nini 💋 @chillinini - Tumblr Blog

lost and found - azriel x reader

one shot

🎞️: 4.7k

🫶🏻summary: she was Rhysand’s sister, and Azriel’s quiet saviour. but what happens when she can’t cope with the memory of her brother dropped dead, and Azriel driven by lust?

author’s note: oh well hello beautiful people 🥹 long time no see. this little story has been brewing inside my brain and inside my documents for quiet some time now haha. it’s longer than usual, but it is needed. 😩 hope you enjoy! love, nini 🩷 (((oh and my favourite part is cassian being a big brother to reader 🤭)))

Elain was everything you weren’t.

One look at her and you understood the immediate attraction towards her.

Even as a human she was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

She was everything you’ll never be.

Being Rhysand’s sister meant you grew up hands first with Cassian and Azriel. All of your childhood memories consisted of being with them, following them around and Cassian luring you into his stupid ideas which later got you both into trouble.

Rhysand often felt troubled when you were around, because you were a girl, and girls should play with girls.

But you didn't budge, because silently, Azriel was your favourite.

Older than any of you, he should’ve intimidated you, but you adored him.

When he was silent - which was always - ,you could’ve just talked his ears off without a doubt, and he would listen with every living fiber. He never uttered a single response, but his eyes held so much attention you felt as if only his gaze was an answer.

Growing up, this dynamic continued. He remained his stoic self, shadows curling around him like a second skin, his scarred fingers no longer digging in dirt, but covered in blood, and his eyes held that silent menacing expression that you almost felt for his brothers.

You didn’t.

Because nobody can hurt your Azriel.

Rhysand turning from prince to High Lord, you turning into a teenager without your mother, you lost that spark Azriel was so fond of.

So, he did what you always did for him; he began to talk about everything and nothing at once.

He held your hands in his.

He let you hold his scarred hands, which he was still so insecure about, but you kissed away every single doubt and pain etched onto his hands.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, tear soaked face burying into his chest, while holding onto his fingers.

Azriel was stiff beside you, not used to comforting anyone, when all he knew is torture. But seeing you like this, he brushed your hair away from your face, warm palm soothing circles on your back.

When you developed your power, you were so happy you could’ve jumped out of your skin. As a responsible High Lord of a brother, he began to teach you, but Azriel kept his distance, and smiled at your excited face.

Nothing could ever break you, he was sure of that.

But Amarantha happened.

Fifty years of silence from your brother happened.

And you were broken, because you were all alone.

You didn’t have a father, or a mother.

Now, you weren’t sure if you had Rhys anymore.

And when your countless prayers got answered, you cried tears of joy hugging him when he returned to Velaris like never before.

Smiling up at Azriel with delight when he too hugged Rhysand back.

You could’ve burst with joy.

Cassian noticed your fondness of the Shadowsinger. He was like your second brother, and where Rhysand closed an eye, Cassian opened one.

Cassian knew Azriel was someone you would die for, go to war for.

However, your shyness was something neither you, nor him could coax you out of.

So, your feelings remained unchanged, but buried deep within your soul.

And still not voiced, when you started to pick up on Azriel’s quiet affection for her.

When Azriel started to pull away from you, and gravitate towards Elain.

You turned your back to him completely, when he handed over Truth Teller to her at the Hybern war.

You turned your back to Cassian, who looked so sad, your heart sank even more, but broken heart this or that, this was not the time to sulk.

War was never about being easy.

Hell, how could it be, when all you see is blood, beheaded man and cut off body parts laying all over your feet?

But you knew how to survive and to successfully disarm your enemy to call it a day.

The satisfaction of hearing the Hybern soldier’s wet gasps between your fingers as they struggle to breathe almost made you forget about why you’re being cruel.

What you didn’t know was how to survive the fact that your brother just died.

And came back to life.

You couldn’t erase the memory of him lying on his back, chest unmoving and Feyre roaring his name.

The way you stood rooted a couple of feet away, fingers scratching at the leather vest on your chest to ease the pain which never dulled even after Rhys took his first breath and sat up, hugging Feyre like his life depended on her.

And definitely could not forget the way you grabbed his jaw, fingernails biting into his skin as you looked deep in his living eyes.

The way you just stared at him, horrified, vision turning glossy from unshed tears.

“Sister…,” he tried to sooth you, he tried to hold you, to just reassure you that he was okay, but you couldn’t bear it.

You stood, and walked away.

Never stopping for Azriel’s extended hand, his hazel eyes roaming over you.

You already lost your father and mother.

You already lost your brother once for fifty years.

And seeing him drop dead in front of you, literally watching as his heart gives out, you felt sick.

You felt as if your heart just stopped beating.

Like you stopped existing all together, meanwhile everyone else moved on. All the High Lords, all your friends and family.

Azriel.

Except you.

You isolated yourself. Not curious about anything happening up at the House of Wind, or the Townhouse. You dodged Cassian’s attempt to lure you into something stupid, didn’t open the door for Mor, or even Azriel.

Azriel was the second person you lost at the war.

A piece of your heart crumbled in front of his dirty boots in the mud.

Jealousy was never a pretty thing.

You saw green whenever you laid eyes on him and Elain together.

Two conflicts and one bleeding heart later, you drank wine at Rita’s to dull the pain.

All the time to draw Rhys’s attention.

He tried to get you talking.

When that didn’t work, he tried to look into your head. Your memories.

Your shields didn’t budge. Even piss drunk and mumbling nonsense about breaking away from the dance floor when your favourite song played, your shields stayed intact.

He ordered house arrest for you, not trusting you anymore to leave you alone, and cut you off of every single bottle of wine he kept at the Townhouse.

You still didn’t figure out the magic he used on the pantry.

“Why don’t you join us by the fire?” Came the voice from behind you, your brother’s frame illuminating in the window reflection where you’re currently standing, back to everyone else.

It was the Winter Solstice.

“I’m okay,” you said without looking at his direction.

He sighed deeply, irritated.

“You’ve been distant.”

“I said I was fine,” you repeated, voice laced with slight annoyance.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he admitted after a minute of silence, just when you started to think maybe he left.

“You don’t have to do anything, Rhysand, I’m not your baby sister anymore,” you said in a tone so distant, Rhysand blinked a couple of times to register. He couldn’t recognise you.

“Sister -“

“Don’t bother.”

“Y/n -“

“YOU DIED!” you shouted at him, eyes bulging violently at him.

The living room area, where the remaining of your found family sat, froze in silence at your outburst.

If they weren’t eavesdropping already, they were now.

“You died right in front of me, Rhysand,” you said, voice cracking as your eyes began to fill with tears. “Magic gone. Life leaving your eyes. Chest going still. Do you even understand how fucking scary was that shit?” you asked as if you expected any answer from him. “I felt like dying with you, and I’m pretty sure a piece of me stayed there. I’m having nightmares of you,” you confessed, causing him to suck in a harsh breath, “seeing you dropping lifeless all over again, without a fucking break. I cannot sleep. I turned to alcohol, because that helps me forget that maybe this will happen again, but then you won’t come back. To me,” you croaked out weakly. “I am so fucking scared of being alone, without you. You’re my only family, Rhysand. We’ve already lost so much, and I’m not ready to lose you. Not again. Not ever.”

—-

Elain was sunshine in every aspect of life.

Even when she wasted away from grief after her being Made alongside with Nesta, and losing her love and fiancé, Elain was deeply loved.

Cared for.

You haven’t felt cared for for a long time now.

Mainly because you pushed away everyone who tried to comfort you.

You were convinced they didn’t care anymore.

What you failed to notice was the fact that Cassian’s smile wasn't reaching his eyes anymore. Feyre began to paint more black and white, dullness and confusion littered every canvas. Mor was away more, Amren’s side eyes were more violent, and your brother.

Rhysand was still at Winter Solstice.

The way your eyes filled with tears, the way you brushed them away with such force, like you were angry for feeling.

They way you just left, opened the door to exit into the quiet night of Velaris, when he used such an ancient magic to keep you inside. He still couldn’t figure out how you cracked the magic. If you even noticed there was one.

And Azriel.

You haven’t noticed him, just like he failed to pay attention to you ever since Elain happened.

Ever since his lust overshadowed everything.

That night on Solstice, after you left abruptly, he followed you.

You haven’t noticed or heard him coming after you, but he noticed then everything. The way your shoulders slumped, like they were carrying such a heavy weight, he was eager to beg you to let him carry it for you. The way you haven’t stopped crying, your sobs reaching his sensitive ears, and his heart just broke into a million pieces. They way he was holding back, because he knew he was the last person you wanted to deal with.

He understood there that he was being cruel to you. The way you slowly shrank into your own shell, finding comfort in the corner, in the dark.

You were never dark.

You were the first sunlight peaking through the darkness. The one Azriel always gravitated towards, and the one he was always looking forward to.

A month has passed since Solstice, and you never uttered a single word to them. You cut off your brother, magic shields your scent, whenever you were out in the city, and your mental shields were unbreakable than ever.

You spent your days slowly, isolated and alone.

You never thought you’d ever feel alone.

But since the Hybern war, since seeing Rhysand dropped dead, Azriel handing over Truth Teller to Elain, you came to the conclusion that you’ll end up alone. If not right away, someday.

—-

The market was always busy at the crack of dawn. Many of the best deals were made in the early hours, your basket already full by the fourth seller.

“You dropped this,” a deep voice called out, and you turned to see, peaking out of your cloak.

You failed to notice the red siphons on his hands. The wings.

It was too late.

“Wait,” he called after you turned on your heels sharply and headed towards the busiest corner of the market, where you hoped Cassian would lost you.

He didn’t. He grasped your arm to stop you, his deep furrowed eyebrows a straight line over his hazel eyes.

“Let me go,” you gritted, trying to get yourself out of his hold.

“No,” he said with such intensity you never imagined you'd be on the receiving end.

“Cassian, please.”

“I had enough of your bullshit,” he grumbled and with a sudden move, he hugged your frame to his and flew away. You shrieked and pushed against his chest, but he just held you tighter.

No escape.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You can’t just kidnap me from the middle of the market, in front of everyone!” You shouted at him once he dropped you off at the River House.

“Like I care,” he shouted back over his shoulder, his sarcasm dripping like venom.

“The fuck am I supposed to do here?” You asked, throwing your hands out.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe you could come in, have a tea? Would you like that, with a little biscuit? I don’t know, should I bake a cake or bread?” He asked with such a bite you automatically stepped backwards.

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his disheveled hair. “Rhysand needs you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” you shake your head.

“You cut him off.”

“I shouldn’t depend on him too much.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Cassian asked, truly confused, his eyes burning.

“Nothing!” You shouted, patience wearing off.

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” He fought back.

“Why do you care? You shouldn’t!”

“Why?” What the fuck do you mean you shouldn’t depend on him too much?”

The door clicked, and you met with a familiar set of violet eyes.

You stepped back.

“Y/n?” Rhysand’s eyes widened, and you never saw the High Lord of the Night Court more disheveled than now.

In case, never, not even when your parents died.

“Let me go, Cassian,” you muttered as soon as you felt his fingers close around your wrist, tugging you closer to your brother. “Cass, please,” you begged, tears rolling down your cheeks now.

He didn’t respond, didn't stop, didn't look back at you.

“Please, I can’t,” your shoulders shook, violently jerking away from your brother, whose hands closed around your shoulders and hugged you to his chest tightly.

“No, please! I can’t, you can’t…,” you hicupped, pushing away Rhysand, but he didn’t let you go.

“Shh…,” he brushed your hair away, his own tears soaking your head as yours his clothes.

Everyone watched with blurry vision as you touched the ground with Rhysand, curling into a ball in his chest.

—-

Inside the house, Feyre came down the stairs, skipping two at the time in her rush, and clasped her fingers over her mouth as her eyes began to fill with tears. She noticed Cassian hovering behind them, his own face tear soaked, and inside the house, over the window, stood Azriel, still as a rock, his chest rising and falling with trembling breaths.

Azriel wasn’t the same since Solstice. He was more distant, away more than he was at home.

“I am so sorry,” your voice came in gasps, repeating it over and over and over again against Rhysand’s chest, while he continued to soothe you, brushing your hair like he always did when growing up.

“Please, talk to me,” he begged against your forehead.

That’s how you found yourself in his study, your tears seeming to never fade. You sat next to each other on his couch, your legs tucked against your chest and he spread wide, just like you always sat when growing up, and complained when he took up all the space. To which he always replied with;

“I can’t take up too much when you’re basically offering.”

“I don’t want you to ever lock me out, do you understand?” He asked in his High Lordy tone, to which you automatically nodded. “Don’t ever assume you can’t depend on me.”

You told him everything. Every worry and thought you had about his death, about the way you lived and how much you actually depended on him, and maybe that dependence would be a burden. The way of locking yourself away from them seemed more accurate than voicing your fears.

“I never once imagined how would that feel like if I ever lost you,” he said, his violet eyes now a tad deeper, “but I guess I lost you more when you lost me.”

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?” You asked, voice small.

“I never was angry with you.”

Silence.

“But how did you crack that magic which prevented you from leaving the house?”

You just winked.

—-

Days at the River House were spent with your brother and Feyre, who hugged you tight and cursed you half for disappearing on them.

Cassian was a different level of rage, since he enjoyed being sarcastic over you, and you bit back every single time, until you had enough of his pettiness.

You asked him to spar you, hand to hand, just like the old times. You fought for hours, before he even broke a sweat, and you broke a nail, your hair came out of your coronet braid, but once he swept right and you left, both of you expecting the other to move the opposite direction, you laughed in disbelief.

“Guess you’re getting old, grandpa,” you teased while pushing yourself up from the ground.

“And you're predictable,” he grunted.

“I’m sorry for everything,” you whispered once the laughter and teasing died down.

“I’m not sorry for kidnapping you from the market,” he said.

“Yeah, figured that was the highlight of your day.”

“No, the highlight of my day was you letting Rhys in,” he said, hazel eyes turning soft. You hugged him close then, face burying in his chest, as Cassian laughed softly, and hugged you back. “Never pull that shit again. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

However, you played a dangerous game with Azriel.

Whenever he entered the room, you exited. When he talked, you held your breath. When he turned his back to you, you breathed. When he looked your way, you found the kitchen table more interesting.

But when he wasn’t looking, you were.

You looked at everything you could in those spare seconds. His nose. His rounded ears. His left wing, noticing new - now healed - injuries. His dark hair, which curled at the base of his neck, since he hadn’t cut it recently. His lips, slightly parted or pressed into a thin line.

His scarred hands, which you kissed multiple times, and wished you could still do it.

You came back to his life, but you still felt as if he left yours.

What was worse, that your feelings towards him never dulled, even after he pulled away. You were convinced you could never not love him.

“I think what you’re doing is straight up stupid,” Cassian sat down next to you at the dining table at the House of Wind, him already scooping huge bites of oatmeal into his mouth.

“What is stupid?”

“Brooding in distance.”

You gasped.

“I’m not brooding!”

“He laughed, his chewing disgusting. “Yeah, sure.”

He finished his oatmeal.

“Just a heads up, he does his brooding as badly as you do.”

“Why are you telling me that?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“Because he sent spies after you,” he said nonchalantly, his mouth full with scrambled eggs now.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“He… he did what?”

“I found you, because of him,” Cassian confessed, now looking up at you from his plate.

“Why didn't he come?” You asked, pulse spiking.

“I think you should ask him that.”

“No, Cassian!” You stood up after him, because he was considered done with the conversation as he placed his dishes in the sink. “Why would Azriel spend his time looking after me, searching for me, when it was so easy for him to turn his back at me?”

Cassian sighed and turned back to face you. “Because he finally realised his mistake. And you should, too.”

“My mistake?” You gaped at him, when he simply nodded. “Which is?”

“Being jealous.”

You barked a laugh so loud it echoed.

“I’m not jealous.”

“You reek of jealousy.”

“Maybe it’s just a new perfume.”

“Then it’s a shitty one.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Look,” he sighed, stepping forward, “we grew up together. I saw the way you looked at him for eternity. I think it’s perfectly normal to feel jealous, but you shouldn’t.”

“You’re not helping,” you muttered, glaring at him.

“Then do as you please, I don’t fucking care, but the way you both brood over each other is sickening,” he threw his hands up, clearly done being a big brother, since he walked away with a “never could’ve imagined having a sister would be like this”. You stared after him for a long time.

—-

“What are you thinking about?” Rhys asked one evening out in the open, the winter breeze turning your cheeks red.

“Cassian said something interesting.”

“Cassian says a lot of interesting things,” Rhys chuckled.

You shook your head.

“It wasn't like that.”

“Oh?” Rhys was truly curious now, because if it wasn’t something unhinged as per usual, then it was just truly fascinating if Cass could be serious.

“He said that it was because of Azriel that he found me,” you said slowly. “That he sent spies after me.”

“I see,” Rhys murmured.

“What I don't understand is why he sent Cassian?”

“Perhaps Azriel likes to brood from a distance.”

“Oh gods, not you too!” You replied painfully, massaging your nose between your fingers as Rhys laughed. “You’re not helping my case.”

“I honestly don’t know what you want me to say, sister.”

“Look into his head,” you suggested.

Rhys glared at you.

“As if I would want to invade his privacy.”

“You had no second thoughts about invading mine.”

“I was desperate to grasp some understanding about your behaviour.”

“Well, I’m desperate for some answers,” you said while rolling your eyes.

“Then why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Because I…,” you stopped.

“Because you what?” Rhys asked softly, looking down at you through his lashes.

“Because it would be foolish of me expecting something more from him than there actually is,” you confessed, probably for the first time out loud.

“Why are you so sure there is nothing?”

“Probably because of Elain?”

Rhys furrowed his eyebrows.

“Elain?”

You nodded, defeated. When you looked up, Rhys was still staring at you confused.

“I saw the way he looked at her.”

“How?”

“Like she hung the stars herself,” you answered, looking straight at the frozen surface of the Sidra.

“He looked that way at you.”

You smiled bitterly.

“At one point. Not anymore.”

“No,” Rhys shook his head.

You looked at him confused.

“He was looking at you,” he said, and there was a soft knock on your mental shields. You lowered them, and you immediately saw yourself through Rhysand’s eyes.

It was way before the Hybern attack. You were seated between Azriel and Cass, Mor right in front of you, next to Rhysand. You were talking with the blonde, something about Rita’s and a shitfaced male who threw up right in front of her, muttering something about cute sparkles - definitely about Mor’s shoes - and you laughed with your head thrown back. Meanwhile beside you, Azriel looked down at you, a soft glint in his eyes, his wings carefully hovering around your chair, right behind your shoulders. His lips slightly turned upwards, a soft pink colour on his cheeks.

Then, it was on the mortal lands, with Nesta and Elain, when you first met them. Rhys was standing besides Feyre, but before him, there was you, sandwiched between the two Illyrians, but Azriel’s scarred fingers carefully hovered around your small back. Like a muscle memory, he didn’t notice he was doing that, and neither did you. When you were seated at the dinner table, you sat in front of him, while he was seated besides Elain, and that’s when you felt the first sting of jealousy, when you saw the way Elain’s brown eyes widened at him, and Azriel just looked at her.

Like there was something unspoken laying behind those eyes.

What you failed to notice, how his eyes tore from her, and never left your frame through the whole dinner. The way he was silently begging you to meet him halfway.

A bunch of variables of memories played in front of you.

Where in most of them you seemed to notice Azriel looking at Elain’s direction, you failed to see how you were always there.

Right in front of him, avoiding his burning gazes, because you convinced yourself it wasn’t for you.

Azriel was looking at you like you hung the stars yourself. The way he was holding so much adoration is his fixed glances, the way his shoulders relaxed whenever you entered the room, or when his shadows seemed to gravitate towards you, claiming you, dancing with you.

He may have felt lust for the ease of Elain, but true love was the quiet, agonizing loyalty of a shadow that had spent a lifetime learning the map of his soul.

You.

It was you.

—-

You found Azriel in his shadows, on the balcony at the House of Wind. He felt you the minute you stepped over the stairs, his shadows curling around his ears, whispering, his posture going rigid.

“Cassian is a fucking big mouth,” you said as a way of greeting.

Slow steps towards him.

“But he’s right about one thing,” you continue, “that you and I are both stupid.”

Azriel’s head hung low, his wings hanging lazily.

“Why him?” You asked, burning holes into his back. “Why send him to find me?” Azriel flinched slightly. He took a single, slow turn towards you, his darkened hazel eyes finally meeting yours.

"I didn't send him because I didn't care," he whispered, the words sounding like they were being torn from his throat. "I sent him because I was ashamed. I let myself be blinded by a light that wasn't meant for me, and in that vanity, I let the only person who ever truly saw through my darkness slip through my fingers. I thought I’d lost the right to be the one to bring you home."

He took a hesitant step forward and reached out, his hand hovering inches from your cheek, shaking.

"I looked at her because she was easy to look at, but I look at you because I cannot breathe without knowing where you are."

The air thrummed with the weight of unspoken words and the memory of the agonising distance.

No more.

No more running and denying.

You reached out and caught his wrist, pulling his palm flat against your cheek. Azriel let out a ragged, broken sound—half-sob, half-relief—as he stepped into your space, his forehead dropping against yours.

"I thought I’d broken it," he breathed, his shadows swirling frantically around your ankles, lashing out like dark ribbons finally set free. "The friendship... hope. I didn't know how to ask you to forgive me for being so blind."

"You’re an idiot, Azriel," you whispered, your tears finally spilling onto his calloused skin. You moved your hands down, interlacing your fingers with his, forcing him to feel the solid reality of your touch. "You didn't lose the right to bring me home. You are my home."

At those words, the tension that had held his shoulders rigid for months simply vanished. He pulled you into him, his wings unfurling to wrap around you both, creating a private sanctuary of silk and shadow in the cold night. For the first time since the war ended, the hollow ache in your chest began to fill.

His scarred fingers, so often hidden or clenched in pain, came up to cup your jaw with a tenderness that made you melt.

"Can I?" he asked, the question barely a breath.

You didn't answer with words. You stood on your tiptoes, your hands sliding up his chest to grip his shirt, pulling him down to meet you.

When his lips finally touched yours, it wasn't frantic, it was a slow motion collision of history and hope. It tasted like the winter air and the faint scent of cedar and night chilled mist that always followed him.

Azriel groaned low in his throat as he deepened the kiss. His wings flared wide, shielding you from the world.

He kissed you until your knees went weak, his strong arms catching you, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his body until you couldn't tell where your heartbeat ended and his began.

"Always you," he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting back against yours as you both gasped for air. "It was always going to be you. I just had to be brave enough to admit I was worthy of it."

And you couldn’t agree more.

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