the High Priestess, but the sight of her still had your blood boiling. The encounter you stumbled across involving her and Cassian, so soon after you had been mated, had not ended well for the blonde haired fae. The fact that she had tried similar tactics on Rhysand and Azriel, only furthering the anger coursing through you.

“Y/N, what a pleasant surprise. How is that gorgeous mate of yours?” But her attention was already focused back on Feyre, prattling on and on about Hybern and Tamlin and how she had captured the Suriel with a sickly satisfied smirk.

“I should have slit your throat that night in the tent.” Was all Feyre deigned to give as a response.

An arrow shot through from one of Hybern’s soldiers which you quickly deflected, edging closer with your blade angled, ready to pounce.

Ianthe’s face tightened as she glowered at Feyre. “You’ll find you want to reconsider how you speak to me. I’ll be your best advocate in Hybern.”

“I suppose you’ll have to catch me first,” And with that, Feyre was hurtling into the woods, Ianthe close on her trail.

You took the momentary distraction as a chance to engage both guards.

They smirked at you, edging closer as though tracking their prey. To your delight, it seemed they had no idea who you were. Had no idea that you had trained alongside Illyrian warriors for centuries, that your mate, the General of the Night Court, had overseen your training to an almost gruelling manner until he was satisfied that you could hold your own.

So you smirked right back as you leapt towards them, blade raised and ready.

The fight didn’t last long.

*****

After ensuring the two Hybern soldiers were well and truly dead, you raced after Feyre but the trail blurred and darkened the further in you got, causing your sense of panic to rise as you let out a frustrated yell.

The silence of the woods was abruptly broken by the sound of an unending scream. Without a second thought you raced towards it, hoping that it wasn’t Feyre and that you hadn’t been too late.

But there she was, flying through the trees towards you as she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back, racing towards the clearing.

“Feyre…,” You gasped as you caught your breath. “What was that?”

“I figured I owed the Weaver an apology and decided that acquainting her with Ianthe would suffice.”

You were both stunned and impressed by your friend’s quick thinking but Feyre was already heading towards where the Suriel lay, kneeling down beside it and grasping its bony hand in her own.

Staying a respectful distance away, you watched on in silence, tears filling your eyes as you watched the Suriel’s chest stop moving, Feyre weeping over it. Stepping closer, you put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Feyre…” You started, stopping as your senses heightened in on another presence.

You raised your blade and cautiously turned, letting out a sigh of relief when you found Helion hurriedly striding towards you.

“Come. It is not safe. I’m here to bring you back, both of you.” A panicked look in your direction had your brows furrowing but you pushed it aside as you helped him pull Feyre to her feet, watching on as Helion’s flame burned the cloak-covered Suriel to a pile of ash before taking his hand and allowing the warm light to whisk you away, straight into Rhys’ war-tent.

*****

You knew something was wrong the moment you took in Rhys’ pale features, splattered with blood that was not his own. He pulled Feyre into a crushing embrace before fixing you with a heavy look that told you enough.

“No…” You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate. “Rhys, is he…? Where is he?”

The encounter with Ianthe had distracted you enough that you failed to miss the disturbance that flowed down the bond. But Cassian couldn’t be dead, you would know if he was dead.

Your body started to shake as you stared back at Rhys, seeing nothing.

Then you were moving. Racing out of the tent, following the faint trace of your mate that the bond provided.

A sob escaped you as you shoved through the tent’s entrance. Mor and Azriel, standing in front of the cot, blocked your view of who lay atop it.

“Y/N—“ Mor’s tearful voice was a distant echo as she reached for you, but you pushed past, falling to your knees beside the cot as you took in the sight of Cassian, covered in both mud and blood, unconsciousness not allowing any escape of pain as his face contorted under the healer’s glowing hands, breathing laboured and weak.

There was no chance of stopping the vomit that violently urged up your throat once you noticed the too-deep slice curving up Cassian’s navel to the bottom of his sternum. All you could see was Cassian, pale and bloody, not giving you space to even be aware of your sobs and the violent shaking that coursed through your body.

The healer kept working, someone knelt beside you, pulling you into their arms, you didn’t know who, didn’t know how much time had passed as you sobbed, and shook, and stared at the male in front of you who meant everything to you, who you couldn’t imagine life without, who now seemed as though he were mere moments from death.

The gaping slice across Cassian’s middle grew smaller and smaller, the blood easing to a slight trickle. Still, you refused to look away, even as the commotion of Rhys and Feyre rejoining you slightly pulled you away from your racing thoughts.

“Is he—is he going to—“ Feyre’s unfinished question loomed, forcing you to momentarily drag you bloodshot eyes away from your mate’s body to the healer who had been tirelessly working on him.

“No. He’ll be sore for a few days, though.”

You started to cry again, not sure if you had truely stopped in the first place. This time it was Azriel who knelt beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as Feyre, again, asked, “How?”

“He wouldn’t wait for us,” Mor said flatly. “He kept charging—trying to re-form the line. One of their commanders engaged him. He wouldn’t turn away. By the time Az got there, he was down.”

Azriel’s face was stone-cold, even as his hazel eyes fixed unrelentingly upon the slowly healing wound.

Blood rushed to your head, blocking out Mor’s questioning of where Feyre had gone, and why you had needed to chase after her.

The sudden fluttering of Cassian’s eyes had you loosening a breath as you hurled even closer to his side, carefully grasping his calloused and scarred hand, watching unblinkingly as he finally opened his eyes and let out a groan of pain.

“That’s what you get,” the healer chided, gathering her supplies, “for stepping in front of a sword.”

She frowned at him. “Make sure he rests tonight and tomorrow.” A brief nod in your direction, “I know better than to insist on a third day after that, but try not to leap in front of a blade anytime soon.”

Cassian just blinked rather dazedly at her before slowing turning his head to face you.

“How bad?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“How bad was your injury,” Rhys said mildly, “or how badly did we have our asses kicked?”

Cassian blinked again. Slowly. Turning his gaze away from you and towards his friend. As if whatever sedative he’d been given still held sway.

“To answer the second question,” Rhys went on, Mor and Azriel backing away a step or two as something sharpened in his voice, “we managed. Keir took some heavy hits, but … we won. Barely. To answer the first …” Rhys bared his teeth. “Don’t you ever pull that kind of shit again.”

The glaze wore off of Cassian’s eyes as he heard the challenge, the anger, and tried to sit up, hand tightly squeezing yours at the pain he felt. He hissed, scowling down at the red, angry slice on his chest.

“Your guts were hanging out, you stupid prick,” Rhys snapped. “Az held them in for you.”

You did a double take at that, flinching once you finally noted the blood - Cassian’s blood- caking Azriel’s hands.

“I’m a soldier,” Cassian said flatly. “It’s part of the job.”

“I gave you an order to wait,” Rhys growled. “You ignored it.”

You felt your breath quicken again, heart skipping a beat at the fight playing out in front of you, your own anger at his recklessness beginning to appear now that you knew for certain that Cassian was going to be okay

“The line was breaking,” Cassian retorted. “Your order was bullshit.”

Rhys braced his hands on either side of Cassian’s legs and snarled in his face, “I am your High Lord. You don’t get to disregard orders you don’t like.”

Cassian sat up this time, swearing at the pain lingering in his body, your arm quickly wrapping around him to offer some support. “Don’t you pull rank because you’re pissed off—”

“You and your damned theatrics on the battlefield nearly got you killed.” And even as Rhys spat the words—that was panic in his eyes. His voice. “I’m not pissed. I’m furious.”

“So you’re allowed to be mad about our choices to protect you—and we’re not allowed to be furious with you for your self-sacrificing bullshit?”

Rhys just stared at him.

Cassian stared right back.

“You could have died,” was all Rhys said, his voice raw.

“So could you.”

Another beat of silence—and in its wake, the anger shifted.

Rhys said quietly, “Even after Hybern… I can’t stomach it.”

And the way Rhys spoke, the way Cassian leaned forward, wincing again, as he let go of your hand and gripped Rhys’s shoulder…

The others quickly left, you hesitated, torn between letting them talk and remaining by your mate’s side.

Rhys’ voice broke through, deciding the matter for you, “Stay, you being here will help.”

You silently remained by Cassian’s side as they spoke, brother to brother. Still in shock by the state you had found your mate in, the previous conversation was only just catching up to you. And with the realisation of what Cassian’s excuse was, as well as his apparent lack of care for his own safety, you were overcome with white hot anger and finally snapped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Both males abruptly looked at you, silenced by your first words since seeing Cassian bleeding out on the medi-cot.

“Y/N—“

“No. Are you fucking kidding? I’m a soldier. It’s part of the job,” You mocked. “Well what about your job outside of this war. As a friend, a brother, a mate? Did you ever once think about anyone else, about me, when you decided to jump at the first chance of playing hero?”

Rhys remained silent during your outburst, wishing he didn’t have to witness the fight that was about to break.

Stiffly turning to face you, Cassian observed you as you took in a few deep breaths, eyes still wide from panic and fear.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, grasping your hand in his. “I’m General of the Night Court, I can’t just sit back and do nothing while our soldiers take the fall—“

But you were shaking your head at him, vision blurring through a sea of tears.

“I know, trust me, I know, Cassian,” You let out a humourless laugh. “But you promised. You promised you would stay here, with me. Cauldron, we even spoke about properly trying for a child after all this was over. And then two seconds later you’re throwing yourself into the middle of it and almost dying in the process.”

Rhys silently left the tent, any words he had saved up to say to his brother as a way of reprimanding would hold zero weight compared to what you had to offer.

Despite himself, Rhys couldn’t help but smile fondly at the idea of the two of you having a child. He knew your plans had been put on hold after everything that happened whilst he was trapped Under the Mountain; and knowing this now, he swore to himself to subtly relieve Cassian of some of his more demanding and dangerous duties. It was the least he could if it meant the happiness of two of his closest friends.

Ignoring the pain that ricocheted through him at the slightest of movements, Cassian turned to properly face you as he guided you to sit beside him on the cot.

“Sweetheart, all I could think about was you,” he gently cupped your face, wiping the tears away. “You heard Rhys, we were so close to losing everything today, and if that had happened…” he took in a deep breath to collect himself. “If we had lost, and I hadn’t done everything in my power to prevent it, I couldn’t live with myself knowing that whatever happened afterwards, what could have happened to you, if Hybern won… It would’ve been my fault.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, gently caressing his thumb over your cheek.

“You almost died, Cass.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you grasped his hand.

“I’m not going to apologise for trying to protect you. If me getting hurt meant any of us getting a shot at a future after this, then it was worth it.”

“A future without you in it isn’t worth it to me.”

“Y/N—“

“No, Cassian, please. I thought I had lost you. How would you feel if it was me where you are right now?”

Cassian let out a sigh, unable to fathom how much seeing you split down the middle would tear him apart.

Gritting his teeth in pain, he moved over to make more room on the cot before pulling you into his side. You snuggled closer into him, cautious of not jostling him too much as you eyed his injury.

The pair of you lay side by side in silence, Cassian’s breathing eventually evening out and growing heavier as he drifted off to the feel of your fingers running through his hair.

Still feeling on edge and needing to do something, you detached yourself from his arms, careful not to wake him. Scanning the tent, your eyes landed on a few clean cloths and a bowl of water that the healer had left behind.

With a sigh, you started to carefully wipe the blood away from Cassian’s body, the bowl of clean water fast becoming a murky red mess.

Cassian stirred once you reached his wound, your fingers gently dabbing away the caked blood, leaving the newly healed split across his middle as the only evidence that he had been injured in the first place.

You felt his eyes on you as you finished cleaning him up, letting out a sign before finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

“I’m still so mad at you.”

“I know you are.” The slight tug on the bond you shared left you with a weary smile as you placed the dirty cloths in a heap beside the bed before lying down beside him again.

You laced your hand with his as he murmured, “I think I know a few ways I can make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, a light laugh escaping your lips.

“Yeah I can think of a few ways too, starting with you not acting like a baby for the next week and actually staying in bed.”

“The healer only said two days.”

“Yeah, well, I’m saying seven.” The look you fixed him with told him there would be no changing your mind.

He let out a huff of a laugh as he brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before holding it against his chest.

“Fine. But only if you’re staying in bed with me.”

The shit eating grin that lit up his face had you shaking your head, your only response was a flick to his nose followed by an overwhelming surge of love that flowed down the bond.

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

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readychilledwine · 6 days

Text

Happy Birthday, High Lord!

Summary - You and Lucien pulled all the stops for Tamlin's birthday this year. Now you just have to hope your mate appreciates it.

Warnings - sexual jokes and innuendos, implied possible smut at the end

Prompt - Day 6 - Celebration

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek day 6! I'm not super happy with this one. I probably would have been had I added the smut at the end, but I wanted my trouple to be wholesome instead.

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

“Meticulous.” Whenever someone asked Tamlin and Lucien to describe you, that was the first word that came to mind.

“Blabbermouth” would be the next thing. It wasn't that you couldn't keep secrets in general. It was that you struggled to keep secrets from them from Lucien and Tamlin.

Lucien kept a straight face, the string connected to you pulled tight as Tamlin stared you down, green eyes sparkling with joy. “Tell me, petal.”

They both burst into laughter as you shoved a muffin into your mouth, then pointed and shook your head. “Just take her for a ride, Tamlin.”

“I will let her ride whenever she wants. I just want to know why we are going out for the day while you stay here.”

Lucien sighed. “Just take her out.” You continued chewing, blinking at the two of them every so often. “Or else I will just ride you, and we can go out.”

You glared at him as he smirked before shaking your head and pouting at Tamlin. You and Lucien knew Tamlin like the backs of your hands, and when he opened his mouth, you knew the two of you had played him like a fiddle. “Just for pouting, Lucien and I will head to town. You can stay here.”

Lucien tugged the bond twice as you continued the act, sending his love your way as the two of them stood. Lucien was the first to kiss you. He always would be. The kiss was gentle and warm before he then kissed your forehead with a quickly returned “I love you.”

Tamlin always kissed you last. You were their's, yes, but you had been his first, and he had risked everything to protect you from Amarantha and Hybern. It had taken so long for you two to find each other again that he had almost lost hope.

His hands rested on your cheeks as he pulled you in, soft lips fitting to yours like a puzzle. “Be good.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I love you, little rose.”

“I love you,” you refused to add the “too”. You always did with both of them. You didn't love them just because they loved you. You loved them because you genuinely did. You waited for Lucien to give the signal, the bond tugging one last time before getting to work.

The Manor was eerily silent when Lucien and Tamlin returned hours later. The faelights had been turned off, and the servant's area was even silent. Tamlin was immediately on edge, and Lucien led them in. You were nowhere to be found. “Maybe the ballroom?”

“She wanted to redecorate it. Maybe she is planning.” Lucien led Tamlin that way, hiding his smile the best he could. He mentally counted the years to himself, 55 years. They had not celebrated Tam's birthday in 55 years.

Lucien pushed open the large rosewood door, allowing Tamlin in and watching as his face fell and you dropped the sound ward. Inside, a lively party was beginning.

Tarquin was standing next to you and waved. Helion was laughing with Thesan in the corner. Fae were dancing and laughing in all directions. Every high lord and their respective circle had come, all excited to finally be welcomed into the newly repaired Spring.

“Happy birthday, Tam,” Lucien looked at him. “Aren't you happy I demanded you dress nicely for our date now? Oh look, there's Feyre, you could go tell her that her hair looks clean.” The mentioned female waves from where she was spinning Nyx, smile bright as Rhysand watched and laughed. The Lord of Night nodded to Tamlin. While their relationship had not been 100% fixed, it had at least become civil.

Tamlin was shocked. Standing there with his eyes wide. “How?”

Lucien shrugged and inclined his head to you. “She's magic.”

You and Lucien had ensured everything was perfect. His closest friends and repaired relationships were all there. His favorite cake sat on a table waiting for him. The two of them took their places at your side, smiling and greeting their guests and friends as they watched you receive constant praise at the party. Lucien held your hand as Tamlin kept an arm around your waist, keeping you both close to him.

He had not expected this. Tamlin had expected a small dinner with the three of you, possibly a gift from you, and a verbal sparring match from Lucien, but this was above all expectations. He couldn't help but smile all night, hand staying in its place on your hip while his other would go from being free to touching Lucien.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek as the night started to close down and guests turned to their respective rooms. “Did you have a happy birthday?”

You both looked to where Lucien and Eris were having an animated discussion regarding foxes versus the newly crowded Autumn Lord's precious hounds. “I did. The weather was beautiful. Lucien and I got to enjoy the market. We laid out in the flower field. Had a lovely dinner. And then I come home to all of this. It must have taken you hours to plan this.”

“A few days.”

“I don't deserve it.”

“I have two beautiful and loving mates ensuring I do that.”

“You deserve the world. You are not that male anymore. You have healed, and you have found closure. Think of this birthday as a new beginning. Permission to move on."

Your lip twitched up, “The red-haired male is definitely the prettiest.”

“Easily.”

“We should do something about it.”

Tamlin smirked. “I have a few things in mind. They are not appropriate for the present company, though.”

“Ah, so we're going to fuck him.”

“Another night, maybe. Some pretty female offered to ride me earlier. I'd like to take her up on that.” You felt Tamlin tug both sides of the bond, excusing you both to retire for the night and informing Lucien of where to find you both. “If she'd still like to that is.”

Your eyes had already gone slightly hazed, fingers intertwining more with his. “Yes please.”

“Then I've had the perfect birthday. A date with my husband. Sex with my wife. A party. What more could a simple high lord ask for.”

“A threesome!” A familiar voice appeared next to you, smile bright and voice breathless. “A birthday threesome.”

General Taglist:

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

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamcien #tamcien x reader #tamlin x reader x lucien #trouple visibility #consensual non monogamy #polyamorous visibility #poly+acotarweek 2024 #poly!acotarweek 2024 d6 #tamlin x reader #lucien x tamlin #lucien x reader #tamlin acotar #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra acotar #lucien vandaddy

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fantasyandshit · 3 months

Text

The light and the dark

Type: series

Part: 3/?

Other parts here

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron sister reader

Summary: That was not expected.

Four guards open my cell yet again and unshackle me, roughly grabbing me. one stands in front of us, one behind, and one holding each arm. I struggle in the males grips, my clothes are ripped to shreds, my hair is so matted you couldn’t brush it, blood and dirt cake my skin from various cuts and bruises and I’m thin, much thinner than I was, but I’d made sure to keep whatever muscle I could. As I’m brought to the so-called ‘king’s’ room, I notice Elain and Nesta, both are a bit thinner, then again they always were and more pale but I was glad to see they had very minimal damage other than Nesta matted hair. I look around the room as I’m pulled forward and completely freeze when I see it…them.

Feyre and Azriel…with a bolt through his chest… I’m shoved to the ground and take this as my moment, twisting around and kicking one of the guards in the shins, then sweeping another’s legs from under him, grabbing the sword one dropped and stabbing it through one of the others abdomen, then. Finally, I tackle the other to the ground, the blade lodging in his skull. I stand up, my breath fast and shallow and turn, looking from Nesta and Elain to Feyre and her friends, then finally my gaze lands on Hybern, who’s slowly applauding.

“That was quite the show darling.” I almost vomit at the way the last word rolls from his mouth, the only other times he’d used it were when- god I can’t even think about it as I make my way in front of my human sisters. I know the fae can handle themselves, my only concern about them is Azriel who is uncharacteristically pale, and hold the sword in front of me, my arm latching around them. “Start with her.” Before I know what’s happening four men pick me up, snapping the wrist that holds the sword and im forced to drop it.

“Get off me!” I scream and claw with my good hand as I’m brought up the stairs and forced into the cauldron, my head pops up until it’s held under. The sensation is weird… to say the least.

It’s cold yet hot, agonizing yet peaceful, it brings sadness and joy, light and dark, life and death, before I can think anymore wise opposites I’m thrown to the floor, an unknown weight sitting on my back as I splutter, lifting my head and seeing shocked faces. What- My thought is cut off by the sound of a thump and Nesta is thrown beside me, then Elain. I notice it now, they’re different- they have pointed ears, limbs longer- They are fae. What the hell?

I slowly stand on shaky feet, stomach cramping and nearly falling to my back just before I see Hyberm raising his hand and instinctively I do just as Cassian does-I jump. I throw myself over my newly fae sisters and white hot agony flows over the unknown weight on my back and I don’t even realize I’m screaming till it’s all over and I collapse to the side.

I look over to check on my sister when I see it-them. Wings, wings attached to my body that are shredded beyond belief, blood pooling around them. Wings- no I couldn’t-I couldn’t have wings. I hear people shouting my name and a cold sensation envelopes me before it all goes dark.

I groan as I’m jostled before I’m placed in a cot, back up, wings. Wings-holy shit. Draping over the edges, i loom to my right to see Azriel and Cassian in the cots beside me and a voice-a voice I’ve fantasized about yells for me, over and over, begging me to stay awake but it’s just too hard so I close my eyes and peace washes over me finally.

————

I know it’s short but I took medicine to sleep so I can’t write more tonight. I’ll give you more tomorrow. Love y’all!

@wallacewillow0773638

@pinksmellslikelove

@sassybluebird

@gorlillaglue25

@khaleesihavilliard

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #elain archeron #elain x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x reader #nesta archeron #nesta x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #morrigan #Mor #mor x reader #sister reader

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k-daydreams · 10 months

Text

The pursuit of Feeling Alive: I. Intro

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader, PLATONIC!IC x reader

Synopsis: cousin to Rhysand and Morrigan, y/n was once her family’s golden child. Faced with trials and tribulations her whole life, she needed reprieve— a distraction. Until a surprise homecoming opens Pandora’s box, and gives y/n a reality check. Especially facing her once close friend Azriel. Friends to Enemies to lovers trope.

Warnings: trauma, swearing, pining, angst?

Word Count: 4.8k

Author note: this is my first acotar fic! It was originally going to be a singular self indulgent azriel fic, but I can’t ever get to the point and I got too many ideas. Definitely not very canon with the timeline of series I think lol, just going to throw that out there. I’ve already rough drafted another chapter and thought I’d share the work on here. Feel free to share your thoughts! If you’d like to be added to a tag list let me know!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Internally, you teetered on the edge of a nervous breakdown, ready to tear yourself apart from within. Externally, you wore a mask of cold calculation, hoping no one could detect your distress and near senility. Earlier in the day, your cousin Mor had mentioned that her high lord and your other dear cousin, Rhysand, had matters to discuss with your high lord, Helion. The reason for their meeting was of no concern to Mor to bother filling you in.

Your heart thumped against your chest, unsure of what to expect. It had been over fifty years since the Day Court and Night Court had engaged in official business since the end of Amarantha's reign of terror. You had seen Rhysand during the time under the mountain, where you spent nearly half a century with him until Feyre saved Prythian. Still holding visits with him after to report to him along with Mor, thanks to her frequent visits to Helion. However, the rest of the court, especially those you hadn't met since after Amarantha and Hybern, remained a mystery, with only Mor's updates for context.

Following your time under the mountain, you chose to reside in the Day Court under Helion's rule as an emissary between the two Solar Courts. It served as a means to shield yourself from feeling too deeply, allowing you to focus on healing from the traumatic events you endured during those fifty years. There were other matters you had yet to confront and come to terms with, voluntarily choosing to ignore them. By hiding away and conducting your business mainly with Mor and Rhys, you could maintain a sense of avoidance of your once home.

Now, in the dining hall of the palace where Helion and his inner court resided—including yourself—you found yourself on edge. Regardless of the pressing matters at hand, your high lord insisted on hosting a dinner for his court and other high fae to publicly display the alliance between the Night Court and the Day Court. Standing next to Helion's chair in the center of the room, you observed the lively chatter among the gathered individuals.

Your hands were clasped tightly in front of you, nervously inspecting your gown for nonexistent dirt, attempting to conceal your jitters. The gown itself could remind anyone of the place you resided and wanted to consider your new home. It was an off-the-shoulder nude gown with gossamer sleeves cascading around your arms. The bodice, nearly transparent, accentuated your bust, adorned with soft gold crystals intricately arranged over your body. The long skirts consisted of layers of gossamer, featuring two long slits up the front that revealed your legs. You appeared ethereal and angelic.

"You seem on edge," Helion called out to you, pulling you out of your internal thoughts. Your eyes scanned the room, observing every movement, before turning your attention to the main entrance. He gently traced his finger beneath the dainty black diamond bracelet adorning your wrist, bringing your attention back. This bracelet, along with matching pieces around your neck and ears, showed your affiliation with the visiting court. You wore them out of respect for your older cousins, never daring to show your true affection openly—a facade to conceal your true self. You knew they would appreciate it if they noticed.

"The Night Court was your home, was it not?" He questioned, his tone casual, as he glanced over his shoulder at the other members of the inner court to make sure they weren’t listening. Adjusting his shirt cuffs to his well-matched button-down very similar color to yours, he exuded regality from head to toe.

You mumbled stoically, "Was." Clearing your throat tentatively, your eyes returned to the main doors. "This is my home now, serving under your rule. I can't afford to be anything but cautious when the Night Court wishes to discuss an unknown matter."

You didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled. "Always playing this game, aren't you?" Helion scolded playfully. “There's no need to keep up the act. Rhys's actions beneath the mountain spoke volumes for our court."

You thought to yourself, 'But my actions don't, and I'd rather keep it that way.' Aloud, you replied smoothly, "One can't appear too soft when the Night Court steps through that door." The lie slipped easily from your lips.

"Are we referring to the whole court now or the spymaster we both have eyes for?" Helion hummed, reclining slightly in his chair as he took a sip of fae wine from his chalice-like glass. Damn him.

"I have no eyes for any man, particularly not a brute Illyrian man. And especially not one I've been watching wrestle with my cousin since we were young children," you retorted, feeling a surge of unease and clenching your jaw at the assumption.

"That's a match I would give up all my powers to witness," the handsome, dark-skinned lord purred, his words aimed at you.

You wanted to snap at him, your patience wearing thin at the mere mention of the tall Illyrian warrior. However, you managed to keep your composure in check. "It's hardly a match; Rhys won every time."

As if on cue, you felt the energy of several individuals entering the palace. Rhysand always loved a dramatic entrance. "Excellent, our guests have arrived," you murmured, straightening your shoulders as best as you could.

Helion followed suit, sitting more upright in his chair at the center of the hall. The rest of the inner court took their positions standing.

The sentries opened the doors for the guests. Morrigan was the first to enter, her golden hair elegantly curled, and she delightedly took you in before blinking a few times, returning to her sultry expression. Her red gown fitted her perfectly: a strapless piece that flowed around her as she walked. Following her was a sight you hadn't expected since hearing the gossip from Mor—Lucien Vanserra, adorned in deep autumnal colors that complemented his complexion and long, tidy red hair. He was an old confidant of yours when you had stayed in the spring court. You couldn't help but find it amusing, but you maintained a composed demeanor, concealing your bemusement at how out of place in the night court he seemed.

After Lucien came two beautiful high fae women. The younger one on the left wore a flowing champagne pink gown that accentuated her slim waist and showcased her porcelain fair skin. Her light brown hair was adorned with crystals and flowers, and she wore dainty opal teardrop earrings that complimented her brown eyes. On the right stood another woman in a form-fitting navy dress that subtly shimmered with every movement. The gown highlighted her curves and bust, while a sapphire-like sciphon necklace adorned her neck. Her darker brown hair was elegantly pinned up with a silver circlet. These must have been the High Lady's sisters, Elain and Nesta, whom you had heard so much about. Nesta's eyes had a hint of danger and coldness, while Elain's were filled with awe as they observed the dining hall.

Cassian followed the two women, and you discreetly coughed to suppress a snort. He appeared cleaned up, wearing a navy tunic and dark linen pants, with his hair slicked back and neatly tied. This was a different version of him from the rugged general you were accustomed to, not dressed in his usual fighting leathers to a formal affair. His siphons were cleverly disguised as jewelry pieces, and he had politely tucked back his larger wings. He seemed out of place as much as Lucien, but his mischievous eyes locked with yours, indicating he might have had similar thoughts about you.

Before you could even see her, you sensed Amren's piercing gaze from behind Cassian's towering figure. Her glowing silver eyes held an inscrutable expression, and her lips formed a slight grimace. She wore her usual grey color in a slip gown that elegantly draped down in the front. Though not dressed as extravagantly as the others, her presence demanded attention. A touch of red lipstick and a slightly tousled hairstyle were enough to enhance her beauty. You could see the rest of Helion’s inner court murmur from your peripheral, the usual whispers about the millennia’s old creature stalking towards them.

Rhysand made his entrance with the high lady from beside him, exuding confidence and power. He wore his customary dark attire that accentuated his commanding presence. His violet eyes locked with yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention to Helion. Feyre held her head high, a diadem hanging on the crown of her head, and her hair half up half down in loose waves. Her dress off the shoulder shone in sapphire crystals making it look like stars had been entwined on the gown. She was gorgeous as a mortal even when she was malnourished when you saw her under the mountain, but as a high fae she was even more devastating.

Last of the group, you spotted Azriel, his shadows swirling subtly around him, and your breath caught in your throat. His shadows slinked up his dark tunic clad shoulder seeming to whisper in his ear. He looked over at you making eye contact discreetly. His features were hard but something unreadable in his eyes as he observed you. You didn’t miss the slight bob of his throat as he looked quickly away to a distant corner in the room acting stoic. His hair was pushed back showing his sharp jawline, and you could see his tattoos peeking out his shirt. His silent and brooding presence always managed to unnerve you, unable to get a good read on what could’ve been going through his head. You refused to let your guard down, not wanting to think about the shadowsinger that stood mere feet away. This had been the first time you have seen each other in person since you were able to leave under the mountain.

The Night Court all stood in front of Helion, and he bowed his head in greeting. You did the same along with the rest of the inner court. The introductions began, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Helion gracefully welcomed his guests, exchanging pleasantries and acknowledging the significance of the meeting. You observed the interactions, keeping a blank face despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. It felt like you were looking into your old life from the outside watching the inner circle, and your heart ached for a second.

Eventually, it was time for you to step forward and join the introductions. As you approached Rhysand, his gaze never wavered from yours. His lips curved into a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the past. You stood before him, your heart pounding, but your expression remained composed.

"High Lord Rhysand," you greeted him, keeping your tone neutral and titles formal. "It has been a while."

His voice was smooth as he responded, “Y/n, always a pleasure. Allow me to introduce my wife and High Lady, Feyre.”

You bowed respectfully to the High Lady. “I am in awe, Feyre Cursebreaker. What an honor to have you grace the Day Court with your presence.”

A smile graced her lips in response. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I have heard so much about you, Y/n.” She took your hands in hers, and you were taken aback by the warm informal gesture. Your gaze fell upon the intricate tattoo adorning her hand and forearm, and in that moment, your heart swelled with joy for your cousin, and you dared to steal a glance at Rhys. His eyes were already fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but notice the subtle hints of tenderness and anticipation shining within them. You were so happy for him.

The formalities continued, and you exchanged polite words with Lucien, Elain, and Nesta. You longed for a chance to sit down and talk with them, to hear about their experiences since being freed from the cauldron. Your gaze wandered momentarily to Lucien, who stood near Morrigan, his amber eyes briefly glancing in your direction. A flicker of recognition passed between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of shared history. You had both suffered under the rule of the Spring Court, and it was a trauma you preferred to keep buried for now. But you couldn’t deny that you treasured the moments the young emissary had kept you sane within the trauma.

You stood next to Helion along with another Day Court emissary as Rhys, Amren, and Helion discussed some political topics. Deep down, you yearned for a moment alone with the inner circle, away from the prying eyes and expectations. But for now, you had to focus on the diplomatic matters at hand and navigate the complexities of the gathering. As the conversations flowed around you, you remained attentive, gathering information and assessing the dynamics between the courts.

Throughout the evening, conversations flowed, alliances were strengthened, and unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You played your part, engaging in polite conversation and maintaining the facade of an emissary, all the while battling the internal storm raging within you. It was beginning to wear on you though. Watching from afar at how Mor mingled with Nesta and Cassian. The Illyrian man had his arm around the oldest Archeon sister as they nodded and chuckled at Mor, and you wanted to smile. You had never expected Cassian finding a mate before you, but here you were.

A lot has changed since you had left indeed, and the longing you felt came back.

“You’re not my prisoner, you know. Feel free to mingle,” Helion’s voice chimed from behind, breaking through your thoughts.

“Isn’t that a bit informal?” you responded, sipping your glass of wine.

He arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “To talk at a party?” He snatched your wine from your hand.

You turned to face him, reaching for your half-filled glass that he held teasingly away from you. “Ah, don’t you think it’s a bit informal for an emissary to get drunk?” He added a playful spark in his eyes.

“To drink at a party?” You volleyed back, grinning mischievously as you continued your playful struggle for the glass.

“Why don’t you practice the talking part with Rhysand?” Helion suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It seems like he’s eager to have a word with his dear cousin.” He gestured subtly behind you, and amidst the revelry and banter, Rhysand and Feyre made their way toward you both. However, before you could react, your gaze caught Azriel’s intense hazel eyes from their table behind the approaching couple, where he sat next to Elain. His massive wings appeared tense and uncomfortably confined by the chair. Elain chatted with him, but it seemed his attention was elsewhere, fixated on you. His shadows still whispered in his ear as one crept across the table.You resisted the urge to shudder, maintaining your composure, and quickly turned your attention back to Helion, whose grin remained firmly in place.

“Helion, may we borrow Y/n for a moment?” Rhysand inquired, one eyebrow raised, his gaze flickering between you and Helion.

Helion practically pushed you into Feyre’s arms. “Go ahead, I was just informing her that she’s free from her duties until later!” he announced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as you realized his intent to encourage your mingling.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you replied, bowing your head with a touch of sarcasm. Rhysand extended his arm, and you looped yours through it, allowing him to guide you towards their table. A nervous gulp betrayed your anticipation.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone gentle and caring.

“May we speak on the balcony?” you requested, your voice filled with meekness.

“Of course, it’s getting a bit warm in here,” Rhysand agreed, leading the three of you towards the balcony bathed in soft faelight.

You all leaned casually against the balcony railing, observing the lively feast taking place inside.

"How's the Day Court treating you?" he asked in a relaxed tone, as if to put you at ease. Away from prying eyes, you felt your shoulders relax. It felt good to be with your cousin where you both didn’t have to wear a mask.

"Well," you replied, "the Day Court doesn't quite compare to the beauty of the Night Court, but the days are undeniably bright." You struggled to find a suitable comparison for the Day Court's allure to the Night Court.

Rhys and Feyre almost snorted out their wine, their amusement evident. "I wonder why," Rhys sarcastically murmured.

Choosing to ignore your cousin's comment, you continued, "I've been making progress translating some texts for the court, and delving into a lot of reading.”

It seemed as though the High Lord and Lady expected to hear more and urged you to continue, but they realized you had nothing more to share.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Wow, that sounds like quite a lot," he remarked. You could tell he wanted to throw a snide remark, but a warning look from his mate kept him at bay. Where was Feyre centuries ago when you always found to be the butt of your cousin's jokes?

You shrugged. "Keeps me distracted." From your vantage point, you had a perfect view of the inner circle's table. Mor, Amren, Azriel, Lucien, Nesta, and Cassian were all seated there, drinking and picking at their food. Helion even made sure Amren had a chalice of beast's blood. You missed being a part of that group, laughing and sharing moments with them. The only person in the Day Court you truly felt comfortable with was Helion, and even that remained behind closed doors.

"Come home," the words made your shoulders tense. It wasn't your cousin who had spoken, but Feyre. You looked at her, finding understanding in her eyes, as if she knew what you were going through.

Your gaze wandered back to the inner circle. Your eyes fell on Azriel, who was listening with a ghost of a smile on his lips, as Cassian animatedly spoke, his wings flaring about and nearly knocking over Lucien's wine glass. The group tried to hide their laughter while Amren scolded them. Azriel's shadows discreetly moved the glass out of Cassian's wingspan, hiding his amusement.

"They miss you," Rhys genuinely expressed. "I miss you, and even the House misses you." Tears welled up, tightening your throat. "He won’t say it out loud, but he misses you too."

You didn't need to be told who he was. You knew.

"I didn't even say goodbye," you spoke with a heavy heart, guilt washing over you.

"That was over fifty years ago, Y/n," Rhys reminded you gently.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We have texts for you to translate if it’s a means to keep you busy, we could even have you train with Madja. Want an apartment on the opposite side of town from the House of Wind? Consider it done. Desire a cottage in the middle of nowhere? It's yours. Just please, stop running away," Rhys pleaded.

You felt tears welling up, but you willed them away. "I... I just can't leave," you stammered. You could feel your heart torn.

"You can," Feyre said sympathetically, holding your hands. "Helion asked us to come and talk to you."

"We won't force you, but he mentioned that you've changed in the last few years," Rhys added. Feyre's grip on your hands tightened.

"Please talk to them maybe and think about it?" she requested. You knew she meant the inner circle.

Biting your lip, you contemplated. "I'll find you in a bit. I need some time alone."

With a nod, Rhysand and Feyre understood your need for solitude. They exchanged a brief glance before making their way back inside, leaving you alone on the balcony.

Leaning against the railing, you let the cool evening breeze brush against your skin, smell of wildflower and honey in the air, the quietness of the moment allowing your thoughts to swirl. Images of your past, the friendships you had forged and the bonds you had left behind, filled your mind. The longing in your heart grew stronger with each passing second your family stood in the same room as you. A longing you pushed deep down when you were still under the mountain, uncertain of seeing your loved ones again.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to not let tears slip. It was true that you had changed over the years, that the weight of your experiences had shaped you into someone different. But running away had only prolonged the pain, and you knew it was time to confront it. If your cousins had endured the pain, you were sure you could too.

Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the railing, determination igniting within you. You couldn't stay on the sidelines any longer. The inner circle had always been your family, even if circumstances had driven you apart. And now, as you stood on the cusp of a decision, you realized that it was time to bridge that gap.

Stepping back inside, you navigated through the crowd, searching for the familiar faces you had missed dearly. You found them at their table, still engaged in their playful banter, laughter filling the air. Taking a deep breath, you approached, your footsteps faltering only slightly.

As you reached the table, a hush fell over the group, their gazes turning towards you. Azriel's eyes locked with yours, and the shadows around him seemed to ripple, as though mirroring the tumultuous emotions within you.

"Can I join you?" you asked softly, your voice carrying a blend of trepidation and hope.

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Cassian's boisterous laughter echoed as he clapped you on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of you. Nesta's sharp gaze softened for a brief moment, Elain offered a warm but wary smile, and Lucien's amber eyes held surprise. Morrigan's voice was a welcoming melody as she pulled out a chair for you, and Amren, in her own enigmatic way, nodded approvingly.

Taking your seat among them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of homecoming. And as you settled into the comfort of their presence, you could feel your frozen heart just dethaw slightly.

“Y/n, I knew you were always shy, but around us?” Mor teased you endearingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You look so beautiful tonight!” She gushed, her words filled with genuine admiration as she played with a strand of your hair. “The dress would be better in a darker color though.” She whispered the last part so only you and the inner circle could hear, her voice laced with a conspiratorial tone.

“The gown color does wash you out,” Amren chimed in, her bored expression not fully hiding a hint of amusement.

A laugh bubbled out of your chest, surprising even yourself. "Not the first thing I thought I would hear from you in years," you quipped, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Amren raise her glass to you before taking a sip of the thick liquid in the cup.

“Better than that raggedy spring court piece you came back in, though," Rhysand interjected, his voice filled with playful banter as he and Feyre settled into the extra seats at the table. The original inner circle chuckled at the memory.

Despite that being one of the worst days of your life, you couldn't help but smile too. The shared laughter brought a warmth to the air, softening the edges of past wounds.

“You should’ve seen the dress I came to the Night Court in," Feyre chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Another monstrosity by Ianthe," Lucien muttered into his glass before taking a sip, his voice tinged with a touch of disdain. Your eyes widened at the snide comment, but the group erupted into laughter, momentarily forgetting the weight of your burdens.

As the night wore on, Helion raised his glass, signaling a toast to the alliance between the two courts. The hall fell silent, and you raised your glass as well, a faint smile playing at the corner of your lips. The toast created a joyous noise as everyone in attendance drank, and the music started playing. Mor instantly beamed and grabbed Feyre’s hand, followed by Elain, leading them to the dance floor. Rhysand and Lucien joined them, their steps filled with a carefree grace. Cassian took Nesta’s hand, and they followed suit. Amren excused herself to converse with the emissary from the Day Court with a request of Azriel to accompany her.

You turned to Mor, insisting you would join them shortly, as you wished to find Helion. She nodded understandingly, giving you a knowing smile as she disappeared into the swirling crowd. You made your way toward Helion, feeling the warmth of the night and the drinks starting to loosen your tongue and heart.

“Do you wish to get rid of me so easily?” you feigned offense, walking up to his side. The merriment of the evening had given you a newfound boldness. Your body hadn’t felt this light in ages. Your gaze met his, and a flicker of understanding passed between you.

Helion shook his head, a gentle smile gracing his features. “No, darling, never. I just think your heart belongs somewhere else.” His words were filled with gentle encouragement. He patted the arm of his chair, offering you a seat upon the rest. With an eye roll and a smile, you accepted, settling into the plush chair arm.

"Your presence is lovely, your duty is commendable, but I couldn't sit here watching you turn to stone any longer," Helion continued, his voice filled with genuine concern. His finger absentmindedly found the wrist under your bracelet, his touch a feather-light brush against your skin. A wave of warmth washed over you, and the faint scent of wildflowers drifted through the air.

"Besides, maybe it's time you face a certain Illyrian man," he whispered discreetly, his words carrying a hint of suggestion.

You looked at him, confusion swirling within you. His eyes subtly glanced over to the corner, and you followed his gaze. Azriel stood behind Amren, his intense gaze fixed on Helion and you. His jaw was clenched, and his wings were taut with tension, as if holding back an impending storm. The sight of him sent a jolt of both excitement and apprehension through your veins.

"I can't ignore those ravenous stares, knowing he wants to rip me to shreds, and not in the way I like," he added, teasingly toying with your bracelet as if oblivious to Azriel's presence. The Day Court High Lord knew exactly what he was doing it seemed. Azriel couldn’t have been glaring at Helion; it had to be you. Memories of your past argument with Azriel flashed through your mind, the intensity of the argument still fresh. You had both nearly destroyed each other. You hadn’t ever heard you two speak so many volatile and vulgar things— especially at each other.

"I could never forgive him for what he said," you sighed. "What's even worse is that I can't forgive myself for what I did, not only to him, but to my family. I feel responsible for my ex-husband's actions towards them." You admitted, realizing that you had never spoken those words aloud before.

Beside you, the lord sucked his teeth in retort. "You can't blame yourself for what your father put you through by selling you to that pretty little beast." He sat up straighter and looked at you earnestly. "Nobody blames you, Y/n." You found yourself unabashedly staring back at Azriel as he was still looking at the interaction between you and the high lord.

“We all carry burdens from our past, but we mustn't let them define our future," he said gently. "You were caught in a web spun by others, but you have the strength to break free. It's time to forgive yourself and embrace the healing you deserve."

You nodded nimbly, biting your lip in contemplation. You would always hold gratitude for Helion. His kindness you’ve experienced for the last several years was more than what you deserved and needed, but he still provided it. If you returned to the night court you wouldn’t have known where you stood in the court. What your rank would be, what your friends thought of you, and where to even pick back up in your life. You just knew you haven’t felt this alive in awhile, and you craved the feeling.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

[x] next chapter

Let me know your thoughts, and feel free to like and reblog! I might change the title but that’s tbd.

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jeannineee · 9 months

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Could you do one where Rhys gets injured on like a mission or something and reader goes after the people that hurt him and then comes back and just lectures him into being more careful.

I can imagine the healers especially Madja just listening to this lecture, laughing at Rhys getting scolded like a child but surprised someone is willing to talk to a high lord like that lol.

Idiot

Rhysand x Reader

a/n: requests are open!!

warnings: mentions of injury, violence, canon-typical themes

“You absolute idiot,” you seethed at your mate as you stomped into the bedroom, shaking with anger, but even deeper than that, fear.

Madja stood at his side, bandaging his abdomen. She kept her mouth shut, though you saw her lips twitch upward. Cassian and Azriel were in the corner of the room, snickering. One glance from you, and they stopped.

“You smell like blood, darling,” Rhys drawled, casual as ever, despite the gaping wound on his torso.

You would’ve choked him for maintaining his playful demeanor, if not for his injury. Your lips curled into a snarl. “You took on four Hybern scouts. At the same time, knowing you haven’t recovered all of your power yet.”

“I didn’t realize two of them were daemati,” Rhys replied, hissing as Madja began closing his wound. “If I had known—

“If you had waited, for Azriel, or Cassian, or Mor, or me, or literally anyone else, this wouldn’t have happened,” you shouted, unable to hide the worry lacing your words.

“Darling, I am fine.”

You rubbed your temples, grumbling. “Rhysand, I swear to the fucking Cauldron…the only reason I’m not kicking your ass into the next century is because you’re hurt.”

Rhysand shot you a feline grin. You scowled.

“This isn’t funny. Do you know how stupid this was?”

Madja made a squeaking noise, as though she was trying to stifle a laugh. She cleared her throat, speaking to you and Rhys. “Lots of rest. No strenuous activities for a few days. I’ll be back in the morning.”

You turned to Cassian and Azriel, who quickly hid their amusement. You didn’t have to say anything before they were muttering their farewells and leaving you and Rhys alone.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket over him, before taking his hands in yours. “I was terrified. I didn’t know where you were, what you were doing. All I felt was your pain through the bond. You scared the hell out of me.”

Rhys’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you.”

“You’re damn right you should’ve,” you replied, brushing your lips against his. “Don’t ever do that again.” You moved to lay beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Rhys nodded, kissing the top of your head. “Never.”

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #night court

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shadowdaddies · 27 days

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Ouu, wb Amren x a reader who speaks a different language and very little Prythian(idk, whatever they speak) and struggles trying to get across what she wants from Amren(in bed) but eventually they work it out and it's all smutty 🤭😏

I love your mind omg

Foreign Tongues

Amren x f!Reader

warnings: laborious faerie political ramblings above the cut, smut below the cut, breath play, slight blood play? (it is Amren, after all), tribbing, oral f!receiving

The moon had risen high in the night sky by the time Rhysand decided to call the meeting to an end. Your eyesight was blurred, vision struggling to stay focused on the heavy texts you’d pored over for the better part of the day.

You’d been in the Night Court for several days now, working officially on behalf of Vallahan to discuss trade relations, but your king and queen did not know of the spy in their midst.

When Morrigan had come to Vallahan to seek aid in the war against Hybern, you’d seen both the cruelty of your people towards humans, and your own opportunity to give Prythian the advantage to leverage an agreement that banned slavery from your lands.

The issue laid in your lack of time - you were only given four days in Prythian to devise a plan with the right amount of leverage to achieve both countries’ goals - and the language barrier. Vallahan had spent so long secluded from negotiations with the other territories that the dialect had changed greatly, and you knew little of Prythian’s language as well.

Mor spoke enough of each tongue to work as translator, allowing you to work with her and Rhysand - along with Rhys’s second in command, Amren - in your research and deliberations.

From the moment Amren had introduced herself, steely silver gaze meeting yours with an unwavering confidence, you desired her. Her low, smooth voice as foreign words rolled off her tongue and the intelligence with which she quickly picked up on your language was as arousing as the glances she would flash in your direction when she thought you weren’t looking, the slight flush of her skin when you would notice.

It was as Rhys nodded to you in farewell, Mor standing to follow him toward the door that you caught one of those looks - but this time, Amren didn’t look away. Instead, her eyes seemed to glow like molten silver, bottom lip tugging between her teeth as her scent of black cherry and merlot grew darker.

It was your skin that grew flush this time, eyes darkening at the silent understanding that passed between the two of you. Looking over your shoulder, you realized that Rhys and Mor had already left, and the air grew thick with tension as Amren stood from her seat across the table, hands spreading on the wooden surface as she leaned closer.

As though a magnetic force were drawing you to her, you matched her movement, mere inches separating your mingled breaths. A delicate finger tucked underneath your chin, dragging slowly up to run over your lower lip as her brow arched in question.

“Yes?” she asked in your language, eyes searching eagerly for permission, the leash on her restraint growing taut.

“Yes.”

No sooner had your broken attempt at her language left your lips than she swallowed the sound with her mouth, hand moving to your jaw in a firm grip as she slipped her tongue through your lips.

A lewd moan escaped you as she caressed the roof of your mouth, your lips sucking on her tongue in response as you pulled away to see her wild expression. “Here,” she murmured, pointing to her side of the table before urging you to crawl over the furniture towards her.

Perching on the edge of the table, your hands found purchase in her silky black hair, legs winding around her trim waist to pull her as close as possible. Soft hands slid up your thighs, squeezing the flesh of your ass as Amren’s head dipped to your neck.

A harsh bite pierced the flesh there, her tongue flicking out against the quickly-healing wound as she sucked hard enough to mark you as her own. Teeth and tongue taunted your skin in a symphony of pain and pleasure as she worked her way further down your body.

Fingers softly trailed from your ass, tracing light patterns up your body to draw sharp nails down your sternum, around your breasts to rest at the top of your pants. Lips left your skin when you tugged on Amren’s hair, her gaze lifting to yours in question once more as she snapped the waistband of the fabric.

You couldn’t have found words of any language in that moment, breath catching in your lungs as your need grew into a frenzy. You granted her a frantic nod, your own hands fumbling with the fabric of her top as you hastily undressed each other.

Eyes roved hungrily over your body for a brief moment before you wrapped your legs around her waist once more, one of your legs dropping to the ground so you could lean against the table’s edge.

Amren’s lips found yours once more, the kiss tantalizingly slow as your hand dipped to her thigh, hoisting it over your hip to pull her body fully against yours. A high-pitched whine left her lips as you wound your hips against her own, the crack in her smooth facade making you smile.

Her clit rubbed against your own, nails raking down your back while you twisted and thrust against her. You were coated in each others’ slick, sticky warmth making a mess over your bundle of nerves as you chased your high.

Amren’s small hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently as your eyes rolled back at the pleasure. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, legs shaking in attempt to hold yourself upright.

Just as you felt the pleasure begin to crest, Amren pulled back, hand keeping you in place against the table as her fingers dipped into your folds. Lifting the digits against her lips, pink tongue flicked out, a wicked smirk spreading across her face at your low moan.

She never released her hold that gently pinned you to the wood as she dipped her hand between her own thighs, collecting the slick there before pressing those same fingers to your lips.

You accepted them eagerly, tongue flicking to collect your shared juices, cheeks hollowed as you aimed to suck every last drop. Amren’s chest heaved, lidded eyes shining down at you with approval.

You released her from your mouth with a pop, grin turning wild when she released your bruised neck in favor of tapping the table.

“Here,” she directed in your language, hand sweeping flatly to indicate for you to lay down on the hard surface. Quickly sliding up onto the furniture, you laid on your back, craning your neck to see her climbing onto the table as well.

You practically writhed under her, pussy dripping to the surface beneath you as she straddled your face, round ass perched perfectly above your mouth.

Wasting no time, Amren’s hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling them apart as her tongue licked a broad stripe against your clit. Back arching against the wood, your parted lips were soon smothered by her warmth, hole perched atop your nose as her clit nestled between your lips.

You sucked the bud on instinct, hips rolling against her mouth as the two of you pleasured each other. Fingers parted your folds, spit landing on your clit before being spread by those soft hands.

“Amren,” you moaned, the foreign name pleasant on your tongue when her fingers dipped inside of you, stretching and curling, bringing you to your high incredibly quickly.

Spurred on by her movements, your own tongue flicked and sucked her bud, moving to thrust inside of her as you lapped at her flavor.

“I- now,” Amren stuttered, the only words she could manage as her legs shook.

Your name spilling from her mouth as she reached her high sent you spiraling into your own, heart pounding at the intense ecstasy rolling through your body in waves.

Sweaty limbs tangled, Amren twisting around just enough to be face-to-face with you while you caught your breaths. Thumb sweeping softly across your cheek, Amren pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, her own expression shifting into a rare, bright smile.

Biting your lip, you found it impossible to tear your gaze from her, instead finding any excuse for small touches, admiring the planes and curves of her bare body beside yours.

“And now?”

You knew what Amren was truly asking with that question - but you were set to return home tomorrow, back to a land where you were now a traitor. Nothing was sure anymore, no future could be predicted.

All you knew was what you wanted next, so with a sheepish grin, you interlaced your fingers with hers and pulled her palm to your lips. “Now, your bed?”

Loud laughter rang out, Amren shaking her head with amusement as she muttered something in her language that you couldn’t understand. Collecting your clothes, she reached out her hand to you in invitation. “My bed,” she nodded.

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acourtofthought · 7 months

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Anti's in the fandom pretending that Lucien is unappealing in canon 🤔 :

Lucien’s scarred, handsome face

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—

Lucien’s cruel beauty.

Perhaps you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate"

set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn

Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Amren calls him handsome, Cassian calls him handsome, the King of Hybern calls him handsome, Feyre calls him handsome and remarks on his "cruel beauty", his power, his elegance. It doesn't sound like his scar or eye are hurting his appearance. In fact, it might just make him that much hotter, giving him a dangerous edge to his look 🤤🥵

Without further word, he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes.

Despite my wriggling and shouts of protest, despite my demands that he get my horse, he held firm, and when I looked up, I found that he was running—fast. Faster than anything should be able to move

I lifted my head from his sculpted chest

digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders

the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

I studied the broad, tan hand

he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse,

scrubbing a broad hand over his face.

and caught one with his bare hands.

There's a reason Feyre aka SJM can't stop talking about his hands and shows of strength, Elain's going to be the one benefitting from alllllll that. Catching slippery wet things in his bare ones with ease? He knows how to use them. Hard muscles? Broad chest? Lifting females like it's nothing? Running faster than anything should?

Maybe you could argue against one or two characters opinion of someones physical appeal but when multiple characters, male and female alike can't keep quiet about it, you can take that "Lucien is HOT" check to the bank and cash it.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #pro elucien #lucien supremacy #lucien smut

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shadowsingerx · 1 month

Text

the devil at your door

It’s only afterward that he realizes he should have left pair of them alive. For questioning. In his five hundred years he’s never gone against his teachings. Azriel has always kept a few alive. ~ Small trigger warning for Gwyn’s SA, it’s not written in detail or anything.

He’s too late.

Azriel can see the smoke rising from Sangravah, swirling at the top of the temple like a dark omen. He’s too late, Hybern is already here. With haste, Singer. His shadows urge his wings to beat harder, soaring along the swell of ash infested air.

He can practically sense the fear of the priestesses. It threatens to drown him, choking the oxygen from his lungs.

Breathe, singer.

He can’t allow the anger to consume him. Azriel will deal with later when he’s hidden away in his room, for now he needs to be the Spymaster of the Night Court. Ruthless and unforgiving.

Wrapping his power around him, wings tucking tight against his back, he dives down toward the crumbling temple. At the last moment the shadows engulf him, swallowing him whole until he’s nothing more than a creature from nightmares. Amber eyes aglow in the darkest depths of the shadows.

He is the thing of nightmares. A monster born of cruelty and death, and he will feed on the souls of Hybern’s men.

Moving along the edge of the carnage, he creeps toward the soft melody echoing around the temple; it’s soft and near impossible to hear but his shadows brush along the round of his ears. Pushing him forward. Truth-Teller pulsates in the palm of his left hand, warm to the touch, ready to devour the blood of their enemies. Down the hall, Singer, you must hurry.

There’s a male standing guard, his back is turned to him, as if he’d been too cocky to believe anything would come for them. Oh how wrong he’d been. He stays with the shadows until the last possible second, the only thing the male sees in a flash of amber orbs before Truth-Teller is slashing through his jugular.

He doesn’t pause, doesn’t even hesitate, as he steps over the male’s body, Truth Teller gripped tightly in his hand as he pushes through the threshold.

“We’re going to take our time with you, enjoy your suffering.”

Azriel has been alive for five centuries. He’s been through war, has butchered and taken apart people without a second thought, but those words. Those cruel, hateful, words resonate so deep inside him he doesn’t realize that he’s moving. The shadows fall around him, making his presence known as he starts for the group of males.

He lets his instincts take over, the rage engulfs him like nothing he’s felt before, erupting through his chest and setting the rational part of his soul ablaze. He cuts through the group of males with ease, their cries of surprise filling the kitchen. Blood splatters across the stone flooring like a gruesome painting. Azriel doesn’t use Truth-Teller, not for the subordinates, he rips and tears them apart with his hands, his shadows, the power that thrills through his body like a primal roar.

In the corner of his eye in he spots a flash of red, curling up on herself, attempting to make herself appear smaller. Something dangerous sparks in his chest at the image. Azriel takes his time with the general. He lets him believe that he’s going to let him go, watches as he backs himself into a corner, his blood tainted hands raised in mock surrender. “We can share her, Shadowsinger.”

His proclamation is the final nail in the coffin. Any hope of sparring the male slips away at the suggestion. His head cocks to the right, shadows swirling around his shoulders, a few lingering behind him toward the girl, as if shielding her. Daggers ready to strike at his command. “The only thing I want from you is your blood on my blade.” His steps are slow, calculated as he flares his wings behind him. Allowing the general to see the prince of nightmares.

He takes his time with the general. Enjoying every minute of his suffering. By the time he’s finished with him, the male is nothing more than a husk, cockless and drained of blood. It’s only afterward that he realizes he should have left a pair of them alive. For questioning. In his five hundred years he’s never gone against his teachings. Azriel has always kept a few alive.

The girl, Singer.

The shadows conceal most of the blood coating his body like a second skin, as he walks over to the woman. Azriel does his best to appear as unthreatening as possible but he knows he smells of death. Slowly he kneels in front of her, unclipping the cloak from around his shoulders. He makes a point to keep his gaze on her shaken teals, offering the faintest smile possible. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

It doesn’t do much to bring back all she’s lost, the pain she’s endured, but he hopes his promise brings some sort of peace. Gently he lays the cloak around her body, removing his hands when her own freckled fingers grasp the ends. “I’m going to pick you up now and we’re going to get you out of here okay?”

She doesn’t respond, not that Azriel was expecting her to. Instead she simply offers him a slight nod of her head. Making sure not to touch her anywhere other than beneath her legs and the centre of her back, his shadows working to cover any uncovered part of her, as he lifts her into his arms.

“You’re safe now.”

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #gwynriel weeks 2024

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mother-above · 3 months

Text

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 7/?

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: suggestive, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

A/N: please bare with Azriel and the reader. They’re both stupid and have deep-rooted problems.

Azriel burst through his shadows and startled his family who were sitting by the campfire. They stopped their tasks to watch Azriel swiftly walk by them with clenched fists. He acknowledged no one as he entered his tent. Feyre and Mor looked at Rhysand and Cassian to see if they knew anything, but they shrugged. Giving him a few minutes to simmer down, Rhysand and Cassian make their way to Azriel’s tent to find him lying on his cot staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes of pestering, Cassian finally got Azriel to tell them about his frustrations toward your obliviousness to the bond.

Rhysand puts a comforting hand on Azriel's shoulder. “I know how you feel Az, I truly do. All you can do is be patient. She didn’t reject the bond, she doesn’t even know it exists,” said Rhysand. “Think about it, she just started getting to know you. It’s normal for her to assume you are inviting her as a friend.”

“I’m worried that the bond hasn’t snapped because she doesn’t like me,” admitted Azriel.

“That’s ridiculous,” exclaimed Rhysand. “Just give it time and everything will fall into place.”

Azriel shook his head. “We don’t have time,” he snapped. “I don’t know if we’ll survive this, and I can’t die knowing I never told my mate. I’m beginning to think keeping this from her isn’t a clever idea,” said Azriel as he pressed his palms over his eyes.

Cassian had avoided thinking about the possibility that his friends wouldn’t make it alive, their stories ceasing to exist beyond this war. It’s a miracle they’ve lived this long, and he was beginning to think that this was it. He couldn’t blame his brother for feeling desperate, Azriel found his mate and had no idea if they had any time together.

Cassian chewed the inside of his lips as he weighed Azriel’s options. “You told us she has some issues with relationships, right? I’m not going to tell you what to do but do you think it’ll do more good than bad? She might freak out and we need her full concentration, Az.”

Azriel sighed deeply and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his whole body slumped forward. “You’re right.” The conversation in the Palace’s courtyard was still fresh in his head. He’d never met anyone so passionate and anti-relationship in his life.

He said nothing more as his shadows swarmed him. Rhysand and Cassian patiently waited for him to elaborate but they knew better, Azriel wasn’t going to say a word and would just sit there and ruminate in his thoughts. Once left alone, Azriel laid back down and stared at the ceiling. He could feel his chest tightening, the golden cord desperately reaching for its nonexistent other half.

Of course, my mate doesn’t want me. How foolish of me to think that the second-in-command of Dawn Court would give me, an Illyrian bastard, a chance, thought Azriel.

***

Hybern was moving fast, they had reached the border of the Winter Court and those who could winnow were scrambling to transfer the troops to the correct location. While the camps were being set up, the High Lords sent you on a reconnaissance mission. You were the fastest of the Peregryns and could glamour yourself to avoid detection. When you were airborne, you took notice of a shadow that was struggling to keep up with you. Rolling your eyes, you hold your hand out allowing the wisp to latch on and wrap around your fingers.

“Tell the shadowsinger that he needs to start trusting me to report accurate information,” you whispered to the shadow.

It chittered back but of course; you couldn’t understand it. Little did you know Azriel sent his shadows to alert him of any sign of trouble. With one whisper of danger from his shadows, Azriel would drop everything to find you.

After a couple of hours of scouting and traveling as fast as you could, you arrived at the main war tent to report to the High Lords and their military commanders. Sweating profusely, you dumped your helmet on the floor as Callon handed you a cold drink of water. The shadow that was curled around your hand skittered back to Azriel who stood in the corner of the room. Thesan, Rhysand, Tarquin, Helion, and Kalias patiently waited for you to catch your breath as you plopped onto a chair.

“I’m not going to lie, boys,” you said solemnly. Azriel held back a chuckle, only you would get away with calling the High Lords ‘boys.’ Except for Thesan, the other High Lords were secretly afraid of you. “What I saw was disheartening, the army was twice the size of the first battle. I tried looking to see if more ships were arriving by sea, but I saw no movement as far as I could see. It’s a possibility they glamoured their ships so I don’t know for sure.”

There were so many things to prepare for and you were constantly moving around the tent strategizing over the war table’s scale map of the battlefield. Despite being busy all day, so much of your attention was spent keeping track of Azriel’s whereabouts. You always wanted him in your line of sight, it was easy to evade him that way. Despite your diligence, it was hard to truly avoid him, especially after you realized that whenever his gaze landed on you, it felt like a cool breeze caressed your skin.

The last interaction you had with Azriel at the healer's tent was so intimate that it terrified you. You remember reveling in his presence and you hated that you were still thinking about it. Then there was the possibility of Azriel asking you out on a date. You were curious to know if that was what he meant or if your paranoia of someone getting close to you was affecting how you viewed his intentions.

Once battle strategizing was done, you allowed yourself to look over at Azriel who was talking to Cassian. You had to admit he looked incredibly handsome in his Illyrian leathers that it was tempting enough to go and talk to him. Before the Shadowsinger had the chance to make eye contact and weaken your resolve, you grabbed Thesan and Callon and winnowed them to the Dawn Court camp. The two males looked at your retreating form in shock, the force of your power making you winnow so fast, it gave them whiplash. They watched you enter your private tent and gave each other concerned looks.

Lounging in bed, you rubbed your chest hoping to get rid of this tight feeling, but it never prevailed. It was one of the reasons why you were so tired after your mission, the whole time you felt constricted even though there was nothing physically wrong with you. It was anxiety but you couldn’t pinpoint what was causing it. Was it about the upcoming battle? Your family's safety? The court's safety? Whatever it was, you hoped it would go away soon.

***

The cool crisp air drifting from the Winter Court felt like a blessing as it dried your warm and clammy skin. From the sky, the battlefield looked even more chaotic in comparison to what you saw on the ground. The Prythian troops were getting slightly overwhelmed, which prompted Thesan to signal that now was a suitable time to use your ‘venom’. Breathing hard and rubbing your chest, you force yourself to concentrate and harness your power. With enough of your golden energy gathered at the palm of your hands, you send a burst of magic to the Hybern soldiers.

Moments later, about two hundred soldiers dropped to their knees as they coughed up blood and keeled over. Some were screaming in pain and others just dropped dead. You tried to muster more magic, but it sputtered and only reached a couple dozen Hybern soldiers before noticing your magic reserves had run dry. The soldiers you killed allowed a few moments rest for Prythian, but it wasn’t enough, everyone was back to fighting. Joining the soldiers on the ground, you felt your cheeks redden knowing you barely made a dent against the enemy. The Courts desperately needed the upper hand, and you couldn’t give it to them.

Using your embarrassment as fuel, you moved swiftly and cut through the Hybern soldiers. Caked in dirt, blood, and sweat, the Prythians slowly moved forward as the scale tipped in your nation’s favor. At one point, you, Wyla, and Azriel formed a trio that worked well together quickly taking down the enemy. A day ago, you were avoiding the male, but you couldn’t afford to think like that. In battle, all of that was irrelevant, it was either kill or be killed.

It was mesmerizing watching Azriel fight, he was like an impenetrable wall with his sword and dagger. Even his shadows worked in tandem with him, they watched his back and were weapons themselves. You had forgotten his shadows were weapons too, those same wisps that once gently wrapped around your hands were now striking for the kill.

All was going well until you watched a Hybern commander cut Cassian from his navel to sternum. With your eyes wide open, a scream escaped your lips as your death and poison rolled off your fingers. With precision, you directed your magic to every single Hybern soldier within ten feet of Cassian. They dropped dead within seconds. With a beat of your wings, you were the first person to reach the General, your glowing hands the only thing keeping his organs inside.

“Shit!” you roared, laying Cassian on the ground. “Stay with me Cassian!” He was screaming in pain and there wasn’t much you could do but keep your glowing hands on him. If you let go, he was going to die.

His skin was stitching too slowly, and he was losing too much blood, you willed more healing magic toward his abdomen, but you were too tired. He was going to need a well-rested healer or Thesan, but he was still fighting. In seconds, you decided that you had to save your new friend. You winnowed the both of you to the joint Dawn and Night Court's healing tent, your abrupt arrival made them jump in surprise. They helped you place a too-pale Cassian on a cot and immediately began to help you heal.

Quickly wiping your bloody hands with a cloth, you efficiently ordered the team of Night and Dawn healers. “I want one of you to focus your magic on stopping his bleeding, someone to clean the impurities that got into his body, and I want another healer to start stitching the skin on the sternum. I will focus on the arrangement of the organs and begin reconnecting the abdominal muscles. Please and thank you.”

The Night Court healers knew who you were, word had spread that the Dawn healer they learned from decades ago was the 2nd in command and Golden Warrior. Most healers in Prythian learned what they knew from the schools in Dawn Court, and under the guise of a normal Dawn Court citizen, you were able to work and teach healers from all over Prythian. After careful and fast work, you were able to reconnect the abdominal muscles which meant the worst part had finally passed. His body would have to finish the rest of the healing but with the work you did, he was going to survive.

Cassian was only asleep due to a strong painkilling potion, but you could tell the pain was still there because his brows were furrowed. You and a healer named Madja were stitching his skin together when Azriel and Rhysand winnowed into the tent. You lifted a quizzical brow at Rhysand, and he verbally confirmed that the battle was over, and Thesan was safe. Rhysand stood over Cassian, his features a combination of concern and fury. From what you could gather from his and Azriel’s conversation, Cassian had disobeyed a direct order from his High Lord, and it resulted in today’s injury.

After you and a healer named Madja finished stitching to the best of your abilities, you sagged against the wall in complete exhaustion. Healing Cassian took all your remaining energy. Azriel rushed to your side and helped you sit on a cot. He felt how drained you were and drew you close to lean your body against his. You were so tired it didn’t even cross your mind how intimate this gesture was.

Rhysand and Azriel profusely thanked you for all you’ve done for their brother. Feyre and Mor rushed into the tent and the blonde made a beeline toward you. She wrapped you in a big hug and blubbered her ‘thank yous’ before making her way to Cassian.

Azriel was looking at you with his eyes wide open and his pupils blown out. He was so impressed he couldn’t believe you were his mate. Without you, he would have lost his brother and that alone made him forever indebted to you. He felt good now that you were safely by his side, the feeling of your weight against him made his heart flutter.

You cast your magic over Cassian one last time and nodded in approval. “He’s going to be fine, a few days rest and he’ll be back to normal. Make sure he takes it easy.”

Realizing how close you were to Azriel, you sat up and leaned away from his warm body. You stomped down the feeling of comfort you were getting from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t give him a chance.

Azriel’s cheeks burned as he watched your mud-stained wings grow smaller as you briskly walked away. He was glad that his family was occupied with Cassian to take notice of him. He could tell you were avoiding him, and that very idea made him feel like shit. He knew he pushed too far by inviting you to Velaris, he should’ve listened to that little voice inside his head that told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

Turning his attention back to Cassian, he inspected the work you’ve done. He listened to Madja as she spoke to Feyre and Rhys. Madja was Rhysand’s most trusted healer and to hear her speak about you in such high regard made his chest swell. His shadows whispered their approval as they danced around him. He just wished he knew what you were thinking.

***

With your skin scrubbed clean and a fresh set of clothes, you walked into the main war tent with confidence. The icy blonde heads of the Winter Court swiveled in your direction, Kallias gave a nod to Thesan as Viviane waved you over to the chair next to her. The two of you were chatting about what type of potions you use for clear skin when you found out that Kallias had banned his wife from fighting.

Leaning forward dramatically, you glared at the High Lord of Winter. After semi-hostile banter and input from the other courts arriving, you helped convince Kallias to let Viviane fight in the next battle. You and Viviane were giggling about Kallias’s pout when you felt a cool caress on the scarred side of your face. You turned to see Azriel’s earnest eyes on you as Night Court filed into the tent.

Captivated, you keep eye contact before you see Viviane bristle in the corner of your eye. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and fascination, following her gaze you saw someone you’ve only heard about.

Amren. Rhysand’s 2nd in command.

You could feel her power now that you noticed her presence. Her sharp eyes fleet across the room as she nods to everyone in her presence. The only thing you know about her is that she was thousands of years old and extremely powerful. Thesan and Rhysand waved you over to officially meet her and you could understand why everyone in the room stiffened when she came in, Amren was terrifying. Her stature was one of the shortest in the room and yet, she had this menacing aura around her.

Her silver eyes scanned you from head to toe and then looked curiously over to your wings. Everyone held their breath as they watched two powerful beings size each other up. Amren flashed her perfect teeth and grinned at you wickedly. She grasped your hand in a hold that you assumed was a custom way of greeting in whatever world she came from. She told you she was excited to work with you in the future.

The meeting finally started, and the High Lords and Generals discussed any advantages we could have. The court’s scouts were reporting that the next fight was most likely the last battle. Hybern’s forces increasingly grew as more ships transported them from their island. They were also moving into human territories, which posed another problem. The odds against Prythian’s armies and Hybern’s forces were looking grim.

While discussing Spring and Autumn Court’s participation, High Lord Helion pointed out that he could tell you were not reaching your full potential. He criticized Thesan for keeping you hidden away for all these years when you could have been trained to do bigger things. This pissed Thesan off, his teeth gritted as he tells Helion he had his reasons, but Helion was having none of it.

“Maybe that’s the extent of her power,” interjected Kallias. “She may be a great warrior but there could be a chance she’s not as powerful as we think. I think we’re putting too much pressure on someone who just can’t perform.”

Viviane grimaced as she looked at you for a reaction. Sometimes she couldn’t believe her husband didn’t get in any more fights with the way he talked and presented himself.

“There's no way in Hel her little display in yesterday’s battle is all she could do,” pressed Helion. “Do you not feel her power? I choke on it every time she walks into the room. She’s just untrained, that’s all.”

You cringed as the other High Lords and their entourage agreed. Feeling embarrassed, you reigned in your power and stored it in the sapphire necklace that appears on your neck. It was humiliating to hear them agree that you could do much more… save more Prythian lives if you were strong enough. Your heart started to pound, you wanted to defend yourself, but they were right.

Azriel could feel the anguish under your calm demeanor, he wished he could bash the heads of everyone who was speaking ill of you. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he let a shadow discreetly curl around your ankle. Even if it was a small gesture, he had to do something to show his support.

The moment you felt the cool wisp touch your skin, you knew who and what it was. The burning anger in your chest slowed as you held the gaze of the Shadowsinger. You give him a discreet nod and he responds with the smallest quirk of his lips. To your surprise, another gesture of comfort came from Tarquin who sat on your other side. He placed a large reassuring hand on your thigh and kept it there, it was affectionate, and bewilderingly, you didn’t swat him away.

Tired of all the bullshit the males were spewing, Amren piped in as she picked on her red nails. “You choke on it because you’re all too weak to handle it,” she said coolly. “Don’t worry about our angel of death, she will be powerful enough when the time comes.”

You're not sure whether it was because everyone was afraid of Amren or because of the finality in her tone, but the topic thankfully changed. Her support was appreciated but you have no idea why she was confident in you. With a shadow still wrapped around your ankle, you sat and contemplated how you could reach your full potential.

***

The next few days were spent doing everything you and Thesan could think would help you harness control of your power. The problem wasn’t the stamina of your magic, for 12 hours straight you were doing extensive protective magic around the camps and your magic never faltered. After many theories were evaluated, it all boiled down to either a mental block or something the Mother or Cauldron intended. Thesan had ordered you to relax as much as you could but that was a ridiculous request. An attack on the camps could happen at any moment and it was impossible to relax when that was a possibility.

You had just spent the last 8 hours back in Dawn Court checking the magical shields in the borders and doing research with the priestesses. You invited them to your private library, and you all scoured the books for any information on how to develop your magic. No one found any new information on how to boost your powers, but the priestesses did stumble on something that could be useful. There was a death god named Achlys from thousands of years ago who could poison people like you. The ancient tome didn’t have much information, but Achlys was noted to have developed their magic and had become incredibly powerful. The priestess made a point that in theory, you should be able to cultivate your powers to grow stronger and do things you never imagined.

The head priestess, Irabel, revisited one of Thesan’s theories about your problem being connected to the Cauldron or the Mother. After some prayer, meditation, and focusing on your aura, she believed you were having problems because you were not “whole”. She said she sensed that there was a missing piece in your soul. You blinked at her as if she had two heads. You were more than a hundred years old; you would have noticed if a piece of your soul was missing.

She shook her head, “You may feel perfectly fine because you’ve never felt your soul completely intact.”

“Prythian is at war, and we desperately need every advantage. How do I find the missing piece?” you asked urgently. “I need to find the other piece.”

Irabel looks at you with a fond smile. “My lady, I think the Mother may be implying that you are blessed with a mate. I suspect that you won’t have full capacity of your powers until you are mated.”

Your ears started to ring. No fucking way. This was the last thing you wanted.

“W-what?” you stammered. This may be one of the worst news you’ve ever received. “High Priestess… a mate… the bond… that’s not an option for me.”

“This is all theory, but you do seem to be glowing brighter since the last time I saw you which was before Thesan came back from Under the Mountain. Maybe you’ve met your mate since then. Has there been someone you’ve met and had a connection with?”

Your mind drew a blank until a certain male with rich brown skin and turquoise eyes popped up. Tarquin. It had to be the High Lord of Summer; you should have suspected since you two became easy friends. Until Tarquin, you’ve never slept with the same male twice. Hot panic flooded your bloodstream, you couldn’t believe your worst fears were coming true.

“There’s not enough time for a mating bond,” you diverted. You were going to spare the High Priestess from your slander against something as sacred as a mate bond. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you looked at Irabel fiercely. “Please, there must be a way to be stronger by the time the battle arrives.”

She rested her chin on her steepled fingers. “We mustn't forget the power of sheer will. This may not be the answer you were looking for, but it may be your best chance.”

Once you said goodbye to the priestesses and received word they were safely back in their temple, you winnowed to the war camps. You trudged to Thesan’s tent where you ranted about the discoveries to your cousin and Callon. Thesan kept note to do further research on the god named Achlys, but Callon was far more concerned about finding out who your mate was. At first, you weren’t going to tell them who you thought it was but Thesan and Callon were persuasive. Thesan promised you an exceedingly long vacation if you told them, so you did.

The shock on both their faces was almost worth the agony of knowing you might have a mate and it was probably Tarquin. Thesan didn’t say a word as he looked at you quizzically. Callon on the other hand could barely contain his excitement. He knew you never wanted to be in a relationship, but he couldn’t help but feel joyous for you.

You weren’t on a battlefield today but the level of exhaustion you were feeling felt like you’d participated in one. The weight to perform in the final battle sat heavily on your shoulders and all this nonsense about a mate made things worse.

Saying goodnight, you walked to your tent warily looking around hoping a certain High Lord wasn’t popping by for a visit. You had no idea if you could even look at Tarquin now that you knew what you knew. You scrutinized every interaction you had with him and the more you did that, the more you were convinced he might be your mate. Despite everything, the mating bond must not have snapped because you felt nothing, and you were grateful for that. It would be difficult to avoid Tarquin forever, so you vowed to never touch him again to avoid the snap.

Irritation crawled up your neck at the thought of the High Lord of Summer. In an attempt to forget about him, you submerged yourself in the hot bath water. After washing up and getting dressed, you were so tired that you only bothered to wear underwear and a long tunic that stopped mid-thigh.

Flopping into bed, sleep quickly took over as vivid dreams enveloped your mind. It was a strange dream, nothing was making sense, but you felt like you were being chased, the sounds of howling behind you. The rest of the dream was muddled, the only thing you could clearly see was a scene of Azriel only wearing his Illyrian leather pants. He was leaning forward like he was in pain; blood was dripping from his torso and wings. The rest of the dream was bland, you were just about to peacefully doze in dark bliss when a heavy hand shook your shoulder.

“Quick! Get up, it’s the Shadowsinger!” said Callon urgently. “He needs a healer.��

You rolled out of bed and sprung onto your feet at the mention of Azriel. “What’s happening? Did Hybern attack the camps?” you asked, frantically looking around the tent.

Callon shook his head. “Something happened with the Night Court. Rhysand winnowed in Azriel and requested you since you know more about wings. It’s bad.”

The graveness of Callon’s voice made you make a beeline toward the exit only stopping to tug boots onto your feet. It was past midnight, and the only bright light was coming from the healer's tent. You strode in and the first thing you saw was Azriel who was bickering with Rhysand who was trying to get his brother to sit down and relax.

A gasp escaped your lips as you saw the injuries inflicted on Azriel’s body. There he was- shirtless and roughed up just like the scene from your dream. There were slow healing cuts everywhere and parts of his wings were ripped to shreds. Your eyes roamed over the expanse of his tattooed chest, he was still glistening in sweat, and it made the black swirls that decorated his skin pop out.

Their eyes snapped at you, Azriel’s eyes widened and then his body went slack as he sunk onto a cot. The sudden movement made the claw marks bleed more. Thesan who was assessing the damage looked up and sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness you’re here! He was shot by a faebane arrow and Nuan’s anti-faebane compound can only do so much. It’s affecting both of our healing abilities, and his wings aren’t looking too good,” said Thesan. “Do you think you can extract the poison?”

You stepped closer and peered at his lacerations. You could smell the sharp scent of faebane from the arrow wound on his shoulder. This was something you’d never done before but you could try.

Sitting next to Azriel, you hovered a glowing hand over a wound and you felt the strange resistance of faebane. You grasped his shoulder and Azriel winced at your touch.

“How bad does it hurt?” you asked.

Azriel rolled his neck trying to ignore the burning pain. “The arrow puncture doesn’t hurt much, it’s my wings I’m worried about,” said Azriel.

You sucked in a breath as you glanced at his wings. They were going to need extensive work and it was going to be extremely painful for him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said as you started the process of concentrating energy onto your fingers. “How are you feeling right now?”

“I feel better now that you’re here,” said Azriel honestly.

Rhysand’s eyes widened as Thesan and Callon shot each other looks. Your mouth curved into a smile as Azriel sputtered.

“You know- I feel better because you’re a master healer with wings,” said Azriel. “I’m in good hands.”

“Of course,” you said taking hold of his shoulder once more.

Azriel wanted to disappear into his shadows. He couldn’t believe he said that in front of everyone.

Closing your eyes, you breathed deeply as the magic concentrated in your hand. Instead of willing the poison to be released from you, you pressed your fingertips onto his skin as you tried to will the faebane out of the wound.

“I am death and poison,” you whispered, barely audible. Golden tendrils from your hand are absorbed into his skin. “Like calls to like. Come to me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened as he felt the strange sensation of your magic, it stung but your proximity was enough distraction. He let your presence calm his mind as he watched your magic in awe. Azriel moved his gaze to see your face slightly scrunched in concentration, the scar on the side contorting as your eyes crinkled. From the beginning, he was always attracted to you but the more time he spent with you, he found your beauty to be always flourishing.

Ever so slowly, you retract your fingers, and the tendrils had latched onto blood that was poisoned by faebane. Carefully, you pulled out all the faebane you could detect in Azriel’s system. Rhysand, Thesan, and Callon watched in wonder as they had never seen anything like this. Once you were finished and had a mass of Azriel’s poisoned blood properly disposed of in some pocket realm, they exploded into excited chatter.

While you appreciated their appreciation, there was still much to be done and they were far too distracting.

“Boys!” you snapped. “I may have gotten the poison out, but we are not out of the woods yet. Either shut up and let me work in silence or get out of the tent!”

Azriel chuckled as he watched his brother, Dawn’s High Lord, and a strong warrior shuffle out of the tent. He loved the idea that his mate had the power to make the High Lords do what you wanted. Granted it was your cousin and Rhysand, but it still meant that his mate was powerful, and he was beginning to adore that about you.

With no distractions, you were able to carefully work on Azriel’s wounds. To distract him from the pain, you asked him what happened. He explained that Hybern had taken Feyre’s sister Elain and that he and the High Lady went on a mission to retrieve her. He ended up having to carry Elain and a human girl while under attack. You gaped at him as you thought of the sheer strength it must have taken to do that. It explained the feminine scents that lingered on his skin you noticed earlier.

The scents weren’t the only thing you noticed. The black swirled tattoos that covered his chest and arms were so beautiful, you had to keep refocusing your attention. The swirls were mesmerizing, they reminded you of his shadows and you couldn’t stop looking. The black ink curved against the muscles under his skin, you had never gotten over how muscular this male was.

Once the wounds on his torso were taken care of, you moved to sit behind him so you could start mending his severely injured wings. Well aware Illyrian wings were sensitive, you wanted to survey what you had to work with before you touched him. Callon wasn’t lying when he said the wings were bad, they were wrecked, and you had no idea if they would heal in time for the big battle. With how tense Azriel was, you were sure the male was putting on a strong façade because if your wings looked like this, you’d be in agony.

“Azriel, I'm going to need to touch your wings to heal you,” you said. “Do I have permission?”

Azriel suddenly felt a little light-headed, he wasn’t sure if was from blood loss or the anticipation of you near his wings again. He nodded and sucked in a breath when he felt your warm hands poke and prod his wings as you examined him. He was glad he was in pain, otherwise, he didn’t think he’d be able to resist you.

“How do they look? Will I fly again?” said Azriel. He was so caught up in your presence that he had almost forgotten why he was in a healer's tent.

“I’m not going to lie,” you said softly “It doesn’t look good, but I haven’t started yet, my answer could change when we’re done.”

He turned to look at you and your heart plunged a little. He looked scared and vulnerable, the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a warrior be. You don’t blame him, the idea of losing the freedom to fly was something you could understand.

“You should know it’s going to be painful, pain like you’ve never felt before,” you warned. “I’m going to do my best, but you’ll have to bear with me.”

“I trust you,” said Azriel.

It was strange to hear that coming from his own tongue. He had never trusted anyone this quickly, but he knew who you were to him. Despite the knowledge that you were his mate, his gut could tell that he could trust you with his life.

He said it with such conviction, that a gentle smile graced your lips.

“Thank you, Azriel. Good to know I have it,” you said. Clearing your throat, you place your hands on his shoulders and make him turn around again. “I want you to talk to me, tell me anything that’ll get your mind off the pain.”

He nodded and then the slow and excruciating process began. He felt every tug and magical stitch and it sent him rambling more about the mission and how he had to escape Hybern while carrying an Archeron sister and a human girl. You carefully worked and listened intently, his deep voice letting you slip into an ultra-concentrated trance. It was broken when you hit a nerve which sent Azriel gripping the cot and letting out a strained yelp. You apologized and let him gather himself before leaning down to continue healing.

“What was your childhood like?” you asked, trying to distract him.

Azriel’s shadows began to swarm around him, protective of their master. He wordlessly told them that it was alright, so they calmed.

“My childhood was… difficult,” replied Azriel. “You know, I’m no stranger to pain. It’s all I’ve felt my entire life.”

Your fingers froze over his wings, was he going to talk about the scars on his hands?

Letting out a shaky breath, you replied. “Oh?”

Blinking, you continued to heal while doing your best to calm your heartbeat. A part of you was eager to find out if you did have dreams about Azriel being locked in a cellar. A larger part of your subconscious was scared to find out because it would mean there was a deeper connection between the two of you. Even when you weren’t thinking about it, your heart was always protecting you.

Azriel glanced down at his clenched fists. Those scarred hands that he hated so much. He decided not to tell you what really happened to him, he didn’t want to scare you away with his childhood trauma. So instead, he resorted to deflecting which he was an expert at.

“Enough about me, I want to know what’s troubling you,” said Azriel as he smirked and looked back at you.

You raised a brow. “What makes you think something is troubling me?

“First of all, your energy is practically suffocating me at this moment and the second reason is you’re not wearing any pants. You’re Thesan’s 2nd, you would never step out in public looking informal.”

Jerking back in surprise, you looked down to see that he was right. You were only wearing a tunic and boots, your bare skin brushing against his waistband and back. Hyper-aware of how close you were to Azriel, you moved backward as heat rushed to your cheeks.

“I apologize for my appearance; I was in such a rush I didn’t realize I only had my tunic on!”

Azriel shrugged nonchalantly, the movement making him grimace in pain.

“It’s alright. I appreciate the urgency,” said Azriel.

You continued your delicate work on his wings while making sure there was enough distance between the two of you.

“You didn’t answer my first question. What’s gotten you so distracted you forgot to put pants on?” asked Azriel. “Is it the upcoming battle?”

Chewing the inside of your lip, you contemplated whether you should say anything. This was an incredibly personal topic but the weight it had on your shoulders was intense, you needed to talk about it. Choosing your words carefully, you make sure you don’t reveal too much.

“I was recently told that to be more powerful, I would have to find the other half of my soul…” you said quietly. “When I was searching for answers, that was the last thing I wanted to hear.”

Is she talking about the mate bond? Does she know about our bond? thought Azriel.

His heart started to pound as he tried to form the proper words in his head. Azriel stammered, “Uh- when you say your other half, do you mean—"

“The oh-so-sacred mate bond?” you interrupted; your voice laced with dismay.

Azriel felt the blood drain from his face, you sounded scared. “You told me you didn’t like relationships, but I didn’t think it extended to the mating bond.”

You sighed as you focused on healing a tendon in his wing. “I told you I have complicated feelings about love. What’s troubling me is I think I may have met my mate and I know who it is.”

“Oh?” said Azriel shakily. “Who do you think it is?”

“Before I say anything, you need to promise you won’t speak a word about this to anyone else. If you break my trust, I swear I’ll make sure you shit and vomit for an entire day. It’ll be the worst day of your life.”

Azriel hastily agreed. He wanted to laugh but the suspense was overpowering everything.

“Well, I don’t know for sure, but the High Priestess suspects I have a mate, and if her theory is right…. I think it’s someone I've recently slept with,” you admitted.

Jealousy ignited within the shadowsinger as he turned to look at you. You protested his sudden movement and his wings and muscles screamed at him, but Azriel couldn’t care less. He felt his blood boil as he thought of another male touching you. It took everything in him not to demand who your lover was, you had every right to sleep with anyone you wanted and Azriel had to live with that.

“What are you going to do about it?” asked Azriel lowly. His head was spinning, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear your answer.

You looked down in shame, were you going to tell Azriel how you planned to never talk to Tarquin again? The entire idea was ridiculous, but you were going to do anything to make sure that bond would never snap between the both of you. Slowly, you looked up to see Azriel’s exhausted features but despite everything he’d been through today, his gaze was sharp and calculating. There was a tinge of vulnerability in his hazel eyes, you weren’t sure why but that was enough to convince you to be honest.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you looked down at your still-glowing hands. “I don’t know… ignore him forever? All I know is I’m terrified.”

“I don’t understand, what’s so scary about it?”

“Something as strong as the mate bond makes you so vulnerable and weak. I’ve seen what it’s done to my parents and other couples, the bond is a weakness and I refuse to let it distract me,” you admitted. “It doesn’t even have to be a mate bond, love itself is a corruption.”

Azriel was speechless as he tried to come up with something to say. He had never met anyone like you, and it made his heart twist knowing that his mate thought like this. In his silence, you gently urged him to turn around so you could continue to heal him. You were almost done stitching his wings when he finally spoke.

“What happened to you?” he asked, he didn’t bother hiding the sadness and confusion in his voice. “What happened to make you think like this?”

You thought about telling him about your parents, but you stopped yourself, it was too difficult and too personal to talk about. Instead, you let your hand's repetitive movements lull you into a memory.

“25 years ago, I was out on patrol with two Peregryns who were spouses. A creature was wreaking havoc on a town and at the time, we didn’t know it was a Puca.”

Azriel breathed sharply, he already knew it was going to be a horrible end.

“At one point, we were all separated and the Puca lured the wife pretending to be her injured husband. It was too late when we noticed, I didn’t even hear her yell…it was her blood that I smelt first. Her husband and I killed the Puca but the scream he let out when he saw her body—I can still hear it sometimes,” you said thickly. “We would check on him occasionally, but he was never the same. He was a shell of a male; it was only when the curse broke that I saw him walking around the city and even then, he looked ghastly and bleak.”

No one spoke after that, just the quiet shuffling of your hands moving and you and Azriel’s heartbeats. You wondered what Azriel was thinking, he probably lost all respect for you once he heard your opinions on something so sacred. Casting your magic over his wings and other injuries, you concluded that you did everything possible and that only time would heal the rest of his wounds.

Mindful you were going to face him after your haphazard explanation of why you don’t want a mate, you gathered your courage to reveal the bad news. Moving to sit on the cot across from Azriel, you explained to him that he was going to need at least 2 weeks of complete rest. It took him a second but when it dawned on him that he wouldn’t be able to participate in the big battle, he slumped forward and covered his face with his hands.

You looked at him in shock, you expected him to argue and fight against your orders, but he just sat there and breathed heavily. While you were concerned for the shadowsinger, Azriel was holding back hysterical laughter and roars of frustration. He wasn’t angry at you; he was furious at the world for all the hardships they’d thrown at him.

His own mate was so frightened and resistant of the mate bond, that you had deluded yourself into thinking another male was your mate. If only you knew who you were talking to, thought Azriel, you’d have a heart attack. He also cursed the universe for his injuries. How could he keep still while you and his family were fighting for their country? Azriel thought he was going to snap until he felt you place a hand on his knee.

“Azriel? I’m so sorry, I know how much you want to fight but your wings won’t last,” you said gently. “If you try to fly too soon, you’ll have irreparable damage on your wings.”

Collecting his thoughts, it took him a while to respond. “What if I don’t fly? Can’t I stay on the ground and fight there?” asked Azriel.

You looked at the beautiful, battered male in front of you. The healing you and Thesan could only do so much once faebane had affected it. You were able to remove the poison from his blood, but the damage was already done.

Shaking your head, you squeezed his knee in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m sorry, baby bat. I wouldn’t risk it if you want to fly again, I’ll make sure Rhysand gets briefed, so you don’t try to undermine my orders.”

He chuckled and a smile made its way to your lips at the rich sound. The both of you sat in silence once more, listening to the nocturnal animals make their faint sounds around the war camp.

“I think I understand you better now,” said Azriel, his voice slicing through the air. “You’re not scared of love or relationships. You shut yourself out because you’re scared of losing people. You’re scared of how much it’ll hurt once someone you genuinely love disappears from your life.”

Your jaw dropped as you blinked at him. No one had ever spoken to you that bluntly, let alone try to analyze your character like that and you did not like it. He was wrong but something about his words rang true. It almost seemed like Azriel was trying to make you feel bad for feeling like that, but it only did the opposite.

Memories of your parent's abandonment flooded your mind, and you blinked back tears. You were going to make sure that bond would never snap between you and Tarquin.

You would do anything.

“I don’t think you understood my story,” you chided, leaning closer to Azriel. “I don’t want a mate or a lover because I don’t want to be weak.”

Azriel raised a brow, he didn’t think you’d be this hard-headed. “Love doesn’t make you weak, little dove. Ignorance does.”

“It’s not ignorance, it’s awareness,” you quipped back. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you haven’t been worried sick about Morrigan in the last two battles. You took your eye off the enemy, Azriel, that sounds like vulnerability to me.”

Azriel couldn’t believe you mentioned Morrigan. He wished he could tell that it was you who he was always checking on, but he couldn’t do that. He wished he could tell you that a mate is what he’s been waiting for all his life.

The world felt eerily still as you and Azriel gravitated closer to each other, both of you desperate for the other individual to see their point. Azriel’s burning gaze took in the beauty of his irrational mate. If only you knew the whole truth, you’d be swallowing your words. With your faces inches apart, your eyes hovered over his lips and something within wanted to press your lips against his… to do anything to forget the High Lord of Summer.

Slowly, the scent of the disinfectants and potions in the tent dispersed into the nether. The only thing you could smell was the pleasant waft of cedarwood and the chilled mist of night. Your gaze flickered to his hazel eyes and suddenly, all thoughts of formality, consequence, and reason flew out the window.

“Can I kiss you?”

Azriel sharply inhaled. Did he just hear you correctly? He thought his mind was playing tricks with him until he saw the intensity in your eyes. “Why?” he asked shakily.

“Help me forget him,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be weak.”

Azriel should’ve said no for both his and your sake. He could only imagine how furious you would be once you found out he was your actual mate, but he couldn’t resist this request. He was desperate for you, and he would take scraps if that was all you would give him. For you, he was learning he would do anything.

He never thought he could feel heartbroken and elated at the same time. Azriel took his hand and placed it tenderly on the scarred side of your face. Your eyes go wide as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. Wholly taking advantage of the opportunity you gave him, he memorized every single detail, down to every hair, fine line, freckle, and beauty mark on your face. Gathering his courage, he pulled you towards him and you met him halfway.

The moment your lips met; everything went blank. All was forgotten but Azriel. His presence was the only thing you could sense. Everything felt magnified. His lips were soft as they slowly moved against yours. The scrape of your tunic sleeve as it brushed against his chest sounded like thunder. The smooth glide of your hands felt like silk as you gently pulled him closer where his neck met his shoulder.

Being this close and kissing Azriel felt exhilarating, so much so that your golden glow was detected with closed eyes. You don’t know if it was 30 seconds or 30 minutes but time felt different. Slightly out of breath, the both of you leaned your foreheads against each other in disbelief. Suddenly, the loud chatter of Rhysand and Thesan by the tent opening makes you and Azriel spring apart.

You were just able to stand up and straighten yourself out when Rhysand and your cousin casually strode in, their faces smooth and unreadable. Moments later Calon and Cassian walked in, and they met your eye with smirks on their lips. You cringed at the thought of the four fae hearing what went down between you and Azriel. You gave the warriors a warning glare that would ensure their silence for the time being.

Still slightly dazed from your kiss with Azriel, you gestured to Rhysand to walk with you to the corner of the tent in a desperate attempt to clear your mind before speaking to the High Lord. Clearing your throat, you explained to Rhysand what you were able to mend and how much damage the faebane had done to his body. You tell him that you highly recommend Azriel to be banned from fighting in the next battle. Rhysand asked questions and you prayed to the Mother he wouldn’t mention anything about the shadowsinger’s scent that wafted from you.

As the shadowsinger watched his mate talk to his brother, Azriel tugged hard against the golden thread in his chest but to his dismay, the other side was still vast and empty. He still couldn’t believe he’d kissed you, with the way things were going, he never thought he’d get the chance. Despite the bond not snapping for you, Azriel could tell with the way you were breathless and glowing; that at this moment, whoever your lover was, was long forgotten.

For now, this was enough for Azriel.

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acotar fanfiction

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azrielhours · 2 years

Text

Waiting for You

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Synopsis: Reader and Az are besties who are secretly in love w each other but refuse to admit it. She’s the only one who gets him out of his broody moods so she comforts him after a bad mission. She gets badly hurt on a mission and he goes feral rescuing her.

Warnings: Canon typical violence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where is he?” you asked Cassian as soon as you saw him in the foyer at the House of Wind. You’d been at a meeting with Feyre when Mor winnowed in to retrieve you.

“In his room. He’s been in there since last night,” Cassian told you in a hushed voice.

You balked. “Last night? Why didn’t you guys tell me sooner?”

“We were trying to talk him down ourselves, but he doesn’t want to see anyone. You know how he gets.”

Worry inched up your spine. “What happened?”

Cassian grimaced, mouth bracketed with tension. “Hybern soldiers ambushed a temple in Sangravah. Azriel and Rhys went there as fast as they could, but they didn’t get there in time to save all the priestesses. Az has been blaming himself since. Doesn’t wanna see anyone or leave his room.”

You nodded as Cassian walked you to Azriel’s room, falling into silence. You braced yourself for the task ahead. You were the only one Azriel lets in during incidents like this. Upon reaching his door, Cassian squeezed your shoulder. “Good luck,” he whispered, turning to leave.

Once Cassian was gone, you opened the door. Just as you expected, it was pitch black inside. Azriel’s shadows were frantically swarming around the room, blocking out all sources of light, reminding you of wild bats. You felt them brushing against you in phantom caresses. You closed the door behind you, allowing yourself to be completely immersed in the darkness. You waited a heartbeat, knowing the shadows were whispering to Azriel of your arrival. His silence indicated he knew it was you because if it were anyone else entering his room, he’d ask them to leave. But not you. Never you.

Squinting, you eventually found the faint blue glow of his siphons between the swarming blackness of his churning shadows. You begin padding over, hands raised in front of you to stop yourself from running into any furniture. You felt his bedpost, flinching slightly in surprise. He’s sitting on his bed, then. Bracing your hands onto it, you trail them over the edge of his bed as you move closer to that faint blue glow. Finally, you felt him, meeting the outside of his thigh with your roaming fingers. You moved to stand directly where you anticipated he was sitting, moving slowly to avoid hitting him suddenly. You took a tentative step forward and felt his spread knees bracketing the sides of your legs. You took another step forward, right between his open thighs, warily reaching forward until your fingers met his shoulders.

You didn’t say anything just yet. Bracing your hands flat onto his shoulders, you felt them rise and fall abruptly with his breathing. Then you felt him shift forward. You remained planted firmly in place, allowing him to take whatever he needed from you. Heavy, warm hands fell onto your hips, gently tugging you forward. You yielded to him, just as you’d already secretly yielded so much of yourself to him. You felt his head lower onto your chest, forehead resting on your sternum. Your left hand moved to cradle the back of his neck, your right hand stroking his hair back. You felt him breathe deeply, felt your heart break at his pain. He remained where he was, gripping your hips and breathing into you; gradually, his shadows slowed their black churning, stopped the restless swarming, and light at last trickled into his room. First in fractures like beams through a mosaic, then spilling in like a cleansing mist.

The golden glow of the sunset outside basked his room, allowing you to see once more. Still, you said nothing and remained where you were to let him take his time. You looked down at the male you loved so dearly, your best friend, and frowned to see he was still in his Illyrian leathers. Still caked with blood. He mustn’t have taken them off since returning from the mission last night, mustn’t have slept at all. You silently cursed Cassian for waiting so long to tell you. Azriel takes a final deep, shuddering breath, and slowly raised his head off your chest. You meet his gaze, still stroking back his hair, finding a haunted look in his eyes, dark circles beneath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper gently. He just shakes his head, breaking your gaze. “Az, sweetheart.” You bit your lip, trying to tread carefully. “We need to get you out of these leathers. Yeah?” He just nods. That’s a good sign, at least. He reaches to begin undoing the straps and buckles across his torso. His fingers are caked with blood, making you frown once again. He glanced up to catch the frown. “Is that blood yours?”

“No,” he finally spoke, voice rough from disuse. “It’s the Hybern commander’s. I didn’t leave any survivors.” No remorse in his voice.

“Good,” you say honestly, holding his gaze. You’ve never once balked from Azriel’s deeds, his enactment of justice. There’s grim understanding in his eyes now, at your acceptance of who he is, his light and dark. You reach for his leathers. Aside from the usual leathers, he also had protective gear on his shoulders and down his arms. The dark knight incarnate. You struggle to unbuckle his leathers beneath the partial armour, moving your fingers to work those free instead. You frown slightly in frustration. Azriel catches this and goes to stand. You take a step back. At his full, towering height, you walk around him to undo the armour bindings. You remove the protective gear on his right shoulder; once it was undone, you try to carefully lower it to the ground, but it’s much heavier than you anticipated. Azriel takes over before you drop the heavy metal onto your feet, easily hauling it off himself with one hand. You repeat the motions with his left shoulder. Then you remove the protection off his upper arms, leaving only his Illyrian leathers.

You walk back to his front, gazing tentatively at his face to see how he’s doing. He holds your gaze, eyes clearer than they were when you first saw them in the light. Progress. You gently take his hand and silently lead him to his washroom. You turn the bathtub faucet on, pouring various tonics and soaps into the water. You turn back and find him undoing the last of his straps and dagger holsters. You walk up to him and reach for the bindings holding the leathers together. Once again, he yields the task to you.

You undo the bindings, reaching for the neckline of the leathers, and slowly pull it down his frame. He pulls his arms out of the sleeves with either hand, then shimmies his arms out of the top, exposing his abdomen. You run your eyes over his exposed form, searching for injuries, finding none aside from some bruising. You meet his gaze once more, finding it already on your face. You turn, silently telling him to remove the rest of his leathers himself. You hear the clothing being dropped into a pile, feel him shift behind you, and hear him lower himself into the water.

You turn to find him submerged, the bubbles and murky water concealing his lower half, though you ignored the voice in your head insisting he wouldn’t care if you saw him naked as the day he was born. You go sit on the edge of the tub, behind where his back rested. Filling a small bucket with water, you shield his face with your free hand and pour the water into his hair with the other. His eyes close, exhaling in relief. His submission to your care pulled on your heartstrings, bringing about all kinds of implications you shoved to the back of your mind. Azriel didn’t know you loved him, no one did, and you certainly wouldn’t be the fool who ruined your friendship by telling him how you felt.

You washed his hair, pouring as much love and care as you could into the action, saying with your hands what you could never tell him with your tongue. You took some soap and moved onto his upper body. He obliged, holding his arm out for you. You moved down his arm, taking extra care with his hands, cleaning the blood off thoroughly. You repeated the motion with his other arm, then gave him the soap in his hand in a silent command to take over. “I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?” He nodded in confirmation.

You waited for him on his bed, listening to the sound of the faucet turning off and Azriel shuffling around as he dried himself. He came out of the bathroom with just a towel around his hips. You averted your gaze, blushing as if you hadn’t just undressed and washed him yourself. The irony wasn’t lost on Azriel either because he let out a huff of amusement.

You allowed him to change in privacy, only looking back up when he came and stood directly in front of you, clothed in pyjama bottoms and a white tee. You found a small smile on his face, making your heart swell. You got off his bed in a hurry, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, and burying your head into his shoulder. He hugged you back tightly around your shoulders. You pulled back to get another look at his improved state, but Azriel wasn’t done with you just yet. He moves his hold to your waist, pulling you back to his body, and drops his head down to your shoulder where he rests his forehead, breathing you in once more. You’re momentarily shocked by the vulnerable display, but you quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders, closing your eyes at the sensation. You don’t know how long the two of you stay there, but you don’t dare break away this time. Azriel finally rises, meeting your gaze.

“Better?” you ask softly.

“Better.”

There’s a softness in his eyes that has your heart stuttering, not wanting to give in to the hope you feel swelling in your chest. Best friends, you remind yourself. He’s just in a vulnerable headspace. You step back. “You haven’t had anything to eat, have you?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t have much of an appetite.”

You frowned. “I’m gonna go get you something to eat. Okay?”

That softness remained in his eyes. He gave another small smile. “Okay.”

“Wait for me,” you said. His softened gaze endured.

“I’m waiting for you,” he said. You held his gaze, felt an unspoken charge pass between the two of you, and you turned to leave.

“I’m assuming it went well,” Cassian said as he came into the kitchen behind you.

The House had a nice little dinner prepared for Azriel, nothing too hard on the stomach. “Yes, he’s doing better. He bathed and changed. Why didn’t you tell me to come sooner, Cass?” you frowned at the male as he came to lean beside you against the counter.

He had a knowing smile you chose to ignore. “Because we thought we could handle your boyfriend this time without all the theatrics.”

You blushed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right. There’s just another super secret explanation for why you’re the only one who can calm him down when he gets all broody.”

“It’s because he’s my best friend.”

Cassian dramatically clutched his chest. “Don’t do me like that Y/N.” You laughed, taking the tray to leave, but Cassian wasn’t done. “The day you finally admit you’re in love with each other is the day you make me a very rich male.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not in love.” You turned to glare at him as you left the kitchen.

“Me when I lie.”

You barked a laugh, despite yourself.

“Bye Cassian. Pain in my fucking ass.”

His laughter trailed after you as you made your way back to Azriel’s room. There, you found he was indeed waiting for you. He looked settled in the light. He smiled when he saw you, lightly patting the spot beside him on the bed. You couldn’t stop your smile back even if you tried, happily making your way over. You carried his food in your hands, and he carried your heart in his.

The next day, you and Mor found yourselves coming up to the Sangravah temple. Rhys asked the two of you to do a damage assessment. Azriel was initially assigned this part of the mission, but you volunteered in his place, not wanting him to fall back into the self-blaming headspace. You’d remained in your civilian clothes, hoping to offer comfort to the surviving priestesses. You made your way through the temple, Mor taking the outside perimeter. You walked past the vestibule pillars, not seeing any priestesses. Movement at last caught your eye in a shadowy corner in one of the inner divisions, drawing you in. Once you entered, you halted in your tracks, expecting to find a mourning priestess, but instead being met with three Hybern soldiers.

You assumed a defensive stance. “Well, well,” one of them drawled, a sickening smirk on his face as he took you in. “I thought we were done with you creatures, but the Dark Mother is good.” You palmed your daggers, wondering how you’d get Mor’s attention in time. The Soldiers tutted in mockery. “Poor little priestess came back for revenge?”

You glared, slowly backing out of the room without turning, hoping they’d take the bait and follow you to the main corridor, closer to Mor’s access. They happily crept forward like predators seizing in on prey. Gullible fools. They were making this easy. Suspiciously easy, you realized, when –

You started at the feeling of a hard body behind you. Turning to attack, you found two more soldiers. With your back to the original assailants, you had to act quickly. You began swinging and lunging your daggers. Two of the soldiers grabbed your arms, disarming you; a third holding your legs to keep you from kicking. You thrashed in their hold, screaming in frustration. Panic seized your throat. You shouted for Morrigan. The soldiers laughed, making you thrash harder with rage. One backhanded you hard enough to momentarily cease your thrashing. Before you could recover, another backhanded blow whipped your head to the other side.

You were tackled to the ground, the soldier who hit you straddling your stomach, letting his weight knock the breath out of you as he continued to deliver blows, fists this time. You fought to stay conscious, fought to fill your lungs with enough breath to scream. Where is Mor? Praying she’d find you, praying she wasn’t also getting ambushed, you continued your futile thrashing until unconsciousness pulled you under.

Light drew you from your slumber, making your head throb. You didn’t remember falling asleep. You tried to feel the source of the pain in your head, bringing a hand up to your forehead. You felt your fingers constricted in wrapping, making you open your eyes in confusion. You found yourself in your bed. Azriel was by your side in an instant. You frowned at the sight of him, hair dishevelled, dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked distraught. “Az? What’s wrong?” Your voice was rough, mouth dry. He handed you water, which you sat up to drink. It all came rushing back to you, the attack at the temple. You gasped. “Where’s Mor?”

“She’s fine. She wasn’t hurt. We got there in time.”

“What?”

Azriel swallowed. “Mor spoke mind to mind with Rhys when she heard the soldiers in the temple. We all winnowed in as fast as we could. Me, Cass, and Rhys.”

“Oh,” you said. Azriel ran his hands through his hair. You caught sight of dried blood on his split knuckles. “What happened?”

Azriel exhaled. “We found them crowding over your unconscious body, Y/N.” You felt a twinge of guilt at the panic that must have caused. Azriel held your gaze. “I killed them all. I killed them all with my bare hands. Didn’t have to use one blade.” You shuddered at the intensity in his eyes, reaching your hand to him. He took it in both of his, frowning at the wrapping.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” you tried weakly.

“I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner,” he said. The guilt was written all over his face.

You shook your head. “It’s okay, Az. I volunteered to go.”

“It was supposed to be me.”

“I know, Az. It’s okay, really.”

He kept looking at your hand cradled gently between his own. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “The sight of you unconscious on that floor, the blood on your face…” he closed his eyes, shuddering at the memory. He tried again. “When I was flying you back to the House, the whole way back, all I could think about was–” he cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Was what?” you coaxed gently.

Azriel met your gaze. “All I could think about was how I’d been too much of a coward. I… I never–” he stopped again, hesitation filling his eyes.

You squeezed his hands in encouragement.

Azriel took a deep breath. “I never told you, Y/N, that… that I love you. I’ve–I’ve been in love with you.” He took a shuddering breath. “So much,” he rasped, his voice husky with emotion. His brows were knitted together, like the admission brought him anguish. Every thought eddied from your mind, eyes widening. He loves me. “I just wish I had the chance to tell you sooner. I’m sorry– if you don’t feel the same way, I know it’s selfish for me to–” he cut himself off again, closing his eyes in reprieve, schooling his ragged breathing.

“Hey,” you said gently. You tried to keep your emotions abated, tried and failed to stop your eyes from watering. He loves me. He opened his eyes, and the torment in them had you shattering. You reached your bandaged hands up to where he was sitting on your bed, cradling his face. He kept his stare on you, eyes cautious like he was waiting to receive anger, perhaps rejection. The vulnerability in his eyes, the pain in them – your tears began falling.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t cry, it’s okay– we can just go back to being friends.” Your heart broke at his hesitation, his inability to believe you felt the same way he did. He brought his hands to your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs as they fell.

“Azriel,” you rasped. He visibly braced himself. “I love you too,” you breathed. He closed his eyes, the relief so potent on his face that you didn’t know whether to cry harder or laugh. You gently pulled him into you, and he obliged. He buried his head into your neck, breathing deeply. Your arms immediately wound around his shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as you could to your chest. He groaned lightly, the vibration reverberating into your chest. You laughed at his reaction, the sheer intensity of it all. You felt him laugh too, felt it right against your neck.

“Mother above,” you heard a voice huff. You turned your head to find Cassian leaning in the doorway, watching the two of you. You audibly exhaled in annoyance. Azriel simply ignored him, not even bothering to raise himself from your embrace. “You two are the most dramatic people I’ve ever met. No wonder you’re so lovesick for each other. Did you rehearse your monologue while she was in a coma, Az?” You felt Azriel grin against your neck.

“Y/N,” Azriel’s baritone voice was muffled.

“Yes, Azriel,” you countered.

“Tell Cassian to get the fuck out before I also kill him with my bare hands.”

“Cassian,” you chimed earnestly, “Azriel says you need to get the fuck out before he kills you with his bare hands.” Cassian just laughed at your sarcasm and closed the door as he left. Busybody.

Azriel finally rises from your embrace. “We’re never gonna hear the end of this,” he said. His eyes were brighter than you’ve ever seen them, focused and settled.

“Definitely not,” you agreed. You frowned once more at his exhausted state. “Did you sleep at all?”

Azriel shook his head, not breaking your gaze. “I was waiting for you.”

The unsaid implication didn’t go over your head. “I know, Az. I was waiting for you too.”

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrag-blog

#azriel x reader #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel/you #azriel/reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #acotar

2K notes · View notes

jdeclerc · 7 months

Text

meet my eye & vow to be true

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: what is sent through the bond is sacred, the most honest of all things - isn't it?

author's note: based on a request made by @horneybeach1, the first one i have ever received - i hope i did your request justice, and i apologize for the delay <3

warnings: brief description of injuries

word count: 2,789

As you pull your blade from the body in front of you, the nameless male falling to the ground, you see the end. The end of the carnage that has filled this camp for countless hours before the sun began its descent in the sky.

All that surrounds you now is the slow movements and utter quiet of the army that had defeated those laying at your feet. A combined Night and Autumn Court unit, formed for the destruction of one of the last of Hybern’s holdouts.

You instinctively begin searching for your family, scanning the area around you for some reassurance of their safety. You had seen Azriel and your mate hours before, both with their siphons ablaze, carving a path through your enemies.

In the time since, you had tugged at the bond, seeing to the safety of your mate. Cassian responded to each of your tugs with one of his own, conveying what you needed from him; he was safe and unharmed.

You had only caught glimpses of the other members of the Inner Circle and knew you would only settle once you had seen for yourself that they were safe.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that none of them remained close, you had ended up on the far edge of the battle, one of the last areas to cease fighting. It is your name that pulls you from your forming list of possible locations of your family.

“Lady Y/N, what a relief! When you didn’t show up at the healers’ tent everyone became worried. The High Lord sent us in search of you.” It is one of Cassian’s captains approaching you. Thalien, a loyal male you had known for centuries.

“The healers’ tent?” You give him a puzzled look. “Why would you expect me to be there?”

“The entire Inner Circle is gathered ‘round it, no one knows any exact details about what happened to him.”

“Thalien, out with it. Who is so injured that it has the entire leadership of our court concerned?” The worry and anger replacing your curiosity leaks into your response and has the captain stumbling over his words.

“It’s…I thought you would have known…The General M’Lady, he was injured during the battle. No one knows how long it was before he was found.”

“Anything else?” Your words are grated, anger moving solely to the forefront of your emotions.

“That is all I know, I swear it.”

Although you know the captain is not at fault, you can’t help the look of contempt you throw his way as you take off past him without another word.

----------

Nesta is the first you see as the healers’ tent comes into view. You can tell by the way she steps into your path and raises her hands that your emotions can be clearly read.

“Y/N…he needs calm. They’re doing everything they can for him. Wait out here with us, it’ll be better that way, I promise.”

“Nesta…please.” Your voice breaks as you say the words.

You can tell by the way she looks at you that she knows there is no stopping your entering of the tent. She exchanges glances with her sisters, Mor, and Amren, all remaining vigil with her outside of the tent. After a moment Nesta steps to the side, the two of you having always understood the stubbornness of the other.

You move past her and pass through the opening of the tent. As it closes behind you, your breath is stolen form you.

Cassian, the imposing force of a mate that he is, is laying unconscious on a table in the center of the tent. His wings having fallen slack on either side, resting on the dirt floor. Blood covers the floor surrounding the table and you trace it to a wound on his abdomen so massive it would have meant death for any one other than an Illyrian.

The upper half of his leathers has been removed. Madja and several other healers work in tandem in what could only be described as controlled chaos.

You feel a hand grip your elbow and you realize for the first time that Azriel and Rhysand stand inside the tent with you.

You meet both of their eyes and see your worry reflected back at you. Rhysand knows the question that lays in your eyes and moves to put his arm around your waist.

“He was found in the woods; it would appear he was going after a group of fae being held captive. From what we gathered the men holding them captive ambushed Cas…they’re weapons laced with faebane. We don’t know how long he had been out there before he was found.”

You gave him a silent nod, doing everything you could to keep your tears at bay.

“What of the captured fae?”

“Already on their way to Velaris, Eris has also offered them sanctuary should they choose it.”

Venom leaks into your voice with your next question.

“And the men?”

It is Azriel who answers as he comes to stand at your other side and brings his arm across your shoulders.

“They’re dead. Somehow Cas remained conscious long enough to tear them down, allowing the captured fae to escape.”

You expect no less from your mate. His heart had always been his greatest attribute, his role as protector outweighing all others he donned.

The three of you fall into a tense silence, clinging to each other as you watch the one male you never thought you would see fall fight for his life.

---------

You aren’t sure how much time passes before Madja steps back and approaches the three of you.

“He is a fighter; he is only still with us because he willed it.” She meets your eyes and ensures you hear her words. “Your General will rise and fight another day. Give him time, he will wake.”

You can’t help the tears that fall with your next words.

“There are no words of thanks I can give you Madja that would repay what you’ve done today.”

“Your thanks would be wasted on me, my dear. You lot are more important to me than you could ever know…no matter how neglectful you all are in following my advice.” She pins the three of you with a glare but can’t help the small smile that crosses her face.

You return her smile, knowing that she is a vital part of the foundation on which your family stands.

A moment of silence falls between the four of you before you find the courage to ask her your small hope, grasping Madja’s hands in your own as you voice it.

“Can we…can we bring him home? He’ll want to be at home when he wakes.”

Madja glances behind her at your mate and you can see her considering her answer before she voices it.

“For you, my dear Y/N, I will make it so. Give us time to prepare him.”

---------

Cassian can hear the questions Rhys is asking Madja about his recovery, can hear the shit Az is giving him about letting mere mortals get the best of him, but all he can focus on is his mate. His strong, fearsome, beautiful mate, standing at the edge of their bedroom like a stranger, as though she doesn’t belong right by his side.

He has been looking past his brothers and the healer since he awoke, hoping to catch your eye. Only when Madja ends her examination, and you offer to escort her out do you finally meet his gaze. What he sees in your eyes outweighs any physical pain he has ever experienced.

He watches the door as it closes behind you, feeling nothing as he reaches out to you through the bond.

“Cas, she’s –”

“Az, don’t. I’m the one that fucked up, she has every right to feel how she does.”

“And how exactly did you fuck up brother? By almost getting killed?”

“I lied…through the bond.”

Both males fell silent, waiting for Cassian to continue.

“We had been sending waves through the bond throughout the battle, making sure the other was safe. After…After what happened, happened, I may not have let her know the extent of my injuries.”

“You made her think everything was fine, didn’t you?” Cassian’s failure to respond was answer enough. “You absolute dickhead, how foolish can you be? I could kill you myself, I certainly wouldn’t blame Y/N if she did.”

Rhys let out a low whistle from where he stood, his eyebrows raising higher than Cassian has ever seen them do so before.

His expression hardened a moment later.

“Never have I seen Y/N so terrified Cassian. For three days she hasn’t left your side, no matter how often we begged her to eat, to sleep. You’re right, you fucked up. Fix this or injuries inflicted by mortals will be the least of your problems.” The room began to darken with each word spoken by the High Lord. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”

Cassian could do nothing but nod, words failing him.

The two males gave him a look of disdain and turn to leave.

“Will you two at least help me up so I can find her?”

---------

It doesn’t take long for Cassian to find you.

The library at the House of Wind had always been the place you found solace. You found peace within the stacks of books.

He comes upon you in the furthest corner of the library, returning a book and undoubtedly searching for a new one.

Cassian knows by the whitening of your knuckles around the book you are holding that you hear him approach.

“Y/N/N, I know –”

“Cassian, don’t.” The anger in your voice is anchored by the tears he sees in your eyes as you look up at him. “There is nothing you could say that would excuse what you did. So please, do us both a favour and go back to bed. Then maybe you’ll actually be okay the next time you tell me you are.”

“Let me explain.”

“Explain what? How you used what connects us at our cores to deceive me? Or how you almost died, alone, in the woods because of your refusal to tell me the truth?” Cassian can’t help but recoil at your words, knowing each one is truer than the last. “There is no explanation you could give that is good enough. No reassurance you could give me that what you did was right. Leave, now, for both our sakes.”

As you turn away from him, he can’t help but reach for you, letting out a cry of pain as he does, having overextended his injuries.

Your hands are at his sides in an instant, helping him remain stable.

“You damn fool. You’ve likely undone Madja’s work, and you’ve only just woken up.”

Cassian can’t help but hold his breath as you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt; the two of you having been in this exact position under very different circumstances.

You both grow quiet as your hands skirt across his abdomen, checking the state of his bandages, refusing to meet his eye the entire time.

You let out a disapproving noise, “You’ve split your stitches. Our bathroom…now.”

You put his arm across your shoulder as you lead him out of the library and up the stairs.

---------

Cassian settles on the bathroom vanity as you gather the first aid supplies you both decided long ago to keep close at hand.

You step between his legs as you bring a cloth to clean the blood from his wound. He can tell that even in your anger you are as gentle as you can be.

And it’s your quiet apologies as you fix the stitches he tore, that he realizes it’s not your anger he should concern himself with.

Cassian grabs your hands to halt your movements.

“Y/N, please. You can yell, scream, say whatever vulgar words I undoubtedly deserve, but please, my love, at least look at me.”

You don’t make any movement, Cassian takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your face upwards, so your eyes meet his. He finds no trace of anger, finds nothing but immense pain. His next words come out broken, barely above a whisper.

“Talk to me…please.”

Cassian watches as your eyes search his.

“I was so scared, I thought…I thought I’d lost you.” Your voice breaks and he can see you give yourself a moment before you continue. “The thought of losing you steals the breath form my lungs, turns my world black. You were okay, you told me you were okay, and then I see you on that table…”

You choke back a sob as Cassian’s hands come to settle on either side your neck, resting his forehead against yours.

“What do you feel Y/N?”

Your hands come to rest atop his.

“Your hands, the…the callouses from training.”

“Good, what do you smell?”

“You, my mate. The coolness of the winds coming off the Illyrian mountains, and the crackling embers of the fire inside the cabin.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Safety and love, my home.”

“I am here Y/N, I am real. I’m not going anywhere, not now and not any time soon if I have anything to do with it. I will fight the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone, or anything to stay by your side.” He pulls back enough to look directly into your eyes. “I will spend the rest of our days showing you how truly sorry I am. I swear to you, never gain will I use our bond to deceive you. Never.”

You both wince at the same time with the voicing of his vow. Cassian watches as the mark appears on his lower sternum, knowing the same is appearing on you.

“Cauldron boil me, that definitely could have waited until my other injuries healed.”

You both let out a small laugh at his words.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not angry, you have a lot of groveling ahead of you General.”

“Hmmm…trust me when I say I will be on my knees before you the first chance I get.”

Cassian leans forward and captures your lips with his, quickly deepening the kiss as he leans your head back.

You rest your hands on his thighs and press further into him. Cassian breaks the kiss with a hiss of pain.

You’re quick to check him over, worrying about causing him further pain. Cassian once again takes you hands in his and leans in to kiss you again, pulling away a few moments later.

“As much as I would enjoy continuing our current activity, I think Madja was right when she said I need rest. Lay with me?”

You look up at him though your lashes as you give him a nod. You keep a hand on his arm as he stands from the vanity, and you help him slowly make his way to your bed. Helping him settle against the headboard.

“You know, if I could, you would be on top of me, gripping the headboard…it’s oh so lonely here by myself.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me some other time, now, won’t you?”

He makes sure the look he gives you shows that he means to live up to your challenge.

“Let me change and I’ll join you.”

He gives you a small smile as you enter your shared closet and can’t help but push love and adoration down the bond when you emerge in the red silk pajamas he had gifted you on your latest name day.

Cassian watches as you grab your book off your nightstand and settle into your side of the bed.

“Read to me?”

---------

It isn’t the first time Cassian has asked this of you, and you know it won’t be the last. He had said once that your voice brought him comfort like nothing else. The wonder in which you fell into books being his favourite.

You motion for him to rest his head in your lap. He moves as slowly as possible, wincing only once as he settles his wings on either side of you.

You brush your hand through your mate’s hair and stare down at him, giving him the most loving of smiles, him giving you one of his own in response.

You lean down, ghosting your lips across his forehead and begin reading, watching as he quickly falls into a much-needed sleep.

You realize, in that moment, that your anger has dissipated, knowing nothing is as valuable as moments such as these with your mate.

The General needn’t know of this realization though.

For he is oh, so good at earning your forgiveness.

#cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #acotar x reader #night court #autumn court

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